Chapter Three: Who Holds the Solution After Defeat?

No one in the court paid attention to the crown prince’s studies anymore.

News of the catastrophic defeat at Songjin had just arrived, and the Chongzhen Emperor hurriedly summoned his ministers for council.

In his haste, Chongzhen led the flustered Chen Xinjia to the Palace of Heavenly Purity. Amid the confusion, no one noticed that Zhu Cilang was quietly trailing at the end of the procession, slipping silently into the hall.

The Grand Secretaries of the Inner Cabinet, the Ministers and Vice Ministers of the Six Ministries, the Court of Censors, the Four Temples, and all officials of the fourth rank and above were urgently called into the palace.

Chongzhen was in a panic.

Standing in an inconspicuous corner, Zhu Cilang observed in silence, displaying a calm that surpassed everyone present.

“My lords, my lords, what are we to do about the situation in Liaodong?” Chongzhen’s gaze swept anxiously across his ministers.

Wang Daozhi, the Senior Censor-in-Chief of the Court of Censors, stepped forward. “Your Majesty, the defeat at Songshan was due to General Wang Pu and Wu Sangui fleeing the battlefield, causing chaos among the troops and thus leading to disaster. To stabilize the frontier, we must first discipline the hearts of men. Your servant petitions for the execution of Wang Pu and Wu Sangui, and investigation of the central command and Liaodong for anyone impeding border affairs.”

Chen Xinjia’s face turned pale. He had personally urged the Songjin campaign, prompting Hong Chengchou to go into battle unprepared, earning much resentment.

The Minister of Personnel, Li Rixuan, immediately echoed, “The elite troops of the nine borders are on the verge of collapse. Without a thorough investigation of the traitorous and incompetent ministers who have endangered the country, there will be no way to regain the people’s trust.”

“I second the motion!”

…

All at once, the ministers vied to speak, their righteous declarations ringing through the hall.

A cold smile played on Zhu Cilang’s lips. Anyone could speak such high-sounding words; when it came to real decisions, not one could be found. Yet when it was time to lay blame, they were indefatigable.

Troubled by the clamor, Chongzhen snapped, “Sun Shifu has devoted over a decade to Liaodong, yet now all is nearly lost. Why are you all caught up in such trivialities? The urgent matter at hand is what to do about military affairs in Liaodong. The rest can wait! Yixing, as Senior Grand Secretary, what is your view?”

The hall quieted slightly. Zhou Yanru, the Senior Grand Secretary, braced himself and stepped forward. “Your Majesty, there may yet be room for maneuver in Liaodong. Jinzhou is besieged but has not fallen. Though Wu Sangui retreated, his main force remains. We should first pacify the frontline soldiers, then gradually transfer troops from the rear and gather provisions. There is hope for recovery.”

Zhou Yanru’s words were ambiguous and evasive, but compared to the selfish, obstructive others, Chongzhen at least found some encouragement.

He was not wrong. Jinzhou had not yet been breached, and Hong Chengchou’s march was to relieve the siege. As long as Jinzhou and Ningyuan held out, the Liaodong situation was not yet beyond repair.

“How does the Ministry of War propose to handle Liaodong’s military affairs?” Chongzhen asked, turning to Chen Xinjia.

Chen Xinjia’s face was heavy with worry. “The Ministry of War petitions Your Majesty to win over Liu Zeqing’s forces in Shandong and Zuo Liangyu’s in Huguang. Also, to transfer troops from Xuanfu and Datong, and select elite soldiers from the Capital Garrison to reinforce Liaodong.”

Chongzhen shook his head. “Liu Zeqing and Zuo Liangyu are needed to suppress the internal rebels; they cannot be spared. Xuanfu and Datong are devastated and have no usable troops.”

“In that case, Your servant petitions Your Majesty to dispatch an experienced and capable minister to Shanhai Pass to stabilize morale and reorganize the forces. We could also consider sending the Wolf Soldiers from Guangxi or the native troops from Shizhu, or select valiant men from the Capital Garrison.”

“Shizhu’s troops are needed to confront Zhang Xianzhong; their redeployment would be exceedingly difficult,” Chongzhen rejected him again. “Guangxi’s native troops are a good option, as well as the Capital Garrison. The Ministry of War will deliberate and stabilize Liaodong.”

Chen Xinjia breathed a sigh of relief.

Chongzhen was finally regaining his composure. The defeat at Songshan had wounded him deeply. Upon hearing the news, he had panicked, nearly losing himself to a gambler’s desperation, hoping in vain to rally whatever strength remained for one last attempt to reverse the situation.

But reality was unforgiving.

Hong Chengchou had already gathered every last soldier capable of fighting on the frontier. Now, all that could be hoped for was that the Manchus’ appetite was insufficient—that after devouring Hong Chengchou’s forces, they would lack the strength to advance further, and the defensive line at Ningjin would hold.

The plan to gather more troops in Liaodong made this clear.

From his vantage point in history, Zhu Cilang’s grasp of the situation was no less than that of the current Grand Secretary, and his perspective was even broader. Yet…

Even the faintest hope that Chongzhen clung to was but a delusion.

Zhu Cilang surveyed the assembled ministers. Not one among them was truly capable of shouldering great responsibility.

Zhou Yanru was too calculating, always mindful of his own position. Chen Xinjia had loyalty and resolve, but lacked real talent. The others were even less capable.

The so-called “purists” only knew how to be rigid and seek fame; most of the other ministers were consumed by self-interest and unfit for responsibility. When news of defeat arrived, their first reaction was to lay blame elsewhere and absolve themselves, caring only for their own gain.

But most importantly…

Li Shiwen, Minister of Revenue, stepped forward and spoke in a subdued voice, “Your Majesty, if we are to redeploy the nine border troops, the Guangxi natives, and again reorganize the Capital Garrison, the national treasury has no funds or grain left to sustain it.”

Chongzhen stared blankly at Li Shiwen. “The state is in such dire straits, and the treasury truly cannot spare any more money or grain?”

Li Shiwen stood alone, his face seeming to age several years in an instant. “The war at Songshan has dragged on for two years. The Ministry of Revenue has exhausted every possible means to supply the army. The treasury is empty; every possible recourse has been tried, every expedient used. There is simply… no way to raise more funds or provisions.”

Chongzhen’s forced composure finally collapsed.

Knowing the outcome, Li Shiwen tremblingly removed his official hat, knelt, and said calmly, “Your Majesty, this old servant is incompetent and has delayed the affairs of the state. I beg Your Majesty’s permission to retire and return to my village.”

Chongzhen’s rage flared. “With the nation in peril, is this how you fulfill your duties? Guards, strip him of his office as Minister of Revenue and send him to prison!”

Seeing Chongzhen’s fury and near loss of reason—dismissing and jailing a blameless, upright minister—the entire court was thrown into alarm.

Senior Grand Secretary Zhou Yanru, Censor-in-Chief Wang Daozhi, Minister of War Chen Xinjia, Assistant Censor Liu Zongzhou, and others all pleaded with Chongzhen to reconsider.

“Your Majesty, Minister Li has served with diligence and exhaustion for two years, maintaining state affairs against all odds. To have supplied the army without error is already remarkable. Please, Your Majesty, treat your ministers with leniency and rescind your command.”

“Sire, it is precisely at this moment, as we try to salvage Liaodong, that we need capable people. Please, Your Majesty, reconsider and do not disturb the Ministry of Revenue. The future transfer of troops and gathering of provisions will depend greatly on their efforts.”

“Your Majesty…”

…

Though Chongzhen dismissed Li Shiwen in anger, once calm, he understood that with wars inside and outside Ming borders, the treasury had long been depleted. Forcing Li Shiwen out would only throw the ministry into chaos and do nothing to salvage the situation in Liaodong.

“Enough. How much money and grain remain in the treasury, and how many troops can be supplied to aid Liaodong?” Chongzhen asked, his composure restored.

Li Shiwen answered bitterly, “There are still sixty thousand dan of grain in the treasury, but less than twenty thousand taels of silver. To report to Your Majesty, this is only enough for three thousand troops for three months.”

“Liaodong… Jinzhou… Ningyuan…” Chongzhen slumped in his dragon throne, murmuring ceaselessly, his face sinking ever deeper into despair.

The hall was silent, the ministers exchanged helpless glances.

After a long silence, Chongzhen looked back at his ministers. “Given the current predicament, who can resolve this crisis?”

No one answered. At such a moment, who dared speak rashly?

The court fell into a deathly hush.

Chongzhen’s face turned ever more grim and cold, to the point of cruelty.

Until, finally, a young figure stepped out from behind the screen and strode slowly onto the hall.