My father is Chongzhen? Then I have no choice but to rebel.

However, at this moment, no one dares to delve into the matter, or rather, no one is willing to delve into the possible, bloody future.

After the imperial edict was read, the square fell silent; you could hear a pin drop.

The nobles had various expressions, which were extremely complex.

They weren't fools; they instantly discerned the cold, hard reality behind this seemingly "benevolent decree"—it was to use their eldest son as a disguised "hostage," firmly controlling him in the hands of the imperial court! What "military officer" and what "training" were, were nothing but a glamorous veil.

The emperor and the crown prince are using their most cherished heir to ensure Nanjing's obedience, to prepare for a possible major war, and even... to seize their lifeline in advance for possible further reorganization in the future!
But what good is seeing through it all? Do they have the ability and the courage to rebel?
Firstly, they have leverage over him.

A few days ago, a nobleman's son "offended the emperor's face" on the Qinhuai River and offended the crown prince! Although this matter was not mentioned in the imperial edict, everyone knew that this was the most readily available and powerful handle in the hands of the emperor and the crown prince! At this time, jumping out to oppose the imperial edict would only confirm the crimes of "harboring resentment" and "disrespecting the crown prince".

It's like handing your own neck to the guillotine! You can only swallow your pride and accept this "favor" first, and then plan for the future.

Secondly, the importance of proper titles and status.

The imperial edict's pretext was perfect! "Reorganizing the army," "cultivating military talent," "honoring meritorious officials"...

Every word and phrase stands on the high ground of national and familial righteousness.

Oppose? That would mean disregarding the nation's military preparedness, being unwilling to let one's sons serve the country, and failing to appreciate the emperor's favor in promoting one's sons! No one could bear such a heavy burden.

Imperial edicts are the law of the land and the mandate of Heaven; to openly defy them is tantamount to rebellion!
After a brief silence, led by Duke Xu Wenjue of Wei, the assembled nobles, regardless of their inner turmoil, quickly composed themselves with expressions of overwhelming gratitude, knelt down in unison, and shouted "Long live the Emperor!" towards the Chengtian Hall.

"Your Majesty, we accept the decree! We thank Your Majesty for your great favor! Your Majesty's foresight in securing the foundation of the nation and cultivating talented generals is deeply appreciated! We will certainly strictly instruct our children to study diligently and train hard to repay Your Majesty's grace!"

The voices were clear, loud, and filled with passion for loyalty to the emperor and love for the country.

As for how much of it was genuine, how much was out of helplessness, and how much was out of fear, only they themselves know.

Of course, not all nobles felt only resentment and fear.

Among the dark mass of people kneeling, there were a few whose eyes, after the initial astonishment, ignited with an unusual light.

These people were mostly from families with lower titles, declining fortunes, or marginal positions within the nobility.

For them, the glory of their family had long been tarnished, and there was little hope of rising again in the deep waters of Nanjing.

Now, this imperial edict from the emperor is nothing short of a ray of dawn!
Go to Beijing! Join the new army! Become a full-fledged officer! This means breaking free from the rigid social hierarchy of Nanjing and directly entering the core military system of the empire, with the opportunity to wield real military power and access the most advanced tactics and equipment! And what happens after training?
The emperor's training of troops was not merely for show; he would inevitably use them in the future! Using troops would bring military merit! Military merit was the only shortcut for families like theirs to revive their family's glory and even advance further!

Yes, the battlefield is dangerous, with a slim chance of survival, but fortune favors the bold! In noble families, who doesn't have several sons? Even if the eldest son unfortunately dies in battle, as long as he can bring the family real military merit and the emperor's favor, it is all worthwhile!
Sacrificing a son in exchange for the future revival of the family—it's a win-win situation no matter how you look at it!

These nobles were even secretly excited and expectant, and had already begun to plan how to make their sons stand out in the "assessment" and how to pull strings to secure better positions.

Once the imperial edict is issued, it becomes an ironclad rule.

Whether they liked it or not, all the nobles involved had no choice but to begin making preparations in earnest.

As required by the imperial decree, the process included registration, preliminary screening, and family guarantees...

A series of procedures began to start.

At the same time, just two days after the imperial edict was issued, another order came from the Eastern Palace:

Release detainees.

The gloomy and heavy gates of the Nanjing Imperial Guard prison slowly opened, and Li, the son of the Earl of Changning, and his gang of cronies, who had been kept in darkness for several days, were brought out by the prison guards.

The sudden burst of intense sunlight blinded them, leaving them unsteady on their feet, pale-faced, and dazed—a stark contrast to their arrogant and domineering demeanor on the banks of the Qinhuai River just days before.

Although I was not subjected to severe torture or my food was deliberately withheld during these few days in prison, the feeling of being isolated from the world, living in constant fear and uncertainty, and suffering in despair and terror was more mentally devastating than any physical pain.

The narrow, dark cell, the cold, damp straw mat, the indifferent faces of the jailers, the coarse food delivered at fixed times every day, and the terrifying speculation that gnawed at his heart at all times—what would happen if he offended the Crown Prince?
Confiscating property? Exile? Or secret execution?

Every moment felt like a year.

Many people are on the verge of a mental breakdown, and are awakened at night by terrifying scenes they imagine, drenched in cold sweat.

When they heard the word "release," they could hardly believe their ears.

Only when they staggered out of the prison gates, felt the warm late summer breeze on their faces again, and saw the familiar street scenes and sky, did they experience a sense of exhaustion and ecstasy, as if they had been through another world and had been pulled back from the brink of death.

Some people even collapsed to the ground, their legs giving way, and wept uncontrollably.

Immediately afterwards, they learned from the family members or servants who came to pick them up that the imperial edict was about "selecting sons of nobles and meritorious officials to join the new army and go north for training".

If, under normal circumstances, they were asked to leave the comfortable home of Nanjing and go to the north to endure hardship and training, they would certainly be extremely unwilling and would try every means to refuse.

But now, having just experienced a life-or-death ordeal, his mindset is completely different.

It's a miracle that I survived; what kind of punishment is it to be sent to Beijing to become an officer?
This is truly a blessing in disguise!
This is what many people are thinking right now.

Compared to the endless darkness and fear in the imperial prison, going to Beijing for training, or even possibly going to the battlefield in the future, seemed less terrifying, and even vaguely became a "way out" and a "way out".

At least, this proves that the emperor and the crown prince did not intend to kill them, and even gave them a chance to "atone for their crimes."

As a result, these newly released playboys, under the coaxing, persuasion, half-coercion and half-encouragement of their families, mostly "willingly" joined the ranks of those signing up to go north.

After all, having experienced the imperial prison, they knew better than anyone the consequences of disobeying the emperor's will and angering the emperor.

Having the identity of a "military officer" to leave Nanjing, this place of trouble, and temporarily avoid the limelight might not be a bad thing. Thus, Zhu Cilang's scheme, orchestrated under the guise of the Qinhuai River incident, had its first step firmly completed.

Whether willingly or unwillingly, the Nanjing Xungui Group has been bound to this war chariot called "reorganization".

Late August of the sixteenth year of the Chongzhen reign (1644), Nanjing.

The summer heat has subsided, the autumn breeze is refreshing, and the sky is high and the clouds are light.

Inside and outside the palace, the leisurely and peaceful atmosphere of a month or so ago was gone, replaced by a busy and solemn atmosphere before parting.

Boxes, documents, tributes, and ceremonial items were continuously loaded onto the massive fleet of ships docked at Longjiang Pass Wharf.

Emperor Chongzhen finally issued an imperial edict that the imperial entourage would depart on September 22nd to return to the capital.

The southern tour lasted for several months and covered thousands of miles, and its intended objectives had been largely achieved.

In the provinces south of Nanjing, which were centered around Nanjing, the gentry and powerful families had been thoroughly subdued after the emperor's personal visit, which served to deter, appease, raise funds, and reorganize the region. A huge amount of silver had been added to the national treasury, and various new policies, such as the introduction of new currency, the clearing of arrears, and the preparation of road construction projects, had been successfully implemented. The loyalty of local officials had been tested and emphasized.

More importantly, through the Qinhuai River incident and the subsequent "reorganization of the army to the north" plan, the Nanjing noble group, a "local snake" that had been entrenched in Jiangnan for many years, has been cleverly tethered, and the fate of its future successor is now closely tied to the will of the imperial court.

The core objectives of the southern tour—"to demonstrate virtue and morality, to pacify the southeast, to raise funds and grain, and to consolidate imperial power"—have been successfully achieved, and even exceeded.

The decision to return north at this time was also driven by another pressing practical consideration.

It was already late August, and even if they set off immediately, the massive fleet would take one and a half to two months to reach the capital by sailing north along the Grand Canal.

This is all under the premise that everything goes smoothly, there is no bad weather, and there are no obstacles.

By the end of the Ming Dynasty, the climate had entered the Little Ice Age, and the cold season in the north arrived early and was severe. Usually, the first snow in North China would arrive in late October or early November. Once the Grand Canal froze or there were days of heavy snow, the journey would be severely hampered, and tens of thousands of people would be stranded on the way. Food supplies, cold protection, and safety would all become huge problems.

As the emperor, how could he risk lingering on his journey home amidst wind and snow?
Therefore, they had to return to the Forbidden City safely before the first heavy snowfall.

In this final month, Zhu Cilang did not slack off in the slightest.

While overseeing the initial formation of the "Nanjing New Army," the registration and review of the sons of nobles, and the planning of the northward route, ensuring the steady progress of the "sending the eldest sons north" strategy, he also turned his attention to another matter of long-term strategic significance—the large-scale production of military canned food.

The ceramic jars that were previously tested at sea have yielded encouraging results after several months of storage and repeated opening and testing.

Except for a very few cases where spoilage occurred due to subtle cracks in the ceramic jars during firing or improper sealing, the vast majority of canned goods, whether meat, rice, or fruit, maintained their good flavor and edible condition after opening and did not experience large-scale spoilage.

This fully demonstrates that the canning principle of "heat sterilization and sealing" proposed by Zhu Cilang is entirely feasible under current technological conditions!

Although its shelf life may not be comparable to later generations due to limitations in sealing materials and sterilization processes, it was a revolutionary advancement for military expeditions, long-term garrisons, and improving the food of border troops!

Imagine how much that would boost morale and fighting capacity for soldiers in the northern frontier to be able to eat hot stewed meat, fish, and even fruit in the dead of winter.

Under Zhu Cilang's personal guidance, the Ministry of Revenue and the Ministry of Works in Nanjing joined forces to select a secluded harbor near Longjiang Pass, which was close to the Yangtze River and had convenient transportation, and quickly set up a simple but fully functional "cannery".

Following the process provided by the prince, the craftsmen built large steaming pots, washing pools, and filling stations, and recruited a large number of female workers to process the ingredients.

Zhu Cilang emphasized the importance of hygiene, requiring all workers involved in the production to wear clean smocks and caps, and tools and utensils to be sterilized by boiling water.

The sealing material used was an "enhanced putty" that had undergone multiple trials and was made by mixing and pounding a mixture of lime, tung oil, beeswax, and a small amount of glutinous rice paste. This putty was known for its excellent toughness and sealing properties.

This Nanjing cannery mainly uses the abundant catches from the Yangtze River and its surrounding waters to produce "canned fish".

Shad, ribbonfish, perch, and even larger grass carp and silver carp are slaughtered, cleaned, or cut into pieces and braised, or steamed whole with salt. Then, while still hot, they are put into specially made thick-walled earthenware jars, poured with boiling fish soup or oil, quickly sealed, and then put into a large pot to be steamed in boiling water for more than two hours to sterilize.

Batches of canned fish are produced and stacked in cool, well-ventilated warehouses, awaiting inspection and transportation.

Zhu Cilang's plans went far beyond this.

He instructed the officials in charge of the matter to promote the technology to the north, especially to establish canning workshops for beef and mutton near border towns such as Xuanfu, Datong, and Jizhen, once the technology was mature and stable.

At that time, canned fish and canned beef and mutton will complement each other in the north and south, and canned rice and beans may be developed, thus initially building a "military canned food system" that covers the main strategic directions and can effectively improve the logistics supply of the army.

This is easier to store, transport, and distribute than simply transporting live animals or cured meat, and it also allows soldiers stationed on the border to eat better and have more strength to defend their country.

Zhu Cilang entrusted this matter to the Ministry of Revenue in Nanjing for specific management, but dispatched officials from the Eastern Palace to assist, and Luo Yangxing sent the Embroidered Uniform Guard and the eunuchs stationed in Nanjing to jointly supervise it, to ensure that the formula and process were not leaked, the production quality was guaranteed, and that there would be no situation of cutting corners on materials or using inferior products.

Apart from the cannery incident, the final stages of the southern tour went smoothly.

The list of sons of nobles and meritorious officials has been basically finalized, and the officers and soldiers of the "Nanjing New Army" heading north have also completed their initial assembly.

The day of parting has finally arrived.

On August 26th, the sky was a clear, bright blue, with wisps of thin clouds, the autumn sun was warm, and a gentle breeze was blowing – perfect weather for setting sail.

Along the imperial road from Hongwu Gate to Longjiang Pass in Nanjing, the streets had already been cleaned with water and paved with yellow earth, and the imperial guards stood at attention.

Countless people were allowed to watch from designated areas, creating a sea of ​​people eager to witness the grand occasion of the imperial procession's departure.

Outside the palace, banners fluttered and ceremonial guards stood like a forest.

Emperor Chongzhen, dressed in a bright yellow twelve-symbol imperial robe, with a solemn expression, boarded the luxurious dragon carriage carried by thirty-six men, surrounded by Crown Prince Zhu Cilang, imperial concubines, and a large number of civil and military officials.

The procession, in a grand and imposing manner, headed towards the Longjiang Pass Wharf. (End of Chapter)