Late Ming Dynasty: So what if Emperor Chongzhen was inactive?!

Chapter 260 A Feud Lasting Months 1.0
In June of the fourth year of the Chongzhen Emperor's reign, the clamor of the summer night kept Zhu Youjian from sleeping. The cicadas chirped from dinnertime until dawn, but the frogs did not rest. In the latter half of the night, the crickets came out again, their chirping mingling with the eerie croaking of the frogs, making the night even more torturous.

Zhu Youjian truly couldn't empathize with Zhu Zhanji. How could anyone like crickets?! Holding an oil lamp, Zhu Youjian stared with dark circles under his eyes like a white bear, lying on the ground searching for a long time, but he couldn't find that damned cricket. He was so angry that he wanted to tear the floor up.

He couldn't sleep well at night and couldn't sleep during the day, feeling completely dazed. Zhu Youjian, who usually walked around the palace, was now too weak to walk and had to be carried in a palanquin by eight strong men. Tsk tsk, how corrupt and feudal! Even the cicadas in the trees couldn't stand it anymore and urinated on him.

Zhu Youjian initially thought it was raining, but he was startled: Shouldn't we hurry up and harvest the grain now? Otherwise, the dried grain would get soaked again, and his mother would scold him to death!
Zhu Youjian looked up at the sky and saw that the sky over Beijing was very blue, clear and cloudless, without any smog. If it wasn't raining, then there was only one truth. Just as he was lost in thought, a thin, pale yellow stream of water sprayed right onto his face. He stuck out his tongue and licked it; it tasted a little sweet and a little fishy, ​​though he wasn't sure if it was just his imagination.

"Hurry up!" Zhu Youjian shouted at the imperial guards carrying the palanquin, his heart filled with despair.

Zhu Youjian dismounted from the palanquin outside the main hall and began walking. He was already slightly sweating after climbing just a few dozen steps from the square to the hall. This wasn't because he was physically weak, but simply because the weather was unbearably hot. Reaching the hall entrance, a cool breeze swept through, and Zhu Youjian finally felt much more comfortable.

He obtained 3,000 catties of saltpeter from Anmin Factory to make ice. This stuff could be recycled; it could be extracted from the solution by drying it in the sun, so it wasn't too wasteful. Adding ice was necessary; the weather was unbearably hot and humid. Logically, it should have rained in this kind of weather, but for many days, not a drop of rain had fallen in the capital, and the Yongding River was almost dry!

After he entered the hall, the ministers who had been waiting outside for some time were finally allowed to enter. These high-ranking figures, so revered by the common people, now looked utterly disheveled. As they knelt and shouted "Long live the Emperor!", Zhu Youjian noticed that the backs of their official robes were soaked with sweat.

In fact, official robes had different styles for winter and summer, but the imperial court was too stingy. They only gave officials a badge embroidered with different patterns, and the officials had to pay for their own robes.

An official robe costs several dozen taels of silver. Low-ranking officials cannot afford to make one even after several years. Therefore, many officials wear the same robe regardless of the season, which is quite pitiful. Even Zhu Youjian could not bear to see it.

After the formalities were completed, the tedious and monotonous meeting should have commenced, but Zhu Youjian stood up from his dragon throne. The ministers exchanged bewildered glances, wondering what kind of antics the emperor was about to pull.

The weather's been hot lately, and the emperor's temper has flared up. He's lost all his composure and often curses, mostly at Huang Taiji, and occasionally at his bunch of good-for-nothings. When he's in a rage, he even curses himself! To be honest, everyone's a little intimidated by the emperor.

"There is still a batch of summer cloth in my imperial warehouse. I wear no more than eight sets of clothes for each season. The Empress is thrifty and does not allow the concubines' robes to drag on the ground. There is still so much old cloth left over that I can't use it all. Selling it would not be worth much money, and it would be a disservice to the tribute bearers' good intentions."

Everyone has worked hard these past few months. That damned emperor has so little money, so much work, and he even yells at us. So, I'll compensate you all with a set of official robes. Don't leave after court; stay and have your measurements taken.

Zhu Youjian turned to Wang Chengen, who was standing to his left, and said, "Go and tell the imperial chefs to boil a few buckets of kelp and mung bean soup. Remember to make it sweet, and don't add any salt. Salted porridge is just porridge!" Half a year's salary?! The officials wondered if they were still half asleep. They truly had a love-hate relationship with the current emperor!

"Your Majesty, we thank you for your reward!" Sun Chengzong, Zhu Youjian's third chief minister, shouted first.

After receiving the benefits, the atmosphere in the court became much more lively. Apart from the ministers and vice ministers who kept a straight face and pretended to be deep, most of the others were more or less excited.

Even among official robes, there were differences. Those bestowed by the emperor were made from the finest tribute, so they were unlikely to be of poor quality. Some men were already fantasizing about wearing their new clothes, twirling around in front of their wives to show them off, while still having to ask them in a composed tone, "Is this clothing acceptable?"

The dullness in the court and the emperor's irritability during this period were naturally for a reason: from the beginning of March to the end of June now, the war has been going on for three months and it is still not over.

There was no crushing defeat, but no progress could be made either. The war turned into a mess, with both sides going back and forth, seemingly enjoying themselves immensely. All the court gained was the daily death toll, as well as the depletion of money, grain, and various supplies.

Since the start of the war, the imperial court has already spent four million taels of silver on military expenses. Every year at the beginning of the year, before the summer harvest, is the time when the imperial court's finances are at their weakest, and the people are also in a state of food shortage. Even without natural disasters or man-made calamities, the people are prone to famine.

This awful weather! Winters are bitterly cold, so cold that even officials succumb to typhoid and die, let alone ordinary people. In summer, the heat can kill farmers working in the fields. It doesn't rain when it's time to plant, and then just before harvest time, there are torrential rains, hurricanes, tsunamis, and the like that, destroying farmland.

Disaster relief costs money, and so does warfare; the calculations are truly perplexing. It's only now, in June, during the summer harvest season, that the imperial treasury is somewhat more financially secure. Otherwise, how could the emperor possibly be in the mood to provide welfare benefits to officials, especially since they're even in arrears on their salaries?

"Your Majesty," suggested Bi Ziyan, Minister of Revenue. "I believe we can temporarily cease hostilities with the Jurchens." He dared not speak of peace negotiations, though a ceasefire was essentially a form of peace, but the Emperor had long ago declared his intention to fight the Jurchens to the bitter end, vowing not to rest until all of them were exterminated. The Emperor was quite merciful to his own people, even somewhat weak; it was unclear where he got such a bloodthirsty nature.

Zhu Youjian was indeed somewhat tempted; making tough statements was satisfying in the moment, but he realized that his hardline stance was affecting the strategic and tactical flexibility of his side. The Jurchens were a formidable force; a direct, head-on assault was impossible—he couldn't possibly be Qin Shi Huang or Emperor Wu of Han. The best approach was to sow discord, divide, and win over the Jurchens.

When Mao Wenlong killed Amin's son and happily packed up the head to submit for inspection and claim credit, countless military officials were heartbroken, believing that Mao Wenlong disregarded the overall situation for personal revenge and was extremely petty.

(End of this chapter)