Chapter 29: Just Think of Him as a Roast Duck

Hauge was ultimately captured alive after his strength gave out. The five hundred elite soldiers around him slowly vanished — killed or taken prisoner. In the end, he alone remained, clad in a full suit of armor, as conspicuous as a firefly in the black of night.

By now the shouts of battle outside the city were gradually dying away. Hauge understood in his heart that Hong Taiji could not possibly throw everything into storming the city just for him.

Besides, even if Hong Taiji were willing to try, the time it would take from the first assault to breaching the walls would be more than enough for him to die a few hundred times over.

By this time, the hour of the Rat was drawing to a close, approaching the hour of the Ox.

Chongzhen, eager to learn which great general of the Jianzhou barbarians had been caught tonight, cared nothing for the hour and willfully ordered men to be drawn from the Embroidered Uniform Guard's Imperial Prison — experts in the application of torture — and brought to Guangning Gate.

The Embroidered Uniform Guard's reputation was truly no empty boast. The several torture experts summoned from the Imperial Prison needed less than a quarter of an hour to obtain the news Chongzhen wanted: the man leading the raid was Hauge, eldest son of the slave chieftain Hong Taiji.

The transmigrated Chongzhen did not have many memories of Hauge. What little he had, if any, came courtesy of that pigtail drama The Secret History of Xiaozhuang, which at least let him know such a person existed.

But none of that mattered. What mattered was that Hong Taiji was right outside the city, yet his eldest son had fallen into his hands. Tomorrow, he absolutely must treat Hong Taiji to a fine show.

Chongzhen immediately addressed the Embroidered Uniform Guard's torture experts: "You have done well. Among you, does anyone know how to perform death by a thousand cuts?"

At these words, the men all shrank back. Death by a thousand cuts was a skilled craft — how could just anyone know it?

Yet the imperial command could not be defied, nor did they dare speak recklessly and deceive the sovereign. One of them answered: "In reply to His Majesty, the craft of death by a thousand cuts — this small one has only heard of it, never performed it with his own hands.

Therefore, none of us small ones know it."

Seeing a look of disappointment spread across Chongzhen's face, a lean, wiry man gritted his teeth and said: "Your Majesty, this small one is Zhao Er. I have witnessed it before and am willing to try!"

Chongzhen was overjoyed. "Good! In practice, We do not require the full legal procedure for death by a thousand cuts. So long as you do not finish the man off in just a few strokes, it will suffice."

After a moment's thought, he added: "Wait a moment. We have an idea."

He promptly dispatched the Embroidered Uniform Guard into the city.

Using money from the privy purse, they were to scour the city for over five hundred ducks, smash open the doors of the Southern Oven Duck Shop, and order the shop owner to roast every last duck and bring them to Guangning Gate.

He also ordered the imperial kitchens to come to Guangning Gate and prepare wine and food — quantity was all that mattered; it had to be enough to feed the soldiers defending the walls. Not much wine, just a small mouthful per man, enough to taste the flavor.

An hour later, some ducks left unsold from the previous day had already been reheated and delivered ahead of the rest.

Chongzhen pointed at the ducks and laughed.

"You may first use these ducks to practice your hand.

Tomorrow, slice that Jianzhou barbarian just like these ducks, and it will do." Then he addressed the other torture experts: "You lot should learn as well.

Henceforth, whenever we capture a major figure among the Jianzhou barbarians, you shall all be summoned to carry out the execution." The implication was clear: he intended to have the entire Jianzhou leadership carved up like Beijing roast duck, death by a thousand cuts.

Having spoken, Chongzhen, in excellent spirits, simply picked up a bowl of wine and ascended the gate tower to begin a new round of oratory:

"Today, thanks to the soldiers fighting with their very lives, we have captured alive the eldest son of the Jianzhou slave chieftain!

Once day breaks, upon Desheng Gate, directly facing the Jianzhou barbarians' main camp, We shall have this little Jianzhou whelp carved by a thousand blades, to comfort the vengeful spirits of our Great Ming who, these many years, have perished at the Jianzhou barbarians' hands!

We know that today you are all exhausted! We are exhausted as well.

But what can exhaustion do? Will the Jianzhou barbarians retreat simply because we are tired?

They will not!

Yet behind us stand our parents, our wives, our children. Therefore, tired as we are, we must hold firm!

In Our view, to be a soldier is to protect the home! To guard the nation!

So, what are you? You are the sons and brothers in arms of Great Ming's millions upon millions of common folk! You are the final wall of flesh and blood standing before your parents, your wives, your children!

We shall say no more. Soldiers — drink to victory!" He finished, then added one more line: "Eat well! Tomorrow we flay the Jianzhou barbarians alive!"

The soldiers finished their meal.

Those on night watch stood their watch; those off duty went off in groups to rest. Chongzhen also went directly over to Desheng Gate and made do there for the night.

By the hour of the Dragon the next day, Desheng Gate was already packed solid, utterly besieged by swarming commoners. Only the many Censors and remonstrance officials brooded in secret frustration — why did this emperor never follow the proper script?

They had been planning to go weep at the palace. Out here in broad public, how could a man possibly keep face?

Worried that the jostling crowd might cause a stampede, Chongzhen ordered Ma Xianglin to take a thousand White Rod troops to maintain order. As a result, the commoners of the capital discovered something different about these common soldiers.

In the past, if someone accidentally stepped on the foot of one of these martial lords, what they got in return was usually a slap across the face and a torrent of curses.

But today was different. Even when someone really did step on a soldier's foot, these common soldiers seemed to have transformed into that simple, honest lad from Old Wang's house next door — they merely grinned, as if nothing had happened at all.

If some mischievous child accidentally broke through the human cordon they had formed, a soldier behind would pick the child up and return them to the adult, often with a word of advice: "Keep an eye on your child, don't let them get hurt."

For the tongue-tied ones, there was only that same simple, honest smile, as though overnight the martial lords of old had all turned simple-minded.

Because these soldiers were so amiable, the commoners were happy to cooperate. Beneath Desheng Gate, the vast, dark mass of people, though tightly packed, showed no sign of chaos.

The sun slowly climbed higher. Standing atop the gate tower, Chongzhen saw cooking smoke rising from the Jianzhou camp as well.

Unwilling to let the Jianzhou barbarians enjoy their breakfast in peace, he immediately ordered three signal cannons fired, sending the Jianzhou forces scrambling to battle stations.

Seeing that both the Jianzhou barbarians and the commoners inside Desheng Gate had been drawn to attention by the three cannon blasts, Chongzhen decided to aggressively farm a wave of presence.

Just as on the first day the Jianzhou barbarians besieged the city, a line of Han generals stood not far from Chongzhen, repeating every word the Chongzhen Emperor spoke:

"Yesterday, the soldiers fought bitterly through the night and captured alive Hauge, eldest son of the Jianzhou slave chieftain Hong Taiji.

They have successfully defended the Great Ming capital, defended the Great Ming people.

All of you, follow Us, and shout to them: 'You have worked hard!'"

The crowd of onlookers found it novel and so shouted along: "You have worked hard!"

The sound of tens of thousands shouting together was deep and muffled, yet it seemed to stir something.

At first it was merely novel, but soon they felt an urge they could not suppress, and another cry of "You have worked hard!" burst forth. This shout carried a full measure of sincerity, sending a hot current surging from the chest, nearly spilling from the eyes.

Whether the White Rod troops maintaining order, the Capital Camps soldiers guarding the battlements, or even the Embroidered Uniform Guard agents and Eastern Depot runners mingled in the crowd — hearing this, all felt their eyes sting red, on the verge of tears.

In ordinary times, who ever looked up to these common soldiers? If there was fear, there had never been respect.

Now they felt that for this one heartfelt shout from the common people, dying on the spot would be no loss at all.

Observing this, Chongzhen thought to himself: the hearts of the army and the people can be used — the great enterprise is settled! He raised both hands again and pressed them downward.

The commoners, who had been watching the Chongzhen Emperor intently, fell silent at the gesture. In that instant, it was as if a hidden dragon surged from the deep, and ten thousand horses fell mute.

Satisfied at heart, Chongzhen smiled and spoke: "Since the soldiers have captured Hauge, we can hardly just lop his head off with one stroke, can we? Would that not be letting the Jianzhou barbarians off far too cheaply?

Therefore, We have decided to execute him by death by a thousand cuts!

All Jianzhou barbarians killed in this battle, along with those who stirred chaos within the city, shall be beheaded, and their heads piled into a Jingguan mound outside Desheng Gate, to overawe the disloyal and serve as a warning to those who would follow!"