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

He put down his teacup, leaned back slightly, and glanced at the mountain of memorials and documents piled up on the side of his desk. As if he had just remembered something, he casually remarked:
"Alright, now that the grand plan to exterminate the slaves has been decided, let's put that aside for now and deal with these immediate matters!"

He paused, a slightly mocking helplessness appearing on his face, pointed to the pile of "documents," and laughed:

"The backlog of documents over the past six months is truly... too much. Even if I had three heads and six arms, I'm afraid I couldn't possibly review them all in one go. Most of them are copies that have already been processed by the Cabinet, some of which I need to review and some of which require careful consideration and verification. Since Grand Secretary Hong is here today, why don't you... accompany me to clear out these backlogged documents? That way, they won't be an eyesore here."

Upon hearing this, Hong Chengchou was first taken aback, then a surge of indescribable warmth and excitement welled up within him.

His Highness the Crown Prince actually invited him to help deal with the backlog of state affairs in the Eastern Palace! This seemingly ordinary "help" was actually of extraordinary significance.

This not only represents the Crown Prince's high trust in his abilities, but also shows that he truly regards him as a trusted confidant who can be entrusted with confidential matters and participate in core affairs!

In the Ming Dynasty, being so trusted by the crown prince to assist in handling official documents was often an important sign and stepping stone to the center of power and becoming a future "chief minister" or "imperial tutor".

The "simplified essay in the emperor's heart" that countless civil officials dream of is nothing more than this.

He couldn't help but recall the less than six months he had spent in the cabinet. Although the Grand Secretary Xue Guoguan was quite old, he had taken good care of him, a "newcomer," and had even mentioned several times in private, in the tone of advising a junior, that the Emperor intended to cultivate him as a candidate for the future Grand Secretary, but the time was not yet right and he needed to gain more experience and accumulate prestige.

At the time, it was said that although Hong Chengchou appeared humble, his heart was actually turbulent.

The position of Grand Secretary, the pinnacle of civil service, the highest rank among officials, holding the reins of power, and assisting the emperor—a dream that countless scholars, after a lifetime of studying and struggling in the political arena, could never achieve! Hong Chengchou believed himself to have the talent to govern the world and was not lacking in ambition. How could he not be thrilled to have this opportunity?

Now that His Highness the Crown Prince has personally bestowed such trust and opportunity upon us, it is undoubtedly another solid stepping stone on the road to heaven.

Thoughts raced through my mind in an instant.

Hong Chengchou immediately composed himself, suppressed his excitement, and bowed deeply with a solemn and grateful expression on his face.
"Your Highness trusts me deeply, and I am deeply grateful! It is my duty and my honor to share Your Highness's burdens. I will do my utmost to carefully proofread the document and will not dare to slack off in the slightest."

Zhu Cilang nodded in satisfaction:
"Excellent! Ma Bao!"

Ma Bao, who had been waiting outside the door, entered upon hearing the call.

"Go and invite Mr. Xu Fu and Mr. Zhang Wei (officials under the Crown Prince) as well. Add some more lamps, candles, and charcoal; this study will probably be lively for a few days."

Zhu Cilang gave the instructions.

"Slave, you obey!"

Ma Bao accepted the order and hurried away.

So, from that afternoon onward, the heavy, carved wooden door to the East Palace study was often kept tightly shut. Inside, the charcoal brazier burned red-hot, dispelling the lingering chill of late spring; several bright palace lanterns and candles illuminated the spacious study as if it were daytime.

Zhu Cilang usually sat in the main seat, while Hong Chengchou and several senior officials from the Eastern Palace who had been summoned sat on either side, each with a thick stack of memorials, petitions, drafts, and various documents in front of them.

In the following days, Zhu Cilang had a rare period of "leisure" and spent most of his time sitting in his study.

However, he did not do everything himself, but delegated the specific work of verification, summarization, and classification to Hong Chengchou and several subordinates.

He would sometimes peruse a few key memorials, sometimes listen to reports from his subordinates on difficult issues and make decisions, and more often he would hold a book in his hand or gaze at the remaining snow in the courtyard outside the window, quietly thinking, as if digesting the various things he had seen and heard after returning from his southern tour, and also making deeper plans for the war of national annihilation that had been postponed for a year but was now in its countdown.

Hong Chengchou and his subordinates dared not be negligent in the slightest. They knew that this seemingly simple "review" was actually the Crown Prince's assessment of their administrative abilities, attentiveness, and even loyalty. They had to carefully review every document, verifying its content, the cabinet's handling opinions, the completeness of the sealing procedures, judging its importance, and summarizing the key points.

As Zhu Cilang had expected, most documents were handled in a standard and even methodical manner, demonstrating that the cabinet, under Xue Guoguan's leadership, was operating smoothly and effectively. When encountering such documents, they simply marked them as "read and correct."

Occasionally, they would encounter documents concerning minor transfers in border towns, local tax disputes, or doubts about officials' performance evaluations. When subordinates were unsure how to handle these matters, they would discuss them in hushed tones or submit them directly to Zhu Cilang for instructions. Zhu Cilang would usually glance at them and grasp the key points, either issuing direct instructions or instructing that they be "returned to the relevant ministries for further discussion" or "filed for future reference." His swift decision-making and profound understanding of politics often secretly impressed Hong Chengchou, who in turn raised his opinion of the young crown prince even higher.

With this highly efficient and focused collaboration, the mountain of documents was reduced at a visible rate. In just over three days, by the afternoon of the fourth day, the last memorial that needed the Crown Prince's review was also processed and stamped with the Eastern Palace's seal of approval.

Inside the study, everyone breathed a sigh of relief, exchanged smiles, and although they were tired, they felt a sense of ease at having accomplished a great task.

It was during these few days that Beijing welcomed another heavy snowfall in the winter and spring of the sixteenth year of the Chongzhen Emperor's reign.

Snowflakes, as white as goose feathers, fell from the leaden sky, and overnight, the capital city, which had just begun to show signs of spring, was once again enveloped in a silver-white blanket.

The glazed tiles of the Forbidden City, the gray tile roofs of the houses, the streets, and the trees were all covered with a thick layer of fresh snow, creating a pure and solemn atmosphere.

However, unlike the scene of "snow falling in the capital, causing sorrow" in previous years, this year's snow does not seem to have brought much chill and panic to the capital.

On the streets, the queues in front of the grain stores were orderly. On the price list, the price of top-quality japonica rice was steadily marked at one tael and six mace of silver per shi (a unit of dry measure), and there was a good market for it with ample supply.

At the sales point for honeycomb briquettes, people used handcarts and shoulder poles to transport the shiny black briquettes home, their faces showing none of the sorrow and worry they had for heating in previous years.

The soldiers of the Five Cities Garrison increased the frequency of patrols, clearing snow from the main streets and maintaining order in the city.

On such a snowy day, the "Ciji Yuan" and "Refugee Shelter" established by the imperial court were filled with the smoke of cooking fires, sheltering the homeless and providing them with a corner to escape the cold and a bowl of hot porridge. The cold wind was still biting, but people's hearts were filled with a sense of security and warmth as granaries gradually filled and order was restored.

At least, this winter is no longer filled with the fear of freezing and starving to death, as I remember in some years.

Time flies like an arrow, quietly slipping away amidst preparations for war, governance, and mundane daily life.

Winter passed and spring arrived, the snow melted, and the rivers thawed. As new green shoots sprouted on the branches and wheat seedlings flourished in the fields, a scene brimming with life, time had quietly slipped into the seventeenth year of the Chongzhen Emperor's reign, which was 1644 AD. The spring of that year seemed to arrive exceptionally warm.

In late April, Beijing was bathed in the warm glow of spring. The sky was a clear, deep blue, and the sunshine, bright yet gentle, softly bathed the majestic palace walls, bustling streets, and tranquil courtyards. The willows along the moat sprouted tender yellow buds, swaying gently in the breeze.

Outside the city, the winter wheat, turning green again, spreads out like a vast emerald carpet. Peach blossoms, apricot blossoms, and pear blossoms bloom in succession, adorning streets, alleys, temples, and gardens, filling the air with a faint fragrance of flowers and the scent of awakening earth. The laughter of children, the cries of vendors, and the rustling of carriages and horses intertwine to create a vibrant urban symphony.

Everything seemed so peaceful, serene, and full of hope.

However, at this moment, standing atop Coal Hill under the famous "crooked-necked" old locust tree, Emperor Chongzhen and Crown Prince Zhu Cilang felt a heavy and complex emotion that was completely different from the bright spring scenery.

Today is the 25th day of the fourth month of the 17th year of the Chongzhen reign.

A day that, in its original historical trajectory, was destined to be stained red and devoured by blood, fire, and endless sorrow.

On this day, Li Zicheng's Shun army breached the outer city of Beijing. In despair and grief, Emperor Chongzhen hanged himself under this old locust tree, bringing the 276-year reign of the Ming Dynasty to an abrupt end. What followed was the "Jiashen National Disaster," a catastrophe that changed the landscape and plunged the land into ruin.

But now, history has taken a completely different turn.

Li Zicheng was defeated and killed, while Zhang Xianzhong surrendered to the Ming Dynasty. Although the Jurchens were still in Liaodong, they were no longer as fierce as they once were.

The Ming Dynasty not only survived, but also showed signs of revival in its domestic affairs, military, and finances. The capital remained prosperous, and the people lived in peace and contentment, showing no signs of the chaos and decline that often accompanies the end of an era.

Emperor Chongzhen dismissed all the eunuchs, palace maids, and guards who accompanied him, leaving only Zhu Cilang, standing alone on the mountaintop beneath the old tree that had witnessed countless storms and had almost become a landmark marking the end of the dynasty.

A spring breeze carries the faint sounds of distant city life and the fresh scent of nearby plants and trees.

Emperor Chongzhen reached out his hand, his aged and slightly rough palm gently stroking the gnarled and mottled trunk of the old locust tree, which was full of the vicissitudes of time.

His movements were slow and gentle, as if touching a cold and illusory nightmare. He raised his head, gazing up at the dappled sunlight filtering through the treetops, his eyes somewhat unfocused, yet filled with a deep sense of relief. He murmured softly, as if talking to himself, or perhaps to his son beside him:
"It seems... things have truly changed. Completely changed. Sometimes, I wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, dreaming of the day the city fell, with flames soaring into the sky and shouts of battle shaking the earth... I dream of myself hanging on this branch..."

He paused, his fingers unconsciously tracing an old mark on the bark.

“But every time I wake up, seeing the dragon-patterned ceiling of the palace and hearing the dripping of the water clock, I know it was just a nightmare. Now, the time has come… the time that was supposed to come has come. But look, this city of Beijing still stands tall, and I am still standing here. The Ming Dynasty… still exists.”

His voice was not loud, but it contained extremely complex emotions—fear, relief, reminiscence of the difficult past, and a deep appreciation for the present situation, as well as an almost sacred sense of mission.

"My heart is at peace."

He uttered those last four words very softly, yet they carried immense weight.

Zhu Cilang stood quietly beside his father, gazing down at the magnificent capital city, shimmering in the spring sunshine. Golden light reflected off the glazed tiles, and the chessboard-like streets teemed with people. The distant silhouette of the Western Hills was clearly visible. He knew what his father meant by "time."

That originally "destined day" is today.

Listening to his father's感慨 (sentiments/reflections), his heart was also filled with turmoil. Traveling through time and space, personally turning the tide, and forcefully steer a giant ship that was about to crash into an iceberg back onto its course—only he himself knew the hardships, pressure, and even loneliness involved.

But at this moment, standing here, looking at this land that still belongs to the Ming Dynasty, the sense of accomplishment and mission is enough to soothe everything.

He turned his head to look at Chongzhen, a warm yet firm smile on his face, his voice clear and powerful:
"Rest assured, Father. Whatever scenes I saw in my dreams, whatever the original history books may have recorded, they are all illusions, vanished on a different, untraveled path. Now, the Ming Dynasty is well, its national power is growing, and its military might is being restored. The path we are on is one we have walked ourselves, and we will never, and absolutely cannot, slip back onto that path of no return. Your son assures you, assures our ancestors, and assures all the people of the world."

Upon hearing this, Chongzhen withdrew his hand from the tree, turned around, and faced his son. He looked at Zhu Cilang's face, which had completely shed its childishness, now sharp and resolute, and at this son who was half a head taller than him and had become the most solid pillar of the empire. A heartfelt smile slowly bloomed on his face.

That smile, like sunlight piercing through the clouds, illuminated the melancholy that had accumulated between his brows over the years.

"Good, good! I believe you, my Lang'er!"

Emperor Chongzhen patted Zhu Cilang's shoulder forcefully.

Suddenly, as if remembering something, Chongzhen's smile softened with a fatherly concern and a gentle, familiar warmth, and he asked:

"Speaking of which, you should be sixteen this year, right?"

Zhu Cilang nodded:
"Yes, Father."

"Hmm, sixteen now..."

Emperor Chongzhen walked a few steps with his hands behind his back, gazing at the palace below the mountain.

"According to ancestral custom, it's time to prepare for your wedding. A few days ago, your mother mentioned to me that she had found several daughters from noble and civil officials for you. They all seemed to be well-educated, virtuous, and beautiful young women. In particular, the young lady from the Duke of England is said to be both talented and virtuous... Once you are officially married and made Crown Princess, the Eastern Palace will be completely stable, and I will finally feel at ease."

At that time, I will find a suitable opportunity to issue an edict of abdication, formally entrusting this heavy responsibility of the empire to you. Then you will have a legitimate reason to exercise your abilities.”

Chongzhen spoke in a very natural tone, as if he were talking about something that happened naturally and was taken for granted.

After his southern tour and nearly a year of observation and testing, he had no more doubts about his son's abilities, and his resolve to abdicate was firmly established. (End of Chapter)