The Fall of Nanjing and the Disappearance of Jianwen
In the summer of 1402, the gates of Nanjing swung open under the betrayal of the Duke of Cao, Li Jinglong, and Prince Gu, Zhu Hui. As the Yan army flooded into the Ming capital, flames engulfed the imperial palace, and Emperor Jianwen vanished—whether consumed by fire or escaped in disguise, history would never confirm. For Zhu Di, the Prince of Yan, this ambiguity was inconvenient. A living Jianwen threatened his claim, so official records declared the emperor dead. Witnesses were produced, a charred body displayed, and mourning rites performed. The stage was set for Zhu Di’s ascension, but legitimacy required more than military victory.
The Theater of Legitimacy: The “Three Refusals” Ritual
Even with Jianwen “dead,” Zhu Di adhered to Confucian political theater. He could not simply seize the throne; he had to be persuaded. Three times, his supporters petitioned him to rule, citing his virtue and heaven’s mandate. Three times, he modestly declined, claiming inadequacy. Only after the third appeal did he “reluctantly” accept—a ritualized charade masking four years of civil war fought for this very moment. Yet as Zhu Di processed toward the throne, the scholar Yang Rong halted his horse with a critical reminder: to honor legitimacy, he must first worship at Xiaoling, the tomb of his father, Hongwu Emperor Zhu Yuanzhang. The message was clear: power flowed from dynastic continuity, not just conquest.
The Scholar’s Defiance: Fang Xiaoru and the Cost of Principle
Zhu Di’s next challenge was drafting an enthronement proclamation. For this, he sought Fang Xiaoru, Jianwen’s former tutor and the intellectual conscience of the era. Warned by his advisor Yao Guangxiao that killing Fang would “extinguish the seed of scholarship,” Zhu Di expected compliance. Instead, Fang arrived in mourning robes, weeping openly in court. When Zhu Di likened himself to the Duke of Zhou (who had ruled as regent for a child king), Fang retorted: “Where is your ‘child king’? Why not appoint Jianwen’s son—or brother?”
Enraged, Zhu Di threatened the “extermination of nine clans” (a parent’s, spouse’s, and children’s lineages). Fang’s reply—”What of ten clans?”—sealed his fate. In an unprecedented act of brutality, Zhu Di massacred Fang’s extended family, friends, and students, inventing a tenth clan. Fang’s execution poem, lamenting “chaos under heaven” and his “bloody tears” for justice, became a rallying cry for dissent.
Erasing Jianwen: Rewriting History and Punishing Memory
To cement his rule, Zhu Di launched a campaign of historical erasure. Jianwen’s four-year reign was expunged from records, reclassified as “the years of Hongwu’s extended rule.” Private archives mentioning Jianwen or Fang Xiaoru were burned; possession meant death. Even Jianwen’s posthumous honors for his father, the “Emperor Xiaokang,” were revoked. Meanwhile, Zhu Di ordered three revisions of the Veritable Records of the Taizu Emperor to insert fabricated evidence: that he was Empress Ma’s true-born son (not a concubine’s) and that Zhu Yuanzhang had secretly favored him as successor. As historian Mao Peiqi notes, “The louder he insisted, the more suspicion grew.”
The Paradox of Yongle: Tyrant and Visionary
Yet Zhu Di’s reign (1403–1424) defied simple condemnation. He rebuilt Beijing as an imperial capital, commissioned the Yongle Encyclopedia, and sent Zheng He’s treasure fleets across the Indian Ocean. His governance blended his father’s ruthlessness with pragmatism—reducing taxes, promoting agriculture, and declaring “a people’s modest prosperity” his goal. In private, he mimicked Zhu Yuanzhang’s frugality, wearing patched underrobes while lecturing courtiers on “cherishing blessings.”
Legacy: The Unkillable Truth
Zhu Di’s violence failed to silence history. Jianwen’s reign persists in modern chronologies, and Fang Xiaoru’s martyrdom endures as a symbol of resistance. The Yongle Emperor’s paradox—a usurper who shaped China’s golden age—reminds us that power may dictate records, but memory outlives the sword. As his brother’s defiant poem prophesied: “A thousand years hence, our souls will return to these green hills.”
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