Chapter 291: When Two Nations War, Envoys Are Not Executed (Monthly Ticket 5000 Bonus Chapter)

Nanjing, Dajiangfang, the Grand Marshal's Office of the Army-Pacifying Command.

"Sun Zhixie, Jin Zhijun — the two of you may have become traitors whom every man has the right to kill. But rest assured, our Great Ming is a land of rites and propriety, and a land of rites and propriety does not execute envoys, nor will it detain you. So you need not be afraid."

The speaker was none other than Zhu Cilang, as ever mild of countenance and wearing a smile, giving one the feeling of a spring breeze.

Only, for some unknown reason, the two Qing envoys Sun Zhixie and Jin Zhijun dropped to their knees the moment they saw Zhu Cilang, unable to utter a word, merely trembling where they knelt.

Zhu Cilang had no choice but to reassure them with kind words — he was not deceiving the two traitors; he truly would not execute these two traitorous envoys. If he killed them, who would deliver to Dorgon the "Proclamation Against the Caitiffs and in Defense of the People" jointly signed by the famous scholars of the southeast?

So they had to be sent back in fine style. The famous scholars who had signed the "Proclamation Against the Caitiffs and in Defense of the People" had to be made to understand that they and the Tartars were irreconcilable — if the Tartars took Jiangnan, they were dead men!

Hearing Zhu Cilang speak thus, Sun Zhixie and Jin Zhijun trembled all the more! The things they had said outside Nanjing's Yifeng Gate — if Dorgon ever learned of them, how could it end well? The two of them had been tearing down the Great Qing's own platform.

"Are you two ill? Zhang Tao!" Zhu Cilang glanced at the somewhat overzealous Chiliarch of the Huaiyang Office of the Embroidered Uniform Guard's Southern Pacification Commission. "Have you been neglecting the two Qing envoys?"

Zhang Tao said with a grin, "Reporting to Thousand Years, this subject has not harmed them."

Really?

Zhu Cilang was somewhat doubtful, but did not press further. Instead he smiled at Sun Zhixie and Jin Zhijun and said, "You two envoys, stand up and speak seated!"

They were even offered seats, but the two traitors did not dare sit comfortably, perching on only half their buttocks with the look of men who had suffered great injustice.

Zhu Cilang smiled. "Tell me, what has Dorgon sent you here to do?"

Sun Zhixie glanced at Zhu Cilang — just a half-grown boy, so how could he be so ruthless? Could he truly be the reincarnation of the Great Ancestor, the Exalted Emperor?

"Thousand Years," Sun Zhixie said, steeling himself, "the Prince Regent sent this humble official south for two purposes: first, to discuss a marriage alliance; second — second, to clarify the matter of the Great Qing's alleged intention to destroy the Kong family cemetery at Qufu."

Jin Zhijun added from the side, "Yes, the Gr-Great Qing also honors Confucius."

"How could that be?" Zhu Cilang said with a smile. "The Duke for Perpetuating the Sage has already taken command and marched north with the disciples of the Kong clan of Qufu to recover lost territory."

What?

The Duke for Perpetuating the Sage, Kong Yinzhi, had that kind of nerve?

Sun Zhixie suddenly recalled the matter of the northern expedition's excellent progress, and so probed in a roundabout way: "Thousand Years, the Duke's great army must be nearing Beijing by now?"

He and Jin Zhijun had been prisoners these past days, utterly ignorant of outside conditions — they did not even know whose hands Beijing was in now.

Zhu Cilang smiled. "Not yet! The Duke for Perpetuating the Sage is, after all, of the highest dignity, and Shi Kefa would not let him take risks. But with the Duke's banner, the various northern expedition armies will be able to work with one heart and one mind."

Work with one heart and one mind — as if. These words could only fool Sun Zhixie and Jin Zhijun; Zu Kefa, who had come with them, did not believe a word of it.

Roving bandits, the Guanning troops, the New Army, and a whole host of warlords like Liu Liangzuo, Liu Zeqing, Xu Dingguo, Gao Jie, and Huang Degong. With that many men, it would be remarkable enough if they did not start fighting among themselves — one heart and one mind? Dream on!

Zhu Cilang smiled. "But even if Beijing is taken, We will not make things difficult for you two envoys. We are still willing to maintain friendly relations with the Qing, and We are willing to marry the Prince Regent's daughter. It is only that the annual tribute of four million shi is somewhat excessive."

Zhu Cilang had long known the terms of the "marriage proposal." That so-called Princess Dong'e would only turn seven the following year; even if she were married off at fifteen, they would have to wait another eight years. By then Dorgon might well be dead!

Would the Shunzhi Emperor allow the only daughter of his most hated uncle Dorgon to happily marry the Ming Emperor and become Empress? So the present "marriage negotiations" were entirely empty talk, impossible to carry out.

"Thousand Years, the matter of the annual tribute can be discussed again — can be discussed slowly." Sun Zhixie let out a breath. If the marriage negotiations could succeed, he and Jin Zhijun would be able to give Dorgon an account of themselves — that is, if they ever had the chance to see a living Dorgon again!

Sun Zhixie and Jin Zhijun were no fools; they knew perfectly well that once Dorgon was defeated and lost Beijing, his old life would most likely be forfeited in the internal struggles of the Eight Banners — the Eight Banners were not something Dorgon and Dodo could fully control. If the two brothers kept winning victories, their position would of course remain secure.

But if they were defeated — heh — then there would be no more talk of marriage alliances, and whether Princess Dong'e could even survive was uncertain!

"Good, good!" Zhu Cilang smiled and beckoned to Huang Xiaobao. "Xiaobao, bring out the gifts for the Princess."

"Yes!" Huang Xiaobao answered, and at once directed the young eunuchs to carry in one large leather chest after another, then opened them before the two traitors' very eyes.

Inside were all fine things: one chest of gold and silver jewelry, three chests of silks and satins, and all manner of toys for coaxing a little girl — bamboo horses, rattle drums, cloth dolls, and the like — plus some honeyed dried fruits.

Oh, and there was also a portrait of Zhu Cilang, painted for him by a clansman from Jiangxi named Zhu Tongquan. It was done in the iron-wire plain-line technique, quite well executed — lifelike and full of spirit.

Incidentally, the imperial clansmen from all over who could still be contacted (not counting the untitled commoner branches) — apart from the three lines of the Prince of Tang, the Prince of Lu, and the Prince of Jingjiang, who had their own fiefs and required no concern from Zhu Cilang — were all beginning to converge on Nanjing. There were not a million of them, because the vast majority of princely fiefs had fallen or had once fallen, and the descendants of the Zhu family had naturally suffered grievous losses in such upheaval! Yet the clansmen who could still make it to Nanjing numbered in the tens of thousands at the very least.

These people had lived off imperial stipends for generations, and most had no survival skills — though one could not rule out that a portion of them were still useful.

And Zhu Cilang, as Crown Prince, could not be too heartless; he could hardly watch these relatives who had survived the wars starve one by one on the streets of Nanjing. So he had to give them food where possible. Those who still held ranks of General Who Upholds the State or above were given a stipend by Zhu Cilang, along with a plot of land in the eastern part of Nanjing's outer wall, where they could build houses and live, and where he could see whether they were of any use.

As for clansmen below the rank of General Who Upholds the State, they too were to be employed according to their abilities — those with good handwriting became court clerks responsible for copying; those who could paint entered the painting academy; those who could keep accounts went to the Tax Bureau of the Ministry of Revenue as tax clerks and bookkeepers; those with good looks became Great Han Generals to adorn the court; those good for nothing but brute strength were put into the Xiaoling Guard New Army to endure hardship; and those still young were sent to the Imperial Academy to study. And this Zhu Tongquan, of course, entered the newly rebuilt court painting academy in Nanjing as a court painter.

Zhu Cilang paused, then smiled. "You two, all these are gifts from Us to Princess Dong'e. We must trouble you to carry them back to the Qing."

The four million shi of annual tribute to the Great Qing would not be forthcoming, but gifts to coax a little girl — those Zhu Cilang was willing to give.

As for Dorgon's position as Prince Regent, from what Zhu Cilang had gathered, it seemed he would be able to hold onto it. For although this joint Ming-Shun northern expedition was grand in scale, its chances of success were truly not very great.

Still, the days of the Great Qing's Prince Regent Dorgon were indeed not easy at present.

With a thunderous crash, the desk in the Prince Regent's study was kicked over by the furious prince. The eunuchs and palace maids standing in attendance with lowered heads all shrank half a foot in fright.

Several ministers close to the Prince Regent, such as Fan Wencheng, Gang Lin, Qi Chongge, and He Luohui, dared not even raise their heads.

Dorgon panted heavily, grinding his teeth and muttering, "Hooge... Hooge — you, Hooge!"

The man Dorgon hated most was, of course, Hooge! Were it not for Hooge, he would now be not Prince Regent but Emperor of the Great Qing!

Likewise, the man Hooge hated most was Dorgon; were it not for Dorgon, Hooge would be Emperor — how would it ever have fallen to Fulin?

Now that the Great Qing's fortunes in the war south of the passes had turned slightly unfavorable, Hooge, commanding troops on the Datong front, would naturally not miss the chance to strike at Dorgon. A few days earlier he had submitted a memorial proposing to abandon the offensive in Shanxi and shift forces to Zhili and Shandong.

If Hooge's proposal were adopted, it would mean the complete failure of the Shanxi campaign Dorgon had long planned, and his prestige as Prince Regent would suffer a severe blow!

(End of Chapter)