Chapter 844: Nirvana

(Old White Bull: Many thanks to all the book friends who cast monthly votes and gave tips, such as Double-Leaf Monkey and others.)

Shrill, desperate shouts rang unceasingly from the city wall as more and more child soldiers leaped down onto the parapet, every one of them in close-fitting combat gear with their blades strapped across their backs. The moment they landed on the wall, they drew the weapons from behind them and hacked at the defending troops, each strike merciless, each life staked against a life.

The wall-top fell into chaos in an instant. Some men froze in terror, caught off guard by the sudden bandit assault and offering their necks to the slaughter. Some screamed and fled, even stripping off their uniforms and throwing away their blades, desperate to hide that they were soldiers. Others scrambled to resist, but in the panic they could barely muster a tenth of their skill.

Worse, these fleece-clad bandits were ferocious beyond measure, every one of them fearless in the face of death. They paid no heed to their own safety, simply hacking wildly head-on. The troops of the Capital Battalion had never seen such a fighting style. Caught utterly unprepared, in the blink of an eye they had taken multiple cuts and were drenched in blood.

The rotational troops on the wall wore only a mandarin-duck battle jacket — which, to put it plainly, was nothing more than a thick padded coat, offering little protection. As for the Capital Battalion soldiers, their armor certainly looked imposing, but it was all for show: gleaming and splendid on the outside, filled with dregs within, meant mainly to fool people, especially to fool the Emperor during military parades.

Though the weapons the child soldiers used were mostly light and nimble — short swords, waist sabers, and the like — with limited armor-piercing power, when they struck that armor, each slash still opened a wide gash, and each thrust pierced straight through.

Even when they met men with fine armor who kept their composure in battle, the child soldiers would still tangle and grapple and bite with reckless abandon, as if they were determined to drag the enemy before them down to a shared grave. Such desperate, death-defying fiends truly struck terror into the heart.

A fine drizzle fell, the light flickering between dim and dark. Under the murky glow of torches, these short, small figures howled and lunged like demons. They clutched their blades, every face twisted, every expression hideously savage. Their bodies were flecked with bloodstains, and from the weapons in many of their hands fresh blood still dripped steadily.

Panic spread like a plague. The wall-top dissolved into chaos. Many defending soldiers, at the mere sight of the young boys approaching, scattered and dropped like ants tumbling from a height. In their terror, heedless of all consequence, they leaped straight off the city wall, caring nothing for what lay below or how high the drop might be.

The officers' shouted orders were utterly useless — not to mention that some officers themselves were fleeing in just as much panic. Amid the chaos, a shrill voice suddenly rang out. It was the newly enfeoffed Count of Dingcheng, Regional Commander of the Capital Battalion, and Defender of Yongding Gate, Fu Yingchong: "Brothers, no need to panic! Follow me and slay the bandits! Drive every last one of these fleece-clad curs off the wall!"

As he shouted, Fu Yingchong came charging up, hefting a Green Dragon Crescent Blade, flanked by those four armored soldiers. Each of them carried a heavy weapon — a wolf-tooth club, a long spear, a great hammer, a heavy sword, and the like. Behind him, a squad of officers and men had already fallen in.

In that moment of chaos, Fu Yingchong's appearance unquestionably gave the disordered defenders on the wall a pillar to rally around. Coupled with the lavish rewards and rich feasts of the day, which had also done their work, more and more men gathered toward him, following him as they charged at the child soldiers.

"Kill!"

The cold-faced armored soldier gripping the wolf-tooth club was the first to meet several child soldiers. He wielded the heavy club as if it were weightless. With one swing, the club smashed down hard on a child soldier's head. Instantly, blood and brain matter splattered across the ground, red and white mingling like tomato stirred into soft tofu.

Without a sound, the child soldier's body slumped askew to one side.

He swept the wolf-tooth club again. Amid the sound of shattering bone, a child soldier sprayed blood and flew through the air, landing heavily on the ground without a grunt — clearly killed outright by the blow.

Several child soldiers roared and swarmed toward him, hacking wildly with their blades. But aside from a shower of sparks, it was utterly useless.

Every plate of this armored soldier's iron armor was forged from fine steel, thick and solid. How could these common, light, nimble blades possibly have any effect on his heavy armor?

Another armored soldier stepped forward to meet them, a long spear in his hands. With one sweeping strike, he sent three or four child soldiers flying. Then he thrust his spear out heavily. Amid the sickening sound of flesh being pierced through, two howling, charging child soldiers were impaled upon its shaft.

"Clang."

A rush of wind came from his side. The armored soldier raised his left arm to block. A waist saber swung by a child soldier met his iron-armored forearm and stopped dead, a trail of sparks flying up.

His right arm shot out, and his iron-gauntleted hand seized the child soldier by the throat. The fourteen- or fifteen-year-old brat struggled desperately in his grip, his face twisted in a savage, furious roar.

The armored soldier stared at him coldly, without a shred of pity in his eyes. Abruptly, he dashed the child soldier's head against the crenellation. Brain matter splattered. The child soldier's neck twisted grotesquely. He was dead beyond any doubt.

He then lashed out with a vicious slap, sending another screaming, charging child soldier flying ten feet away. Even as the boy hung in the air, blood streamed steadily from his eyes, nostrils, and ears.

A child soldier raised his blade and came hacking down with a roar. The armored soldier did not even bother to draw the weapon at his waist. He simply punched out with tremendous force.

His iron-gauntleted fist first sent the child soldier's blade flying, then slammed heavily into his chest. The sound of shattering bone followed, and the child soldier sprayed blood and stumbled backward, collapsing.

The four armored soldiers swept all before them, quickly turning the tide. Fu Yingchong flourished his Green Dragon Crescent Blade a few times, only to find he could barely swing it at all. He stood the long saber upright and shouted nervously, "Kill, kill, kill! Kill them all for me!"

In the flickering torchlight, he suddenly spotted a dark figure lunging at him. Without thinking, he drew the sword at his waist and slashed out. A spray of crimson scattered — the cut had landed squarely across the dark figure's neck.

Fu Yingchong fixed his gaze. A child soldier lay rolling and struggling on the ground, clutching his throat, howling with hoarse, desperate fury. The thick, coppery stench of blood filled his nostrils. Fu Yingchong felt an indescribable mix of emotions. This was the first time he had ever killed a man with his own hands.

Before he could think further, another dark figure came hurtling toward him, kicked flying by someone unknown. Instinctively, Fu Yingchong moved forward to finish him with another thrust.

But in the light of the torches on the crenellations, Fu Yingchong caught the dark figure's eyes directly. A childish face, eyes tinged with a trace of panic — a boy of thirteen or fourteen, the same age as his own nephew. Fu Yingchong hesitated for a split second. In that instant, the child soldier sprang up like a wildcat, seized a grappling hook and rope on the battlement, and slid down as nimbly as an ape.

The child soldiers in the night raid numbered only a few hundred. After all, a night attack could not deploy a very large force, and even within the bandit camp, elite child soldiers were not an inexhaustible resource.

At first, the defenders on the wall were panicked and disorganized. But once they regained their senses — especially with Fu Yingchong as their rallying point, holding off the frenzied assault — they formed up spear walls and saber-and-shield formations, interspersed with archers and firearms. Instantly, those child soldiers were no longer a match.

They had no ranged weapons, and with the flimsy blades in their hands, they were simply no match for an organized military formation. They were fearless in the face of death, but once their casualties reached a certain threshold, they still broke and fled, sliding back down the ropes and hooks they had come up on.

Those who could not flee in time were surrounded and beaten to death. Some were even midway down their ropes when defenders cut the lines, sending them plummeting straight down to their deaths.

At last, not a single living child soldier remained on the wall. Looking at the wreckage strewn across the parapet, Fu Yingchong panted heavily. With lingering fear, he stuck his head out and glanced beyond the wall. "Hah," he said. "Those little bastards... they're finally gone..."

On the eighteenth day of the third month, a sandstorm suddenly struck the capital. Yellow sand blotted out the sky. At times, mournful rain and bitter wind swept through; at other times, hail, thunder, and lightning struck all at once. The roving bandits pressed their siege ever more fiercely, and the roar of cannon grew ever louder. The nine gates were sealed and barred; no traffic passed through; the streets were empty of pedestrians.

Early on the bingwu day, word spread noisily that a relief army had arrived — but it turned out to be Tang Tong's rebel troops, who deceitfully demanded pay and provisions. The people's fear and anxiety only deepened.

The roving bandits brought up scaling ladders to assault each gate. The situation was dire. The Emperor summoned his ministers and sighed, saying to his Grand Secretaries, "We might as well all finish matters together in the Fengxian Hall." At the si hour, a defending soldier's "Ten-Thousand-Man Foe" cannon burst its barrel, accidentally wounding several dozen men. The defenders panicked and scattered, spreading word that the city had fallen. The Superintendent of City Defense, Wang Chengen, exerted every effort to suppress the chaos.

At the wu hour, finding the inner city gates too difficult to assault, the roving bandits shifted their main attack to the outer city gates. Li Zicheng set up his command seat before Guang'an Gate, with a number of surrendered and captured princes seated on the ground to his left and right.

At the wei hour, the traitorous eunuch Du Zhizhi was hauled up the wall by rope. Together with the Superintendent Eunuch Wang Chengen, he entered the imperial palace. He lavishly extolled the bandits' immense strength, declaring their edge irresistible, and urged His Majesty to abdicate. He further presented a lute string and a silk sash.

The Emperor rebuked him furiously and rose in anger. The various inner court officials asked that Du be detained. Du Zhizhi said, "There are imperial princes in the camp. If I do not return with a reply, they will be slaughtered." He was then allowed to leave.

It had first been heard that Du Zhizhi had died a martyr's death. He was posthumously awarded the rank of Supervising Eunuch of the Directorate of Ceremonial, his heir granted the title of Assistant Guard Commander in the Embroidered Uniform Guard, and a shrine was erected in his honor. Only now was it learned that Du had followed the bandits and turned traitor.

The siege below the walls grew ever more intense. Wang Chengen personally manned a cannon and killed several men in succession. Wang Huacheng and others drank wine with unruffled composure. Arrows fell like rain. The government offices along the wall collapsed and crumbled. Neither soldiers nor civilians had any firm will to resist.

At the shen hour, Fu Yingchong had just beaten back a wave of roving bandits assaulting the wall. Before he could catch his breath, he heard heaven-shaking wails and cries erupt from the southwest part of the city.

Countless people were wailing and fleeing in panic. A single cry rose everywhere: "Someone has opened the gate!"

The hairs on Fu Yingchong's body stood on end. He watched as the sound of weeping shook the earth in that direction. People raced frantically through the city, all crying out in alarm that Guang'an Gate had been opened. Some said eunuchs had opened it, some said ennobled nobles had opened it, some said Muslims had opened it — opinions varied wildly. The whole city wailed and fled in chaos.

Fu Yingchong stared blankly. He watched as the defenders panicked and scattered, officers and soldiers alike fleeing like birds and beasts. Even the troops guarding You'an Gate were climbing down from the wall. Abruptly, he let out a heart-rending roar: "All officers and men! The moment to sacrifice our lives for righteousness and our country has come! Follow me and retake the city gate!"

For a time, many soldiers and officers rallied around him, even some of the rotational troops. The rotational soldier Zhang Shouyin hesitated for a moment, felt the silver coins in his bosom, then tore off his uniform tunic and slipped furtively down from the wall.

Fu Yingchong howled as he charged at the very front. All along the way, the city's defenders were deserting en masse, while roving bandits were swarming up onto the wall in droves. Very quickly, Fu Yingchong and his band were engulfed by wave after wave of roving bandits.

Fu Yingchong hacked and slashed with desperate fury. One by one, the men around him fell. Even the four armored soldiers guarding him were covered in wounds. Fu Yingchong himself had sustained multiple gashes. Suddenly, he swung his sword and cleaved downward. A short, small figure was sent flying by the blow. He fixed his eyes on it — it was that same child soldier who had escaped the night before.

Fu Yingchong cursed loudly, "You again, you little bastard! So young and instead of learning good, you learn to kill people?"

He should have followed up with a finishing thrust. But seeing the child soldier struck by his sword, seemingly unable to move as he lay on the ground, Fu Yingchong hesitated for a moment and turned to face another foe.

Suddenly, a sound like a wolf's howl erupted beside him, along with an armored soldier's shout: "Master Fu, look out!"

Fu Yingchong turned his head. A long spear had already pierced through his armor and driven deep into his body. Great clots of blood welled up from Fu Yingchong's mouth. He stared intently and saw that child soldier gripping the long spear, his young face twisted with savage ferocity, still stabbing and thrusting with all his might.

Fu Yingchong staggered backward. In an instant, he felt his whole body grow light, as if he were about to float away. From the corner of his eye, he saw an armored soldier charge forward with a roar, stomp the child soldier's head into shattered fragments with one kick, and then topple backward.

As his eyes closed, scene after scene floated before him: a lifetime of muddling through since childhood; his own dejected cowardice during the Song-Jin Great Battle; the heroic bearing he had displayed these past days defending Yongding Gate. His final thought was: "At least I was a real man once... worth it..."

The gates of the outer city fell one after another — some opened by the defenders themselves, others scaled by the bandits’ picked men who climbed up in single file, the defenders offering no resistance and instead reaching out their hands to pull the rebels in. Then the defenders all stripped off their uniforms and turned their coats; any who did not turn their coats were cut down with blades. Every gate collapsed in utter rout.

The Chongzhen Emperor heard that the outer city was breached and paced the palace courtyards. Learning that the outer city had fallen, yet many in the inner city still knew nothing, he summoned the Grand Secretaries and said, “Do you gentlemen know that the outer city has been breached?”

The assembled Grand Secretaries replied, “We did not know.”

The Chongzhen Emperor said, “The crisis is upon us! What plan do we have now?”

The men said, “With Your Majesty’s good fortune, there should be no cause for worry. If fortune turns against us, we your ministers will fight in the streets and swear never to betray the realm.” He ordered them to withdraw.

At nightfall, the Chongzhen Emperor could not sleep. Sometime after the first watch, a eunuch came running to report that the inner city had fallen.

The Chongzhen Emperor asked, “Where are the troops of the Grand Camp? Where is Li Guozhen?”

The eunuch answered, “The Grand Camp troops have scattered. Your Majesty should flee at once.”

The man then left; the Emperor called after him but got no reply.

The Chongzhen Emperor, together with Wang Chengen, went to the Southern Palace and ascended Long Live Hill. Watching the beacon fires blaze against the sky, he lingered for a long while before returning to the Qianqing Palace. He wrote an edict in vermilion ink to notify the Grand Secretariat, ordering the Duke of Cheng, Zhu Chunchen, to take command of all military affairs inside and outside the capital and to assist the Eastern Palace. An inner attendant carried it to the Grand Secretariat.

The Chongzhen Emperor had wine brought in and summoned Empress Zhou, Consort Yuan, and the others. They sat together and drank several cups of gold in anguish, speaking their solemn farewells. He sighed, “How bitterly my people have suffered. Send the Crown Prince, Prince Yong, and Prince Ding separately to their maternal relatives.”

Empress Zhou bowed her head and said, “I have served Your Majesty for eighteen years, yet you never heeded a single word I spoke, until we have come to this day. The great cause is lost.”

She embraced the Crown Prince and the two princes and wept bitterly, giving them repeated, earnest instructions before sending them out. Each shed tears, and the palace ladies wept all around.

The Chongzhen Emperor sighed and said, “Go.”

He waved his sleeve for each to make their own plans.

……

Empress Zhou returned to the Kunning Palace, weeping like rain the whole way. The inner gates now stood wide open; palace ladies and eunuchs were fleeing in all directions, but she could no longer concern herself with them. She only sighed and said, “If His Majesty had listened to what I said back then, we would not have come to this day.”

She thought further, “The inner city has fallen, and the bandits will soon be here. I am the head of the inner palaces, the mother model for all under heaven — how could I suffer the bandits’ humiliation?”

With that, she resolved to hang herself.

Lost in thought the whole way, she did not realize that the palace maids behind her had all been replaced.

Arriving at the Kunning Palace, Empress Zhou suddenly saw that the palace attendants following her were all unfamiliar faces and was startled. Before she could speak, one palace maid stepped forward, clasped her fist, and said, “Empress, this humble officer must beg your forgiveness.”

She stepped forward and struck Empress Zhou on the back of the neck. Empress Zhou’s vision instantly went black, and she lost consciousness.

This scene played out again and again throughout the palace grounds. A steady stream of agile women entered the Forbidden City and, guided by certain palace maids and eunuchs, split up to close in on their respective targets — such as Imperial Consort Yuan, Consort Zhou, Consort Tian, and others. The Empress Dowager Zhang, the Chongzhen Emperor’s sister-in-law and the Tianqi Emperor’s empress, Yi’an Empress Zhang Yan, was likewise among their targets.

Well-trained and methodical, they succeeded one by one. Several of the Chongzhen Emperor’s other important consorts and palace ladies were also bundled up and carried off by them.

Meanwhile, the three little children, escorted by palace attendants, had left the palace. Before they could even grasp what was happening, they were pulled onto horse-drawn carriages — the Crown Prince in one carriage, Prince Yong and Prince Ding in another — and taken away in separate directions.

……

Inside her bedchamber, Princess Kunxing, Zhu Meichuo, sat holding Princess Zhaoren in a daze. Princess Zhaoren, who usually loved to sleep, was still awake; she huddled in her elder sister’s arms, her body trembling again and again.

Suddenly, several unfamiliar palace maids rushed straight in. Princess Kunxing cried out in alarm, “You—”

Princess Zhaoren in her arms was so frightened that she clung even tighter to her sister.

A composed “palace maid” with a heroic bearing stepped forward. She opened a scroll of portraits in her hand, compared it with the real person, and said in a deep voice, “Princess Kunxing, Zhu Meichuo?”

Zhu Meichuo hesitated and said, “I am she. You are…”

The palace maid abruptly dropped to one knee, clasped both fists, and said, “This humble officer, by order of the Grand General, has come to rescue the Princess.”

Hearing the words “humble officer,” Zhu Meichuo’s heart became perfectly clear. She said in a trembling voice, “Did the Marquis of Yongning send you to save me?”

The palace maid replied, “Exactly so.”

Zhu Meichuo said urgently, “Good, I will go with you.”

She pulled her younger sister, Princess Zhaoren, ready to leave, but suddenly remembered something and asked, “Then what of my father the Emperor, my mother the Empress, and my imperial brothers?”

The palace maid said, “The Princess need not worry. The Grand General has made his own arrangements.”

……

The third watch drum sounded, and the Chongzhen Emperor jolted awake. It was already the hour of the rat — the nineteenth day.

By now he had nearly made his way to the Hall of Imperial Supremacy. Gazing at the majestic palace before him, he lingered and sighed, but in the end he ordered his oral decree to be transmitted: the two palaces, the princesses, and the rest were all to take their own lives. He also sent someone to the residence of Yi’an Empress to urge her to commit suicide. After that, he dismissed the inner attendants and, hand in hand with Wang Chengen, entered the Hall of Imperial Supremacy.

He paced inside the hall, recalling the days when it was filled with ranks of officials in their court robes, the morning policy debates. Now, he thought, they were surely all thinking of how to welcome a new master.

He sighed deeply and said, “I have not treated the scholar-officials shabbily. Why has it come to this day?”

He lingered long in the hall. Another watch drum sounded. Hearing the chaos in the palace grow ever greater, he thought that the two palaces must have already taken their own lives — and his daughters too…

It was only to be lamented that they were born into the imperial family. His heart was filled with desolation. Looking out at the dark, rainy night, he said in sorrow, “It should be my turn now…”

At that moment, a large group of people came rushing toward the Hall of Imperial Supremacy. Among them were He Jian, Cui Qi, Gu Yue, and others — and conspicuously among them was the small, round-faced, fair-skinned young eunuch Wang Desheng.

Beside He Jian was a man wearing dragon robes. In the dark of night, his features could not be made out. He Jian sighed and said, “Brother Zhu, must you truly do this?”

The man held a lantern and said, “I have waited for this day for a very long time.”

Inside the Hall of Imperial Supremacy, Wang Chengen opened a barrel of oil and poured it over the dragon throne. The Chongzhen Emperor slowly drew a fire striker from his person. Just then, a large crowd of people burst into the hall, startling both Wang Chengen and the Chongzhen Emperor inside.

But upon seeing who they were, the Chongzhen Emperor’s heart suddenly became clear. He said coolly, “Did Wang Dou send you to rescue me? I will not leave.”

He raised his head to look at the sundial and the standard measure flanking the imperial dais and said calmly, “A ruler dies for the altars of his realm. My resolve is set. You need say no more.”

He Jian and the others said nothing. At that moment, a man carrying a lantern stepped forward. The Chongzhen Emperor hesitated and said, “You…”

This man’s build and features were in every way identical to his own; dressed in the dragon robes, he was the very image of the Emperor.

The man cast him a cool glance, then slowly paced over. A voice like rolling thunder boomed through the hall: “I, Zhu Youjian, inherited this grand enterprise and succeeded to the great lineage of my ancestors seventeen years ago. These seventeen years, I have been reverent and fearful day and night, striving only for good governance. Yet the years have brought famine, refugees have followed one after another, and calamities have afflicted the four quarters — can I be without shame?”

He abruptly hurled the lantern onto the dragon throne. Mingling with the oil, a raging inferno instantly blazed up. He bellowed, “Some may ask: what is the true path of sovereigns past and present? It is that the Son of Heaven guards the gates of the realm, and the ruler dies for the altars of his land! The dignity of our dynasty’s national power surpasses all former ages. In dealing with the northern barbarians and western tribes, we have had no Han-dynasty peace marriages, no Tang-dynasty alliances, no Song-dynasty annual tribute — and yet!”

He slowly walked into the raging flames. The fire instantly ignited his robes and dragon garments, yet the thunderous voice still boomed: “Those who feast on meat wear silken finery; those who gnaw chaff are swine and dogs. Exorbitant surtaxes and private levies, wanton punishments and cruel penalties, profit monopolized by the ancestral gods, the people’s very marrow drained dry, tax upon tax until the common folk can bear no more. Alas! The people harbor the hatred of those who would perish together; the officials have no heart to repay with courtesy!”

The fierce flames had now engulfed his entire body and set every corner of the hall ablaze, yet his prolonged chant still boomed and roared: “…Ah, I feel the flames here, sweeping in from all sides, igniting my robes, then my marrow, then my soul. I cannot escape, nor do I wish to escape. I cannot stop it, nor do I wish to stop it. This blazing fire, this fervent fire — it burns the splendid robes, the pain piercing to the marrow, searing the heart and consuming the bones. Let me here attain nirvana, like the phoenix’s nirvana, reborn from the flames…”

The Chongzhen Emperor stared blankly at all this and said in a trembling voice, “Hero…”

He Jian and the others also had tears in their eyes. “Brother Zhu…”

Wang Desheng wiped away his tears, came over, and pulled at the Chongzhen Emperor, saying, “Your Majesty, you must leave quickly.”

The Chongzhen Emperor was pulled along by him, yet still turned his head back and said in a trembling voice, “Hero…”

They rushed out of the fiercely burning palace. At that moment, Wang Chengen suddenly knelt before the Chongzhen Emperor and said, "When a sovereign dies for the altars of state, how can there be no senior minister to accompany him? Your Majesty, take care!"

He kowtowed heavily once to the Chongzhen Emperor, then said to Wang Desheng, "Xiao Dezi, look after His Majesty."

Without hesitation, he turned and charged back into the palace blazing with raging flames.

The Chongzhen Emperor said in a trembling voice, "Da Ban…"

Wang Desheng pulled him along, saying, "Your Majesty, hurry."

"Da Ban…"

Their party rushed into the darkness. Inside the palace, weeping still thundered like crashing waves, an endless frenzy of flight.