How can one be Emperor Chongzhen without money?

Chapter 168 Li Zicheng Takes the Tsinghua University Exam, Zhao Si Becomes a Bondservant (Second Update, Please Subscribe and Vote)
Spring had long since arrived, but the morning and evening breezes still carried the chill of the Little Ice Age. Just as dawn was breaking, the bugles of the Nanyuan camp sounded their mournful calls.

After running two miles with the group, Li Hongji's forehead was covered in sweat. He grabbed a coarse flour bun and had just taken a bite when a fully armored bodyguard walked straight up to his group.

"Is Li Hongji, Commander Li, here?" The guard's voice was cold and hard, his eyes sweeping over the crowd.

Li Hongji's heart skipped a beat, and the steamed bun in his mouth suddenly lost its flavor. He quickly swallowed and stepped forward: "This humble general is it."

The guards looked him up and down. "Come with me. Minister Sun wants to see you."

Sun Shilang was none other than Sun Chuanting. After returning to Beijing, he took over Li Banghua's post as Right Vice Minister of War and concurrently Right Vice Censor-in-Chief of the Censorate, assisting in the administration of the Beijing Garrison. Now, he, along with Xu Qinian, the eunuch in charge of the Beijing Garrison, and Yang Sichang, the Left Vice Minister of War in charge of provisions, became the three heads of the newly reorganized Beijing Garrison, which the Emperor had put a lot of effort into.

The soldiers' eyes immediately turned to him, some with curiosity, some with envy, but most with suspicion. Although Li Hongji had rendered great service by beheading the rebel leader, he was also a troublemaker with a bad temper. After arriving at the Nanyuan camp in the capital with the troops, he would pick fights every few days, making him a real rascal.

Li Hongji put down his steamed bun and followed without a word. His heart was in turmoil, unsure whether this was a blessing or a curse. Could it be that the incident a couple of days ago—when he secretly gambled and got into a fight after losing—had reached Minister Sun's ears?

Sun Chuanting's signing room was very simple, with a desk, a few chairs, and a huge map hanging on the wall.

Sun Chuanting was sitting behind his desk looking at a document, without looking up, only pointing to the ground in front of him with his finger.

"This humble servant, Li Hongji, pays his respects to Your Excellency!" Li Hongji knelt on one knee, clasped his hands in greeting. Emperor Chongzhen had set some new rules for the New Army, forbidding them from kneeling before their superiors; a clasped-hand greeting was sufficient. However, the atmosphere in the room made him feel more at ease kneeling.

Sun Chuanting then put down the documents and turned his gaze to Li Hongji. His gaze was heavy and suffocating.

"During the Red-Blue Martial Arts Exercise the other day, your team was attacked in the valley," Sun Chuanting said, his voice low. "According to the manual, you should have formed a circular formation and held your ground while awaiting reinforcements. Instead, you led your men to charge up that nearby earthen slope. What was the reason for that?"

Li Hongji felt a sense of relief; so that was what it was about. He took a breath and steadied his voice as he replied, "In response to your question, Vice Minister, the valley is narrow, making it difficult to form a battle formation and turning us into easy targets. Although the earthen slope is not very high, it is sufficient to set up muskets and block the valley entrance. Taking this place allows us to launch flanking attacks or retreat to defend our position, which is better than being trapped in the valley."

"Who taught you that?" Sun Chuanting pressed.

“No one taught me. It was when I was a courier delivering official documents that I encountered a pack of wolves and wild animals, and I learned that I had to seize a high place,” Li Hongji answered in detail.

Sun Chuanting nodded: "Yes, he does have talent. No wonder he was able to kill the traitor Wang in battle."

He picked up a note from the side and handed it over: "Take a look."

Li Hongji accepted the document with both hands; it was a document from the Ministry of War regarding the establishment of the "Qinghua Military Academy." He didn't know many characters, but he understood the general meaning. This was to select literate young military officers to enroll, who would be personally examined by the Emperor. Those who succeeded would become the Emperor's disciples.

His heart suddenly started pounding wildly, and he vaguely guessed what was going on, but he couldn't believe it.

“His Majesty has a unique vision and wishes to open a new chapter by cultivating pillars of society.” Sun Chuanting looked at him. “Regardless of background, only talent matters. I can give you a spot to take the entrance exam at Tsinghua University. If you pass, you will be a member of the first class of the Military Academy. You can decide your future yourself.”

Li Hongji's hand trembled slightly. A disciple of the Emperor! In the past, only officials who had passed the imperial examinations were entitled to be called disciples of the Emperor. Now, a lowly soldier like him had this opportunity? Damn it, this is incredible!
Thinking of this, he suddenly kowtowed, his voice trembling: "This humble general, Li Hongji, is willing to go! Thank you, Vice Minister and Your Majesty, for your cultivation! I will be appointed Vice Minister and serve the court to the death!"

Sun Chuanting's face showed no emotion, he just waved his hand and said, "Don't thank me yet, you still have exams to take. It's not too late to thank me after you pass. Tomorrow at Chenshi (7-9 AM), gather outside Xizhimen, and someone will lead you to Tsinghua University."

……

Under the same sky, the Tunpu villages outside Shengjing have long lost their springtime charm.

The sun shone brightly, the wind was dry, and as it blew, it whipped up dust from the ground, stinging our faces. There wasn't a trace of moisture in the field; the cracks were as big as a baby's mouth. Zhao Si, dragging his limping leg, trudged along the hard, dry ridges. His face was pockmarked with a layer of ash, his lips were chapped and white, but his eyes were like knives, scrutinizing everyone working in the fields.

"Are you still hungry or what? Keep working! If you don't loosen this soil, it'll be a waste to plant the seeds!" His voice was hoarse, as if it were being ground from his throat. "If this plot of land isn't finished before sunset, there won't be any porridge for tonight!"

Several laborers listlessly swung their picks. The picks struck the dry clods of earth with a dull thud, leaving only shallow craters. From last year to this spring, there had been too little rain; the ground had become parched and hardened.

Zhao Si's lame leg was broken last winter by his master, Ao Bai. It wasn't for any other reason than that the livestock he was tending didn't survive the severe drought and the ensuing cold winter; they died of thirst and hunger. He didn't dare complain about the shortage of fodder and the well running dry. His master was angry, and a servant had to endure it. He survived that winter by gritting his teeth and reporting to the authorities that an old servant who had suffered alongside him had stolen the bean cakes meant for his master's warhorses, thus sacrificing someone else's life for his own food.

Now, he manages these dozens of people, and his master says he "knows when to advance and when to retreat."

The sound of horses' hooves, accompanied by dust, swept in from outside the village. Ao Bai, accompanied by several Goshiha, rushed to the edge of the field and reined in his horses. He was wearing a yellow cloth armor with red trim, and although he was not old, he had a fierce and ruthless air about him.

With a flick of his whip behind him, Ao Bai pointed at the group of Koreans who were tied up with ropes, dressed in tattered clothes, and emaciated to the bone. He shouted at Zhao Si, "Zhao Si, you are in charge of these new lackeys. If there are no crops in their fields after autumn, or if too many people die, you know the rules."

Zhao Si knelt down on the dry earth with a "plop," kowtowing and raising a puff of smoke: "Yes, Master! Rest assured! This servant will treat them like his own livestock and will never let Master's important matters be delayed!"

Ao Bai snorted, turned his horse around, and rode away like a gust of wind.

Zhao Si got up, brushed the dust off his knees, his face blank. He walked up to the group of Korean prisoners with numb eyes and cracked lips, and pulled out a small piece of dark, bran-mixed dry ration from his pocket.

"Whoever kneels down and kowtows three times to me, this food is their reward." He spoke in broken Mandarin mixed with Manchu, then coldly surveyed the crowd, adding, "If you kowtow today, you've acknowledged your master. In a few days, you'll have to shave your head and grow a queue to be considered a compliant citizen of our Great Jin Kingdom. Here, face, knees, and the hair on your head are the least valuable things. Being able to breathe is precious." A small commotion arose in the crowd. Starving for so long, they cared about nothing else. A man was the first to buckle, collapsing into the dust and kowtowing repeatedly. Zhao Si tossed him the dry rations, like throwing them to a starving wild dog.

"You really saw it?" Zhao Si smirked, a half-smile playing on his lips. "Here, face and knees are the least valuable things. Being able to breathe is what's precious."

He had to use the fastest method to destroy any remaining thoughts in these people's minds and turn them into obedient, hardworking animals.

……

When it was the last North Korean's turn, they got stuck.

The man stood ramrod straight. Although his clothes were so tattered they barely covered his body and his hair was matted, there was a different kind of spark in his eyes. Zhao Si had seen this kind of arrogance on the faces of those stubborn, principled scholars.

"Kneel down!" a lackey of a low-ranking gang leader shouted angrily, and stepped forward to kick the man's knee.

The man staggered, but his back remained straight. He suddenly broke free from the pull, clutching his hair bun with both hands as if it were more important than his life. A hoarse shout, thick with accent, came from his throat: "Today I kneel, tomorrow I shave my head! Our bodies and hair are given to us by our parents! I am from the Jin family of Andong, a scholar, a vassal of the Ming Dynasty, and I would rather die than be a slave of the Tartars!"

His name was Kim Seong-in. He still remembered the bustling Seoul, the principles in the Confucian classics, and his teachers' teachings to be loyal to the emperor and love the country, and that emperor was the emperor of the Ming Dynasty.

Zhao Si's words, "You'll have to shave your head after kowtowing," were like a knife, instantly piercing his last shred of hope. He never imagined that after being abducted to this arid land, he would not only suffer the hardship of forced labor, but also truly endure the humiliation of having his hair cut and his body tattooed.

Zhao Si squinted and looked him up and down for a while. Suddenly, he raised the whip in his hand and lashed it down without warning until Jin Chengren was curled up on the ground. Then, dragging his lame leg, he shouted to the people around him, "Tie him up and throw him out in the sun. Don't give him any water."

The scorching sun and thirst tormented Kim Seong-in for an entire afternoon, exhausting his last bit of strength.

He was not untied until nightfall and taken to the relatively warm shack where Zhao Si lived.

Zhao Si didn't say anything, but took out a bean cake that was slightly larger than the one he had during the day from the corner and tossed it to him.

"Eat up." Zhao Si squatted down by the door, looking out at the dark night. The dry wind blew in through the hole, carrying the smell of earth.

Kim Sung-in hesitated for a moment, feeling like his stomach was on fire. His fragile dignity couldn't hold him back any longer, so he grabbed a bean cake and stuffed it into his mouth.

"Have you read any great books?" Zhao Si suddenly asked, his voice muffled.

Kim Sung-in choked and pounded his chest.

"Can you read like water? Can you eat like food?" Zhao Si turned his head, his pockmarked face looking particularly gloomy in the dim light. "I've seen plenty of people like you, all tough as nails. In the end, they all ended up as stray dogs."

Kim Seong-in wanted to refute, to talk about loyalty and integrity, but the rough, sour taste of soybean cake stuck in his throat, and he couldn't utter a single word.

“Hair can grow back.” Zhao Si’s voice was flat, as if he were talking about something ordinary. “When a person dies, they lose everything. Only by living can you see tomorrow. Only by living can you see the day when these damned Tartars get their comeuppance.”

He spoke the last sentence very softly, like the wind blowing through a crack in the parched ground.

Jin Chengren suddenly raised his head, staring intently at the pockmarked face in the shadows. Zhao Si, however, had already turned back, no longer looking at him.

The next day, it was time to get a haircut.

The cold razor pressed against his scalp, and Kim Seong-in shuddered. He didn't scream anymore, but clenched his teeth so tightly they cracked, drawing blood from his lips. Clumps of hair fell, mingled with cold sweat and blood. The image of the glorious Ming Dynasty, the emperor and father of ten thousand miles, in his heart, fell to the ground along with those strands of hair, covered in dust.

Zhao Si stood silently to the side, watching. He knew that the "person" inside was dead. What survived was merely a capable servant. Perhaps, he might be of some use later.

……

Li Hongji and dozens of selected sentry officers and squad leaders gathered outside Xizhimen. Everyone had changed into brand-new indigo uniforms, their faces radiating barely suppressed excitement, yet their eyes also held a hint of trepidation.

Several mule carts were already waiting by the roadside. The foreman, holding a roster, called out names at the top of his lungs. Those whose names were called responded loudly, "Here!", and nimbly climbed onto the carts.

Li Hongji chose a seat near the carriage shaft, the hard wooden plank beneath him feeling uncomfortable. The mule cart started moving, swaying and rocking as it headed northwest towards Tsinghua University.

He gazed at the earthen walls and withered trees flashing past outside the carriage window, a complex mix of emotions swirling within him. A year ago, if someone had told him that Li Hongji could wear this official robe and even take the entrance exam for the Imperial Academy, he would have scoffed, thinking it was a pipe dream. Back then, he was just a lowly courier, unsure where to even collect his unpaid wages, harboring resentment towards the government and feeling that the world was unjust.

But now, this opportunity was truly before him. It filled him with energy and gave him a sense of purpose. The initial resentment towards the court caused by unpaid wages had long been overshadowed by this tangible benefit. He knew in his heart that if the Ming Dynasty truly fell, he, Li Hongji, would be nothing. Only as long as the Ming Dynasty existed could someone of his humble origins truly have a chance to achieve a title and secure a future for his family.

The wheels rumbled and churned on the thawed, still slightly muddy dirt road, causing the rider to sway slightly. On both sides of the road stretched vast fields where spring planting had already begun, and low, dilapidated villages.

Li Hongji unconsciously straightened his back. He absolutely had to do well on the exam this time; he had to get into Tsinghua University. Becoming a loyal subject was Li Hongji's life goal!
(End of this chapter)