Chapter 7: The Crown Prince Goes South to the Old Capital—Are You Kidding Me?

The Chongzhen Emperor knew full well that he was now blind, and the Eastern Depot was his eyeglasses—only by putting on the lenses could he see things clearly.

Only after seeing things clearly could he know where to fight poison with poison. It was already too late to talk about treating the root cause. Having Wu Xiang reform the Capital Camps was one dose of poison, and directly promoting Fang Zhenghua and Li Ruolian was another.

But even if those two were ever so loyal and ever so diligent, the Directorate of the Imperial Horses and the Embroidered Uniform Guard had been neglected for too long—they couldn't be rebuilt overnight. At least three to five days were needed before any initial results would show.

The most pressing matter next was the fighting at Daizhou in Shanxi—every effort had to be made to slow Li Zicheng's advance.

Zhou Yuji was the only Regional Commander willing to fight to the death for the court against the Dashun army. Even his wife led a group of women to "climb onto the roofs and shoot." He was the only obstacle in Li Zicheng's march north.

The Chongzhen Emperor wanted to help Zhou Yuji as much as possible, because only he could delay Li Zicheng for a while longer, buying the emperor more energy to clean up the thoroughly rotten mess that was Beijing.

In that time, he also needed to replace the two surrendering Regional Commanders at Datong and Xuanfu—at the very least keep an eye on one of them. Every day delayed was a day gained!

Since crossing over, the Chongzhen Emperor had never held a morning court session. In the few days since, his demeanor had been utterly different from before, which had the court officials buzzing with discussion.

The ministers of today were nothing like those of the later Manchu Qing dynasty. Once they started cursing, they'd say every nasty thing imaginable. Beaten and punished by the emperor—that was called a loyal minister's iron backbone. Executed by the emperor—that was called leaving one's name in the annals of history.

In any case, when all was said and done, it was always the emperor who was in the wrong.

Some said the Chongzhen Emperor hadn't fully recovered from his recent grave illness. Others said he'd been scared witless by Li Zicheng. And worse still, some actually claimed the emperor spent his days in the inner palace indulging in women, carousing day and night with Empress Zhou.

Hearing Li Chun finish saying this, the Chongzhen Emperor was furious. If this were the modern era, with his short temper he'd have pinned the bastard to the ground and beaten him senseless to vent his anger.

But now he was the emperor, and whether Chongzhen's frail body could even win a fight was another question entirely. Naturally, he had to use other methods to shut their mouths.

These Donglin types really dared to say anything. He himself had thought about carousing night after night with Empress Zhou—after all, the young matron was fair-skinned and pretty, with a cold elegance that carried a hint of seductiveness, a charm all her own. Any man who wasn't tempted wouldn't be a man at all.

But counting that one time bathing together, they'd only shared the marriage bed twice so far, and both times had ended rather quickly. Seeing Empress Zhou's reproachful gaze, the Chongzhen Emperor felt deeply wounded and was quite depressed for a while. Most other times, he had the desire but not the strength.

Li Zicheng was sharpening his blades in Xi'an, aiming at Beijing, leading his so-called million-strong Dashun army to force him onto Coal Hill to hang himself for the nation. How could the Chongzhen Emperor have the heart to think about anything else?

In the Chongzhen Emperor's mind, he'd grown fairly accustomed to receiving ministers in private audience, but morning court was something he'd only ever seen on television. He'd never personally witnessed the scene of all the ministers kneeling in homage—he didn't know if he could handle it.

But these weren't the main reasons the Chongzhen Emperor stopped holding morning court. The most important thing was that he knew in his heart that holding court or not was purely a waste of time—it was utterly useless and couldn't solve a damn thing.

That said, the institutions of the Great Ming dictated that without holding court to consult with those sanctimonious hypocrites on certain matters, he, as emperor, truly couldn't make the decision himself.

Even imperial edicts had to pass through the Grand Secretariat with the joint signatures of the Chief Grand Secretary and the Second Grand Secretary before taking effect. Otherwise it was called a direct palace edict, and nominally they could just ignore it and refuse to comply. Tell me, isn't that infuriating?

This first morning court was like the Chongzhen Emperor going to a job interview in his later life—he was incredibly nervous and couldn't sleep at all, so he curled up in the Warm Winter Pavilion reading memorials all night.

Empress Zhou, unaware of the Chongzhen Emperor's thoughts, assumed he was up late handling state affairs again. Recalling how quickly that one time had gone a few days earlier, she couldn't help worrying about the emperor's dragon body, and specially had the imperial kitchen brew a bowl of ginseng soup and send it over.

The Chongzhen Emperor hadn't been in the mood at first, but catching the aroma, he swallowed and thought to himself: this is ginseng soup, not some carbonated drink. Since it's already been brewed, it can't go to waste.

Early the next morning, to avoid the embarrassment of arriving late and making everyone wait for him, the Chongzhen Emperor came to Huangji Hall before dawn and waited. Seeing the sky was still dark, he took the opportunity to doze off for a bit.

"Dong——"

"Dong——"

A stretch of melodious bell tones suddenly rang out—it was the eunuchs of the Directorate of Ceremonial beginning to sound the fifty-four bells of the Forbidden City. This great bell had stood in the Ming imperial city for over two hundred years, having summoned generations of civil and military officials to court. Heard in the ear, it was indeed long and resounding.

The east and west direct gates were opened by the eunuchs of the Directorate of Ceremonial, and camp soldiers in red-trimmed golden armor strode in first with heads held high, taking their positions on both sides—though most of them were unfamiliar faces.

These camp soldiers were a new batch recruited after Dong Qi had dismissed a large number of hereditary nobles. Nearly all were sons of farming families. Though their bearing was somewhat crude and they lacked proper discipline, they didn't seem lazy.

Wu Xiang apparently did have some real skill—his years as Ningyuan's training Regional Commander hadn't been for nothing. In just a few days as superintendent, the soldiers looked far more spirited than the originals.

Soon, the civil and military officials filed in through the east and west direct gates in order of rank, ascending Huangji Hall from both sides of the corridor by official grade, and performed the grand three-kneeling, nine-prostration ceremony before the Chongzhen Emperor, who sat upright and solemn above.

"We pay homage to Your Majesty, ten thousand years, ten thousand years, ten thousand times ten thousand years!"

"We pay homage to Your Majesty, ten thousand years, ten thousand years, ten thousand times ten thousand years!"

Gazing upon the scene of all the ministers kneeling before him, the Chongzhen Emperor felt an indescribable shock.

This was too thrilling. Though he knew these ministers had long since stopped respecting him as emperor, it was still his first time seeing it, and he couldn't quite react.

The Chongzhen Emperor was stunned for a long while, and the ministers lay prostrate on the cold hall floor just as long. Quite a few were already muttering complaints, feeling the emperor was deliberately making things difficult for them.

But no matter what, even at this point, the Chongzhen Emperor at least still had the right to kill some minister on the spot and let his name go down in history.

In this new moment on the verge of dynastic change, once the Dashun army entered the capital they would inevitably employ former court officials—this was the rule of every dynasty. So personal integrity mattered less than preserving one's own life and property.

Before long, the Chongzhen Emperor coughed a few times and said:

"Ministers, rise!"

"Your Majesty, your minister has something to say!"

The moment the Chongzhen Emperor's words fell, a voice full of vigor yet somewhat overbearing rang out. Glancing sideways, he saw it was Li Banghua, the Left Chief Censor of the Censorate.

"What does my minister wish to say?"

Li Banghua respectfully bowed to the Chongzhen Emperor on the dragon throne, then immediately spoke in a loud voice:

"Your Majesty, the bandit Li has already advanced directly on Daizhou. The matter of the Crown Prince traveling south should be put on the agenda!"

Historically, the Chongzhen Emperor had several times wanted to move south to temporarily avoid the brunt of the threat, even having people prepare ships at Dagukou along with troops to escort the journey. The only hurdle left was the court deliberation.

But this seemingly simplest hurdle proved impossible to cross for the longest time.

On one hand, the ministers were all waiting for the dynastic change so they could become founding ministers of Dashun. On the other, they had to maintain a show of respect toward Chongzhen. So no one dared to second the motion.

Whoever spoke up first would bear the crime of abandoning the land to flee south, forsaking the ancestral temples and imperial tombs. Even if they made it safely to Nanjing, they'd certainly be the first one pushed out as the scapegoat.

Neither the ministers nor Chongzhen was willing to bear this heavy infamy and be cursed for ten thousand generations, so they had simply stalled until now.