Chapter 1: Just Arrived and They're Already Forcing Me to Hang Myself?

"Imperial Physician, how is His Majesty's condition, truly?"

Within Kunning Palace in the Forbidden City of the capital of the Great Ming, a eunuch wearing a python robe with a shrill voice asked aloud, and the crowd's gazes converged upon that imperial physician.

Red candles burned high, and a youth in a dragon robe lay with closed eyes in the resplendent bedchamber, his breathing intermittent—by all ordinary reckoning, clearly on the verge of drawing his last breath.

The imperial physician seated at the side had graying hair and beard; though past sixty, he still did his utmost to take the pulse of the youth on the dragon bed. Perhaps because of the status of those around him, he was extremely tense, and fine beads of sweat gradually seeped out across his forehead.

The various men and women around him did not know what the physician was thinking, only holding their breath and quietly awaiting what came next.

The woman seated at the dragon bed tightly gripped the youth's other hand. Phoenix coronet and cape of rosy clouds, phoenix eyes and slender brows, her face was pretty and fair, her whole person carrying a touch of cool aloofness, as if keeping all others at arm's length.

But at this moment she was anxious beyond endurance, deeply concerned for the youth's safety; even amid her regal bearing, she inadvertently revealed a woman's vulnerable side.

"Physician Weng, what exactly is wrong with His Majesty? Why has he been unconscious since early this morning?"

This woman slightly furrowed her phoenix brows; though her heart was in a tangle, her every gesture still showed grace and dignity—a true royal lady raised in proper etiquette.

The woman's question seemed to break the stillness like a stone cast on calm water; the others, though full of worry on their faces, said not a word more. As for what each of them truly thought, that naturally no one could know.

Clearly, this woman's standing among the crowd around her was very high. The physician surnamed Weng trembled all over, thinking to himself that the moment had come.

He dared not fail to answer, so he could only put on a show of doing his utmost—opening his eyes, taking a deep breath, and bending his waist all the way to the ground.

"In answer to Your Majesty the Empress, this humble official is shallow in learning and cannot fathom the cause—truly guilty deserving a thousand deaths..."

When he finished, Empress Zhou was indeed red-faced with fury.

"Fine, you, Weng Bingshi—as an imperial physician of the Imperial Academy of Medicine, you don't even know what illness has befallen His Majesty. What use are you? Guards!"

The Empress, in her fury, had no sooner spoken than two burly guards strode in from outside the door, deftly taking positions to left and right of the physician, as if waiting only for the order to haul him out.

That Weng Bingshi's face was panic-stricken, his beard trembling with fright; with a "plop" he knelt to the ground, only bitterly pleading for mercy, his body shaking like a sieve, yet unable to utter anything of substance.

"Your Majesty the Empress, spare my life..."

Heaven have mercy—he truly did not know what strange illness had befallen His Majesty.

Come to think of it, His Majesty had been perfectly fine yesterday; today he suddenly lay unconscious. Could he have been struck by some evil spirit? But that was a thought he could only keep in his heart—it absolutely could not be spoken aloud, for saying it would only hasten his death.

"Your Majesty the Empress, forgive this crime, forgive this crime..."

"Hmph." Empress Zhou cast a glance from her phoenix eyes and gave a cold snort, about to speak further, when she suddenly felt the hand of the person beside her seem to move.

Almost instinctively, Empress Zhou seized the Chongzhen Emperor's hand, startled and overjoyed at once.

"His hand—His Majesty's hand...!"

At this sight, Weng Bingshi, though astonished inwardly, knew he could no longer stay prostrate—that would truly be waiting for death. He hastily wiped his sweat, scrambled up from the ground, and took Chongzhen's pulse.

This time his expression was no longer as grim as before; turning from worry to joy, with delight written plainly on his face, he clasped his hands and said:

"Heaven blesses the Great Ming! Heaven blesses the Great Ming! His Majesty is safe and sound!"

In truth, Weng Bingshi was not happy that the Chongzhen Emperor had taken a turn for the better—he was glad to have saved his own skin, at least not dying here before the roving bandits even came.

Hearing the imperial physician say so, and seeing that his manner showed no sign of pretense, the men and women gathered around the dragon bed all breathed sighs of relief. The Chongzhen Emperor was not dead yet—now there was still a pillar to hold things up.

That eunuch in the python robe was Wang Cheng'en, brush-holding eunuch of the Directorate of Ceremonial; only the eunuch most trusted by the Emperor could enjoy the honor of being granted the python robe.

Wang Cheng'en breathed a sigh of relief, waved his hand to dismiss the crowd, and himself bowed low, speaking in a soft voice:

"This servant is relieved that His Majesty is well. Your Majesty the Empress, this servant will take his leave—"

Wang Cheng'en truly lived up to his reputation as the inner official the Chongzhen Emperor trusted most, always able to make the fitting choice at the critical moment. Empress Zhou's slender brows relaxed slightly; she gave a soft "mm" and nodded her permission.

Only when the clatter of footsteps had faded into the distance did she raise her head, gazing at the youth on the dragon bed with tenderness like water, her voice choked with tears:

"Your Majesty, you and I have shared hardships for many years. Your concubine cannot be without you, the Great Ming cannot be without you—please, nothing must happen to you~"

At these words, a few fragrant tears suddenly slid down Empress Zhou's unpainted pretty face. She pressed the Chongzhen Emperor's still somewhat weary hand to her own cheek, and said with no small reproach:

"Seventeen years have passed. Your concubine has watched with her own eyes as you toiled day and night, yet the Great Ming declines with each passing day. Could this truly be what the Jianzhou barbarians call the Mandate of Heaven?"

Suddenly, the youth on the dragon bed opened his eyes. First he let out a relieved breath, then used his hand to wipe away Empress Zhou's tears, forcing a smile as he said:

"Even if there is a Mandate of Heaven, it must surely belong to our Great Ming. Empress, you worry too much!"

Empress Zhou was stunned, then could not wait to embrace Chongzhen, weeping:

"Your Majesty, you've finally woken. Your concubine was so afraid."

……

Three days later, the Chongzhen Emperor walked through the resplendent inner palace, still feeling it was somewhat unreal. After all, when any normal person suddenly transmigrates—no matter what identity they become—who could adapt to it right away at the very start?

In his past life, he had merely been a writer of historical novels, so poor he'd nearly pawned his trousers; plain-looking, with no car, no house, no savings. But what he loved most was delving into the history of the late Ming and early Qing.

Even if he wasn't some university professor, he'd idle away his time searching online, and kept buying books to read—both official histories and unofficial accounts. Studying tirelessly like this, decade after decade, he ought to have achieved no small measure of accomplishment.

Of course, all of this stemmed from the lament in his heart for the Ming dynasty—the last orthodox dynasty of Chinese civilization.

Back then, though life was not as he wished, at least he had no fear for his life.

Once, after eating a cheap skewer meal from a roadside stall, he passed a lottery stand with exactly two coins left on him, so he bought a lottery ticket just for the sake of it, without studying the number selection much at all.

Who would have thought—his first lottery ticket in this life actually cracked a golden egg straight away: a two-million grand prize! Even now, thinking back on it, he still felt a pang of regret.

"That damned yellow-haired bastard—why couldn't he have waited until I'd spent it all before hitting me?"

Recalling it, the Chongzhen Emperor still felt it was a terrible shame. He'd been so happy he'd drunk too much, and while crossing the road, a yellow-haired man in a hurry had sent him flying with a motorcycle. He'd been dazed and knew nothing at all; when he woke, he was in the imperial palace, watching a crowd of people gathered around him weeping buckets.

To be honest, at first, when he confirmed he'd transmigrated into an emperor, he'd been quite pleased, gleefully thinking—even if it wasn't the mighty Han or the flourishing Tang, even the Northern or Southern Song would do; at least he could enjoy himself properly.

Experience what it was like to be emperor—three palaces and six courtyards, holding beauties left and right.

But later, listening to the people around him talk, he began to feel something was off. These people's clothing didn't look like the queue-wearing Qing of the braid dramas!

Only now did the Chongzhen Emperor finally understand what dynasty he was in. At this moment he wanted to cry but had no tears; he had no other thoughts at all, only wanting to keep his life.

That's right—just keep his life.

"Even if I'd transmigrated to the Three Kingdoms and woven straw sandals with Big-Ears Liu, spinning tales left and right to move Guan Yu and Zhang Fei, that would have been fine—why did I have to stay in the Ming as emperor?"

Aside from the first two emperors, Hongwu and Yongle, who excelled in both civil and martial arts, almost none of the Ming emperors were free due to the Grand Secretariat system. Even spending silver required making up a decent excuse, or else they'd be mocked in every way. What was the point of being emperor like that?

Look at that Qing dynasty—the emperor's grand outings in all their splendor; truly, they could do whatever they wanted. Killing you, they'd still cheerfully say that if the sovereign wants his minister to die, the minister must die. Under such slave-mentality education, "loyal ministers" are produced—just thinking about it gives one a thrill.

The Chongzhen Emperor viciously kicked a white stone pillar, muttering to himself:

"Even if it's the Ming dynasty, couldn't I have picked a better time to transmigrate? I had to land in the first month of the seventeenth year of Chongzhen—less than three months before Li Zicheng comes knocking. Isn't this basically game over right away?"

Of course, he didn't dare kick with any real force, because the white stone pillars of the imperial palace wouldn't suffer the slightest damage even if you hacked at them with a blade, let alone kicked them with your foot. The quality was excellent—and getting angry only hurt one's own health!

The Chongzhen Emperor looked up and realized he had unknowingly walked all the way to the Eastern Warm Chamber.

It was almost laughable—the several eunuchs at the door, upon seeing the Emperor arrive, were immediately overjoyed, and one of them promptly said with quick wit:

"Your Majesty, the memorials in the Eastern Warm Chamber have already been prepared for you by this servant!"

"……"

This young eunuch named Li Chun was clever as a weasel—a single sentence caught Chongzhen's attention.

But the Chongzhen Emperor's forehead creased with irritation upon hearing this. His mind was a tangled mess; he had merely been passing by by chance, with absolutely no intention of reviewing memorials.

Still, seeing how delighted these eunuchs were, and since they had even opened the door for him, he felt embarrassed to refuse. The Chongzhen Emperor coughed twice, put on a dignified air, and stepped inside with his hands clasped behind his back.

When he saw the mountain of folded memorials and petitions piled on the imperial desk, the Chongzhen Emperor's steps faltered, and he immediately formed the intention of turning around and walking back out.

"It's just reading memorials—it's not like it'll kill anyone. Think of it as a grade-school teacher grading homework."

After hesitating for a good while, Chongzhen finally steeled himself and sat down. The traditional characters written vertically on the memorials could be understood with careful reading, but it was quite laborious, and everything felt terribly awkward no matter how he looked at it.

But after only a single glance, the Chongzhen Emperor's eyes could not leave those military dispatches. He instantly felt a chill run down the back of his neck, and his backside ached with a dull, ominous pain.

"The bandit chieftain established the Great Shun state at Xi'an, changed the era name to Yongchang, and even dared to proclaim himself emperor. On the second day of the first month, he claimed a million men marching east……"

"In the prefectures and counties of Yangqu, Shanxi, officials and commoners alike have all surrendered to welcome him. The bandit chieftain's momentum is overwhelming, pressing directly toward Fenzhou... If Fenzhou falls, Taiyuan is in peril... I earnestly beseech Your Majesty's attention..."