Chapter 113: The Cruel Joke of Fate

"As for the grain and military pay, send the ahas to press for it again. As for Jin Prefecture, pass word to Daišan—don't trust Hong Chengchou too much, absolutely never give him military command, though you may continue asking his advice."

Dorgon never imagined he'd be troubled by such trifling matters himself; he casually had Fan Wencheng handle it, not even bothering to glance at Ning Wanwo.

Ning Wanwo sat below with a face full of deference, but in his heart he knew that with Fan Wencheng around, he could never get a word in with the Prince Regent—and so he burned with jealousy.

Fan Wencheng heard this and his face filled with difficulty. "Your Highness the Prince Regent, I only recently contacted merchants from inside the passes, but at this time they all have excuses to offer."

"How so? Haven't these men been quite eager transporting military grain for the Great Qing on ordinary days?" Dorgon found it strange, took a draw on his opium pipe, and turned to look.

"To answer the Prince Regent, I believe there are only two possibilities. First, the confiscation of those eight Fan families has made them fearful of shadows in the cup, afraid to make any big moves, wary of ending up with the same fate."

"Second, it could be that things truly are as these merchants say—grain, cloth, and other supplies are all prepared, but those Ming spies are watching too closely, making it hard to move goods beyond the passes. That too is a thorny problem."

Fan Wencheng's words hit the mark precisely. Dorgon listened, frowned, and said nothing, lost in thought.

Now the Chongzhen Emperor had confiscated and executed those eight families headed by Fan Yongdou as appropriate, and on top of that there was the edict of self-blame and the Shrine of Loyal Martyrs from a while back, back pay being issued everywhere—even the ahas in the court had sent no word out for a long time.

"This matter is indeed difficult..."

Hearing Dorgon mutter, Hooge beside him could no longer stand it. He stepped forward and said boisterously:

"What's there to deliberate about? You know as well as I, Prince Regent, that Liaodong is unstable and the army's daily expenses are no small account. My two hundred thousand troops can just surround and attack at once! What is there to fear from those Ming barbarians?"

Hearing Hooge's words, Dorgon's heart only grew more troubled.

This fellow Hooge represented the interests of the nobles of the Two Yellow Banners, and nine-tenths of what he said couldn't be trusted. Besides, the Great Qing only had so much to its name—if they rashly launched a siege and ended up like Li Zicheng, that would truly leave them stuck between a rock and a hard place.

"Prince Regent, the barbarians of the grasslands have some complaints..."

At this moment, Turgal suddenly stepped forward and said this. Dorgon had no choice but to turn, asking with some impatience:

"Khorchin hasn't said anything, but the chiefs of the other five tribes—Tumed, Chahar, and the rest—gathered in the tent yesterday, seemingly dissatisfied with the current state of affairs."

Dodo gave a cold snort. "Turgal, don't boost others' morale and deflate the Great Qing's prestige! Those dog barbarians of Tumed—before my Eight Banner iron cavalry, what complaints would they dare have?"

Both Dodo and Turgal were from Dorgon's own Bordered White Banner. Hearing their irreconcilable words, Dorgon could no longer hold back—he slammed the table and rose.

"Whatever we have these people do, they'll have complaints. Even now, sitting in camp doing nothing, still they complain."

Seeing the Prince Regent's fury, no one around dared say another word. Turgal, Dodo, and the rest all retreated several steps in fear, faces pale with dread.

"The more we deliberate, the more chaotic it becomes. When even our own banner is disunited within, what talk is there of entering the Central Plains?" Dorgon set down his opium pipe and paced back and forth in the great tent, then asked:

"Has Jin Prefecture truly been pacified? Who is it that has betrayed the Great Qing!"

A Beile immediately replied: "To answer the Prince Regent, it is said to be a former subordinate of Mao Wenlong surnamed Zhou. This man heard of the Ming issuing back pay and the edict of self-blame, and so stirred up trouble in Jin Prefecture, attempting to obstruct the Great Qing's entry through the passes!"

"Surnamed Zhou... could it be Zhou Sizhao?" Dorgon muttered to himself, then gave a cold laugh.

This Zhou Sizhao was a former subordinate of Mao Wenlong. Speaking of Mao Wenlong—that man was hated to the bone by every Eight Banner noble present.

That man had established his garrison at Dongjiang. Whenever the Great Qing wanted to enter the passes and accomplish something, he would always make trouble in the rear, and many times the army had to hastily turn back because this thorn couldn't be pulled out.

They had finally managed to get rid of Mao Wenlong through the suspicious Chongzhen's own hand, yet who would have thought his old subordinate wouldn't stay quiet even after surrendering—and would turn his coat at a moment like this.

"What's going on? Didn't Hong Chengchou say the Jin Prefecture rebellion had been pacified?" Dorgon was taken aback and quickly asked.

That Beile dared not speak further, and no one in the tent knew any newer news. Just then, a cavalryman in full red armor came rushing in from outside and presented a document.

Dorgon took the document, glanced at it, and slumped back into his seat in dejection.

"What's happened?" Hooge, unable to contain his curiosity, asked directly.

Dorgon tossed the document Daišan had sent over and said weakly: "Take a look yourselves."

The nobles in the tent passed it around, and immediately discussion broke out. Many stepped forward directly to advise withdrawing the troops back beyond the passes—among them no few princes and Beiles of high rank and great power.

According to Daišan's latest intelligence, Zhou Sizhao had led Mao Wenlong's former subordinates in renewed rebellion at Jin Prefecture, while Li Chengren, son of Li Yan'geng, eldest son of Li Yongfang, had joined forces to stir up trouble at Fu Prefecture. The momentum was by no means insignificant.

Without enough bannermen, Daišan had initially been unable to swiftly suppress the unrest. Before long even Hong Chengchou had been sent out to quell the rebellion. Dorgun understood that there was little Daišan could do now beyond strengthening the defenses at Shengjing.

The young Shunzhi Emperor had issued repeated edicts ordering him to return and pacify the unrest in Jin and Fu—which in truth meant the Empress Dowager was summoning him back to court.

Thinking of that woman who haunted his dreams, Dorgon finally understood how Hong Taiji must have felt when he galloped back to Shengjing to see Hai Lanzhu after the Battle of Song-Jin.

At this moment, the situation could not be clearer. Everyone waited for Dorgon's final decision.

Dorgon rose and stepped outside the tent, taking a deep breath. Gazing toward the distant capital, he couldn't help clenching his fist—if he let this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity slip by, how long would he have to wait for the next?

If he didn't withdraw, and instead threw the Great Qing's entire national strength into a desperate assault on the capital, all he would gain in the end was an empty city. And then, with the Eight Banner elite forces decimated, could they possibly withstand Li Zicheng's million-strong army?

In truth, the fighting power Abatai had encountered from Li Zicheng's ten-odd thousand men outside military pay and provisions had already exceeded Dorgon's expectations. He didn't know whether all of the Dashun's million troops possessed such fighting power, nor how many of them did.

Was continuing to fight to the death around the capital region the wisest decision? How to answer this simple question—the answer already seemed quite clear.

With this thought, Dorgon took a deep look in the direction of the Chongzhen Emperor, then raised his hand and said: "Withdraw the troops. Back through the passes!"

"Prince Regent!"

At these words, many of the Eight Banner nobles breathed sighs of relief, while many others felt a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity had been lost. They knelt in a circle, heads bowed, dejected, unwilling to accept this fact.

"Damn it all, this is suffocating!"

Hooge had always felt they should simply attack the city directly and be done with it, without heeding all these complications. Seeing Dorgon finally make this decision, he slammed his fist into the ground in fury, his eyes toward Dorgon now filled with no small resentment.

That very night, the Jianzhou barbarian army said to number over two hundred thousand—the very iron cavalry that should have entered the Central Plains in history—vanished without a trace overnight, quietly returning north, leaving behind only the traces of their former encampment.

As for what effect Dorgon's entry through the passes had this time—it was delivering to the Chongzhen Emperor two great victories that raised his prestige, along with a large batch of equipment sufficient to arm a new army.