Chapter 1284: Trust Is Hard to Earn

Although Wang Zaijin had barely spoken throughout the peace negotiations, by this point he had unmistakably become the pillar of the group. His judgment was accurate, so everyone naturally trusted him; when he said there could be a "revival," there was certainly reasoning behind it.

"No matter how arrogantly the rebel army behaves, their eagerness to negotiate peace and withdraw their troops shows they are not yet capable of expanding outward. Perhaps they need to recuperate, perhaps they need to digest their gains. Whatever the situation in Xuzhou, this withdrawal at least buys our Great Ming some time. If we seize this interval to govern diligently and strengthen the state and its armies, then there is a chance for revival. If we simply sink into dejection and despair, we will be throwing away this last sliver of hope. The rebels' desire for peace means the fortune of the Great Ming's realm still endures. We must still strive to serve the country and turn this situation around!"

After hearing Wang Zaijin's words, most people forced expressions of rallying spirit, while the rest showed undisguised despondency. "Strive to serve the country," "spare no effort unto death"—everyone could recite such phrases smoothly, but they also knew how difficult they were to put into practice. Having spent so many years at the center of power, who among them did not know that the Great Ming had long been steeped in deep decay? How could it possibly rise and strive again? Could it be that the Great Ming was simply doomed to perish like this?

"Mingchu is right. These bandits know nothing of civilization, show no reverence for the sages, and only know how to flaunt brute force. How can such crude warriors last long? As long as we govern diligently, we can surely reverse the tide and exterminate the rebels. It is a pity that we are about to retire and return to our hometowns, leaving this immense burden to fall on your shoulders, Mingchu. If you need any help from us, do not hesitate to ask. We are all members of the Jiangnan scholarly community; we should keep in touch and support one another!" In the end, it was Zhao Nanxing who stepped forward to say the polite, face-saving words.

Initially, seeing the Zhao army eager to withdraw, many had considered staying on in the capital to observe further. But after hearing Wang Zaijin's convincing analysis, they resolved to leave, deciding to observe from outside the government for now. Without an actual official post, it would be easier to maneuver.

Zhao Nanxing's statement carried several layers of meaning. On one hand, it was a formality—since the other party was speaking of loyalty and great duty, he could hardly fail to respond in kind. On the other hand, it emphasized "the Jiangnan scholarly community." In the political arena of the Great Ming, those four words carried an additional implication: the Donglin faction. It was only at this moment that many recalled Wang Zaijin was from Taicang in Suzhou, which fell within the Donglin faction's sphere of origin. However, he had always been preoccupied with practical military affairs and was rarely at court. Moreover, after managing military matters for so long, he no longer saw eye to eye with the purist critics and had never been regarded as a Donglin member—not to mention that after the disastrous defeat at Jinghai, he had been imprisoned directly by the Donglin faction, which made the point even clearer.

But now things were different. In the current court situation, Sun Chengzong served as Grand Secretary overseeing the Ministry of War, while Wang Zaijin was Minister of War. Considering their past grievances, this appointment was itself very delicate. By everyone's estimation, following the Great Ming's tradition of checks and balances, Wang Zaijin's entry into the Grand Secretariat was likely imminent. With Wang Zaijin rising to power, and most of the Donglin faction facing purge and dismissal due to this great defeat and peace settlement, the Donglin members needed a representative at court—or rather, they needed to choose an ally with whom they could form an alliance.

Wang Zaijin, hailing from Taicang in Jiangnan and utterly isolated, became the best choice. Sun Chengzong, as the emperor's teacher, holding military power and officially serving as Chief Grand Secretary, with Wei Zhongxian also having a tacit understanding with him—such a powerful figure would naturally have no need for outside backing. But Wang Zaijin did. Whatever past conflicts existed between him and the Donglin faction, both sides now had a need for each other.

Everyone in the delegation had spent years navigating the treacherous waters of officialdom. A moment's reflection was enough to grasp the subtle brilliance of it all. Their faces remained utterly solemn, but inwardly they marveled. And Wang Zaijin's response proved his years as an official had not been wasted. With solemn dignity, Wang Zaijin said, "As fellow provincials, we should certainly keep in closer contact and support one another."

Those with discernment already understood: an alliance between the two sides was essentially sealed. What the future held was uncertain, but a tacit understanding now existed between them. With the Donglin faction's support, Wang Zaijin would have little trouble securing his footing at court. The next question was how he would strive to serve the country and reverse the tide. Yet, whenever their thoughts reached this point, everyone felt there was truly little hope.

Wang Zaijin's words had another effect: they thoroughly extinguished the last flicker of wishful thinking in the envoys' hearts. Some had still harbored vague intentions—even if the treaty required the emperor's seal, so long as your Xuzhou troops no longer threatened the capital or remained in Northern Zhili, what could you do if we simply delayed? In officialdom, everyone was exceedingly adept at the art of stalling.

But now everyone understood: for the Xuzhou troops, the capital region was a place they could come and go as they pleased. It was better to obediently gather the payment and hand it over, rather than give them another excuse to return. Indeed, the Zhao army might have reasons back in Xuzhou that compelled them to leave, but so what? Could anyone afford to gamble on that?

Among the various members of the delegation, aside from Wang Zaijin and the eunuchs, the rest were already doomed failures marked for purge. Even if they understood the situation, they could decide nothing. However, the central authorities in the capital clearly understood it even better than they did. Once the treaty was concluded, it was sent by fast horse to the capital. The seal was affixed almost the very same day, and a general plan for delivering the indemnity goods was issued the same day as well. It was then sent by fast horse to Tianjin. After Zhao Jin signed it, two copies were made, each party keeping one. The treaty was concluded with swift efficiency.

The capital's response left Zhao Nanxing and the others drenched in cold sweat. While they had still been harboring thoughts of haggling and negotiating over the treaty, the capital was already impatient beyond measure. Had they delayed any further, they likely would not have even been able to preserve their dignity in the bureaucratic and political spheres; calamity would have descended upon them in an instant.

Equally unexpected was the Zhao army's reaction. Once the treaty was in hand, the Xuzhou troops showed no inclination to delay their departure. They simply struck camp and withdrew. Such crisp decisiveness again sowed doubt in people's minds. Some suspected the enemy's home base was indeed vulnerable, or that some unknown turmoil had arisen. Others felt this demonstrated absolute confidence—that they could return at any time, and would return at any time.

Only Wang Zaijin's focus differed from the rest. As the Zhao army began its withdrawal, the entire city of Tianjin was gripped by terror. Everyone feared the Xuzhou rebels would loot the city on their way out, or even set fires and massacre the populace. The government troops were clearly powerless to stop them. The wealthy households had long since fled during the peace talks, having anticipated this great calamity.

Yet to everyone's surprise, the Zhao army departed quietly. They took their own belongings and reasonable spoils of war—the military supplies, cattle, and horses from the Tianjin garrison, the gold and silver from the Tianjin official treasury—but they touched not a single coin of civilian wealth, nor did they harass the populace. They even cleaned their campsites thoroughly.

"Why are these southern barbarians leaving so early? Business has been great these days, and they pay the full price!" These were the exact words of a street vendor selling sesame cakes, overheard and reported back by Wang Zaijin's personal attendant, who had been out gathering information.

Upon learning this, Wang Zaijin fell silent for a long time. According to what the Imperial Guard spies planted in the delegation observed, before returning to the capital, Wang Zaijin and Zhao Nanxing held a lengthy private discussion behind closed doors. When Zhao Nanxing left, there was a smile on his face, suggesting the two had reached some tacit understanding—perhaps even formed an alliance. Yet from the journey back until his arrival in the capital, Wang Zaijin's face showed no trace of a smile. Most of the time, his expression was one of bleak despair.

On the evening the peace talks concluded, Zhao Jin shared a simple meal with his companions, after which everyone returned to their respective camps to prepare for departure. They had been away from Xuzhou for several months now, and for every possible reason, they needed to return as quickly as possible. They had seized far too much this time and needed to get back and digest it all promptly.

Everyone went off to their busy tasks, but they all advised Zhao Jin to sleep early. From the start of the campaign until now, he had been the one managing and driving every step forward—military affairs, political matters, and the administrative duties back in Xuzhou. Countless tasks converged upon him before being distributed outward again. It had been an extraordinary strain. Now that matters had reached a temporary conclusion, it was time for him to rest properly.

But Zhao Jin did not heed their advice. After dinner, he rode through the camps on an inspection tour, then led his personal guards up onto the city walls of Tianjin. Niu Jinbao directed his men to clear a space beside the eastern gate tower, where they lit a fire for roasting meat and used a clay stove to boil tea. It was early summer in Tianjin; though the days were somewhat hot, the sea breeze at night was cool and pleasant, making one feel very comfortable.

Zhao Jin did not summon his sworn brothers, but instead called for Ma Chonghao. This gesture was done openly, and many in the Zhao army knew of it. In their hearts, everyone adjusted their estimation of Ma Chonghao's standing.

"I am not fond of alcohol, and I do not wish my subordinates to be fond of it either. No matter how high one's tolerance, a single sip always brings a slight dizziness. We are busy with affairs every day, handling how many lives and how much wealth. That slight dizziness could delay critical matters. Let's have tea together!" Zhao Jin said with a smile.

Sitting across from him, Ma Chonghao bowed slightly and echoed with a smile, "Your subordinate also dislikes drinking. But back in the Zhu Ming official circles, nothing could get done without it. This was especially true in offices where men wore armor and carried blades—they placed particular emphasis on it. Refusing to drink was seen as a lack of martial valor. I had no choice but to drink along. Yet when handling official duties, one needs a clear mind and sharp reflexes; drinking truly hinders one's work."

"Calling it 'Zhu Ming' is too awkward. Just call it the Great Ming—that's what everyone is used to," Zhao Jin said casually with a smile. The mood between them was relaxed, their conversation meandering idly from one topic to another.

The water on the clay stove came to a boil. Tea was brewed and served. The roasting mutton and other foods were also sliced and brought over. Niu Jinbao gestured for the other personal guards to withdraw to a distance, leaving only Zhao Jin and Ma Chonghao there. Zhao Jin lifted his teacup and blew gently on it, gazing silently into the night. After a while, he spoke: "In the Great Ming, you were already the fourth or fifth most powerful man in the Brocade Guard. Coming to my side, in the Internal Guard, it seems you still rank around fourth or fifth. I'm afraid I've done you a disservice."

"Master Jin jests. Had I remained in the Great Ming, without some heaven-sent fortune, the peak of my career in this lifetime would have been advancing one or two more ranks at most. And even then, fortune and calamity would be unpredictable. My family and clan might have enjoyed a few years of comfort, but in the long run, it could very well bring disaster upon us. The Imperial Guard is but a blade, and those who wield the blade do not always meet a good end—let alone the blade itself."

"With your skills and insight, currying favor with Wei Zhongxian would not have been difficult. That would have brought you boundless wealth and honor."

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