The Great Ming (3)

Yunyao had collected many songs from the Ming Dynasty and was very happy, often humming them to herself.

Soon, Zheng He’s voyage reached its destination: the ancient kingdom of Guli.

There, he erected a stele inscribed with the words: “Traveled over a hundred thousand li to China; the people and customs alike, harmonious as the gentle breeze. This stone is carved here to forever bear witness through the ages.”

The monument stood by the seaside like a deep footprint left by the Ming, proof that they had once been there.

Not long after, Zheng He played his flute again.

He came to bid farewell.

Zheng He said, “This journey has reached its end. I must return to report to His Majesty. Across mountains and rivers, take care of yourselves.”

He bowed deeply, a trace of reluctance and sorrow on his face.

Yunyao placed a conch shell into the water and gently nudged it with her tail.

The shell was carried by the sea to the shore, landing right at Zheng He’s feet.

Surprised, he asked, “Is this for me?”

He picked up the shell and held it to his ear, hearing the singing of merfolk within.

A joyful smile spread across Zheng He’s face.

The next day, the Ming fleet set sail for home, with Yunyao watching them leave.

Before long, Zheng He once again embarked on his voyages to the Western Seas.

Emperor Yongle was very pleased with his achievements and supported his maritime endeavors wholeheartedly.

Zheng He brought her a small celestial globe as a return gift for the conch.

He fiddled with the instrument and explained, “This wheel rotates to indicate the phases of the moon: new, full, crescent, and dark. It can be used to calculate the waxing and waning of the moon…”

Yunyao’s eyes lit up, and she was captivated by it.

This tiny device encompassed the secrets of the cosmos—the movements of the sun, moon, and stars.

It represented the pinnacle of Ming technology; how could it not stir excitement?

Zheng He asked, “Do you like it? Next time, I will bring you more gifts.”

Yunyao nodded eagerly.

Zheng He smiled.

His smile was like warm sunlight, capable of brightening all directions.

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During this voyage, Zheng He encountered pirates—audacious enough to dare rob the Ming fleet.

This band of pirates was formidable and well-armed, notorious for their ruthless raids and plunders along the sea routes.

Yunyao watched with concern, then witnessed the power of the Ming cannons.

With a thunderous boom, it was as if the heavens themselves were shattered.

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Yunyao relaxed and observed from the sidelines.

In this battle, over five thousand pirates were wiped out, ten pirate ships burned, and seven captured.

The Ming navy was invincible, unbeatable in battle—a supreme force.

Nothing but nature itself could defeat it.

That night, Zheng He recounted how he commanded the warships, encircling and annihilating the enemy.

He repeatedly praised His Majesty, calling him a wise and valiant emperor who had led five campaigns into the northern steppes, subdued the barbarians thrice, and struck awe across all lands.

Yunyao longed to see this legendary Emperor Yongle, but alas, she could never set foot on land.

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Zheng He sailed again and again, reaching more and more distant lands, even as far as East Africa.

Each time he returned from Ming, he brought Yunyao various treasures.

Under the starry night sky, Yunyao sat on the reef, listening to his stories.

Zheng He said, “During festivals, fireworks are set off in the palace. They are beautiful beyond words, illuminating the night sky for a moment, bursting into thousands of blossoms before gently falling.”

Yunyao showed a look of yearning.

Zheng He promised, “Next time I come, I will show you the fireworks of Ming.”

Yunyao nodded, smiling as she watched him sail away.

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Zheng He returned to Ming with tributes from many countries.

No sooner had he docked than he heard that His Majesty was gravely ill, so much so that Taoist priests had been summoned to the palace to concoct elixirs.

Zheng He’s heart sank, and without delay, he hurried to the palace to pay respects.

Upon entering, a strong scent of medicine filled the air.

The once wise and mighty emperor now had gray temples and looked near death, weakly leaning on his couch.

Seventeen years had passed since Zheng He’s first voyage; the emperor had aged, and so had he.

Zheng He knelt and respectfully said, “Your servant pays homage to His Majesty.”

Emperor Yongle opened his cloudy eyes, glanced at him, and asked, “I heard you once fell into the sea and were saved by merfolk?”

The sudden question struck like thunder, and Zheng He broke out in a cold sweat.

He calmly replied, “Your Majesty, I did fall into the sea, but there were no merfolk. I was rescued by a dolphin.”

“Oh? A dolphin?” the emperor said.

“Yes, dolphins are very friendly and often save those who fall into the water. Such incidents are common along the coast,” Zheng He explained.

The emperor then asked, “What of the singing that guided the fleet through the fog?”

Zheng He answered, “I do not know. The fog was too thick to see anything, but I have heard that whales in the ocean can sing beautiful songs. Perhaps it was a whale singing.”

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The emperor fell silent, his gaze lingering on Zheng He for a long time, uncertain whether to believe him or not.

Finally, he coughed violently and dismissed Zheng He.

Zheng He bowed and withdrew, feeling as if he had stepped into another world upon leaving the palace.

Passing by a river, he took out the conch shell, looked at it for a while, then without hesitation, tossed it into the water.

The next day, the funeral bells tolled; His Majesty had passed away.

Zheng He could not tell whether he felt sorrow or relief.

He wept bitterly for the emperor, then feigned illness, saying he was too old to sail again.

Though the court summoned him to set sail multiple times, he declined them all.

He could no longer go to sea—it would only bring danger to her.

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Yunyao had always looked forward to seeing fireworks over the sea, imagining how beautiful they must be.

But this time Zheng He’s absence grew long; he did not return for a very long time.

Perhaps state affairs had detained him.

A whole year passed, yet the Ming fleet did not come.

Day after day, Yunyao watched the horizon. Occasionally, small ships passed overhead, but none were the grand Ming fleet.

It was too long; when would he come?

Two years passed...

Three years passed...

Ten years passed...

Yunyao understood: he would never return.

How strange it was—last time, he promised to bring fireworks, suggesting he would come again soon. Yet he left without a word and never came back.

Yunyao cultivated alone in the sea, her power growing stronger until she could even command the winds and waves.

Still, she often gazed toward the ocean, hoping he might come again. But decades later, she no longer did.

For he could not live that long.

He must have died, vanishing from her life forever.

Later, countless ships from many nations frequented the seas, some flying the Qing flag.

Then, Qing ships disappeared from the seas, and the lands beyond closed off completely.

Until one day, the roar of cannons echoed once more, and countless vessels surged into the East.