How can one be Emperor Chongzhen without money?

Chapter 207 Huang Taiji: I want to spend the Mid-Autumn Festival outside Beijing! (Renamed, please add to your favorites)

In the early summer of the fourth year of the Tiancong reign, in Daning City.

The city walls of the former Ningwang territory still stand, but the atmosphere inside has completely changed. Just as dawn breaks, smoke rises from the artisan camps near the riverbank outside the city. This area is managed by the Fan merchants from Shanxi, and the air is filled with a mixture of copper rust, coal smoke, and stale sweat.

In a corner of the workshop, the sharp whistling of a whip tearing through the air and a muffled thud were particularly jarring.

"You filthy lackey! Are you blind or spineless?!" A Han Chinese foreman panted heavily, pointing his whip at a Korean bondservant curled up on the ground. The bondservant's old shirt was torn with a bloody ripple, and a newly cast "Zhennan Cannon" rolled on the ground next to him, covered in mud.

Zhao Si, dragging his limp, hurriedly ran over, a fawning smile plastered on his face: "Master, please calm down! Please calm down! This newcomer is clumsy, I'll teach him a lesson later!" With that, he turned and spat at the servant, "Get up now! Clean the cannon! If you mess this up again, you can forget about bran porridge tonight!"

The bondservant struggled to his feet, his eyes vacant, silently wiping himself. The other bondservant members around him kept their heads down, their movements quickening, not daring to glance at him. Here, the whip and hunger were the most direct realities.

A slightly dilapidated brick kiln had been converted into a furnace, where several master craftsmen were busy casting various objects. Master Fan Yongdou, dressed in a silk robe with a linen jacket over it for dust protection, strolled around the workshop with his hands behind his back. Following closely behind him was a young man, dressed in a similarly clean, gray cloth garment, carrying an account book and pen, his eyes downcast. This was Jin Chengren. Because he was literate and could do arithmetic, Master Fan had brought him in as a clerk to keep the accounts.

“Chengren,” Fan Yongdou stopped and pointed to a short, stubby bronze cannon that had just come out of the mold and was still steaming, “go through the accounts for this ‘Zhennan Cannon’ again in detail. The labor and materials used must be clearly recorded, so that we can give an explanation if the Prince or the Prince Consort Tong asks about it in the future.”

"Yes, sir," Jin Chengren hurriedly replied, making a few scribbles in the ledger. He glanced at the cannon out of the corner of his eye; the cannon barrel weighed only a little over a hundred pounds, not much better than a proper Ming army tiger-squatting cannon. He knew perfectly well that this was probably a trick played by that unscrupulous eunuch Wei from the Southern Dynasty, using some mediocre formula to coax people like Master Fan into investing money and materials, thus depleting the Tartars' strength. But Master Fan didn't care; as long as the accounts were clear, the goods were made, and they could pass the inspections, his own profits would be in his pocket.

Zhao Si was directing several bondservants to move the copper. He was now the foreman in charge of materials in the workshop, and thanks to his informing and currying favor, he was finally spared from personally carrying the molten copper. Seeing Master Fan approach, he immediately stepped forward, his face beaming with a smile: "Don't worry, Master, this batch of copper is excellent; it'll surely yield two more 'Zhennan Cannons'!"

Fan Yongdou grunted, kicked a pile of scrap materials beside him with his toe, and remained noncommittal. He understood Zhao Si's thoughts. As long as the work was barely passable and there were no major mistakes, he would be content as long as he could get a small cut from the materials each day to exchange for some cheap liquor. The power and range of the cannons were not his concern.

Kim Seong-in kept the accounts, but his mind was already back in Korea. He was, after all, a scholar by birth, and the roots of the "Yangban" (aristocratic class) remained. Looking at the Korean civilians on the construction site, also abducted and forced into hard labor, a subtle sense of superiority would always flicker through him. He felt different from these "lowly people"; even though they were both bondservants, he was managing accounts for Master Fan, a "scholar." He only hoped for peace in the world soon, whether it was the Ming or the Jin, as long as he could return to his homeland, even as a poor village scholar, it would be better than being a slave in this foreign land. As for the "Zhennan Cannon," a mere facade, whether it could help the Jin win or fulfill the Ming emperor's wish to weaken the Jin, he didn't care much. He only sought self-preservation, to find a way to survive in this chaotic world and return home.

Suddenly, the ground began to tremble slightly, and the sound of horses' hooves, like muffled thunder, grew louder and louder as they rapidly approached.

"The flag bearers are coming! Get out of the way!" someone shouted in panic.

Chaos erupted in the workshop. Zhao Si's expression changed, and he abruptly pulled Jin Chengren behind a pile of timber. He then knelt down by the roadside with a thud, pressing Jin's head down and lowering his body.

A dozen or so Plain White Banner soldiers charged through the narrow passage between the artisan camps like a whirlwind, completely disregarding the people on either side. Mud and stones kicked up by their hooves rained down on the kneeling bondservants. One older bondservant, slightly slower to dodge, was knocked away by the saddle, collapsing to the ground without a sound, his fate unknown. The cavalrymen, however, paid no heed, laughing wildly as they sped off, hurrying towards Daning City to report or regroup.

Zhao Si didn't dare look up until the sound of hooves faded into the distance, his face splattered with mud. He spat out a mouthful of muddy spittle, muttered "Damn it," and then reverted to his overseer's demeanor, kicking the still-dazed bondservant: "What are you looking at! Want a whipping? Get to work!"

Kim Seong-in's face was deathly pale, his heart pounding. Just moments before, he had truly felt the chill of death brushing past him. That barbaric disregard for human life had jolted him awake from his dream of his homeland, leaving him icy cold.

Fan Yongdou had long since retreated to his small courtyard. Seeing his master gone, Zhao Si's shouts grew listless. He found a shady spot, squatted down, pulled out a small wine flask hidden in his robes, took a precious sip of the cheap wine, and squinted, calculating whether he could scrape off some scraps from the newly delivered copper that night. Jin Chengren returned to his tattered accounting table, his fingers trembling slightly as he continued checking the seemingly endless numbers. The ink on the ledger, like the faint hope in his heart, was a dull, grayish color.

Inside the artisan camp, only the whistling sound of boiling copper and the numb labor of the craftsmen remained. Meanwhile, in the distance, towards Daning City, bugles sounded incessantly, and horses' hooves thundered—a far greater storm was brewing. Zhao Si sipped his wine, seemingly indifferent; Jin Chengren, listening to the hoofbeats, found his hand, used for bookkeeping, trembling uncontrollably. He had a vague feeling that a crucial battle, vital to both the Ming Dynasty and Jianzhou, was about to begin!

……

Inside the city of Daning, the scene was entirely different. The original garrison headquarters had been expanded and rebuilt, becoming the Khan's temporary residence. Tents were pitched everywhere, both inside and outside the city, filled with shouts of people and neighing of horses, stretching as far as the eye could see.

On the large drill ground in the east of the city, there was a dense mass of soldiers.

The most striking sight was a vast swarm of soldiers in white flags and white armor, standing motionless like snowdrifts. These were the elite troops of the Plain White and Bordered White Banners under the command of the three brothers Dorgon, Dodo, and Ajige, numbering approximately seven or eight thousand. Each man had fierce eyes, revealing an eagerness to achieve merit. They were the vanguard, the sharpest blade.

On the other side were the Bordered Yellow Banner and Plain Yellow Banner troops, numbering about four or five thousand, who looked more composed. These were the two Yellow Banners under the command of the First Prince Hauge, the core of the Great Khan's personal guard and the main force of the central army. Hauge himself rode a tall horse, inspecting the area around the drill ground with a serious expression.

Besides these genuine Tartars, there were many more Mongols. The Khorchin and Kharachin tribes, tens of thousands of them, were never quiet when gathered together, shouting and yelling on horseback, brandishing their bows and arrows. They were less disciplined, but excellent riders, quick to arrive and quick to depart.

Another group, dressed in dark blue or gray uniforms, stood in formation, practicing with muskets. These were the "Ujin Chaoha" of the Han Banner, a large force in charge of firearms. Leading them were Han officials like Ma Guangyuan and Wang Shixuan, who had surrendered to the Manchus a few years earlier. They weren't as boisterous as the Mongols, nor as arrogant as the Eight Banner soldiers; they trained diligently, displaying a fierce determination.

Further away, there was a group of listless soldiers, their armor incomplete; they were newly recruited North Korean troops, just there to make up the numbers.

Hauge and Dorgon bumped into each other by the training ground.

"Fourteenth Uncle." Hauge cupped his hands in greeting from his horse. He was the eldest son of the Great Khan, older than Dorgon, but according to seniority, he had to call him uncle.

Dorgon smiled, but the smile didn't reach his eyes: "You've worked hard, First Prince, to keep this camp in such good order."

The two rode side by side, looking down at the army formation below.

"Father Khan has conquered the southern desert on this western expedition and returned with great victory. Our army's morale is high," Hauge said. "This time, we will surely succeed in entering the pass."

Dorgon nodded: "Yes, this is a rare opportunity. The Southern Dynasty is currently beset by internal and external troubles, which is the time for us to make our mark." He paused, then added seemingly casually, "The vanguard will be led by my two White Banner soldiers, while the First Prince will be stationed in the central army to ensure our safety."

Hauge's expression darkened slightly, and he didn't reply. He knew Dorgon was implying that he was trying to steal credit and was also implying that he was cowardly. The rivalry between the two Yellow Banners and the two White Banners had been going on for quite some time.

Just then, a fast horse galloped in from the west, rushed to the foot of the command platform, tumbled off its saddle, and loudly reported:
"Report! The Great Khan's entourage has arrived ten miles away!" The drill ground fell silent instantly. All eyes turned to the main road to the west.

Before long, a trail of dust appeared on the horizon. As the dust drew closer, the fluttering dragon banner and large flag became visible.

Huang Taiji is back.

He rode a magnificent black horse, his large body draped in a brocade robe and simple armor. His face bore the marks of hardship, but his eyes were sharp as an eagle's. Behind him were over ten thousand elite Eight Banner troops who had followed him through the southern grasslands. These soldiers were different from the garrison troops left in the city; they carried an indelible aura of killing intent and the dusty smell of the grasslands, making them quite intimidating.

The army halted outside the drill ground. Surrounded by his personal guards, Huang Taiji rode slowly into the drill ground.

Below the command platform, Hauge, Dorgon, and Dodo, leading all the generals from the Manchu, Mongol, Han, and Korean factions, knelt down in unison, shouting like a tidal wave:
"Welcome back in triumph, Great Khan! Long live the Great Khan!"

The sound shook the ground.

Huang Taiji dismounted and walked steadily to the generals. He first personally helped Hauge and Dorgon to their feet.

"Get up, all of you." His voice was loud and clear, carrying an unquestionable authority.

His gaze swept over the densely packed army below the stage, and then over the faces of the generals.

"My lords, you have worked hard!" Huang Taiji said. "On this westward journey, all the tribes in the southern desert have fallen into our hands! The remnants of Ligdan Khan are no match for us!"

An excited buzz erupted from the audience.

Huang Taiji changed the subject, pointing south: "But this little achievement is nothing! The Ming Dynasty in the south occupies the richest land, but its emperor is incompetent, its officials are corrupt, and its soldiers are weak! Their capital, their wealth, and their women are our real targets!"

He raised his voice, brimming with fervor: "I have made up my mind that after a period of rest, the army will set off, break through the Great Wall, and enter the Central Plains! Let my sons have a good haul and let the might of our Eight Banners resound throughout the Southern Dynasty!"

"Long live! Long live! Long live!" The cheers from the audience rose in waves, and the Mongol soldiers even threw their hats into the air.

Huang Taiji raised his hand in a gesture of apprehension, and after the sound subsided slightly, he ordered Beile such as Hauge and Dorgon: "Each banner shall prepare for war according to the predetermined plan, without fail!"

"Yes, sir!" they all replied in unison.

After the ceremony, Huang Taiji, surrounded by civil officials such as Fan Wencheng and Ganglin, walked towards the main hall. Key princes such as Hauge and Dorgon followed closely behind.

Upon entering the hall, he dismissed his attendants, leaving only his most trusted confidants.

Huang Taiji removed his armor, sat on a chair covered with tiger skin, took a sip of hot milk, and showed a hint of fatigue on his face, but his eyes were still shrewd.

"What's going on in the Southern Dynasty?" he asked Fan Wencheng.

Fan Wencheng bowed and said, "Your Majesty, the scouts report that the Ming Emperor is still focused on the training of the Beijing garrison and the defense of Xuanfu and Datong. Sun Chuanting's main force is still concentrated in the direction of Xuanfu and Datong. It seems that they do indeed believe that our main attack direction is Xuanfu and Datong."

Huang Taiji sneered: "Chongzhen is short-sighted. Although Sun Chuanting has some ability, he can't break out of his own box. He just shrinks into a tortoise formation. I suffered some losses the first time I encountered him, but fortunately I have some solutions now."

He paused, then looked at Dorgon: "How are the preparations going in Jizhou?"

Dorgon stepped forward, full of confidence: "Your Majesty, the strength and weakness of the defenses at several passes have been ascertained. The border wall belonging to Jizhou is well-defended and not easy to breach. However, the border wall belonging to Changping is much more lax in its defense. In addition, I have also found some remnants of the Doyan Guard. They know some shortcuts that can allow our men to bypass Luanhe Fort and attack Xifengkou directly!"

"Good!" Huang Taiji nodded, a cold glint in his eyes. "Break through Xifengkou, and we can march straight to Beijing!"

He leaned forward slightly, lowered his voice, and spoke to the princes and advisors:

"This time, I will show that brat Chongzhen what it truly means to be crushed by Mount Tai!"

He stood up, walked to the window, looked out at the endless rows of tents, and spoke with unwavering resolve:

"Send the order: the entire army will rest for a month. After a month, we will march on Yanshan! I am going to spend the Mid-Autumn Festival outside Beijing!"

Upon hearing this, Hauge, Dorgon, and the others were greatly encouraged and responded in unison:

"Yes, Your Majesty! I obey the Great Khan's command!"

The hall was filled with a tense and excited atmosphere, as if a great battle was about to begin. Huang Taiji's figure, bathed in the light streaming in from the window, appeared exceptionally large and resolute.

He could almost see the Eight Banners' iron cavalry breaking through the Great Wall and besieging the bustling capital.

(End of this chapter)