Pine, Bamboo, and Plum: A Song AAR (MEIOU)

Following their stunning victory at Nanyang, Song's Yue Envoy and Frontier Defense Force move east into Anhui Province while the White Lotus Army presses north. The two Ming armies converge to make their stand at Huainan.


These movements are somewhat dangerous for Song: Zhu Chenghua himself commands a sizable force laying siege to Tongling. Should he strike the White Lotus while they're on the move, or should he join his army with those in Huainan, the Ming could still present a threat. But the Ming leader does nothing, thus sealing the fate of his entire kingdom. Employing the same tactics that proved so devastating at Nanyang, the combined Song armies wreak havoc on their enemies in Huainan.


Song's Yue Envoy and Frontier Defense push for Tongling while the White Lotus Army moves through Nanjing, cutting off any chance for Chenghua and his men to escape. The same patch of ground that Jibi Zhenghu so heroically defended against the Yuan now hosts the final battle of the Second Zhu War. Chenghua, despite being a skilled general, finds his forces completely overwhelmed. His army is crushed before the White Lotus can even arrive on the battlefield. The king escapes with his life, but not much else.


As May turns into June, the unthinkable has occurred. The Kingdom of the Great Ming, under Chenghua the most aggressive, expansionistic, and powerful in China, has been utterly defeated in less than six months.


Only one question remains: what is to be done next?

A runner is dispatched to Hangzhou announcing the news and requesting further orders. The generals had gone into the war confident, but neither they nor Wangyi could have anticipated how quickly the end would come. Wangyi does not respond for nearly a week, carefully weighing the options he has in front of him.

“In my opinion,” he finally writes back, “Queen Zhu Li was the second and final legitimate Ming ruler. Chenghua, despite his blood, is a regicide and a tyrant. His subjects have suffered long enough under his heel. And our victories on the battlefield, however tragic the resultant loss of life may be, have made Heaven's will clear. Spread your armies across the entire kingdom; it is for us to rule the Ming people now.”


Over the next several years, the armies of Song, Yue, and He Zhen sweep across the three Zhu realms putting down the meager resistance that the few remaining loyalists offer. Yue moves through Tianwan and Xiang, occupying everything save the capital at Hankou, which the vassal He Zhen picks up on Song's behalf. They then march north to subjugate the Ming provinces, with Song and He Zhen taking the southern and eastern portions while Yue stakes a claim on the northwest.


By January of 1409, most of the provinces in the south have surrendered to Yue. With his entire kingdom lost due to his brother's imperial aspirations, Zhu Yongwang decides not to go on. He hangs himself in his own throne room, leaving a note spitefully declaring, “Yet Chenghua still survives.” Zhao Wangyi orders the dissolution of the Tianwan monarchy and annexes the area around Hankou.


Throughout the next two years, province after province willingly surrenders to the Song Kingdom. Many, especially in the Wu-speaking areas around the Yangtze, enthusiastically accept Song rule. After twenty years of mass conscription and onerous taxation under Chenghua, and after seeing what little these sacrifices have brought them, most Ming subjects are eager to live under the fairer hand of Wangyi.

In Suzhou, Wangyi's place of birth, the city's surrender is accompanied by celebrations and fireworks. The people of Nanjing, however, “celebrate” in a different way: before opening their gates to the Song armies, an angry mob storms the Palace of Brilliance. The few guards who remain offer no resistance. King Chenghua is dragged into the streets and beaten to death.

As more and more Ming territory switches sides, the tenor in Hangzhou's government begins to change to something Wangyi finds disturbing. Some military officers and bureaucrats, particularly the younger ones, drunk on success, begin to advance the notion of a Song Dynasty. They talk of continuing west through Qi and Xia, and a few even discuss stabbing Yue in the back despite their fifty years as a faithful ally.

Though Wangyi feels as healthy and fit as ever, he doubts he has more than a few years left in him and fully intends to step down from the throne after the war is over. Distressed by the warmongers entering the government he is about to leave, Wangyi begins writing his farewell address, one last attempt to steer the kingdom in the right direction. But he has no idea what that “right direction” should be. That is, until plague devastates several Song provinces. Wangyi reacts swiftly to stymie the death toll and, in doing so, realizes what needs to be said.


In April of 1411, the final northern provinces under Yue occupation surrender to the kingdom. Yue exits the war by freeing Xiang, forced into vassalization by Ming and an unwilling combatant in the war. The kingdom, however, is now a shell of its former self, controlling the land around its capital but not much else.

By the end of 1413, all loyalist resistance in the north is finally extinguished. The sieges ended years ago, and finally every remaining province has been added to the Song patrimony. Zhao Wangyi finishes the conquest by annexing the capital of Nanjing. Forged by Zhu Yuanzhang, enriched and strengthened by Zhu Li, expanded but then destroyed by Zhu Chenghua: the Great Ming is no more.


December 8, 1413. Dining hall, Song Capitol, Hangzhou. No furniture, all cleared out to make space. Clerks and soldiers, ministers and generals, all sardined into the massive room, shoulder-to-shoulder. King's orders. Wangyi stands on a pedestal with a sheaf of notes in his hand. He must have rehearsed this half a dozen times already. Despite the decades of economic growth, the successful war, the near-doubling of Song territory, this, this is, in his mind, the most important moment in his reign. He clears his throat and the noise echoes through the dead-silent room.

“Loyal subjects of the Song Kingdom. As many of you may have already guessed, I've called you here today for one final word before I step down as your king. I came to this throne forty years ago, and it's time for me to pass it on to my son, who I'm sure will be a wise and just ruler. My reign will end, and his will begin, in February, on the first day of the Lunar New Year.

“Furthermore, I may as well announce this too, while I still have your attention.” The audience chuckles. “The former Ming lands north of the Yellow River will be given to the Qin Kingdom, for a variety of reasons. These lands are far from home, their people would prefer to join with their northern brothers rather than us, and the Qin have legitimate claims on them, while we do not. Additionally, the isolated province of Yingzhou shall go to Yue, partly in thanks for their support in the war, partly because it has proven over the years to be ungovernable by us.


“But these statements hardly justify summoning you all to hear. I do not wish to talk of the state of our kingdom today. Instead, I wish to share the path I believe it should walk in the years to come.

“The history of China mirrors the cycles of the sun. A new dynasty is a sunrise: full of hope, promise, and unlimited potential. As the sun moves higher in the sky, the day grows brighter and warmer. But at some point, it always reaches its apex. Then, it begins to fall until the countryside plunges into utter darkness.

“It has always been this way. Strong dynasties are forged in the fires of hardship. They remember the failures of the one before and seek to do things differently. But, after some time, these lessons are always forgotten. The emperors and bureaucrats grow decadent and complacent, content to rule the most powerful empire in the world. The government crumbles, stagnates, rots from within, until it is swept away by steel, either from within or without.

“Some of you look at our position in the Middle Kingdom and say we should keep going. You say we should not stop until all of China is under our control. You say it is time for a new Song Dynasty. I understand this idea is seductive. An empire formed today would likely outlive you. It would certainly outlive me.

“But that is a path to ruin. The moment that an empire has no new challenges to face, no new foes on the horizon, is the moment that its collapse begins. From then, it is only a matter of time. The Shang and Song fell to foreign invaders. The Zhou and Tang fell to regional warlords. The Han and Yuan fell to religious zealots. Should we construct a new empire, only one question remains unanswered: who will inevitably destroy it?

“As most of you know, the Great Plagues that struck during the Yuan era resurfaced in several of our provinces not long ago. We reacted swiftly, sequestering those infected and killing off the rodents that carried it. How did we know to know to do this? Experience. Having seen the plague before, we knew what measures to take to limit its damage. And, having seen dynasty after dynasty fall by the wayside of history, destroyed by its complacency, we should know what measures to take there as well. We cannot stop the rise and fall of the sun, but we can stop the rise and fall of our government.

“The world is a vast place, but we barely know of the lands outside our corner of it. We do not know what challenges await us out there until we encounter them, and we cannot defeat them until we see how they operate. So, as my final message as your king, I say this: it is not for the Han people to rule only China. It is for us to rule All Under Heaven. Building a new empire may seem a grand objective, but it is piddling in comparison to what awaits us beyond our borders. On this day, I ask you not to look inward for new trials, new hopes. I ask you to look outward.”

The thunder of applause that follows shakes Heaven itself.


With the transition of power scheduled for February 22, Wangyi travels north for an official tour of Nanjing. People gather in the streets, clapping and cheering for their new king as his procession passes. While there, Wangyi makes his final royal decree. The Palace of Brilliance is to become a Confucian shrine open to all, except for the throne room, which will be converted to a mausoleum. He orders that Zhu Li be reinterred there and asks that when he should die, he be buried beside her.

The trip back to Hangzhou is a pleasant one, full of laughter and merrymaking. Wangyi is more than eager to finally step down and let his son take the throne. Perhaps, he dreams, he could even follow in his grandfather's footsteps, wandering the countryside and refining his art.

But, sometimes, Heaven intervenes in mortal affairs and demonstrates its almost boundless cruelty.

Figured I'd do gameplay notes in a separate post because there's a lot and I didn't wanna use asterisks and have people skip to the end.

First of all YEAH SERIOUSLY WTF. :angry: No, I didn't fire this event, and it reeeally pissed me off at first. The heir was 40 years old and a goddamn 8/8/8. I'd been planning since like 1380 for Xingwang to be my first “all-star” monarch, I'd already written the event for Wangyi to abdicate, and this stupid son of a bitch goes hunting?!?! This was the only time in the game I seriously considered breaking the no-reloads rule.

But such is life, and we must bow to the Random Number God. My next king might be a little bit more successful than his stats suggest he should be, so just know my emotions intervened against my RPing and said, “God damn it, I'm accomplishing at least a little of what Xingwang was supposed to!” (Also, I kinda wish EU had some kinda stripped-down version of CK's family trees, cause it's kinda silly that after 40 years on the throne, my dude had one son and no grandchildren. The rumors of how good it is to be the king have been greatly exaggerated.)

The province surrenders, just to refresh, are MEIOU's war dynamism. Occupied provs whose occupations are uncontested for a couple years flip to their occupier in a few narrow circumstances. Here, it's because we're both Chinese and the territory's in China. It becomes relevant again later on because it also kicks in when Religion A province is occupied by Religion A country but owned by Religion B country.

Aaaand the territory ceding. I'm not sure if this will be controversial, so I'm preparing an apologia! First, I tend not to reveal MEIOU-assigned leader traits... but one of Wangyi's was “generous.” So there's that. But besides, I gave up the provinces to Qin when them and Khalka were both 2PMs. I didn't want to deal with the areas (poor, high RR, uncored, ugly borders) so passed them off to a kingdom that looked really weak, assuming they'd just be slightly less weak after. Then Qin took a province from Yuan and Khalka took two from Jurchen, as reflected in the 1414 map. And later on... well, you'll see. But it turns out to be really interesting imo.

(The province I gave to Yue was the one under their “U” on the 1414 map and was 100% just for the prettier borders. :rofl: And the -infamy is sooomething of a gift... I refunded the infamy cost for the Ming provs I passed to Qin, but I think it's justifiable because Ming had used reconquest, which works both ways, so I could have taken 4 or 5 of my cores infamy-free anyway. Btw this -infamy is one of just two effects from modded events over 300 years that actually has a positive effect on my country.)

I did consider a “final confrontation” with Chenghua, but I decided I liked the idea of him passing on ingloriously as a historical footnote better. Oh yeah and Wangyi's "It is for us to rule All Under Heaven" is meant to be inspiring rhetoric, not an indication that it's WC time, haha.

As a final note, sorry if I blab on way too much. You should see me when I'm drunk, I can't shut up to save my life.

@mayorqw: To be fair, he presided over one of the derpiest wars in history. “Oh my god, how come we're all dying?! This totally worked in the last war! Oh well, let's just try again.”

@scholar: Haha. He's actually my second “Ming” general... got the first during the first war with Ming! The surname pool is kinda small.

@Stuyvesant: I always kinda viewed Wangyi as a healthy balance between the idealism/humility of Lin'er and the pragmatism of Li... partly why I paired them off. But I'm excited to get to a couple monarchs who might have never in their lives heard the phrase “healthy balance.”

Memento Mori said:

Is the Song Kingdom doomed to change ruling houses like gloves? If so, I guess changing to a republic asap would be a good thing. I am quite scared that Wangyi will do his usual thing in his final years (lock himself up like a sissy and allow others to rule for him, taking power) instead of taking the rational course of action (take a dozen concubines and attempt to secure his dynasty, while searching for a childless, loyal and able regent).

It's quite sad that once we have someone with enough legitimacy to start a new dynasty (him being a descendant of a long line of beaurocrats exiled from the Old Song kingdom and all that) the only heir dies. I hope that if Wangyi fails to produce a new one, the next king will either be a relative or someone with a simmilary fitting ancestors (or that he fails and the next one will )

And nice to see that you destroyed the house of the Ming (honestly, when I learned of their real origin, I was suddenly less sad that the dynasty ended IRL, and to see that in the aar, the peasant rabble were ruling not one, but TWO kingdoms...)!

Click to expand...

I was gonna make the heir situation a cliffhanger, but rethinking it, it seems like a jerkass thing to do since it'll be resolved in the first couple paragraphs of the next update anyway.

So I'll just tell you now: yes, I do get a legitimate heir before Wangyi dies. I mentioned his nameless daughter being married off as a Chekhov's gun... obviously I'm going to have to do a little plot-wrangling to get the upcoming grandson to take the Zhao name rather than his father's, but I consider that less of a stretch than having my 68-year-old, possibly manic-depressive king going out and making a baby after the death of the last person in his life that he really cared about. (Edit: Not that he wouldn't have cared about his daughter, but she's a plot device, not a character.) This course of action also ties in with another later ingame event quite nicely.

But yeah, I wouldn't worry about the Zhao line for the time being and sorry for going all "Next time on Dragonball Z!" with a frustrating cliffhanger that didn't really need to be one.

@etranger01: Haha, yeah... Xingwang was suspiciously absent from the story for practically his entire life because I knew ahead of time he was doomed before he made it to the throne. Hey, at least he wrote a letter that helped his dad out before kicking the bucket, haha. But the House of Zhao marches on!

@Stuyvesant: I downloaded the CK2 demo but still haven't gotten to playing it... mostly since I don't have money to buy the game and can't tempt myself. :laugh: I do know my first game I'm going to be running a bastard factory just for the lulz, though. I'm gonna go all Carl Sagan on that game: "How many heirs does he have? Billions and billions of heirs."

The Song-Yue bloc is very, very powerful... at this stage I have a slight edge on them, but not by much. And you'll see in this update, Qin is developing into a pretty hefty third power. So I'm mostly looking to cement my alliance with Yue and keep China relatively stable. Let's just say Wangyi's "look outward" is the first hint at my manifesto for this game.

@scholar: Sure, that'd be awesome!

As for Europe, I will admit I haven't fought a war with them yet (partly I'm worried invading them at all during the EU timeframe would be really unrealistic... but if I can come up with a plausible base of operations, France is looking like a fun endgame boss ) but the plot will be rather heavy on our interactions!

Upon learning of the death of his only son, Wangyi locks himself in his chambers and goes into mourning. Many in the Song government worry that he may, as he did after losing his wife and Zhu Li, neglect his duties as king and enter another period of deep depression.

But Wangyi reemerges seven days later and, although he seems noticeably tired and forlorn, announces he intends to continue running the kingdom. “My son,” he tells his ministers, “dearly departed, and a wiser man than me... he reminded me of my duties at a crucial moment in my life. To tell the truth, I barely have the heart to go on any longer... but my feelings pale in comparison to my responsibilities to the Song people.

While Wangyi reaffirms his commitment to ruling his nation, the topic of an heir remains unsettled. Some advocate passing the throne to one of the top bureaucrats in absence of a blood relation, thus ensuring at least competence in the next king. Wangyi, however, will hear nothing of it. He fears that this, coupled with his own disputed ascension decades earlier, would set a dangerous precedent where the throne is always up for grabs.

Others suggest the next king could be Geng Dewei, a Zhou prince and the husband of Wangyi's only daughter. This, in Wangyi's mind, seems a more reasonable solution to the problem, but the couple's lack of a son still makes it potentially risky down the road. One lone bureaucrat proposes that the throne could instead go directly to Wangyi's daughter, but no one takes this idea seriously. In any event, the debate rages in Hangzhou with no end in sight.

In 1415, Wangyi expands the scope of the royal census. “We should be using it to learn about our people,” Wangyi says when explaining the decision, “not just to find out how much money our people owe us.”

Following the annexation of Ming, Wu has overtaken Min to become the Song Kingdom's most-spoken dialect, with Zhongyuan (Central Plains) Mandarin a not-distant third. The economy is primarily fueled by ceramics, tea, and silk, which are exported to neighboring Chinese kingdoms, Southeast Asia, and Japan. (The growing Korean kingdom, however, has recently embargoed Song trade.) The average peasant's diet consists of little more than rice. The Confucian bureaucracy reigns over the entire kingdom, save the Ryukyu Islands.*

Money is spent on construction in the former Ming lands in the hopes of quickly integrating the people there into their new kingdom. Tax riots break out in Shanghai over this, but the armies are quick to put down the rebellion. Other than economic development, however, very little is done in the next several years.


The issue of the Song throne is finally settled in February of 1417 when Wangyi's daughter gives birth to a healthy baby boy. The child, Geng Wongwai, is named heir apparent. The boy's father is offered the title of regent, should Wangyi die before Wongwai comes of age, on the condition that he move to Hangzhou and renounce his place in the Zhou line of succession. Despite the once-powerful kingdom's reduction to a single province at the mouth of the Yellow River, the prince refuses. But, with no other options available, the infant is made first in line for the throne regardless. Tutors are sent to the Zhou capital of Jinan so the child can at least learn to speak the dialects of his future kingdom.


Still eager to push further into China, the Tibetan barbarians declare war and invade Yue in 1418. Wangyi honors the call of his loyal ally and dispatches troops west to deal with the foreign menace.


But Tibet, feared decades earlier as a threat to all of China, quickly proves to be a zhilaohu: a paper tiger. Their poorly-trained armies are quickly put down.


After a few years, the battles have been won and Wangyi recalls his troops to home territory. They return with tales of distant empires: the mighty Kazakhs, who control much of the steppes and claim the title of Great Khan, and the powerful Bahmani Sultanate, a Sunni kingdom that has conquered the entire Indian subcontinent.


A peace is brokered with the Tibetans, releasing Daxia as a petty kingdom on the frontier. Wangyi immediate annuls the alliance with them, preferring to be tied to Yue and no one else.

In the same year, the old king of Zhou passes away. He skips over his older sons and leaves his kingdom to Geng Dewei, thus making that man's son, Wongwai, heir to both Zhou and Song. Few in the Song government thought Dewei would ascend the throne, and this kindles fears of a massive Song subservient to the Zhou government in Jinan. Wangyi, however, refuses to look elsewhere for an heir.

Four short years later, Geng Dewei himself also perishes, putting his nine-year-old son in charge of the kingdom. The entire Song bureaucracy goes into a frenzy worrying over the ramifications, fretting about a foreign king as heir to the throne, begging Wangyi to reconsider his decision and find someone--anyone--else.

But rumors arrive from Jinan that may put all their fears to rest. Naturally, the young Wongwai is not old enough to rule in his own right. But the boy is proving to be remarkably headstrong despite his age. He lashes out at his regents, going so far as to threaten to “get rid of them all” on the day he turns fifteen. Eventually, they cave to his demands: he wants to move to Hangzhou.

After some pomp and pageantry heralding the boy's arrival, Wangyi dismisses his ministers and attendants to speak with his grandson in private. They sit across from each other at a table. Wangyi has tea brought in for the two of them. Neither speaks to each other.

Having never met the boy before, he isn't sure what to make of him. Wongwai is a rather frail and spindly child with stringy hair and a scowl carved into his face. But there's a certain gleam in his eye, a certain level of intelligence--or, rather, of scrutiny--that he rarely sees in children this age.

“What,” Wongwai says, breaking the silence, “aren't you going to say anything?”

Wangyi chuckles at his grandson's lack of manners. “You asked to come here,” he replies. “I assumed that meant you had something to say.”

The boy thinks for a moment. “You're really in charge around here, huh?”

“Some might even think of me as a king.”

The joke doesn't garner a smile. “No, I mean, like, really in charge. The way everyone acts around you... no one treated my dad that way.”

Wangyi raises an eyebrow. Perceptive for a child. “They trust me. I've been king longer than most of them have been alive, and I suppose I've proven myself to be a good ruler in their eyes.”

“You don't talk like most grown-ups.”

“How's that?”

“I mean, they talk down to me. Like I'm stupid or something.”

“Adults tend to think they know better than everyone else, especially children. They equate learned knowledge with innate intelligence. I'm old enough to recognize that knowing is not nearly as important as thinking.”

“I want to be a Zhao,” the boy blurts out. He waits for Wangyi to respond, but his grandfather just sips his tea, waiting for him to continue. “I... I...” The boy looks away.

“Go on. I'm not going to chastise you, if that's what you're afraid of.”

“I... I hate my dad,” he yells. “I hate Jinan, I hate the Geng name, I hate it all!”

“Why?”

Wongwai's scowl deepens. He doesn't say a word.

“Very well. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to.”

“You... you're not mad?”

“Because of what you said?” Wangyi shrugs. “No. If that's how you feel, so be it. It's more virtuous to be honest than polite.”

The boy eases up noticeably. Wangyi, careful to preserve the rapport he has with his grandson, suggests the boy rest. The next day he seems to have calmed down some, but still, every word about his father is tinged with a certain anger. Wongwai doesn't relent in insisting on discarding his father's name. In the end, arrangements are made for the boy to stay in Hangzhou permanently. His regents in Zhou protest, but with a piddling few thousand troops at their disposal, there really isn't anything they can do: the boy, now Zhao Wongwai, and his inheritance come under the aegis of the Song Kingdom.**


Wangyi leaves much of the governance of the kingdom to his bureaucrats, and instead devotes the next two years to educating his grandson. He knows royal tutors could do just as well on scholastic topics, but the boy's temperament troubles him. Wongwai is an angry child, and Wangyi hopes to calm the boy's spirit some, if he can.

In time, the boy opens up more to his grandfather, shedding some light on his personality. Geng Dewei was a violent, stupid man--leaving Wongwai with many scars to prove it. Although Wangyi gets along with his grandson well enough, the boy can't seem to shed the rage instilled in him by that. He absorbs information relatively well, but shows little interest in government or strategy. Still, his acuity when it comes to reading people never ceases to surprise.

The other thing that disturbs Wangyi is the boy's reverence of him. Wongwai was born a decade after the last battle of the war between Song and Ming. He grew up on stories about “his grandfather's war,” thinking of the bloody conflict as something exciting or heroic. Wangyi does his best to disabuse the boy of those notions, but to no avail.

In 1428, Wangyi personally travels to the Yue capital of Guangzhou. He hopes to set up a marriage between his grandson and a Yue princess, refusing to send an envoy to do the matchmaking. Above all else, Wangyi hopes to find an intelligent young woman who can act as a sobering influence on Wongwai. Eventually, Princess Wan'er is sent to meet the boy, a smart, pretty girl two years his senior. They immediately hit it off, and their subsequent betrothal is celebrated in both capitals.

The journey, however, saps what health remained in Wangyi's body. He spends several days in bed, too weak to move. Knowing that his time has come, he summons Wongwai to his bedroom. In his final words, he says to the boy, “The kingdom is yours now. Its people are yours to protect. Treat them with honor and dignity.” He grips the boy's shoulder, then lets go and closes his eyes, never to reopen them. At the age of eighty-three, after fifty-five years on the Song throne, Zhao Wangyi is dead.


The regency for Wongwai is remarkably uneventful. As they did during Wangyi's periods of infirmity, the bureaucrats contentedly keep the government running without making any grabs for power. Indeed, the Department of the Secretariat had been so throughly weakened after Sengge Wangdue's departure that almost no one in the present Song government has either the skills or desire to make policy at all. They can enact decisions marvelously but making them is left to the king and the king alone.

So when Zhao Wongwai ascends the throne in February of 1432, he finds himself at the head of one of the most powerful kingdoms in China. His treasury is flush with money, his military is large and powerful, and his legitimacy is unquestioned. And with all this power at his disposal, he plans to make use of it.



–----
*((I may have mentioned this before, but EU's religion system is meant for Europe and the Middle East and models China poorly. My people generally believe a mix of Buddhism, Taoism, and Chinese folk religion... I'm taking their all “being Confucian” to mean that my bureaucracy is up and running; eg, when missionaries “convert” Ryukyu to Confucianism it means they've been integrated into the government.))

**((Gameplay terms, all that happened was a new heir in '17, new Zhou king in '22, Zhou king's death and my PU with them in '26. All this might be a tad far-fetched, but I think it tied it all together in as sensible a way as possible. I didn't want to explain either of these events by Wangyi getting a new wife and making some babies himself.))

Expanding the map's scope a bit, now that Japan is finally more coherent than a patchwork quilt. I may or may not give a rundown of SE Asia at some point... I never paid any attention to it during the game, but going through screenshots, it's rather turbulent! Dunno.

@Memento Mori: Oh he's a fun one. :laugh: I gotta confess he may be a bit more competent because I was still pissed about losing Xingwang, but he's going to be an... interesting fellow.

And yeah, India is one area I can't wait to tell the history of (obv I need to discover it before I can write its history from a Song pov.) But yeah, by time I do get there, the entire southern half of India is converted to Sunni, while the northern half is still Hindu (but ruled by Sunnis.) I think there's, like, one single OPM that's Hindu-governed at that point. On the other hand, Islam never kicks off in Indonesia if I'm recalling right...

And later on I end up creating a new branch of Islam for the Indians to explain certain political developments. Fun times.

@Stuyvesant: Man, you read my tells spot-on every time. :laugh: As Wongwai ages, he begins to get more... shall we say, unpleasant.

And I assure you that this century, there will be some true legends indeed.

@Sjiveru: I quite like Wan'er... and I've got someone coming in maybe 2-4 updates I know you're going to love.

The alliance between Song and Yue, almost eighty years strong, has brought prosperity to much of Han China. Merchants and scholars travel freely between the kingdoms. Children grow up on tales of Han Lin'er's defense of Yue against Ming and Dahan, while adults still recall the cooperation and coordination of the allies to finally destroy the Zhu menace. With the western kingdoms bogged down fighting the Tibetans and the Muslims, and the northern Qin just barely managing to keep their Mongol vassals under their control, many believe nothing can disrupt the peace.

The fifteen-year-old Wongwai, however, has no use for peace. To him, the only way for a king to be great is through war. People talk of Lin'er's honor and sense of justice, but what will become his legacy? Crushing the Yuan Dynasty. People talk of Wangyi's composure and vision, but what will become his legacy? Crushing the House of Zhu.

Wongwai has no desire for tranquility and doesn't care what people might say about him. He's concerned with his legacy. All he has to decide is who he will crush.

Naturally, Yue is off the table. His wife--precious dear, how fond he is of her--would never stand for it. But besides that, he isn't confident he could win a war against them. And he certainly sees the value of the alliance. Not only does it mean he doesn't need to worry about a war with them, it allows him to act with impunity elsewhere. If anything... unexpected happens, the Yue armies could be used as a sort of auxiliary defense force.

But Wongwai has read his grandfather's now-famous speech, nearly memorized the damn thing, and he's taken its message to heart. It's time to look outward. He knows exactly who his target will be. And certain technological developments will make his dreams possible.


The young king decides to keep his plans secret for a while. He's decided not to replace any of Wangyi's ministers for the time being, and they may not be too keen on the first aggressive war in the kingdom's history. Anyway, he needs to prepare, and he has a few domestic plans to put into effect before attacking a foreign opponent.

Immediately after taking the throne, a massive wedding is held for Zhao Wongwai and his betrothed, Gao Wan'er, in the city of Shanghai. Wan'er argues against holding such an elaborate ceremony, saying the kingdom's resources could be better spent on more practical matters. Wongwai, however, insists that beyond his desire to demonstrate his love for her, it would be a useful diplomatic gathering. It's important to formalize the marriage quickly: the engaged teenagers couldn't manage to keep their hands off one another, and Wan'er is already with child.

After the official ceremony, just as everyone settles in to wine and dine, Wongwai says he has an important announcement to make. “I just wanted to thank you all for coming,” he says. A sly grin spreads across his face. In front of the innumerable government employees, he continues, “It's an honor to have you all here in what is to be our kingdom's new capital.”


Neither Wan'er nor any of the assembled bureaucrats seem to find the impromptu decree as amusing as Wongwai does. The government men swarm Wongwai's table, their mouths moving even faster than their feet.

“Sir, I don't know how you expect us to--”

“Couldn't you have done this more--”

“The Ministry of Public Works will need its budget--”

“Sir, will all due respect, this is absolu--”

“Shut up, all of you!” Wan'er yells. The bureaucrats, most of them frantic with worry and some beginning to visibly perspire, stop their chattering. The young princess--well, as of ten minutes ago, queen--grabs Wongwai by the arm and hauls him off into a private room.

The moment Wan'er closes the door, Wongwai breaks down in laughter. “D-Did you see their faces? I ca--” struggling to catch his breath “--can't believe it's so easy to freak them out!”

Wan'er tries to maintain her scowl--really, what is he thinking?--but can't keep it up. She drops the facade and laughs along with him. “The Prime Minister looked like he was about to wet himself!”

“I know, I know! Man, he's really gonna hate me after all the overtime he'll be pulling to get this move done.”

“Wait... what?” She stops laughing. “You're serious?”

“Yeah, why? You thought I was joking? I just announced it like that to see how they'd react, and damn was it ever worth it!”

Wan'er curls up her eyebrows. “Honey, you can't just... do things like this. It's too reckless. You need to think about the repercussions.”

Wongwai is about to tell her he can do what he damn well pleases, but the look on her face, the concern... “Darling... don't worry. I did think it through. I decided almost a year ago about this.”

“I just wish you'd tell me...”

“I will, I will.” The war, the war, hm... well, he can tell her about that later... “I'm sorry. Look, it's the right move. Hangzhou's an old city, damn near ancient. But Shanghai... we can build anything we want there. The whole Yangtze is ours, and the city's right on the river. It's perfect. Shanghai's the future.”

Wan'er relaxes. “Alright. I'm sorry too.” She gives him a peck on the cheek. “We should get back... I'm sure the ministers aren't going to leave us alone until we explain this whole thing half a dozen times.”

Wongwai glances at his wife. “Oh, well...” He glances at the bed in the room. “I thought we might...”

“They're going to get suspicious and come looking for us if we're gone too long.”

The king sighs, dejected. “Yeah, you're right...”

Wan'er grins. “I wasn't saying no. We just need to be quick about it.”


A city is only a city if it has people who live there. In 1432, Shanghai is less a city and more a collection of towns built up around Wangyi's wharves and piers. Besides the transient merchants and sailors, the area is home to mostly innkeepers and bartenders, dockworkers and wholesalers, prostitutes and criminals.

The relocation of the bureaucracy will bring at least some respectable residents to Shanghai, and a few entrepreneurial spirits are sure to follow. But that is hardly enough for Wongwai. Wan'er would certainly argue against anything so rash as what Wongwai has planned, but when his wife is bedridden due to complications with her pregnancy, he sees an opportunity to act without her getting involved. Following in the footsteps of Qin Shi Huangdi, Wongwai orders that people will populate his new capital, whether they want to or not.*


In what will later be known as the infamous March to Shanghai, tens of thousands of people are forcibly uprooted and relocated to the city, often left to fend for themselves upon arriving. Rice farmers are stripped of their lands to make room for the new arrivals. Unknown numbers die either en route to Shanghai, due to the harsh conditions on the road, or in the city itself, because of inadequate shelter and food. Arson tears through Nanjing and Hangzhou--whether angry residents or the government itself sets the fires, no one can tell. Disease runs rampant across the entire region.

In May, three months after Wongwai's ascension to the throne, Wan'er gives birth to a boy. The child is named Dewang, and Wongwai immediately names him heir apparent.


After a few months of recovery, Wan'er feels well enough to begin receiving news about the kingdom again. This is the first she hears of Wongwai's March. She begs her husband to call it off, but he is adamant about filling his new capital with, in his words, “fresh bodies.”

Seeing no alternative, Wan'er takes up administration of the relocation herself. And under her skilled hand, things seem to improve. She grants tiny parcels of repossessed land to government employees, who in turn rent them out to be developed. A construction boom quickly takes hold, creating thousands of residences for the people of the city, who until then had largely been living in improvised shacks and huts, if they had anywhere to live at all. Merchants find that anyone willing to haul food to Shanghai can quickly make a fortune, and the roads become so well-trodden that soon there's actually too much food coming into the city. And, with all the spare hands around, Shanghai becomes the center of steal production and blacksmithing for the entire Song Kingdom.**

On top of all this, Gao Wan'er makes what shall become her greatest contribution to the development of Shanghai. With Wongwai eager to drain the overflowing treasury left to him by his grandfather, Wan'er convinces him to let her establish a university in the city. She plans for it to be and open to all and free of charge. Wealth and prestige are to be irrelevant; high marks on a standardized entrance test, much like the civil service exam, will determine who is accepted and who is rejected.***


Over the next several years, Wongwai spends most of his resources constructing drydocks and enlarging the Song navy with his new ocean-going ships. He keeps his plans secret from everyone, simply arguing that he intends to protect Jeju and the Ryukyu Islands from Japanese piracy. Yet Wan'er is unconvinced. She picks away at his defenses, softens his heart, until he finally confesses what it is he needs such a grand navy for: his aim, his target, is the sprawling Korean Empire. And, by the summer of 1436, a minor incident in Mongolia finally gives him the chance to begin his invasion.


-----
*((Gameplay: So this event is all bad. The numbers look ridiculous because EU growth rates are per-decade. That is, 10% growth is 1% per year or 1/12% per month. [For a mathier explanation, it seems to compound monthly but I calculated the numbers I needed as if growth was instantaneous w/ P(t) = Pe^kt and my calculations were still very close to the ingame result.] Overall, this just moves people but kills about 200k of them over the 30 years to represent hardship/mismanagement. [But for story purposes, I'm assuming most deaths are in the first few years, and once infrastructure is built up people begin migrating of their own volition.] I lose 4 tax in my two CoTs and gain only 3 in a non-CoT, and Nanjing/Hangzhou both get permanent debuffs. So yeah, no real benefit ingame, mostly done for flavor.))

**Steel arrived in China sometime around 500 BC, and by the time of the Han Dynasty, blast furnaces were not uncommon. The 1000's saw the widespread adoption of coke under the old Song Dynasty. Coke-fired blast furnaces would not be used in Europe until the 18th century. The Song Kingdom further refined and perfected the art of swordsmithing, and their weapons were prized for their durability.

***Despite Gao Wan'er's noble intentions, the old University of Shanghai still tended to cater to those of means. While aptitude was the only prerequisite to entry, it was generally only the rich who could afford to educate their children well enough to pass the rigorous examinations. Regardless, the university did accept and educate a number of poor, yet brilliant, students.

Update today maybe...

@Qorten: Taiwan's def on my radar. MEIOU changes how colonization works... I'll detail it once the system kicks in, but the short version is no one gets colonists until trade tech 14 if they have QFTNW, and not until trade tech 24 without QFTNW. QFTNW also requires Merchant Adventures. I have one free idea slot atm, going to have two by the 1460s or so. Lips sealed about Japan/Lusong, buuut... back in the intro when I said "[xyz] doesn't mean I can't have an empire on which the sun never sets," I actually meant "I'm going to have an empire on which the sun never sets." :laugh:

@scholar: Sorry, I'm confused... I thought you meant you had a name generator. What exactly is it?

@Stuyvesant: Ahaha. Oh man, I love Dresden Codak.

As for Wongwai, maybe I have a cynical view of history, but I find anyone with a "gaiz, just chill and be nice to each other" message doesn't tend to have much success getting later generations to adhere to it, and "restraint" isn't a word in most powerful people's vocabulary.

@JuvenalianSatyr: It's the fate of every generation to think the previous one was doing it wrong. :laugh: I tend to view a lot of things as cyclical like this.