Chapter 387: Liaoxi in Peril! The Great Qing in Peril!

"Grand Secretary, this is a military dispatch from the Central Rear Garrison at Ningyuan. It's marked urgent."

Zhang Chengzhong, a corrector in the Inner Secretariat and also a trusted confidant of Inner Secretariat Grand Secretary Fan Wencheng, was following at Fan Wencheng's heels, a stack of official documents in his hands as he flipped through them. Inside Ningyuan city, in the main hall of a government office requisitioned by the Imperial Commissioner Fan Wencheng, a crowd of people had gathered — all officials of the Guanning Army system left behind to hold Ningyuan — listening as Commissioner Fan barked out assignments.

"Has all the grain been packed and loaded onto carts? This journey is over two thousand li — don't expect to finish it in less than two months. The men and horses will be eating the whole way, so we can't skimp! How many are in this batch? Twenty thousand? Prepare at least one shi of flour per person, plus fine fodder for the mules and horses. Better to overstock than come up short!"

"Is the escorting army ready? Although the whole route lies within Great Qing territory, the southern Mongolian steppe is far from peaceful — this banner and that banner, none of them easy to deal with. Caution costs nothing!"

"How much silk and cloth have you prepared? The northwest is desperately short of these things. You needn't bring much silver, but silk and cloth you cannot skimp on. Along the way, when you meet those Mongol princes and beile, a small gift will buy you safe passage. And if you run short of grain or mules and horses, you can trade for them. Don't tell me you don't have any! Those sand-boats plying the northern sea lanes have been selling you goods all along!"

"What about the crops in the fields? That's not your concern. The Prince Regent will send Eight Banners booi bondservants to harvest them. Just set out with peace of mind — the Prince Who Pacifies the West has already made arrangements for you in Ningxia and Gansu."

Fan Wencheng's commission as Imperial Commissioner was, it turned out, to oversee the relocation. Although Dorgon had long since approved the move of the Guanning Army dependents and their sons from Liaoxi, Wu Sangui's side had been slow to carry it out. It's hard to leave a broken home, after all — and going to Ningxia and Gansu, well, if it were Jiangnan, everyone would have set off happily long ago.

Besides, this spring everyone had already done a round of planting, and now it was only early summer — there was no way to harvest! So everyone thought to hold out a little longer and leave after the autumn harvest.

But Dorgon couldn't wait. After the autumn harvest, the weather would turn cold at once, and by then the southern Mongolian steppe would be swept by biting winds — how could they travel? Even if the people could endure it, what about the livestock? It's a two- or three-month journey; they'd have to eat on the road! If they truly had to go that far, they absolutely could not set out after the autumn harvest — the latest they could depart was summer. If it dragged past the harvest, they'd have to wait until late spring of the following year to leave (early spring and mid-spring wouldn't do either — the livestock had to be fattened up first). But with war between Ming and Qing about to break out at any moment, how could Dorgon wait that long? So he dispatched Fan Wencheng, the Inner Secretariat Grand Secretary, to Ningyuan as Imperial Commissioner.

By the time Fan Wencheng finished, he was already dizzy-eyed and hoarse-throated. He was no longer young, and his health was poor; before the Qing entered the pass he had been recuperating, and now he was working through illness. So he found a chair and sat down to recover, and when he saw his aide Zhang Chengzhong holding a military dispatch, he frowned slightly.

"Where's it from?"

"The Central Rear Garrison at Ningyuan. It's military affairs."

"Nonsense!" Fan Wencheng waved a hand. "I'm not reading it. I'm only in charge of the relocation. Military matters go to the Shengjing Governor-General's office."

The Shengjing Governor-General was the predecessor of the Shengjing General, established when the Great Qing moved its capital to Beijing. The first Governor-General was Dorgon's trusted man Helohui. The current Governor-General was the second to hold the post, also one of Dorgon's men, named Yekeshu. Military affairs in Liaodong all fell under his jurisdiction; Fan Wencheng had no business meddling.

"Grand Secretary, even if you won't handle this matter, you should at least be aware of it."

"What is it?" Grand Secretary Fan's brow furrowed, and he had no choice but to take the dispatch and look. One glance, and it was no small matter. A grand secretary of considerable standing immediately leapt to his feet. "What? The Southern army's navy has already reached Juehua Island?"

It turned out this dispatch had been sent by a company of Eight Banners Han troops stationed at the Central Rear Garrison of Ningyuan, and what it reported was precisely that Juehua Island had been captured by the Great Ming navy!

Although Yu Daren had done his utmost to suppress the news, the matter could not be kept hidden for long. Because the fishermen on Juehua Island regularly delivered seafood to the Central Rear Garrison at Ningyuan. After the garrison received the seafood, they would pick out the finest specimens, salt-cure them, and send them to Beijing — that was how the salted fish on the dining table of the little Shunzhi Emperor and the great dame Bumbutai came to be.

Now no one was delivering seafood. What if the little emperor wanted salted fish? So the company stationed at the Central Rear Garrison of Ningyuan dared not delay, and immediately sent boats out to sea. The moment they went out, they discovered the Northern Ocean Navy sand-boats patrolling and standing guard around Juehua Island.

Never mind how the Eight Banners' heavenly soldiers swaggered on land, thinking nothing of the Ming army. But at sea, they were truly mice at the sight of a cat, and they scurried back at once. In fact, they needn't have fled so fast, because what they encountered was a sand-boat of limited speed, and the wind wasn't even favorable at the time — it couldn't possibly have caught them.

Of course, if what they'd encountered had been a centipede warship, then there'd have been no point running either, because they couldn't have escaped at all — if they wanted to live, they'd have had to surrender!

"No, I must go see for myself." Fan Wencheng set down the dispatch and wiped a cold sweat from his brow.

"Grand Secretary, where are you going to look?" Zhang Chengzhong asked.

"Juehua Island, of course!" Fan Wencheng gritted his teeth, his face grave. "Without seeing it with my own eyes, how can I know how many troops the Southern court has actually sent? This matter must be clarified!"

"G-G-Grand Secretary..." Zhang Chengzhong was thoroughly frightened by Fan Wencheng. "You mustn't go! Although our Great Qing is invincible on land, our navy is no match for the Southern court's. You are a Grand Secretary of the Great Qing — if anything were to happen to you, how would this humble official explain it to the Prince Regent?"

Fan Wencheng stroked his beard. "You have a point." He suddenly turned to look at Zhang Chengzhong, a look of expectation and a smile on his face. "Zhongyi, you are a loyal subject of our Great Qing, are you not?"

Zhang Chengzhong froze for a moment, then understood. He could only nod, tears welling in his eyes.

He was a man of Guangning Guard. When Guangning Guard fell, most of his family had died, and the survivors had all become booi bondservants, registered under the Plain Red Banner. He had been young then, but clever and quick-witted, and he had some schooling, so he was noticed by Fan Wencheng, who was also of the Plain Red Banner, and became his page boy. Under Fan Wencheng's patronage, he had risen rapidly to become a corrector in the Inner Secretariat.

Such great kindness — he surely had to repay it! Now was the time to repay it.

"Good! I knew I hadn't misjudged you!" Fan Wencheng said with a smile. "Go with peace of mind. If anything untoward should happen, your wife and daughter — I will look after them. Rest assured."

"But don't be afraid. You're a local of Liaoxi, dark and rough-looking, not at all like a scholar. You can easily pass as a fish merchant going to the island to buy goods. Even if you're caught, it shouldn't cost you your life."

It had to be said, Fan Wencheng could still judge matters well. His trusted man Zhang Chengzhong did indeed return intact, not even the money-rat tail at the back of his head had been cut off — if his queue had been cut, he couldn't have come back, could he?

So Zhang Chengzhong not only came back with his queue intact, he also brought back some very valuable intelligence!

Hmm, the Southern court's northern expedition launched from the sea this time was very likely serious! Seizing Juehua Island was only the beginning. Liaoxi was in peril! The Great Qing was in peril!

"Dorgon, Dorgon, wake up..."

That night, Dorgon, deep in sleep, heard someone calling his name in a haze. Who was it? Was Dorgon's name something just anyone could call? Half-asleep, Dorgon was still mulling this over when a sharp pain shot across his face — someone was tugging at his beard!

"Who's there!" Dorgon shouted, his small eyes finally opening, a flash of anger in them.

The Prince Regent's beard — was that something just anyone could tug?

"Me, the Empress Dowager!"

A matronly face appeared before Dorgon's eyes — it was the Holy Mother Empress Dowager, Bumbutai.

"Bumbutai." Seeing the anxious expression on his beloved dame's face, Dorgon immediately asked with concern, "Is it the Emperor...?"

The little Shunzhi Emperor had fallen ill these past two days. A child of seven — if the illness took a turn, well, it might be the end! What was to be done?

"What are you thinking?" Bumbutai glared at him. "Fan Wencheng is here! Something big has happened in Liaoxi — the Southern court's great army has struck Liaoxi!"

(End of Chapter)