ATPnovel Chapter 57 The Discussion of Abandoning the Defense
Chapter 57 The Discussion of Abandoning the Defense
Midnight, August 27th, the sixteenth year of the Chongzhen reign, in the Forbidden City, Beijing.
After the drumbeats sounded three times, a deathly silence fell over the palace and its surroundings. However, the East Warm Pavilion of the Wuying Hall was brightly lit with candles, and Empress Zhou sat behind her desk with three urgent reports that had arrived almost simultaneously spread out in front of her.
The first document was the last military report sent by the scouts of Xuanfu at night, the handwriting blurred by blood: "On the 25th, the city is about to fall. Your subject Ma Ke bows and prostrates: Xuanfu may be lost, but Juyong Pass must be defended. I urge the court to quickly devise a grand plan."
The second document came from Zhou Yuji at Juyong Pass, written in a firm, iron-like hand: "The beacon fire at Xuanfu suddenly went out last night, indicating that it is no longer defensible. The vanguard of the Qing army has already reached thirty li outside the pass. Your subject, Zhou Yuji, swears to live and die with the pass, but requests that the court prepare for a southward relocation as soon as possible."
The third document, the shortest, was an urgent message from Nanjing, written by Li Ce himself, containing only nine characters in vermilion ink: "Saving people is more important than saving land; I trust your decision."
Empress Zhou stared at the nine characters for a long time. The candlelight flickered, casting swaying shadows on her pale face. The letter had been sent from Nanjing three days ago, when Xuanfu was still holding out desperately; Li Ce had foreseen this day.
"Your Majesty," Ni Yuanlu's voice rang out from outside the palace, sounding weary, "Duke Zhang, General Huang, and Minister Shi have arrived."
"Come in."
The three men entered the hall, all disheveled, clearly having just been woken from bed. Zhang Weixian's old eyes were cloudy, Huang Degong was still in his armor, and Shi Kefa was clutching half a scroll of border defense map.
"Take a look at them all." Empress Zhou pushed the three urgent reports onto the table.
The three passed it around, and the hall was so quiet that the crackling sound of the candle wick popping could be heard.
After a long while, Zhang Weixian knelt down tremblingly, touching his head to the ground: "This old minister...this old minister is ashamed before Emperor Taizu and Emperor Taizong..." His voice choked, and he could no longer speak.
This hereditary Duke of England and Governor-General of the Beijing Garrison had spent his entire life's glory in Beijing. His ancestor Zhang Fu followed Emperor Chengzu in the Jingnan Campaign, and his father Zhang Weixian guarded Jiliao during the Wanli reign. Now it was his turn, but he had to face the choice of abandoning the capital.
"Please rise, Lord Zhang." Empress Zhou's voice was calm, yet carried an undeniable authority. "This is not the time to plead guilty. General Huang, how many soldiers in the capital garrison are still capable of fighting?"
Huang Degong clasped his hands in a fist salute: "Of the 50,000 troops in the Beijing garrison, 30,000 have already been transferred to Juyong Pass. There are 20,000 remaining in the city, of which 8,000 are newly trained flintlock pistol soldiers, and the rest are mostly old and weak."
"forage?"
"The official granaries hold 400,000 shi of grain, which can last for three months if only used to supply the military and civilians. But if refugees flood in..." Huang Degong paused, "I'm afraid it won't last two months."
Empress Zhou turned to Shi Kefa: "Minister Shi, you are in charge of the Ministry of War. Tell me, can you hold out?"
Shi Kefa remained silent. This Minister of War, known for his uprightness and outspokenness, now pursed his lips tightly, and after a long while, he said, "If we only defend Beijing, with its high walls, deep moats, and ample supplies and weapons, it's possible to hold out for half a year. But..."
He looked up, his eyes bloodshot. "But if Juyong Pass falls, the Qing army will besiege the city, and we'll be doomed. Moreover, with a million lives in the city, if the siege drags on and our food supplies run out, we fear internal strife may break out."
He didn't continue. But everyone remembered the Ji Si Incident in the second year of Chongzhen's reign, when the Jin army besieged Beijing, leaving countless starving corpses in the city, and people even resorting to cannibalism.
"Mr. Ni," Empress Zhou looked at Ni Yuanlu, who had remained silent, "Does His Majesty have any specific arrangements for Nanjing?"
Ni Yuanlu took out another secret letter from his sleeve: "His Majesty has three decrees: First, the Crown Prince, the two princes (Prince Yong and Prince Ding) and the concubines of the harem shall immediately move south by both land and water, and Duke Zhang shall personally escort them."
Second, the six important documents, the palace library, and the veritable records of all dynasties must be packed and transported south; not a single one should be lost. Third…”
He paused for a moment, then said, "Third, if things get urgent, we can burn down the granaries, armories, and factories of the Ministry of Works, so that not an inch of iron or a grain of rice can be given to the enemy."
"Burn the granaries?" Zhang Weixian looked up abruptly. "What about the people in the city...?"
"His Majesty has said," Ni Yuanlu said in a low voice, "that in extraordinary times, extraordinary measures must be taken. Preserving people is more important than preserving land, and preserving the nation's lifeline is more important than preserving a city."
The hall fell silent once more. Outside the window, the autumn wind howled, like the weeping of countless wronged souls.
Empress Zhou rose, walked to the palace door, and pushed it open a crack. The night was deep, and the silhouettes of the bell and drum towers stood silently in the darkness.
She lived in this city for seventeen years, from Princess Xin to Empress, every palace and every passageway is steeped in memories.
"Pass on the decree." She didn't turn around; her voice was soft, yet it pierced everyone's heart like a nail.
"First, the Crown Prince, Prince Yong, and Prince Ding will be escorted out of the capital by Duke Zhang at dawn tomorrow, traveling south by waterway through Tongzhou. The concubines and female officials of the harem may voluntarily accompany them; those who do not wish to... may remain."
"Secondly, the important documents of the Cabinet and the Six Ministries, as well as the books in the Hanlin Academy and the Imperial Academy, shall be packed into boxes immediately and escorted by General Huang's troops, traveling south by land through Baoding and Zhengding."
"Third," she turned, her gaze sweeping over the crowd, "Beijing, we will not abandon it."
Zhang Weixian was startled: "Your Majesty!"
"Let me finish." Empress Zhou walked back to her desk, her hand resting on it, her knuckles turning white. "The city will not be abandoned, but we must prepare for both possibilities. General Huang—"
"Your subordinate is here!"
"You will lead 20,000 troops from the Beijing Garrison to defend the nine gates of the outer city. Do not seek to repel the enemy, but only to delay them. If the Qing army arrives, defend each gate for three days. Once they arrive after three days, retreat to defend the inner city."
Who will guard the inner city?
"I will defend," Empress Zhou said, enunciating each word clearly. "The inner city has three thousand elite soldiers, two thousand Imperial Guards, and a thousand volunteer eunuchs, plus the remnants of the army that retreated into the inner city, totaling ten thousand. I will defend with these ten thousand men until the very last moment."
"Your Majesty, you mustn't!" The four knelt down in unison.
"Why not?" Empress Zhou smiled, a sorrowful smile. "His Majesty is in the south, the Crown Prince is in the south, the foundation of the nation will not be extinguished. I am but a woman, to be buried here is... to preserve the dignity of the Zhu family's daughter-in-law."
She looked at Ni Yuanlu: "Mr. Ni, you will accompany the Crown Prince south tomorrow. Tell His Majesty that I... have done my best."
Ni Yuanlu burst into tears and collapsed to the ground, unable to get up.
"Go then," Empress Zhou waved her hand. "I want to see the Crown Prince's carriage leave the city before dawn. Remember—this trip is confidential; do not disturb the people."
The four people left. Silence returned to the warm pavilion.
Empress Zhou stood alone, taking out a jade pendant from her bosom—the one her husband had personally tied on her during their wedding. The jade pendant was warm and smooth, engraved with twin lotus blossoms.
"Youjian..." she whispered her husband's name, tears finally streaming down her face, "This time, I... cannot be with you."
On the same night, at the Wenhua Hall in Nanjing.
Li Ce didn't sleep either.
He stood before the enormous map, his vermilion brush drawing a blood-red X at the location of Xuanfu. The X was so heavy it almost pierced the paper.
"Your Majesty," Li Ruolian whispered as she entered, "an urgent report from Beijing, delivered by express courier over 400 li."
"read."
"On August 26th, Xuanfu fell. General Ma Ke died in battle, and the remaining troops retreated to Juyong Pass. The Qing army suffered approximately 8,000 casualties. After a few days of rest, they will surely move south."
Li Ce paused for a moment, then dragged a red line across the map with his vermilion brush, from Xuanfu all the way to Juyong Pass.
"Marco..." He closed his eyes. This general, whom Zhou Yuji had personally trained, ultimately fulfilled his oath as a "bones of the border army" with his life.
"Your Majesty, there is another secret report, sent by our people from Beijing." Li Ruolian lowered her voice, "Her Majesty has decided to stay in Beijing and has arranged for the Crown Prince to move south. Duke Zhang will escort you, Huang Degong will guard the outer city, and Her Majesty... will personally guard the inner city."
Li Ce opened his eyes, his gaze swirling with emotions, which finally settled into a long sigh: "She's still so... fierce."
"Your Majesty, should we urgently dispatch reinforcements north? Zheng Sen's navy has already successfully harassed and captured Liaodong, perhaps..."
"No." Li Ce shook his head. "Zheng Sen's mission is to contain, not to engage in a decisive battle. Let him continue his harassment, but absolutely do not allow him to land and fight head-on." He walked to the window, gazing at the northern night sky. "Beijing... cannot be defended."
He said it calmly, but it felt like a piece of ice hitting Li Ruolian's heart.
"Your Majesty, if the capital falls, the entire world will be shaken..."
"The capital was already a mere shell of its former self when I made my southern tour." Li Ce turned around, his eyes gleaming sharply. "The true capital is here—" He pointed to his heart, "in me, in the Crown Prince, and in this new court in Nanjing. Beijing is just a city, and inside it are just some bricks and tiles. Bricks and tiles can be discarded, but the lifeblood of the nation cannot be severed."
He walked back to the map and emphasized Nanjing with his vermilion brush: "Issue the imperial decree: From this day forward, Nanjing shall be renamed 'Yingtian' and become the temporary capital of the Ming Dynasty. The Six Ministries shall take full control of the administration of the relocated people from the north, and reception offices shall be set up along the route to settle the displaced people."
"What about Beijing..."
"Beijing is in the Empress's hands." Li Ce's voice lowered, trembling almost imperceptibly. "She can hold out for as long as she can, but what I want is for her to return alive. Tell our people in Beijing that if necessary... they can forcibly escort the Empress out of the capital."
"If Your Majesty refuses..."
"Then tell her," Li Ce looked up, his eyes seemingly glistening with tears, "I will wait for her in Nanjing. I will wait until my hair turns white."
Li Ruolian bowed and accepted the order, then withdrew from the hall.
Li Ce stood alone in the empty hall, the candlelight casting a long shadow on the cold floor tiles, like a lonely monument.
He recalled a time seven generations ago—when he had seen it on television: the real Chongzhen Emperor hanged himself on Coal Hill, and Empress Zhou committed suicide in the palace. They died in Beijing.
He restarted seven times, changed so much, killed so many corrupt officials, trained a new army, reformed the canal transport system, and quelled Zuo Liangyu's rebellion... But in the end, she still had to stay in that city that was destined to fall.
"I'm sorry..." he whispered to the north, "I... I still failed to... protect you."
The autumn wind outside the window suddenly picked up, making the metal brackets on the eaves rattle and bang, like the war drums of the north, each sound striking my heart.
August 28th, Juyong Pass.
Zhou Yuji stood on the pass wall, gazing at the dust-covered plains to the north. News of the fall of Xuanfu arrived yesterday afternoon, and this morning, the Qing army's vanguard appeared outside the pass.
It wasn't Hauge's Plain Blue Banner, but the Bordered White Banner—Dorgon's direct line. Under this banner, a Jala Ejen led three thousand elite cavalry, camping five miles outside the pass, neither attacking nor harassing, like a pack of patient wolves.
"General," the lieutenant whispered, "the scouts report that the main Qing force is still resting and regrouping in Xuanfu, escorting the spoils. These three thousand cavalrymen outside the pass are here to keep an eye on us."
Zhou Yuji nodded. He was over fifty years old, with graying temples, but his back was ramrod straight, like a gun stuck in the gate.
"How long can the grain supplies within the Great Wall last?"
"Eat sparingly, for two months. But if refugees flood in..." The deputy general smiled bitterly, "In the past two days, more than 10,000 people have fled from Xuanfu, and the number is still increasing."
Zhou Yuji looked towards the interior of the pass. The barbican, the horse path, and even the area beneath the arrow tower were all crowded with families. Children cried, the elderly coughed, men squatted silently in the corners, and women clutched their bundles, their eyes vacant.
These people lost their homes and fields, and had only their lives left. They fled to this fortified town, hoping to survive.
"Open the granaries and distribute the grain," Zhou Yuji said. "Give each person four ounces of rice per day, mixed with wild vegetables to make porridge. Tell the people: As long as the granary stands, the porridge will remain; if the granary falls... everyone should flee for their lives."
"General, we don't have enough rations..."
"Do as I say." Zhou Yuji interrupted him, "The soldiers eat dry food, the civilians eat thin food, that's the rule."
The order was given, and a brief commotion arose within the pass, followed by suppressed sobs. An old man knelt down and kowtowed towards the pass wall, his forehead striking the bluestone with a loud thud.
Zhou Yuji turned his face away. He had guarded the border his entire life and had seen too many scenes like this. In the eleventh year of the Chongzhen Emperor's reign, the Qing army invaded the pass. He was defending Datong, and the people outside the city cried and begged to open the gates, but he dared not open them—if he did, the pass might fall. That night, the cries outside the city did not cease until dawn, and when dawn broke, the area outside the city was littered with corpses.
That was his lifelong nightmare.
"General!" the scout captain hurriedly called from the wall, "People from Beijing have arrived!"
Zhou Yuji turned around and saw a group of people walking on the road. The leader was an old eunuch with a white face and no beard, followed by several Imperial Guards.
He recognized the old eunuch; he was Cao Huachun from the Directorate of Ceremonial, who had stayed in Beijing to assist with palace affairs after the emperor's southern tour.
"General Zhou," Cao Huachun said, bowing slightly, his voice high-pitched, "Her Majesty has decreed this."
Zhou Yuji knelt on one knee: "Your subject receives the imperial decree."
"Her Majesty's decree: Juyong Pass is the gateway to the capital and must not be lost. Zhou Yuji is ordered to defend the pass with all his might, at least until mid-September. If the situation becomes untenable by then, he may lead his troops south to retreat and defend Zijing Pass."
Zhou Yuji was stunned: "Your Majesty doesn't abandon Beijing?"
Cao Huachun smiled bitterly, leaned closer and whispered, "Her Majesty wants to defend, but... it's to buy time for the Crown Prince to move south. General, we are all sensible people; Beijing cannot be held. Her Majesty is... seeking death for her country, to preserve her reputation as a virtuous and loyal martyr."
Zhou Yuji was startled. He recalled the empress he had only met a few times; she always sat quietly beside the emperor, saying little, but with clear and firm eyes.
"Eunuch Cao," his voice was hoarse, "please inform Your Majesty: Your subject, Zhou Yuji, vows to defend Juyong Pass to the last man. But Your Majesty... please take good care of your health. The Ming Dynasty... cannot be without its Empress."
Cao Huachun's eyes reddened, and he bowed deeply: "Our family... will definitely deliver the message."
He turned and left the pass, his back hunched in the autumn wind.
Zhou Yuji looked back towards the area beyond the Great Wall. Smoke rose from the Qing army camp, horses neighed, and they appeared calm and unhurried. They were waiting—waiting for their main force to finish resting, waiting for the people of Beijing to be filled with anxiety, waiting for an opportunity to win without a fight.
"Order all battalions," Zhou Yuji gripped his sword hilt, "From this day forward, night scouts will advance twenty li and monitor the Qing army's movements day and night. Fortify the walls and prepare plenty of rolling logs and stones. Tell the brothers—"
He paused, his voice piercing the autumn wind:
"Behind us lies Beijing, and the Empress. We cannot afford to lose this crucial point."
The soldiers on the fortified wall roared in unison, "We swear to defend the pass to the death!"
The roar echoed down the gate walls, and the people inside fell silent for a moment, followed by low sobs. They understood: this pass, these people, would defend it to the death for them.
A ragged old man stood up shakily and shouted with all his might towards the gate:
"General—! My family of seven is gone, and I'm the only one left! For every day you stay here, I'll kowtow to you! Stay here until I die—even in the afterlife, I'll still kowtow to you!"
After saying that, he knelt down heavily, his forehead hitting the ground.
Zhou Yuji stood with his back to the interior of the pass, not turning around. He gazed at the increasingly thick smoke and dust in the north, his hand pressed against the cold battlements, veins bulging.
The autumn wind swept over the gate, carrying the chill of the first frost and the faint smell of blood in the distance.
September is coming.
August 29th, Tongzhou Wharf.
Crown Prince Zhu Cilang's fleet quietly set sail through the morning mist. Sixteen official ships carried the Crown Prince, Prince Yong, Prince Ding, and more than thirty concubines and female officials who had voluntarily migrated south. Zhang Weixian, clad in armor, stood at the bow of the lead ship, his white beard fluttering in the river breeze.
The dock was deserted, with no civilians seeing them off, and no farewell procession. Only a few squads of Beijing garrison soldiers stood silently on guard, armed, like a group of black silhouettes.
Zhu Cilang stood by the cabin window, gazing at the receding cityscape of Beijing. He was sixteen years old, with delicate features, bearing a resemblance to his father but also possessing the gentleness of his mother. Last night, before leaving the palace, his mother had stroked his face and said, "Lang'er, remember, you are the Crown Prince of the Ming Dynasty. Wherever you go, your spine must not bend."
He cried then, but his mother didn't; she just straightened his clothes.
"Your Highness," Zhang Weixian said, bowing as he entered the cabin, "the river wind is strong, please come inside."
"Master Zhang," Zhu Cilang said without turning around, "Is Beijing... truly beyond defense?"
Zhang Weixian remained silent for a long time before slowly saying, "Your Highness, this old minister has received the emperor's favor for generations and should live and die with Beijing. However, His Majesty's decree and Her Majesty's strict order require this old minister to escort you south. This old minister... can only obey the decree."
"And what about my mother?"
"Her Majesty..." Zhang Weixian choked up, "Her Majesty's journey is ordained by Heaven."
Zhu Cilang turned around, tears welling in his eyes, but he held them back: "Lord Zhang, after we arrive in Nanjing, I want to see my father. I want to request an imperial decree to lead troops back to rescue my mother."
Looking at the young crown prince, Zhang Weixian suddenly recalled that more than thirty years ago, he was also this age, accompanying his father on a border patrol in Liaodong. At that time, although the Ming Dynasty was already in decline, the nine border regions were still secure. Who would have dared to imagine that things would turn out this way?
"Your Highness," he bowed deeply, "this old minister...is willing to follow you to the death."
The fleet sailed downstream, the morning mist gradually dissipated, and the outline of Beijing completely disappeared from view.
Along the banks of the canal, the autumn fields lay barren. Occasionally, one could see refugees dragging their families southward. Upon seeing the official fleet, some would kneel and kowtow, while others would stare blankly.
Zhu Cilang stood at the stern until he could see nothing at all.
He knew that once he left, he might never come back.
The city of Beijing where he was born and raised, the Forbidden City where his father, mother, younger siblings, and all his memories reside—perhaps when he sees it again, the flags will have changed.
"Your Highness," a servant whispered, "it's time for breakfast."
Zhu Cilang shook his head: "I'm not hungry."
He went into the cabin and took out an inkstone from his bag—an old item his mother had given him the night before, one that his father had used in his younger days. A line of small characters was engraved on the bottom of the inkstone: "Heaven rewards diligence."
He stroked the four characters, murmuring to himself:
"Father, Mother, your son... will certainly not let you down."
The boat sailed south, the river surging on.
The flames of war in the north are burning ever brighter.