How can one be Emperor Chongzhen without money?

Chapter 230 Hi! Huang Taiji!
In the late autumn of the fourth year of the Tiancong reign, the weather was eerily cold.

Before October, it snowed in Liaodong. Snowflakes, carried by the wind, pelted the earthen walls of Shenyang, making a swishing sound. The tattered dragon flag atop the city wall, frozen stiff, rattled and clanged in the wind, as if it might fall apart at any moment.

It's even colder inside the city than outside.

The streets were nearly deserted, and nine out of ten shops were closed. Occasionally, a few soldiers would hurry along, their necks hunched and hands tucked in. A crowd had gathered in front of the grain store, but the door was only a crack open. A shop assistant poked his face out and yelled irritably, "All gone! All the bran is gone! Wait until spring!" A chorus of curses erupted from the crowd, mixed with the cries of hungry children, but the sounds were quickly carried away by the wind.

In a corner, you could see a huddled figure, wrapped in a tattered burlap sack, lying motionless. It was unclear whether they were asleep or frozen solid.

Inside Qingning Palace, the charcoal brazier was not burning brightly, just emitting smoke and not very warm.

Huang Taiji, wrapped in a thick mink fur coat, sat in a chair. His face was sallow, with a bluish tinge, and he coughed frequently, his body swaying as he coughed. On the desk lay several documents, all containing bad news.

Fan Wencheng stood below with his hands hanging down, his voice low but clear: "Great Khan, all the reports from various places have arrived. In Liaoyang and Haizhou, the autumn harvest is less than 40% of what it used to be. The situation in Gaizhou is even worse; 50-60% of the bondservant aha have fled, and the cultivated land has been abandoned. As for Fuzhou Guard south of Gaizhou... it has not yet been recovered."

Huang Taiji didn't speak, but picked up another document. It was sent by Oba of the Khorchin Mongols, also requesting grain.

“That old codger Obama,” Huang Taiji said in a hoarse voice, throwing the document back on the table, “has a skin thicker than the Great Wall. He didn’t put in any effort when we were fighting the Ming Dynasty, and now he has the nerve to come begging for food… But we don’t even have rice in our own pots, so how can we help him?”

The palace gates were flung open with a bang, and Mangultai stormed in, bringing with him a chill; his beard and eyebrows were covered in frost. "Great Khan! We can't just sit here any longer! The bannermen are starving and eating straw mats! We have to find a way!"

Dai Shan followed behind him, his face grim. He sighed and said, "A solution? Go rob the Ming Dynasty again? It seems like we can't rob them anymore..."

"It's better to die in battle than to starve!" Mangultai glared. "If we can't take the Ming Dynasty, aren't there plenty of fat sheep nearby?"

Huang Taiji raised his eyelids, his gaze sweeping across the faces of the group before finally settling on Fan Wencheng: "Mr. Fan, what do you have to say?"

Fan Wencheng stepped forward, bowed, and said, “Great Khan, gentlemen, the Ming Dynasty has just won a victory and its morale is high. If we were to engage in a direct confrontation now, it would likely be a losing proposition. However,” he changed the subject, pointing eastward, “the eastern Korea has already been decimated by us. Pyongyang and Seoul are now ours, and they are only clinging to life with a few thousand Ming reinforcements. Yet, Korea still has millions of people.”

They're trying to rob North Korea? They're squeezing a soft target to death!

The group of Manchu bandits in the main hall all turned their gazes toward their Khan.

"Yes!" Huang Taiji's voice was hoarse, yet filled with a fierce determination. "The way out is not in the west, but in the east! In Korea!"

He turned to Mangultai and Daishan, speaking rapidly like popping beans: "The Ming Dynasty is too tough a bone to chew on for now! Let's find something softer! Although the Korean sheep isn't very fat, a few good cuts will be enough to feed us through the winter!"

Huang Taiji clenched his fist and said, "This time we're going to do something big... send 50,000 troops, no, 100,000, and rob them all!"

Dai Shan frowned: "Your Majesty, this is almost the entire force that has come out; Shenyang is practically empty..."

"What's there to be afraid of?" Huang Taiji waved his hand. "Winter is coming soon! Once the Liaodong Bay freezes over, the Ming Dynasty's navy won't be able to get through! The land routes will be blocked by heavy snow, and Mao Wenlong and Huang Degong won't be able to set out until March next year! By the time they can move, we'll have already looted everything and brought it back!"

He walked to the map and pointed heavily at the location of North Korea.

"Mangurtai!"

"Here!" Mangultai's spirits lifted.

"Go back to Seoul first, gather our troops in Seoul and Pyongyang, and plunder the surrounding areas. That way, when our main army arrives, they'll have plenty to eat. Once they're full... then we can go deep into the heart of Korea and start looting!"

"Whoo!"

"Ajige! Dorgon!"

The two leaders of the two white flags stepped forward.

"You two each lead your elite cavalry ahead. After you've had your fill in Seoul, head south and east, and fight to the death any Korean soldiers you encounter! Don't let them stick together!"

"Whoo!"

Huang Taiji took a deep breath: "I will personally lead the central army and depart shortly! This eastern expedition has three objectives!" He held up three fingers: "Five hundred thousand shi of grain! One hundred thousand able-bodied men! One hundred thousand women! If we don't seize enough, we will not be allowed to return!"

He looked at Daishan and Fan Wencheng: "You two stay in Shenyang. Suppress the local situation and take good care of your hometown. Just wait to eat North Korean rice."

……

A few days later, outside Shenyang city.

The north wind whipped up snowflakes, stinging people's faces. The world was already a blur of white.

Tens of thousands of Manchu soldiers and their bondsers lined up in the freezing snow. The ranks were silent; no one made a sound. The soldiers' faces were blue with cold, their lips were chapped, and their stomachs were growling with hunger. But their hands gripped their swords and spears tightly, and their eyes gleamed with ferocity, making them look like hungry wolves.

Their armor was worn, but they had tried their best to repair it. The flags were also a bit torn, but they fluttered in the wind.

This was an army driven to the brink of starvation. Huang Taiji rode a tall horse, dressed in simple, worn-out military uniform, without any fine clothes. He reined in his horse and rode to the front of the column, looking at the faces of those who were starving and fierce.

The cold wind carried his voice far away.

“The sons of the Eight Banners!” he said, his voice drowning out the wind.

A slight commotion arose within the team.

"Are you cold?" he asked.

No one answered; only the wind howled.

"Are you hungry?" he asked again.

A heavy panting sound filled the team, like the low howling of hungry wolves.

"I know you're cold! I know you're hungry!" Huang Taiji's voice suddenly rose, hoarse. "The bondservants have run away! The crops have failed! The children are crying from hunger! The winter ahead is going to be tough!"

These words struck a nerve with everyone. Suppressed sobs and curses erupted from the team.

"But we are warriors of the Great Jin!" Huang Taiji drew his saber with a "whoosh," the gleaming blade pointing eastward. "The knife in our hands is not a fire poker! Our way out is not in Shenyang, not in Liaodong! It's over there! In Korea!"

"The Joseon Dynasty of Korea has been weak for a century! Its granaries are full of grain, and its cities are teeming with people! Those things should rightfully be ours! Let's go and take them back now!"

He surveyed the crowd, his voice laced with seduction: "Anyone afraid of the Ming Dynasty? What a joke! Emperor Chongzhen should be the one with a headache now! Shaanxi is suffering from drought, Shanxi is suffering from drought, Henan is suffering from drought! He's short of food for tens of millions of people! Who can he possibly rob? He can only watch helplessly as his people resort to cannibalism! Watch as his people rise up in rebellion."

"And what about us?" Huang Taiji's voice turned extremely cold. "We are few in number, and what we lack is enough food for a hundred thousand people! Korea has millions of people. If three or five Koreans starve to death, it's worth it to save one of our bannermen!"

"The stolen grain will feed our children! The stolen people will help us farm! The stolen women will give us children! As long as we survive, the Great Jin Dynasty will not perish!"

"Once we've eaten our fill and rested our spirits, we'll come back next spring!" He turned his blade and pointed southwest, towards Shanhaiguan, "and then we'll go after the Ming Dynasty and settle accounts slowly!"

"Let's go!" Huang Taiji roared with all his might, "To survive, head east!"

"Ow"

Tens of thousands of people erupted like a long-suppressed volcano, unleashing a deafening roar. It wasn't cheering; it was the howl of hungry beasts. Swords and spears were raised, their cold glint blinding in the pale sunlight.

The army set off.

Horse hooves crushed the snow, and wheels rolled over the frozen ground. A torrent of tens of thousands of people surged silently eastward, carrying the scent of death.

Huang Taiji stood on the high slope, watching the departing procession, and then looked back at the city of Shenyang, which was becoming blurred in the wind and snow.

"Chongzhen..." he muttered to himself, a cold smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, "You can guard your glorious empire and millions of starving people and slowly wait to die. I, Huang Taiji, will lead my people and fight our way out."

The snowstorm intensified, quickly burying the entire column of vehicles. Only countless chaotic cart tracks and hoofprints remained, relentlessly pointing eastward, towards Korea.

Inside the West Warm Pavilion of the Qianqing Palace, the underfloor heating kept it warm, creating a world apart from the icy, snowy landscape outside.

Emperor Chongzhen, dressed in casual clothes, sat on a kang (a heated brick bed), with several memorials spread out on the table in front of him. Grand Secretary Huang Lijie, Grand Secretary Sun Chuanting, General Wang Zaijin, newly appointed Vice Minister of War Yang Sichang, Minister of Revenue Bi Ziyan, Minister of Works Li Congxin, and others sat on either side of him, all with solemn expressions.

The discussion was not about important military or national affairs, but about the funds for the renovation of the Deling Mausoleum.

“Your Majesty,” Bi Ziyan said, his brows furrowed and his voice bitter, “Emperor Tianqi’s mausoleum must be repaired. But now… the disaster relief in Shaanxi and the shortfall in the Liaodong military pay are both urgent matters. The national treasury simply cannot spare any more funds.”

Li Congxin chimed in, "What Minister Bi says is quite right. Moreover, this year the weather is freezing cold, and many craftsmen from the vicinity of the capital have been hired to build fortresses in various places, so manpower is very tight..."

There are two main difficulties in building a tomb and mausoleum for Emperor Tianqi: no money and no manpower.
Emperor Chongzhen's fingers tapped lightly on the memorial, ignoring Bi Ziyan and Li Congxin. His gaze swept over the crowd, finally settling on Huang Liji. "The late emperor's mausoleum was destroyed by the Jurchens," he paused, making no mention of whose fault it was. "The silver will come from the imperial treasury. As for the craftsmen, the Ministry of Works will recruit them properly from the disaster-stricken areas of Shanxi, Shaanxi, and Henan. Their wages... will be generously paid. Also, tell them that there's a massive construction project in Beizhili now, and there's endless work to be done!"

When Chongzhen said he wanted to "carry out large-scale construction projects", several ministers were stunned. Now that there were both wars and natural disasters, why did the emperor still want to carry out large-scale construction projects?
Fang Zhenghua, the Grand Eunuch of the Directorate of Ceremonial, walked in with light and quick steps, holding a sealed urgent report in his hand. He went straight to Chongzhen's side and whispered, "Your Majesty, this is a secret report from the Directorate of Ceremonial, sent by the Regent of Korea through the 600-li express courier from Ganghwa Island by Governor Yuan (Yuan Keli).

The warm pavilion fell silent instantly. All eyes were fixed on the examination paper.

Emperor Chongzhen remained expressionless as he took the petition, removed the sealing wax, and quickly skimmed through it. His gaze moved across the paper, his brows furrowing slightly, but his face showed no sign of panic.

After a moment, he put down the question book, raised his eyes, and slowly swept his gaze over the ministers who were holding their breath in concentration. His voice remained steady:

"Huang Taiji mobilized his entire force and fled to North Korea."

(End of this chapter)