Chapter 395: Recovering Jiangnan, Setting Sail on an Adventure

When Zhang Moye returned to the foot of the two mountains, he saw the earth covered with the crimson corpses of Ming soldiers, merging with the blood-soaked ground around them into what looked like a sea of blood.

Seeing that Zhang Moye had returned to camp without losses and had instead reaped considerable gains, Lei Sanxiang did not rebuke him too harshly.

Lei Sanxiang ordered the entire army to rest and regroup, and to clean up the battlefield while they were at it.

The prosperous lands of Zhejiang and Zhili were nothing like the rainforests of the South Seas—news spread extremely fast, and soon word of the Ming army's disastrous defeat was spreading far and wide.

The gentry and officials saw their last shred of hope dashed, and one after another they switched allegiances, surrendering to Great Xia.

Over the following days, the nearby counties of Lishui, Jurong, and Danyang were the first to surrender, while Taiping Prefecture and Zhenjiang Prefecture also showed signs of unrest.

That night, inside a dilapidated temple in the wilderness southeast of Liyang, Gao Qiqian and several of his adopted sons were huddled around a fire for warmth.

This place was over forty li southeast of Lishui, more than a hundred and fifty li from the battlefield at Niushou Mountain.

Days earlier, when Zhang Moye had pursued with his cavalry and infantry, Gao Qiqian had abandoned his troops and fled south on horseback with his confidants and guards, barely escaping death by the blade—but he had also lost contact with his army. Now, counting his adopted sons and personal guards, fewer than fifty men remained by his side.

He had once been a grand supervisor of the army commanding tens of thousands of troops, and now he was fleeing for his life like a stray dog.

He was less than a dozen li from Liyang city, yet he dared not enter it, instead bedding down in the wilds—because he feared Liyang would also open its gates and surrender, tying him up and handing him over to the Great Xia army.

That he had fallen to such a miserable state was all the fault of Lu Xiangsheng and his brothers, and the hatred in his heart was nearly spilling over.

Just as he was venomously plotting how to file a secret report against them to the Emperor, a young eunuch shuffled up to him.

"Godfather, please eat a little."

Gao Qiqian looked up and saw a roasted dog leg. Its surface was charred black and still carried a few stray dog hairs—one glance was enough to turn the stomach. Gao Qiqian was used to fine delicacies, a man who truly upheld the principle of eating only the choicest fare, and could hardly stomach such coarse stuff. He snapped angrily: "Take it away! Take it away!"

The young eunuch said with a mournful face: "Godfather, this godforsaken place has no village ahead and no inn behind—this is the only thing that can fill one's belly." Gao Qiqian, humiliated into rage, barked: "Get lost!"

"Yes." The young eunuch dared not disobey and hastily withdrew.

Gao Qiqian stared at the campfire, venomously scheming in his heart about what crimes he could frame Lu Xiangsheng with.

Shoving the shit-bucket onto Lu Xiangsheng's head would, first, vent his own anger, and second, wash away his own guilt.

After mulling it over, the charge of defecting to the enemy was probably the most fitting.

That Lu Xiangsheng—that stubborn, stinking, hard-headed diehard—would defect was something even Gao Qiqian himself didn't believe, but His Majesty would certainly believe it.

Ever since the two southwestern governors-general, Zhu and Fu, had defected along with most of the Yunnan and Guizhou officialdom, His Majesty's suspicion and wariness toward outside officials had reached its peak—he saw everyone as a potential defector.

"Grrrrr…"

Gao Qiqian's stomach let out a rumble. He had fled in haste, and his attendants' dry rations had been insufficient and were long since eaten up. If he didn't eat the dog meat now, he would have to go hungry. Gao Qiqian looked helplessly at the dog leg and swallowed his saliva: "Is that dog leg roasted through yet?"

Hearing the question, the young eunuch said cleverly: "It's done, it's done—Godfather, please have a taste!"

With that, he sliced off a few pieces of meat with a small knife. Knowing Gao Qiqian was fastidious about cleanliness, he discarded the skin and sliced only the flesh beneath.

Gao Qiqian wiped his hands on his clothes, looked left and right—there were no utensils. His brows knitted into a knot, his face full of disgust. He hesitated for a moment, but in the end the fire of hunger in his belly won out, and he could only grab a slice of meat with his fingers and put it into his mouth.

The meat was roasted dry and stringy, utterly juiceless, with a smoky, earthy stench that went straight up his nose. And thinking that what he was eating was lowly dog meat that couldn't be served at any proper table made it even more nauseating.

As he ate, Gao Qiqian lamented inwardly, adding the humiliation of eating dog meat to Lu Xiangsheng's account as well.

Suddenly, the sound of hoofbeats rang out outside the dilapidated temple.

Gao Qiqian was seized with terror. His hand trembled, knocking over a bowl of dog meat. Not bothering to mourn the loss, he said in a low, urgent voice: "Put it out! Put the fire out!" The eunuchs and guards all set to work together, pouring water and covering it with dirt. It steamed and smoked for a long while before the fire was finally extinguished.

The hoofbeats had already drawn near: "Your Excellency?"

Recognizing the voice as that of a guard who had gone out to scout, Gao Qiqian snarled: "You donkey-fucked piece of shit! Get in here!"

The guard came in bowing and scraping, and reported: "Your Excellency, to the southeast of here there's a village, about thirty or forty households, with chickens and goats—quite prosperous indeed."

Gao Qiqian asked again: "Did you scout the surrounding area?"

"This one scouted it—the nearest village is over twenty li away, and there are no guard stations or patrol offices either."

Gao Qiqian did some mental arithmetic: "Thirty or forty households means at least sixty or seventy able-bodied men—that's no small haul of battle merit."

"Let's go! Let's go take a look!"

At his command, the whole company set out at once, arriving at that village in the latter half of the night.

The village was surrounded by four to five hundred mu of farmland, with houses of stone and timber—it did indeed look prosperous. And because it was in Jiangnan, where public order was good, there was little in the way of defenses—only a wooden fence, and no one keeping watch in the village at night.

A small smile crept onto Gao Qiqian's face: "The time has come for all of us to win merit and glory!"

At once, his personal guards all drew their wild-goose-feather sabers and, knowing the drill well, took up positions sealing off every exit from the village. Then a squad of elites entered the village to suppress the "bandits." By around dawn, the entire village had been turned into a sea of flames. The guards gathered the heads of the able-bodied men in one place, and after a count, eighty-three heads of battle merit were tallied. This way, Lu Xiangsheng's battle was reckless adventurism and feigning death to defect to the enemy, while Gao Qiqian, in the midst of defeat, had turned the tide, braving arrows and stones in person, leading his guards to slay eighty-three enemy soldiers—a hero.

Not only free of blame, but meritorious.

Gao Qiqian felt a weight lift from his heart. Taking his adopted sons, guards, and the heads of battle merit, he headed for Hangzhou.

On the other side, word of Lu Xiangsheng's defeat and the flight of the relief troops reached Nanjing city, and for a time panic gripped every heart.

The government completely ground to a halt. Gentry and nobles fled the city in panic to the south, and even the soldiers guarding the walls joined the flight.

The Ming troops in the city had been few to begin with, and after this exodus, only a thousand or so remained—not even enough to man the walls.

Especially the Jubao Gate in the due south, which had long since been destroyed by Li Jingshuo's cannon fire—around it there wasn't even a single defender in sight.

On the seventh day of the tenth month, Li Jingshuo sent scouts into the city. Their original intent was merely to reconnoiter, but to their surprise, as they rode a full circuit around the city, not a single soldier came forward to stop them. The Minister of War, the Nanjing Garrison Commander, and the garrison eunuch—everyone in the city who could run had nearly all run off.

The remaining garrison soldiers, along with the officials and yamen runners who stayed behind, saw the crow-blue military uniforms and knelt to surrender on the spot.

A grand auxiliary capital of the realm, the very birthplace of the Great Ming dynasty—was taken by nothing more than a squad of scouts.

But although these nobles had left the city early, little did they know that the prefectures and counties around Nanjing—even Zhenjiang and Taiping prefectures—had already surrendered to Great Xia. All routes around Nanjing, by land or by water, had been completely sealed off.

Seeing there was no way to escape, the crowd of meritorious nobles and powerful figures simply surrendered wholesale.

Within half a month, the entire auxiliary capital's Six Ministries, along with its nobles and wealthy merchants, had been scooped up in one pot by Great Xia.

The fall of Nanjing shook the world for a time, and the prefectures and counties of Jiangnan no longer had any courage left for stubborn resistance—one after another they switched sides and surrendered.

At the same time, on the front lines, Lei Sanxiang and Zhang Moye led the Old First Battalion, along with the Seventh Division's infantry brigade, cavalry brigade, and artillery regiment—over fifteen thousand men in total—advancing from north to south.

In the south, Huang Hetai and the Seventh Division's remaining infantry brigade likewise formed an army of over fifteen thousand, advancing from south to north. Each of the two great armies split into multiple columns, spreading out like a great net cast over both Zhejiang and Zhili provinces.

Jinhua, Shaoxing, Ningbo, Chizhou, and Changzhou all opened their gates and surrendered—across the whole of the Zhejiang-Zhili region, there was almost no resistance left.

By mid-October, Hangzhou too opened its gates and surrendered after only token resistance.

With that, both Zhejiang and Zhili provinces were brought under Great Xia's rule, and the Jiangnan campaign was completely over.

From Lu Xiangsheng's defeat to the occupation of the entire Jiangnan region, it took only a short half month in total.

Half a month wouldn't even be enough time for the Great Xia army to simply walk through every city one by one.

Even towns not on the march route—Quzhou, Huizhou, Songjiang, Suzhou, and others—voluntarily switched allegiance and invited Great Xia troops to garrison them, with an average of only one squad occupying each city.

Such occupation efficiency was almost inconceivably fast.

At this point, south of the Yangtze, the Great Ming retained only half of Huguang as its own territory; all other provinces had fallen under Great Xia. The situation of north and south standing in opposition was now complete.

After his defeat, Lu Xiangsheng was utterly crushed. He returned to his hometown of Yixing, shut himself indoors, stopped eating and drinking, and locked himself in his room all day.

His family worried about his health and knocked on the door repeatedly, but received no response. After discussing through the night, they prepared to force their way in.

Early the next morning, Lu Xiangsheng's father, second brother, fourth brother, and his three sons gathered before the door. First they tried gentle persuasion, but when that failed to move him, they prepared to break the door down.

Just as they were about to act, the gatekeeper rushed in anxiously to report: "Master, a squad of Black Crows has arrived at the gate..."

The Black Crow Army was a nickname the Jiangnan commoners gave to the Xia army. At first, it was simply because the people didn't know the Great Xia state title, so they coined the name based on the color of their uniforms. Later, as the name was used again and again, it gradually took on a contemptuous tone.

The second brother cried out in shock: "They came fast!"

Father Lu sighed: "So it has finally come."

The fourth brother looked around, grabbed a door bar, and said: "Father, Second Brother, you grab Third Brother and run—I'll hold them off!"

Father Lu smiled helplessly: "What nonsense are you talking..."

At that very moment, Lu Xiangsheng's door opened. In just a single day and night, he had become haggard, his hair and temples turned white.

"Third Brother, your hair!"

Lu Xiangsheng said: "My head is about to be chopped off anyway—what use do I have for hair?"

That one sentence pierced through the window paper of pretense, and oddly enough, the family no longer felt much fear.

Father Lu had only ever earned the xiucai degree and never entered officialdom, yet he had raised a household of loyal and righteous descendants. He could not help but feel deeply gratified, tears streaming down his aged face. He instructed the gatekeeper: "Open the door. Don't keep the guests waiting."

The Lu ancestral home was not large. When the gatekeeper opened the main door, Ma Bingjie walked in, followed by six personal guards, all carrying something in their hands and on their shoulders. Ma Bingjie looked around as he walked, noting that the residence was cramped and simple, not luxurious at all—far inferior to his father's lavish estate in Shaoguan. He had come on Lei Sanxiang's orders to return Lu Xiangsheng's personal effects.

Originally, he had been extremely dissatisfied with this arrangement, feeling that Lu Xiangsheng was nothing but a thoroughly dead defeated general—hardly worth a colonel regimental commander like himself making a personal trip.

But after arriving in Yixing, Ma Bingjie discovered that the Lu family enjoyed an excellent reputation among the locals.

The entire family owned only a small amount of ancestral clan fields. In over ten years as an official, Lu Xiangsheng had never once purchased private land, nor had he hidden fields or evaded taxes in the slightest. The local County Magistrate even said that when Lu Xiangsheng first arrived in Hangzhou, he had sold over a hundred mu of his own land to make up for back pay owed to his soldiers. In the late Ming, civil officials routinely seized and annexed landholdings; an incorruptible official like Lu Xiangsheng was rare not only in the Ming court but even under Great Xia's rule. After entering the residence and seeing its simplicity, Ma Bingjie felt only reverence.

Once in the main hall, Ma Bingjie explained his purpose and had his accompanying guards present Lu Xiangsheng's personal effects.

These were Lu Xiangsheng's long saber, his great bow, and the cloth-faced armor he had worn when he fell in battle—its front plates bearing no fewer than nine damaged spots from bullet impacts. When the Lu family saw the blood-stained armor, they all broke down sobbing. From the rear courtyard came the sound of a woman weeping—it was Lu Xiangsheng's wife. Ma Bingjie clasped his hands in salute and said: "Lord Lu was incorruptible in office and loyal to the state. I hold him in the deepest admiration.

Lord Lu's body is buried at the foot of General Mountain, with our soldiers keeping watch over it. Your household may move the grave at any time.

These are for Lord Lu's funeral expenses..."

As he spoke, Ma Bingjie gestured, and the guards behind him produced three long paper-wrapped bundles, each containing one hundred silver yuan coins.

The entire family stood frozen in place, silent.

Ma Bingjie scratched his head and said: "We're not exactly... ahem! In any case, you're all subjects of Great Xia now. Just live in peace..." With that, Ma Bingjie turned and left the residence.

Only when she heard the footsteps leave the compound did Lu Xiangsheng's widow, née Wang, in the rear courtyard, finally lose her composure. The dagger she had been clutching tightly clattered to the ground. She hurried back into the inner room, covering her mouth and sobbing uncontrollably.

Lu Xiangsheng's three sons came to wipe their mother's tears.

The youngest son, Lu Yixing, said in his childish voice: "Don't cry, Mother. When I grow up, I'll avenge Father!"

Wang drew the three children into her arms, sobbing without cease. After a long while, she sniffled, forcibly suppressed her crying, and said word by word: "From now on, we must live peacefully, peacefully..."

While Ma Bingjie was visiting the Lu residence, Gao Qiqian had already fled by sea vessel to the north of the Yangtze.

The Great Xia army had taken Zhejiang and Zhili quickly, but Gao Qiqian fled even faster. After returning to Hangzhou, rather than thinking of defending the city, he reported his battle merits and immediately found a boat to head north. Knowing full well that the line from the Yangtze estuary to Zhoushan was blockaded by the Great Xia navy, but that the Xia forces were especially lenient toward fishing boats and grain barges, he had someone buy a fishing boat, hire fishermen, and load it with a full catch of fish. He and his men broke into small groups and hid scattered among the fish holds, evading the searches and escaping successfully. After reaching the north bank of the Yangtze, he immediately abandoned the boat and went ashore, traveling overland back to the capital.

This escape route had been planned with extreme care, and it allowed the majority of his men to get away successfully.

One might think that if Wei Zhongxian had possessed such boldness back then, he would already be living carefree on some island in the South Seas.

While Gao Qiqian was still on his way back north, news of the successive falls of Nanjing, Zhejiang, and Zhili had already reached the capital.

It immediately caused an uproar.

Earlier, when the situation was still unclear, the court officials and the Emperor himself had believed Gao Qiqian's reports, genuinely thinking that Lu Xiangsheng had recklessly advanced out of arrogance, faked his death, and defected to the enemy. But as the war progressed, more and more military dispatches flooded into the capital, and in no time the entire court and public were seething with indignation.

Dozens of officials in the court jointly submitted memorials demanding severe punishment for Gao Qiqian.

At the fourth watch, in the West Warm Chamber of Qianqing Palace.

The Chongzhen Emperor was bent over his desk reviewing memorials. Behind him, the eunuch Wang Cheng'en watched with deep distress.

Ever since the situation in Jiangnan and the northwest had deteriorated, Chongzhen had grown ever more diligent in governance. Previously, he would stop reviewing memorials by the third watch at the latest; now he often worked until the fourth watch, sometimes even through the entire night.

Even after finishing all the memorials, if it wasn't yet time to rest, Chongzhen would review them again, even catching typographical errors like the difference between "ji" and "yi," and then write lengthy condemnations on the memorials about them.

And what did such diligent governance bring?

Lu Xiangsheng defeated in battle, Nanjing fallen, the Jiangnan financial heartland all lost to the enemy.

Hong Chengchou losing battle after battle, in imminent danger.

The Qing army was preparing for its second incursion through the passes and had already marched west, setting foot on the Mongol grasslands.

The Great Ming's collapsing situation showed no sign of improvement whatsoever.

"Absurd! Absurd!"

Chongzhen suddenly flew into a rage, hurling the vermilion brush in his hand to the ground. It splattered a trail of red dots, like a string of dripping fresh blood.

"Your Majesty! Your Majesty, please calm your anger!" Wang Cheng'en immediately knelt down. "If the outer officials have done wrong, Your Majesty need only reprimand them. Please do not lose your temper—it will harm your dragon body!" Chongzhen suddenly rose, his face red with fury, pacing back and forth behind the imperial desk. He walked so fast he stirred up gusts of wind, like a rapidly spinning top.

"What audacity! What are they trying to do? Whose fault is the fall of Nanjing? Gao Qiqian is certainly at fault, but at least he killed more than eighty bandit soldiers! Lu Xiangsheng! Lu Xiangsheng fought only on paper, recklessly advanced out of arrogance, and caused a disastrous defeat—does he bear no responsibility?

Now they submit memorials impeaching Gao Qiqian, but not a single word about Lu Xiangsheng who lost his army and his territory!

What are they trying to say? Do they think I don't know?

Why don't they just write one memorial impeaching me, the sovereign? They'd become famous immediately—wouldn't that be more convenient?"

Chongzhen's voice grew louder and louder, until he was nearly roaring.

Wang Cheng'en wept as he begged His Majesty to calm down.

Chongzhen cursed on in a frenzy for a long while, until at last his strength gave out. He sat down and said, somewhat neurotically: "They all want to see me make a fool of myself. I'll give them no such spectacle! They deserve death! They deserve death!"

What had so enraged Chongzhen was precisely the memorials in which the assembled ministers impeached Gao Qiqian.

After the affair of Gao Qiqian hoarding troops and failing to come to the rescue, Chongzhen had initially been furious as well, and had wanted to punish him severely.

But the Emperor punishing a eunuch was one thing; the assembled ministers, united in righteous indignation and flying their banners high, impeaching a military supervisor was quite another.

This was plainly the civil officials using Gao Qiqian as a pretext to oppose the system of military supervisors — and, going further, to restrict his imperial authority.

To achieve their ends, they would even go so far as to pin the blame for the defeat on the military supervisor's head.

How base and shameless, stopping at nothing!

Chongzhen felt deeply that the affairs of state were ruined precisely by these ministers who cared only for private gain — among all the civil and military officials at court, there was truly not a single loyal subject; every one of them deserved death! After muttering to himself for a long while, he returned to his desk, picked out all the memorials impeaching Gao Qiqian, and examined the wording and grammar of each one character by character, word by word. Those in which he found errors, he berated severely, then docked their salaries, demoted them, or transferred them.

Those in which he could find no errors, he simply shelved without issuing a reply.

This busywork kept him occupied until the sky was fully bright.

Wang Cheng'en urged: "Your Majesty, do rest a while."

Chongzhen said: "Move these red-bordered memorials to the memorial-receiving office at Huiji Gate. Where is Grand Secretary Wen? Summon him at the Pingtai terrace."

Wang Cheng'en could only sigh inwardly, then said: "Yes, Your Majesty."

A little over half an hour later, Chongzhen received officials in succession at the Pingtai terrace.

After a full day of audiences, the topics covered included peace talks with the Manchus, peace talks with Li Zicheng, peace talks with Nanxia, transferring the Guan-Ning army south, and calling upon ministers, nobles, and eunuchs to contribute funds for the military.

Not a single matter was concluded.

First, Chongzhen was inclined toward peace talks and troop movements, but he would absolutely not broach the subject himself — he insisted on probing indirectly to make his ministers speak first, after which he would reluctantly agree. Second, all the ministers had come to recognize that the Emperor was a man of cold ingratitude who never bore responsibility; once anything went wrong, whoever had proposed it would be doomed.

Third, after Zhu and Fu defected to the enemy and Nanjing fell, Chongzhen had grown ever more harsh and tyrannical, killing or demoting officials at the slightest pretext, which made his ministers even less willing to open their mouths.

Such fruitless audiences and court deliberations were no novelty — since the Xia army had besieged Nanjing, they had occurred nearly every day.

The assembled ministers had even prepared template scripts for responding to the Emperor's questions.

By dusk, a parched-tongued Chongzhen returned to the Qianqing Palace, opened the memorials, and wrote furiously.

The more ill-favored the day's political affairs went, the more careful and meticulous he was in his annotations.

He quibbled over every single word in the memorials, yet whenever he encountered thorny problems — such as how to handle Gao Qiqian, or what posthumous title to bestow upon Lu Xiangsheng — he shelved them without reply.

Meanwhile, the conclusion of the war in Jiangsu and Zhejiang meant that the East India Company's worries had been unfounded.

Great Xia was a regime capable of long-term cooperation.

Victor agreed to set sail ahead of schedule.

The man Lin Qian had selected to explore the new sea route was Zhong Aqi. This man was a veteran of the Great Xia navy, of Tanka boat-people origins, with extremely rich navigational experience. In years past, it was he who had sailed around Malacca and developed the India route.

When it came to long-voyage experience, he could be counted as number one in all of Great Xia.

This voyage was of great significance and extremely dangerous, which was why Lin Qian had personally designated him to serve as captain.

At the docks before the walls of Guangzhou, Lin Qian personally saw Zhong Aqi off, accompanying him all the way to the gangplank while issuing endless admonitions.

"Don't stir up trouble at the ports along the way. Especially once you're past the Strait of Malacca, you won't be on Great Xia's turf anymore. When trouble arises, endure what you can endure — then write it all down in the voyage log.

No matter how small the matter, write it down!

In a few years, once we have long-voyage capability, the navy will go down the list and avenge you twofold!"

"On this trip, you must learn the Englishmen's skills — but be careful that the Englishmen don't learn ours. For instance, the matter of sprouting beans and eating bean sprouts must not be let known to the Englishmen."

"Understood, Your Majesty. I've remembered it all. This time I'll be sure to write a proper voyage log." Zhong Aqi nodded.

Lin Qian laughed: "You'll have more than thirty navigators accompanying you this time, each with a voyage log in hand — so there's no fear of you being lazy and not writing again." "Then I can rest assured."

As they spoke, the party had already reached the gangway. Lin Qian stopped in his tracks and said: "One may escort a friend a thousand li, but parting must come in the end. Take care!"

Zhong Aqi clasped his hands in a solemn salute: "Your Majesty, take care!"

He then led his men aboard the ship.

The vessel he commanded was called the Adventure, an armed sailing ship of the East India Company — ten years old, three masts with soft sails, twenty cannons, ten zhang in length and two zhang seven chi in width, with a broad belly and a displacement of roughly four hundred tons. From the stern deck flew the Cross of Saint George.

Victor's leading of Great Xia along the Cape of Good Hope route was done behind the backs of the English Crown and Parliament, so an English ship had to be used as cover.

Zhong Aqi stood upon the ship's deck, and before long the helmsman's shout came from the deck: "Northwest wind, course southeast — weigh anchor and hoist sail!"

Yahei

Fenyuan

Pen