MLMD -Chapter 330 Under Currents Stirring

The great battle beyond the passes tugged at the hearts of countless people. Whether in Shengjing or in Beijing, all eyes were fixed on this rare major war—one that had scarcely occurred in the past hundred years of the Great Ming. It could be said that the outcome of this battle would determine the future national fate of both Ming and Qing.

If the Ming were to win, the Manchus would have no strength left to covet the lands south of the passes for at least twenty years. The decades of effort poured in by Nurhaci and Hong Taiji, father and son, would all be reduced to nothing. But if the Qing were to win, then Hong Taiji—carrying the momentum of victory and having obtained nearly all of Yue Yang’s firearms—would see his power swell to a truly terrifying degree. At that point, there would be no one within Ming territory capable of opposing him. Of this, there was no doubt.

Of course, there were also people who hoped for a third outcome: that Yue Yang and Hong Taiji would fight until both sides were battered beyond recognition, ending in mutual destruction. The one harboring such thoughts was none other than the Chongzhen Emperor, seated within the Forbidden City.

Today, in the Warm Fragrance Pavilion, Chongzhen appeared distracted. After closing a memorial, he suddenly asked Wang Chengen, who stood behind him.

“Senior Attendant, how do you think the battle between Yue Yang and Hong Taiji is going? Have they decided a victor yet?”

“Your Majesty, this servant does not know either.”

Wang Chengen wore a helpless expression. Although the Jinyiwei were everywhere within the Ming realm, their reach extended no farther. Beyond the passes, they were simply unable to operate.

March in Beijing still had not brought warmth. The spring breeze carried a lingering, biting chill. Chongzhen was a diligent ruler—throughout the entire history of the Great Ming, only his ancestor, the founding emperor Zhu Yuanzhang, could be compared to him in sheer industriousness. Yet the difference was that whether in governing the state, commanding the military, or playing political games, Emperor Chongzhen fell short of Zhu Yuanzhang by leagues upon leagues.

Facing the internal turmoil and external threats of the present Ming, Chongzhen was utterly worn down with worry. Day and night, he anxiously reviewed memorials. His understanding of the empire was limited entirely to what he read in those documents. Having never lived among the common people, he had no idea what kind of suffering they were enduring. As for the dire state of the imperial finances, he was powerless to change it. He longed to rejuvenate the Ming, yet lacked the decisiveness to do so. He despised the civil officials, but did not dare to break openly with the civil bureaucracy. This was Chongzhen—contradictory Chongzhen.

With a sigh, Chongzhen tossed a memorial aside. It was a report from Dengzhou requesting funds from the court to provide disaster relief. Such documents had become routine. In recent years, nearly every prefecture sent several such memorials annually. The saying “the crying child gets the milk” had held true since ancient times. Those local officials cared little whether the court actually had money, or whether their jurisdictions truly needed relief. In any case, sending a poverty-pleading memorial on schedule every year was never wrong.

Chongzhen’s response was equally helpless. He could only write the three words “Noted” and file it away without action. This result surprised no one. Throughout history, once any empire endured for a period of time, its successors inevitably lost the sharp edge of the founding generation. From the moment they gained awareness, the civil officials who served as their tutors incessantly indoctrinated them—this must not be done, that must not be done. Those officials armed with the doctrines of Confucius and Mencius were especially enthusiastic about it, to the point that every emperor eventually became a moral pedant after ascending the throne.

It was precisely this that allowed the civil officials to bully the descendants of the Zhu family so thoroughly. Among the people, this phenomenon was called “the kind are bullied.” Otherwise, if the man seated on the dragon throne were Zhu Yuanzhang or Zhu Di, try deceiving him or embezzling his silver—see if he wouldn’t have heads rolling like melons. If fewer than tens of thousands died, it wouldn’t even count.

Leaning back wearily in his chair, Chongzhen closed his eyes and said slowly, “Senior Attendant, today there were again memorials impeaching the Loyal and Brave Marquis. They say he mobilized troops beyond the passes without imperial authorization, showing signs of a regional warlord, and that an edict should be issued ordering him to withdraw and come to the capital to accept punishment. After reading these memorials, I don’t even have the strength to laugh anymore. I truly don’t understand—what has happened to all the civil and military officials of the Ming? Have they read all their classics into a dog’s belly?”

Seeing Chongzhen’s exhausted face, Wang Chengen—who had watched him grow up—felt unspeakable heartache. Choking up, he comforted him, “Your Majesty, those censors have not read their books into a dog’s belly; rather, they have forgotten the teachings of the sages. In their hearts there are only two things left: promotion and wealth. You need not blame yourself. You have already done enough.”

“Done enough?” Chongzhen shook his head gloomily. “No… I have not done enough. Back then, the Taizu Emperor rose from commoner origins and won such a vast realm. Yet I sit atop the whole world and still flounder helplessly before these difficulties. Is that called doing enough?”

“This…” Wang Chengen’s mouth opened wide, but he could not find the words. Inwardly, he sighed bitterly: My Emperor, a man like the Taizu appears perhaps once every five hundred years. Why must you compare yourself to him?

Silence filled the Warm Fragrance Pavilion for a long while before Chongzhen waved his hand and laughed bitterly. “Forget it. I am fixated on appearances. The Taizu Emperor was a figure of incomparable stature—how could I presume to measure myself against him? It’s just that reading these memorials every day, each like a death notice, makes it impossible not to lose my temper. But then again, Yue Yang is now leading troops beyond the passes to fight Hong Taiji. I wonder how the battle is going. Senior Attendant, think of a way to find out—I’m truly curious.”

After pondering for a moment, Wang Chengen replied cautiously, “Your Majesty, if you truly wish to know, there are two ways. One is to send the Jinyiwei beyond the passes to investigate. The other is to have Hong Chengchou send people to inquire. After all, Hong Chengchou guards the Xuan-Da frontier, just a stone’s throw from beyond the passes, so it should be more convenient for him to gather information.”

“Mm, that makes sense.” Chongzhen considered it and agreed. “Very well. Senior Attendant, immediately issue an edict to Hong Chengchou, ordering him to dispatch men to inquire and report back to me at once.”

“Yes… this servant obeys!”

Several days later, Hong Chengchou received the urgent imperial edict. After reading it, however, he was left utterly baffled.

“Master, His Majesty wants us to send people beyond the passes to investigate the battle between Yue Yang and Hong Taiji. Isn’t this usually the Jinyiwei’s task? Why is he asking you instead?” Hong Antong, Hong Chengchou’s trusted subordinate, was equally puzzled.

Hong Chengchou stroked his beard in silence before finally saying, “I do not understand either. What exactly does His Majesty intend by this?”

“Could it be…” Hong Antong suddenly ventured a thought, “…that His Majesty wants us to act against the Northern Route, but cannot state it openly, and is using this opportunity to hint at it?”

“Hiss—”

Hong Chengchou sucked in a breath of cold air. At first hearing, Hong Antong’s words sounded absurd, but upon closer consideration, they were not without merit. This might truly be the case. Otherwise, why would Chongzhen refrain from using the Jinyiwei and instead have him investigate and report?

What Chongzhen did not realize was that this simple action of his had given rise to so many unintended interpretations.

As for Hong Chengchou, the more he thought about it, the more plausible it seemed. Yue Yang already displayed the bearing of a regional warlord in control of his own territory. If he were to defeat Hong Taiji and return, his prestige would rise to an entirely new level. At that point, if someone were to stage a Ming-version “yellow robe” incident, it would not be surprising at all. Throughout history, Chinese rulers had always been deeply wary of military commanders precisely because of the trauma left by the Tang dynasty’s warlordism and Zhao Kuangyin’s yellow-robed ascension. What could be more terrifying than a general with wealth, grain, and troops? Human desire was limitless, and Yue Yang had never been a contented man. If he returned carrying the momentum of a great victory, his ambitions might no longer be containable.

Thinking of this, Hong Chengchou could not help but shiver.

“No… the Northern Route must be resolved before Yue Yang returns,” Hong Chengchou thought grimly, a sharp light flashing in his eyes.

He turned and barked, “Antong!”

Hong Antong stepped forward and replied solemnly, “Your orders, Master?”

“You—”

“Knock, knock, knock—”

Just as Hong Chengchou was about to speak, there came a knock at the door. It was pushed open, and a slender figure slipped in. Hong Chengchou’s concubine, Yingniang, entered carrying a tray.

Seeing her, Hong Chengchou frowned and demanded, “Yingniang… what are you doing here?”

Startled by his displeased expression, Yingniang’s face turned pale. She replied timidly, “Master… this servant… this servant is here to bring you tea.”

“Tea?” Hong Chengchou glanced at the two cups on the tray. His expression softened slightly, and he waved his hand. “Very well. Put it down and leave at once. Without my permission, you are not to enter.”

“Yes!”

Yingniang hurried forward, placed the tea before Hong Chengchou and Hong Antong, and then fled as if granted a pardon.

With a creak, the door closed. Hong Chengchou looked toward it before turning back to Hong Antong.

“Antong, after careful thought, although His Majesty’s intent is veiled, it is actually quite clear. He wants us to seize this opportunity to reclaim the Northern Route. I have calculated that Yue Yang is currently locked in a decisive battle with Hong Taiji beyond the passes, and most of the Northern Route’s elite troops have been taken with him. At present, fewer than six thousand men remain to guard the entire Northern Route. Think about it—six thousand troops to defend vast territories including Hunyuan Prefecture, Yingzhou, and the surrounding defense zones. Their forces must be stretched extremely thin. Moreover, the Northern Route is currently overseen by Yue Yang’s former page, Yue Shunbao. As long as we can control Yue Shunbao, we can bring the Northern Route back under the court’s authority.”

Hong Antong asked with concern, “But Master, Yue Shunbao rose from being Yue Yang’s page. His family has served the Yue household for generations, and his loyalty is beyond doubt. How can we control him?”

Hong Chengchou smiled faintly. “If Yue Shunbao knows what’s good for him, all the better. If not—then as the Governor-General of Xuan-Da, do you think I lack thunderous methods?” A trace of killing intent appeared in his eyes. “Antong, starting tomorrow, begin secretly assembling troops in batches near the Northern Route. Once I have made all arrangements, we will seize it in one stroke. When that happens, everything in the Northern Route will belong to us.”

Seeing the gleam in his master’s eyes, Hong Antong—who had followed Hong Chengchou for many years—knew that he had made up his mind. He straightened and said solemnly, “Master, I will begin preparations at once.”

Hong Chengchou nodded. “Go. Remember—do it quietly. Do not alert the enemy. And also remember—”

As Hong Chengchou continued instructing Hong Antong, neither noticed that a shadow outside the door quietly slipped away through a side window. Half an hour later, a gray-brown pigeon rose from the governor-general’s rear courtyard and flew southward into the sky…

The next evening, in the document office of the Loyal and Brave Marquis’s residence, Hai Lanzhu sat at a desk reading an intelligence report that had just arrived. Her beautiful face was filled with cold severity.

After a long while, she set the report down and sneered. “Hmph… so this is our Great Ming court. The soldiers bleed and sweat at the front, while the civil officials stab them in the back without the slightest shame. This is the court we risk our lives for!”

Standing before her was Jiang He, deputy director of the Mountain Affairs Bureau. His face was as expressionless as ever as he said calmly, “One grows accustomed to it. Burning bridges after crossing them, killing the donkey after it grinds the mill, even stabbing from behind—these have always been the civil officials’ specialties. With the Marquis absent from the Northern Route, such a vast domain naturally draws envious eyes. Hong Chengchou’s actions are entirely normal.”

Hai Lanzhu took a deep breath and exhaled a long plume of white vapor. “Fortunately, we planted a piece beside Hong Chengchou in advance. Otherwise, if we only found out after he acted, we would be completely passive.”

Jiang He nodded in approval. “This was thanks to Madam’s foresight. Otherwise, the consequences would have been dire.”

Yet Hai Lanzhu showed no pride at all. She merely shook her head in loneliness. “I would rather that this piece never sent any message at all.”

Seeing her lack of cheer, Jiang He wisely changed the subject and asked in a cold tone, “Madam, since the intelligence mentions that Hong Chengchou intends to buy over General Yue, should we prepare in advance? For example, send people to deal with General Yue…”

Though he did not finish, his meaning was obvious. Hai Lanzhu frowned sharply and snapped, “Absolutely not! Shunbao rose from being my husband’s page and has always been loyal to the Yue family. We cannot treat a faithful subordinate who has served the Yue household for generations in such a way without evidence. Otherwise, if word spreads, wouldn’t it chill people’s hearts toward my husband? You must understand—my husband is not here. Every action I take represents him. Everything must be considered carefully. Without my order, you are not to act rashly. Do you understand?”

By the end, her eyes were filled with icy authority. Even Jiang He, grim by nature, felt his breath hitch and quickly lowered his head in obedience.

Looking at Jiang He’s bowed head, Hai Lanzhu recalled Yue Yang’s earlier warning:

“Wife, remember this. Intelligence agencies are our eyes and ears. Such sharp departments must be firmly held in hand. Jiang He is dark by nature—used well, he is a sharp blade; used poorly, he will wound his master. Therefore, with such a person, one must balance favor and authority, and never grant him military power. Otherwise, it’s like placing a living bomb at our side. If he shows any signs of instability, he must be eliminated immediately.”

At this thought, a fleeting trace of killing intent flashed through Hai Lanzhu’s eyes. It vanished in an instant, unnoticed by Jiang He, who still stood with his head lowered.

Several more days passed. Shunbao, stationed in Yingzhou, began to sense something amiss. Recently, there had been a noticeable increase in merchants arriving from Datong, many of whom sought audiences with him and brought lavish gifts. The offerings varied wildly—gold and silver, antiques and calligraphy, and some even brought several “slender Yangzhou beauties” to present to him. This terrified Shunbao, who hurriedly rejected them.

Caught off guard by this sudden barrage of sugar-coated cannonballs, Shunbao was momentarily bewildered. It wasn’t that he had never seen silver—Yue Yang was generous to his subordinates, providing ample pay and benefits. Moreover, Yue Yang had long anticipated attempts to bribe his officials and had issued clear regulations: gifts could be accepted, but must be reported to the Marquis’s residence in a timely manner; the value could not exceed twenty taels of silver; and anything that could not be returned had to be handed over to the residence.

The officials of the Northern Route all complied with this rule. Those who occasionally violated it had already enjoyed free meals in prison. Though Shunbao was Yue Yang’s former page and deeply trusted, he dared not cross the line even slightly. Too many cautionary examples lay before him.

Today, after finishing a city inspection and returning to the garrison office, Shunbao was told that someone from Datong sought an audience. Having been pestered incessantly these days, he waved his hand irritably, signaling the soldier to dismiss the visitor. Unexpectedly, the soldier replied, “My lord, the visitor claims to be your old family friend and insists that you must see him.”

“Old family friend?”

Shunbao almost laughed in anger. With three generations of his family having lived and worked at Yue Family Manor, how could he possibly have an old family friend in Datong? The visitor was clearly lying.

Yet his curiosity was piqued. He said coldly, “Very well. I want to see exactly who dares to call himself my old family friend. Bring him in at once. I want to see who has the guts of a bear and the heart of a leopard to dare deceive me!”