Chapter 1: Such a Great Ming

In the fourth month of the ninth year of Chongzhen in the Great Ming (1636), as the sun set in the west, the ancient city of Beijing lay desolate—sparse crowds drifted through the major streets, everything shrouded in a bleak, lifeless gloom.

Though they say the fourth month holds the finest beauty of spring, for some reason the weather in the northern lands of the Great Ming had grown ever colder; even now, in the fourth month, bitter winds howled, cutting at men's faces.

An occasional gust of cold wind swept by, making pedestrians walking with lowered heads in Beijing's streets tighten their collars, jolting their listless minds into a moment of clarity.

The last remnants of the setting sun cast their slanting rays upon the golden glazed tiles of the Forbidden City—dimmed, yet utterly unable to conceal the distinctive imperial grandeur emanating from within.

In Zhongcui Palace, a youth sat atop a stretch of golden glazed tiles, a single-tube telescope in hand, one eye squinted shut as he observed the resplendent Forbidden City before him.

The magnificent palaces, set against the backdrop of the setting sun, occasionally flashed with rosy light, yet they also seemed bleak and forbidding.

"Young Master, please come down..."

Beneath the great hall stood several young eunuchs in official boots and black gauze caps, anxiously pleading with the youth seated on the glazed tiles to descend.

The youth lowered his telescope, paying them no heed, simply gazing quietly into the distance, pondering his plans for the future.

His name was Zhu Cilang, Crown Prince of the Great Ming's Chongzhen Emperor; he had been transmigrated to the Ming dynasty for seven years already.

In the second month of the second year of Chongzhen, his soul had crossed over and attached itself to the newly born Zhu Cilang. Because he was the eldest son born of the Empress, he had been invested as Crown Prince in the year following his birth.

At first, Zhu Cilang had been rather excited about arriving in the Ming and becoming heir to the throne, for in his mind, most Ming emperors hadn't lived particularly taxing lives.

His mind played through the sixteen 'unique' emperors of the Ming like a film reel.

The Hongwu Emperor, Zhu Yuanzhang, had herded cattle and been a monk—a man of 'three nothings': no money, no connections, no looks—yet he led a band of brothers to overthrow the brutal Yuan and ultimately became emperor.

However, in his later years, anxiety symptoms set in from immense work pressure, and he could only relieve his stress by executing corrupt officials—killing them by the swath.

It was said that during his reign, he had tens of thousands of people beheaded in his crackdown on corruption, and he also casually killed a few comrades who had helped him ascend to power along the way.

The Jianwen Emperor, Zhu Yunwen, a naive third-generation royal whose father died early, directly inherited his grandfather's estate. He recklessly stirred things up with reforms and the stripping of feudal princes—only to be counter-stripped by his fourth uncle, Zhu Di.

The Yongle Emperor, Zhu Di, was said to have a great physique, handsome looks, and tremendous capability! The kind who excelled at his work.

After overthrowing his nephew and becoming emperor, he didn't give himself a single day off in over twenty years, often working overtime until the early hours, rising before dawn to clock in, and even after work dining with his ministers on working meals to discuss company plans. Heaven rewards the diligent—ultimately, he achieved no small measure of accomplishment.

The Hongxi Emperor, Zhu Gaochi, a gourmet connoisseur and peerless foodie, ended up with obesity and died fat—reigning for just ten months.

The Xuande Emperor, Zhu Zhanji, loved cricket fighting and was known as the Cricket Emperor, though he governed quite well and was capable of benevolent rule.

The Zhengtong Emperor, Zhu Qizhen, became emperor as a child and never lost his enthusiasm over the years. In his twenties, seeking to steal the spotlight, he led a personal expedition—with embarrassing results: he was captured by the Oirats!

Think he was finished? Not at all! This His Majesty had another identity—a social butterfly!

His people skills were superb. Not only did he turn his enemy captors into loyal little fans, he also forged a deep friendship with the enemy leader's younger brother; the two often drank and chatted together, discussing life's ideals late into the night.

In the second year of his captivity, the Oirat leader released His Majesty. The leader's brother bid him farewell with great reluctance—pavilion after pavilion, holding hands with tearful eyes, seeing him off stage by stage.

The Jingtai Emperor, Zhu Qiyu, was a bargain hunter. When his elder brother was taken hostage on the personal expedition, he swooped in and became emperor.

When the social butterfly returned home, the bargain hunter not only refused to return the throne but also confined the social butterfly in seclusion—even chopping down the big tree his brother used for shade.

In the end, within a few years he ran the court into the ground, allowing the social butterfly to turn the tables, and ultimately he wasn't even qualified to be buried in the imperial ancestral mausoleum.

The Chenghua Emperor, Zhu Jianshen, was an enthusiast of older-woman romance. Lacking maternal love from childhood, he became devoted to an elder palace maid, investing a palace maid nineteen years his senior as a Noble Consort—and even deposed the Empress because of her.

The Hongzhi Emperor, Zhu Youcheng, a model husband with only one wife, lived a married life like that of ordinary folk. He was the only emperor in history to practice monogamy, and also a workaholic—unfortunately, he worked himself to death.

The Zhengde Emperor, Zhu Houzhao, whose father was the model husband, was an only son and ascended the throne without any pressure whatsoever.

Young and hot-blooded, during one personal expedition he personally wielded two watermelon knives and hacked several enemies to death.

He also loved raising animals, establishing the Leopard House zoo and serving as its own director.

The Jiajing Emperor, Zhu Houcong, the cleverest emperor of the Great Ming, eliminated the eunuch faction at a young age and toyed with the civil official bloc in the palm of his hand.

Perhaps sensing that invincibility meant loneliness, from then on Zhu Houcong devoted himself fervently to seeking immortals and the Dao, daring to ask heaven: do immortals exist?

The Longqing Emperor, Zhu Zaihou: gender male, hobby female. He devoted his entire life to women's charms unto death, even decorating many of his daily necessities with images unsuitable for children.

The Wanli Emperor, Zhu Yijun, was terrorized by Old Zhang from childhood, leaving a psychological shadow. After Old Zhang died, he let himself go completely, stopping work for thirty years and never attending court.

The Taichang Emperor, Zhu Changluo, passed away less than a month after ascending the throne—first taking tonic medicines, then finally swallowing a single little red pill and croaking.

The Tianqi Emperor, Zhu Youjiao, brimming with artistic talent, loved woodworking most of all and was deeply accomplished at it. He designed folding beds, invented fountains, and ranked second only to Lu Ban in historical fame—an artist done a disservice by the throne.

The last one: the Chongzhen Emperor, Zhu Youjian—the current cheap father of Zhu Cilang.

However, upon further reflection, Zhu Cilang realized: wasn't Chongzhen the last emperor of the Ming? Seemed like there was no role left for him, Zhu Cilang, afterward?

At that thought, Zhu Cilang grew somewhat displeased. As he dug deeper into his memories, combined with hearing some familiar historical names, Zhu Cilang recalled more about the late Ming period.

In this late Ming era—especially after the Chongzhen Emperor hanged himself from that southeastern branch—traitors to the Han proliferated across the Central Plains, each with astonishing destructive power. Without these traitors, how could the Manchu Qing have secured their rule?

When a nation falls into crisis, that is when a person's integrity is most tested—indeed, when a people's integrity is tested.

And in the late Ming, though there were no shortage of traitors, there were far more loyal ministers and martyrs who died for their country.

Through the Qing's several incursions through the passes and southern campaigns, approximately four thousand officials of the late Ming died for their principles—the highest number of any dynasty in history.

The Great Ming had never lacked people of unyielding iron backbone! It was only after the later cultural castration by the Qing that the deeds of many heroes and martyrs were obscured—yet plenty remained verifiable in the records.

When history magnifies the name of traitor without limit, overshadowing the glory of martyrs in an attempt to conceal the truth—that is what is truly terrifying.

The above introduction of the Ming emperors is merely banter—teasing, if you will—not disparagement. If I were to introduce them seriously, without hype or hate, I estimate it would take over a hundred thousand characters.