The Han culture is spreading strongly in Southeast Asia

Chapter 372: Sun and Moon Reopen to Great Tomorrow

The Pearl River was covered with a light mist in the early morning. In this misty, fairyland-like environment, both sides of the Pearl River were filled with people wearing clothes of various colors.

They stretched their necks curiously, expecting the legendary overseas emperor to appear in their sight.

"Buzz!" The distant sound of cattle horns came from the fog, as if hundreds of horns were blowing at the same time.

Under the watchful eyes of the crowd, the forecastle of a huge black ship appeared in people's sight, followed by its huge hard sail.

The sail was painted red, with a pair of golden sun and moon prominently embellished on the red, so conspicuous that it seemed to highlight his hidden identity.

"Here it comes, here it comes!" Someone couldn't help but shout loudly.

So far, Guangzhou people still have a good impression of this overseas emperor.

Because Mo Zibu's entry into Guangzhou was extremely peaceful throughout history, the Qing army was defeated as early as Beihe, and the only battle took place in Qingyuan.

At the same time, the civil disorder that is most likely to occur during wars has basically not occurred.

What a joke! One of my roots in Guangdong is the Hongmen organization, which includes a large number of heroes, bandits and pirates.

These people are almost the upper and middle levels of the entire Guangdong underworld, and most of the city foxes and rats below are under their control.

The big guys at the top are not in chaos, and the little thugs at the bottom don't dare to cause trouble even if they are brave enough.

Therefore, the order in Guangzhou City did not become chaotic due to the withdrawal of the Qing ruling class. Instead, it improved a lot due to the constraints of Kunlun Mountain Hall.

At this moment, a ray of sunlight suddenly penetrated the mist and appeared on the surface of the Pearl River. Then, in just a few minutes, the thick fog that had been lingering on the river surface since early morning quickly dissipated.

Looking at this miraculous scene, the crowd burst into cheers, and the fleet appeared completely in everyone's eyes.

Behind the first black boat, a warship that could be called a giant ship appeared.

It was so big, at least five times the size of an ordinary black barge. The densely packed gun ports looked like open eyes, staring at everyone with a fierce look.

For the first time, the people felt the fear from the huge ships and cannons.

But at this moment, a tide of cheers came again, because the people found that the people on the warship were wearing robes that looked familiar to them.

People's aesthetic views are actually converging.

Chinese clothing has evolved over thousands of years, and its aesthetics have been constantly adapted to the times and improved step by step.

Therefore, when modern people look at the costumes of the Han, Wei and Jin dynasties, they will feel that they are solemn and dignified but also a little weird, as if something is missing.

But starting from the Tang Dynasty, and up to the Song and Ming Dynasties, it suddenly felt particularly beautiful. Even after a thousand years, you can still feel its beauty, and you can't even find many flaws.

To be frank, the beauty of Chinese clothing was still under constant exploration, but it reached perfection since the Tang Dynasty, and the Song and Ming Dynasties were the pinnacle of the pinnacle, ultimately achieving great success.

By the time of the Qing Dynasty, the first hurdle this slave regime had to face was this clothing system that had reached perfection.

The Manchus could shave their heads and change their clothes, and they could conduct literary inquisitions, but the issue of the beauty of clothing, which ran through the entire Qing Dynasty, could never be resolved.

This is not something that can be matched by human power. No one can be so amazing as to design clothing that can transcend thousands of years of evolution by one person.

If it is said that human talent is limited, this is only a basic problem. Then the origin of the upper class of the Qing Dynasty in the Tungus Desert dealt a heavy blow to the official uniform of the Qing Dynasty.

This kind of nation, which was suddenly pulled from the late matriarchal clan period to the late feudal society by external forces, can adapt to other things, but cannot make a sudden leap in aesthetics.

What are the characteristics of the appreciation of clothing in matriarchal civilizations?

That is full of primitive instincts, that is, they like complex patterns, complex and changing colors, complex accessories, and shiny things, just like animals when they are courting.

This doesn’t mean that clothes can’t have a variety of colors, etc., but they must not be deliberately complicated and piled up.

Therefore, under the double pressure of having to be different from the Han official uniforms and civilian uniforms represented by the Ming Dynasty Hanfu, and at the same time conform to the Tungus matriarchal aesthetics of the early Qing upper class, the shape of Qing clothing, especially official uniforms, was a disaster.

Specifically, the color matching is too complicated and even eye-catching, and the patterns and accessories are even more unsightly. There is no solemnity or beauty. The overall look is like a piece of patchwork made by a shaman.

Not only the Han people could not stand this, but the Qing Dynasty itself also found it offensive.

As early as the Kangxi period, Ma Ge couldn't stand it anymore and started to grow sideburns and secretly wear traditional Han costumes. Yongzheng and Qianlong were the culmination of this, and they almost stopped pretending. Both father and son were fanatical fans of Han culture.

So, when the guards of the Xing Tang Army appeared in bright red yisas and black flying saucer helmets, and the soldiers of the Zhen Army appeared in mandarin duck battle jackets and vermilion lacquered helmets with the word "Yong" on them.

The shock felt by the people on both sides of the Pearl River was like that felt by a person in later generations who had grown up believing that the Han people did not have any traditional clothing and who suddenly came into contact with clothing from the Tang, Song and Ming dynasties when he grew up.

It is an extreme tremor that comes from the depths of the soul and the blood, as if the genes of the ancestors were resurrected from the body in an instant. The impact is beyond words, and you will fall in love with it at first sight.

The climax is when Mo Zibu appears in a green python robe and a black gauze turban, surrounded by a large group of civil and military officials in red and green robes.

I don’t know how many people couldn’t help but burst into tears when they saw these people wearing the same robes as their ancestors in the portraits in the ancestral hall.

One person started crying, and suddenly a lot of people started crying.

The Mingxiang people on the boat were also crying. This was their first time returning to their homeland after more than a hundred years of absence.

Twelve-year-old fisherman Liang Wengeng was squeezed in the crowd with his parents and brothers. He was wearing half-cut torn pants and a bamboo hat dotted with holes.

Looking at the group of gorgeously dressed people in the distance, he didn't know why, even though this should have nothing to do with him, a poor fisherman's child, he just wanted to cry.

The warship docked, and Mo Zibu slowly descended. Li Xianwen and the others were already there to greet them. They had deliberately chosen not to wear Ming Dynasty official uniforms, so as not to distract from the main event.

Mo Zibu was the first to land, and this was also the first time he set foot on the territory of his homeland since he traveled through time.

Extremely excited, Mo Zibu straightened his clothes, looked at the dark crowd, and spoke a sentence in Cantonese, Hakka, and Minnan dialect.

"My fellow countrymen, I, Mo Zhao, have returned from overseas. You can all go back and comfort our ancestors, and tell them that the Ming Dynasty, our Han people's homeland and world, has returned!"

With a thud, Liang Wengeng, who was wearing half-torn pants and had his upper body naked, was squeezed out of the crowd, then rolled under the crotch of the yamen runner who was maintaining order, and rolled directly in front of Mo Zibu.

Liang Wengeng was so frightened that he didn't even have the courage to stand up. He sat on the ground, trembling like a puppy that fell into the water.

The people around stopped cheering and looked at Mo Zibu nervously.

Liang Wengeng's mother even collapsed to the ground, and his father knelt down with a thud and kowtowed to Mo Zibu from a distance.

This is what life was really like for ordinary people under the high pressure of the Qing Dynasty. If a poor child like Liang Wengeng offended a noble, he would be dragged away by the yamen runners and beaten with a stick at the very least, or beaten to death at the worst.

Just like when the Qing army destroyed the Shabei Chen Ancestral Hall a year ago, they dared to kill people directly.

If most of the officials in the Ming Dynasty were heavyweights, the Eight Banners of the Qing Dynasty and most of the officials under their control were almost equal to animals.

Mo Zibu pulled Liang Wengeng up from the ground. Of course, he didn't know that this guy would later become one of the big pirates who roamed the South China Sea in history.

"Boy, go get me a bowl of water from your hometown!" Mo Zibu took a tattered gourd from Liang Wengeng's waist, which should be used for drinking water on weekdays.

The frightened Liang Wengeng was pulled up by Mo Zibu himself. Although his body was there, his soul had not returned. He was so panicked that he didn't understand what Mo Zibu said at all.

Mo Zibu could only point at the Pearl River and speak to him again.

Liang Wengeng then scrambled to the Pearl River and filled a large gourd with water for Mo Zibu. Mo Zibu walked a few steps forward and came to an old woman selling herbal tea. "Auntie, I'll lend you a bowl."

With a ding-dong sound, an Anfa small copper coin was left behind.

Then, Mo Zibu poured out the first small bowl of water from Liang Wengeng's gourd. He raised the bowl to his eyebrows and drank it all in one gulp.

"From today on, any corrupt officials who harm others will be executed without mercy!"

"A hundred years ago, the Eastern Tartars stole our Han people's land and property. I, Mo Zhao, will definitely get it back for you."

"A hundred years ago, our Han ancestors suffered humiliation. I, Mo Zhao, will definitely seek justice from the Bannermen!"

Mo Zibu drank three bowls in a row, rewarded Liang Wengeng with a quick silver bun, and took him back to his parents.

"Brother, sister-in-law, don't worry. The time when the Tartars casually attacked and killed Han people is over."

The male and female stood up, not quite understanding what was going on, but Mo Zibu had already walked into the city.

Suddenly, someone reached out to grab the gourd in Liang Wengeng's hand, not the silver cake that Mo Zibu had rewarded him.

Liang's father roared, drew the fish knife from his waist and started to chop, until he saw that it was his uncle who stretched out his hand, and then he stopped abruptly.

"Asshole, is this something your family can offer as an offering? This should be taken to the ancestral hall and worshipped."

My uncle shouted sternly, saying that his Liang family was actually very poor and even their relatives in Shunde were unwilling to take them out to play, so there was no ancestral hall at all.

But it is also possible. As long as this gourd is there, you can build an ancestral hall that everyone will recognize.

"Never mind, I'll let you take my fishing boat. Just consider it a small loss for me. After all, I'm your uncle!"

After hearing what his uncle said, Liang's father slowly loosened his hand holding the fish knife and let his uncle take the gourd away.

As for the bowl of the old woman selling herbal tea, she had hidden it tightly, and several of her strong sons guarded it and took it home to treasure it.

Passing through the Taiping Gate in the south city, the road was filled with cheering people following him. Mo Zibu also rode a warhorse, escorted by 500 Xiongnu cavalrymen, along the Guangzhou city, from south to northeast, heading towards Zengcheng.

Behind the cavalry, a thousand selected Xingtang Guards, a thousand Xingtang Town Army, and two thousand Wei Suo Army, all dressed in formal attire, holding flintlock rifles with bayonets, pulling four-pound and six-pound field guns, marched through Guangzhou City in a mighty manner.

"Oh, what a strong soldier! No wonder he could defeat old Emperor Qianlong in Beihe!" Someone immediately shouted out this bizarre rumor that had been fabricated countless times, and said with a sigh of admiration.

"I think the Han people are indeed about to revive. Look, the Xiongnu have returned and are still protecting the Han king."

"What kind of Huns are these? Why do they all look like foreigners?" Someone didn't understand, and then someone quickly explained it to him.

"These are the White Huns among the Xiongnu people. They look pretty much like the foreign devils."

"Ah Sheng, Brother Ah Sheng, I'm Ah Shui! Here, here, look at me!"

Some people recognized their former playmates in the crowd and shouted loudly, trying to attract their attention, but soon the army lined up in neat formation and walked over shouting unified slogans.

"Hey, you poor boy!" Beside Ah Shui, his father stamped his feet in regret, "I asked you to go abroad, but you are afraid of death.

Now, Ah Sheng is holding a musket, and is an official eating the emperor's food. In the future, when he follows the king north to fight back to the capital, I wonder how high an official he will be!"

There were all kinds of rumors, and the people in the city were chasing after the army, laughing and running along with joy.

Guangzhou people haven't been this happy for a long time, because in the past, no matter whether it was the Eight Banners or the Green Camp, if you dared to chase them and point fingers at them, insulting them would be the least of their problems. It would be normal for them to even steal and rob them.

When they reached the Xiaobei Gate of the inner city, which is near Yuexiu Park in later generations, people from Qingyuan in the north, Dongguan in the south, Chaozhou, Huizhou and Jiayingzhou in the east finally arrived.

It was densely packed, at least tens of thousands of people were spread out everywhere. They were standing in three layers inside and outside, craning their necks to watch, each of them wanting to see what the overseas emperor who had been legendary for decades looked like.

Under the watchful eyes of the crowd, more than a dozen people were pulled out. They were wearing prison uniforms. Some of them were so terrified that they could not walk and had to be dragged by soldiers.

The first one was Shang Weisheng, the general of Youjiang Town in Guangxi of the Qing Dynasty, a Han army member of the Bordered Blue Banner. His ancestor was the big traitor Shang Kexi.

Someone had already explained to the onlookers who this person was. In an instant, a huge rage was ignited. The crowd roared, and many people even wanted to rush up and beat him to death.

Mo Zibu had experience this time. He no longer said it was lingchi as he did in Beihe, where the person died after only thirty or forty cuts. Instead, he specially prepared an executioner with whom he had been in contact for a long time.

"Shang Weisheng, your ancestors never thought that such a day would come. Don't worry, don't be afraid. I will definitely send your entire clan, all the descendants of this old traitor, down here to accompany you!"

Shang Weisheng was raised fat and white. He thought he would be pardoned, but he didn't expect to be cut into pieces. He cried and wanted to commit suicide by hitting the distant city wall.

But the executioner had been prepared for this move and pushed him to the ground, then tied him up like a fat pig.

When he was stripped naked, the executioner took a high-quality fishing net and covered him with it, and then three or four people pulled the net tight.

The plump pieces of meat were immediately squeezed out from the gaps in the fishing net.

The executioner stretched out his hand and pinched it, and with a click, he removed Shang Weisheng's jaw. Then he took out a sharp steel knife and cut off the flesh that squeezed out of the gap with one stroke. Then an apprentice immediately applied some herbal medicine to stop the bleeding.

Shang Weisheng cried out loudly. It wasn't very painful, but the fear in his heart had reached the extreme.

Of course, his crying was not actually very loud, because his jaw was dislocated and he could only make some strange noises.

"One!" The onlookers shouted.

The executioner made the second cut.

"Two!" This time the shouts were more uniform.

The executioner then threw the piece of meat to the crowd, who rushed over like crazy to grab it, and some even grabbed it and threw it away.

When the number reached 217, Shang Weisheng finally died. His head tilted to one side, his whole body was soaked in blood, and white bones were everywhere.

The executioner had already been replaced three times, and the last one was extremely depressed. How could he really accomplish the task of cutting the person into pieces?
At the same time that Shang Weisheng was being executed by slow slicing, the other bannermen also suffered a bad fate.

They are descendants of Tong Yangjia, the first Governor-General of Guangdong and Guangxi. They were born in the Eight Banners stationed outside the Great Wall, were transferred to Beihe, and were subsequently captured. They are also considered one of the big fish.

Mo Zibu chuckled, what a coincidence! The one who killed the Three Loyalists of Lingnan was the traitor Tong Yangjia.

Mo Zibu picked a guy he liked, and dragged him onto the platform with a big knife in his hand. "You are lucky, kid. When you get to the underworld, remember to kowtow to me three times before you go to hell."

After saying that, Mo Zibu swung his sword, and the black head flew into the sky. Blood splattered all over Mo Zibu and the white cloth curtain behind him. On the curtain was written:

"The mountains and rivers encompass the land of China, and the sun and moon will open up a new bright future."

Zhu Hongwu had used it, so Mo Zibu only needed to change the name.

Beneath the stage, Chen Bangyan's great-grandson, Chen Songfeng, had already come over, carrying a terrifying hacksaw. He looked at every member of the Tong family with bloodshot eyes and shouted to the surrounding members of the family:
"Find a piece of wood and pin them down. I'm going to do it myself today. Lord Zhonglie, open your eyes and see! Your children and grandchildren have avenged you!"

Mo Zibu watched all this, but his soul seemed to fly into the air, overlooking the earth. Countless people who were inspired by him were shouting enthusiastically.

The descendants of Zhang Jiayu, Chen Bangyan, and Chen Zizhuang who came from around Guangzhou, the descendants of Guo Zhiqi from Chaozhou, the descendants of Kuang Lu who died holding a zither, and the descendants of Wang Xing who committed suicide by exploding with gunpowder were all in the crowd, looking up at the sky with tears in their eyes.

They're back, they're all back.

(End of this chapter)