Chapter 241: 239 — Local Militia

Zhao Han smiled at Zhang Bingwen. "You want to take an exam?"

Zhang Bingwen cupped his hands and said, "The Four Books and Five Classics need not be tested — the elementary and middle-school content is far too simple, no different from sitting for the xiucai degree back then. May I ask the Regional Commander to set questions on the Datong Collection, Mathematics, and Geometry?"

"No need for an exam. I trust you. A Provincial Administration Commissioner wouldn't stoop to lying about such a thing," Zhao Han said.

Zhang Bingwen cupped his hands again. "Many thanks for the Regional Commander's trust!"

Zhao Han suddenly asked, "What is your view of the great trends under Heaven?"

Zhang Bingwen immediately rallied his spirits — this was the real test. "The Great Ming's treasury is empty, its governance corrupt, land annexation severe — the accumulated rot is already beyond remedy. The roving bandits of the northwest rush about ceaselessly, unable to halt and develop in stability; they are no more than large gangs of mounted brigands. Only when the roving bandits can send the government troops fleeing everywhere will they be able to establish offices and institutions, and only then will they have the capital to contend for the realm. The Tartar thieves of Liaodong are but a foreign race. Yet at this moment, the Tartars have already created institutions. Once the Ming court collapses, they will have a better chance of contending for the realm than the roving bandits. As for Jiangxi, I need not repeat myself."

Zhao Han was thoroughly satisfied and asked, "Do you know how I shall develop from here?"

Zhang Bingwen said, "The Southern Metropolitan Region is the finest territory under Heaven. One could strike east from Guangxin Prefecture, first seizing Zhejiang. Then, boarding a naval force and descending the Yangtze, a combined water-and-land pincer attack would inevitably take Nanjing, Taiping, Zhenjiang, and the other cities. In this way, Jiangnan would be secured, and half the realm would fall into one's hands as easily as reaching for it."

"So I should attack Zhejiang this year?" Zhao Han said with a smile.

"Not so," Zhang Bingwen said. "Given the Regional Commander's temperament, wisdom, and ability, you must first take southern Huguang, then take Guangdong and Fujian."

Zhao Han, increasingly pleased, asked, "Why so?"

Zhang Bingwen analyzed: "If Jiangnan is lost, the Great Ming will fall swiftly. The Tartars will inevitably break through the passes, and the Tartars, who have established institutions and proclaimed an emperor, will rapidly occupy Hebei. The roving bandits, who have not yet built institutions, will absolutely be no match for the Tartars. And before that, so long as the Regional Commander dares to move against the Southern Metropolitan Region and Zhejiang, the Ming court will certainly stop at nothing, dispatching the full armies of the six northern provinces to wage a decisive battle with Jiangxi. The situation would then become one where the Regional Commander alone faces the court's great army, while the roving bandits and Tartars reap the fisherman's profit. How unwise would that be?"

"Then why should I take southern Huguang first?" Zhao Han asked.

Zhang Bingwen said, "When Huguang ripens, all under Heaven are fed — the granary of the realm is Lake Dongting. In these chaotic times, grain is paramount. Whoever can fill the common people's bellies can vie for the throne."

In the early and middle Ming period, the Great Ming's primary grain-producing region was Jiangnan — specifically, the lower Yangtze and the area around Lake Tai.

But from the mid-Ming onward, the population in those places multiplied continuously, and large tracts were also converted to cash crops, leading to a severe grain shortage. Huguang, meanwhile, was opened up and developed, thus becoming the granary of the realm. Much of the grain in the Jiangnan prefectures was shipped in from Huguang and Jiangxi for sale.

Therefore, Zhao Han did not need to conquer Jiangnan. So long as he held the grain-producing lands of Huguang and Jiangxi, he could throttle the Jiangnan region at any time.

Zhang Bingwen continued, "As for Fujian and Guangdong, maritime trade is the greatest profit under Heaven. Once the seas are opened and smuggling is suppressed, the tax revenue will be no less than from the Southern Metropolitan Region and Zhejiang."

"Ha ha ha ha!"

Zhao Han laughed heartily. "You, sir, are a talent of the highest order."

Although Zhang Bingwen was a man of Tongcheng, he had served as Military Defense Circuit Intendant in Fujian and knew full well how vast the profits of Fujian's maritime trade were.

The Ming court found it hard to act, but Zhao Han could do as he pleased, ruthlessly killing off a batch of smuggling merchants. No matter how many he killed, it would not touch his own interests, and Zhang Bingwen was happy to see it happen.

Zhao Han had someone bring over an intelligence report and handed it to him, saying, "Please take a look, sir."

Zhang Bingwen was somewhat curious. He glanced at it — it was a copied issue of the court's Capital Gazette.

This year, they had not even rested for the Lantern Festival. On the fourteenth day of the first month, a document was produced: Chongzhen accepted the suggestion of Fu Yuanchu, Supervising Secretary of the Ministry of Works, and ordered the opening of the seas in Fujian to levy customs duties to aid military funding.

Zhang Bingwen shook his head and sighed. "Ah, the Great Ming's foundations are already rotten. Even if the seas are opened, they won't be able to collect much tax at all."

Zhao Han handed over another intelligence report, also from the first month: Nanjing had dismissed eighty-nine superfluous personnel.

"It seems the court truly has no money left, to have actually started dismissing officials," Zhang Bingwen said with amusement. "A pity there are too many constraints. If they really meant to cut the deadwood, Nanjing could dismiss at least three hundred. And why not dismiss a few more Vice Ministers? The highest-ranking officials cut were merely a few secretaries."

Zhao Han rose and said, "Go work at the Secretariat."

A man like Zhang Bingwen coming to offer his service naturally could not truly be made a minor clerk, but even less could the rules be broken for his sake. Thus, placing him in the Secretariat was best — accumulate two years of seniority, then be sent out as an assistant official, and he could soon be gilded and promoted.

Zhao Han had already sent out four secretaries to external posts. Fei Yu had been sent out as Assistant Magistrate; once they expanded into southern Huguang and Guangdong, Fei Yu could be promoted and transferred to serve as County Magistrate.

Zhang Bingwen settled his wife and concubines, then sent men back to Tongcheng to fetch his several children.

After completing the handover procedures, Zhang Bingwen went to work at the Secretariat and saw an old man in his fifties.

It was none other than that Prefect of Guangxin, Xie Lijing, who had wanted to starve himself to death. Zhao Han had not bothered to persuade him, merely telling the man to go see the countryside for himself, and then recruited him into the Secretariat as an ordinary secretary.

The two were only a year apart in age, the oldest in the Secretariat. Without asking, each knew the other's situation.

They clasped fists in mutual salute and went about their respective tasks.

Pang Chunlai quietly sought out Zhao Han and, in the tone of an elder, said, "Brother Han, isn't it time you took another concubine?"

"No rush," Zhao Han said.

"You really should take a concubine sooner rather than later," Pang Chunlai said. "This is not my thought alone. Many officials, and even the common people, all hope you will take a concubine."

Zhao Han sighed. "Let's wait until this year's fighting is over."

The reason the officials were anxious was, simply, fear that Zhao Han's line of descendants would not flourish.

Although Fei Rulan had borne a son, there had been no sign since. Last winter, little Chong caught a cold and fever, which threw Pang Chunlai, Li Banghua, and the others into a panic.

With only one son, given the medical standards of this ancient era, it was truly far from secure.

He had to have more, and as early as possible.

If Chai Rong's son had been twenty years old, would Zhao Kuangyin have dared to wrap himself in the yellow robe?

It was true that Zhao Han was in his vigorous prime, but his subordinate officials feared the worst.

For Zhao Han, producing sons had become a political task. He could only follow good counsel, and that night he went home and set about earnestly tumbling with Fei Rulan.

This year's conditions were not bad. After the rice seedlings were transplanted, there was generally only a minor drought, and it rained in less than a month.

Only in the northernmost prefectures of Jiujiang and Nankang was the drought-relief work more severe; all the counties in those two prefectures were already busily mobilized.

Incidentally, for administrative convenience, the four northwestern counties under Nanchang Prefecture had all been reassigned to the jurisdiction of Nankang Prefecture.

This was because, departing from the Nankang prefectural seat, one could reach Wuning and Ningzhou via the Xiu River, Jing'an via Shuangxi, and Fengxin via the Feng River. In short, setting out from the prefectural seat, one could arrive by boat — transport was extremely convenient.

If those four counties still belonged to Nanchang, the tax grain submitted in the future would have to be shipped first to Nankang Prefecture, then loaded onto boats and transported to Nanchang Prefecture. When prefectural officials went out to the countryside on business, they too would have to make a long detour, a sheer waste of manpower and resources.

Poor Nanchang Prefecture, which had originally governed eight counties, was whittled down by Zhao Han to just four.

While drought relief and disaster response were underway in northern Jiangxi, two Embroidered Uniform Guard agents had already returned to the capital to report, leaving four more behind in Jiangxi to continue their reconnaissance.

The Palace of Heavenly Purity.

"Your Majesty, the rebel Zhao has seized the entire territory of Jiangxi." The Embroidered Uniform Guard agent prostrated himself on the floor and reported.

Chongzhen was not even angry, for he had already received multiple intelligence reports — Zhao Han's sole occupation of Jiangxi was only a matter of time.

Moreover, Zhao Han had, through Wang Tiaoding, sent up yet another letter.

Its content was simple: Zhao Han guaranteed he would not send troops against the Southern Metropolitan Region and Zhejiang, the reason being that he did not wish to face the court's military edge, nor did he wish to see the roving bandits continue to swell in the north.

Chongzhen questioned him further for a while, then summoned Yang Sichang and Wang Tiaoding.

Ever since Zhao Han's second letter arrived, Wang Tiaoding's role had become unmistakably clear: he was the mouthpiece between Zhao Han and the Emperor.

"The rebel Zhao has seized the entire territory of Jiangxi." The Chongzhen Emperor's tone seemed remarkably calm.

Yang Sichang was jolted. "Jiangnan is in peril!"

Wang Tiaoding said, "Minister Yang need not worry about Jiangnan. The rebel Zhao will certainly march into southern Huguang — that is where the most grain is produced."

Yang Sichang was instantly speechless. He was a native of Changde; Zhao Han was about to march on his own home.

Ruler and minister alike had nothing left to say.

Roving bandits in the northwest, Tartars in Liaodong, Zhao Han in the south — and the court's funds and provisions were barely enough to deal with even one of them, yet it had to face all three at once.

"What is to be done?" The Chongzhen Emperor felt utterly drained. He was truly exhausted.

Yang Sichang sighed. "The Southern Metropolitan Area and Zhejiang cannot possibly raise troops for war. Those two regions have suffered drought year after year; collecting any taxes at all is already a struggle. If we raise troops there as well, how will we sustain the armies in the north? Nor can the court dispatch troops to suppress the rebel Zhao. The Yangtze is a natural moat — we would need to train a naval force, and where is the silver to train a naval force?"

The Chongzhen Emperor gave a cold laugh. "What use is there in saying all this?"

Yang Sichang bowed his head. "We can only trust that the rebel Zhao will not strike the Southern Metropolitan Area or Zhejiang. We must seize the moment while the rebel Zhao is expanding westward to swiftly exterminate the roving bandits. Only when the bandits are wiped out can we free our hands to campaign against the rebel Zhao. As for the rebel Zhao… we can order the gentry of southern Huguang, Guangdong, and Fujian to raise their own local braves and organize militia, so as to delay the speed of his expansion."

The Chongzhen Emperor said angrily, "The gentry raising their own local braves? Do you want to turn the Great Ming into the Three Kingdoms at the end of Han?"

Yang Sichang kowtowed. "This is a measure of expediency, to be implemented only in the three southern provinces. Once the court has exterminated the roving bandits, this order can be rescinded at once. The urgent task is to swiftly exterminate the roving rebels. I beg Your Majesty to train another hundred thousand troops!"

"And the money?" the Chongzhen Emperor demanded.

"Impose an additional training levy!" Yang Sichang said through gritted teeth. He too had been driven to desperation.

The Chongzhen Emperor slumped, and said listlessly, "Then let it be as you propose."

What proposal?

Naturally, to impose an additional training levy, raise and train new armies, and swiftly exterminate the roving bandits. At the same time, to transmit orders to the three provinces of southern Huguang, Guangdong, and Fujian, permitting the gentry and powerful families to organize and train their own armed forces.

When it was brought to the court for discussion the following day, the reaction was astonishing.

The matter of organizing militia actually passed unanimously. Every one of those officials feared having their land redistributed by the rebel Zhao. In any case, it was Yang Sichang's idea — if it went wrong, it would be the perfect pretext to impeach him; if it succeeded, they could destroy the rebel Zhao.

As for the additional levy to train troops, it drew a storm of condemnation from the hundred officials. Everyone knew they could not afford any more upheaval. Wouldn't imposing yet another training levy simply drive more peasants to revolt?

The opposition was futile. The levy was imposed nationwide once again, and the common people groaned under unbearable suffering.

Meanwhile, in Jiangxi, Zhao Han was sharpening his weapons and feeding his horses, waiting only for the summer grain harvest before he marched.

(End of Chapter)