How can one be Emperor Chongzhen without money?

Chapter 233 Everything is for the sake of the survival of the people of my Great Ming Dynasty.
In October of the fourth year of the Tiancong reign, it was already early winter.

Guihua City, located beyond the Great Wall, is called Kukuhetun by the Mongols. It is currently occupied by the Later Jin and has become the residence of Abatai, the general appointed by the emperor.

Inside the general's mansion, the charcoal brazier crackled and popped, but the temperature remained low. Abatai wrapped his fur coat tighter around himself, still feeling a chill. He took a large gulp of mare's milk wine, his face grim, before finally feeling a little warmer.

"That treacherous dog Sun Chuanting!" Abatai's voice boomed so loudly that dust fell from the rafters. "While the Khan was leading the main force to seize food in Korea, he dared to barge into our territory in the middle of snow! And... and he even launched a sneak attack! Huangshabao is lost, and the next target is Tumed River! But I only have a thousand or so of my own men, along with several thousand of those opportunists from the Khorchin and Horqin tribes. How am I supposed to fight this battle?"

Perhaps because Sun Chuanting's chariot formation had left such a deep impression on the Later Jin army last time, the generals and commanders of Kuku and Tun assumed that Sun Chuanting would be steady and methodical in his campaign. However, this time, the man launched a surprise attack on a snowy night!

He glanced around at the people seated. To his left was Zhenwu Nag, a Mongol sergeant from the Plain White Banner, his old face wrinkled, his eyes narrowed and silent. To his right was a Han Chinese, wearing a silk-lined fur coat, none other than Fan Yongdou—because of the long-standing activity of Shanxi merchants in the Tumote River region, he had been sent to Kukuhetun, which borders Xuanda, to serve as an advisor to Abatai before Huang Taiji's large-scale inward advance.

"Wunage! Are you mute?" Abatai roared irritably.

Wu Nag raised his eyelids slightly and replied in a hoarse voice, "General, the Ming army's intentions this time are not good. They are using the banner of that 'Loyal and Righteous King' Altan Chechen, who is a legitimate descendant of the Golden Family. That's what the grasslands recognize. If they really establish a foothold in Tumochuan, the remnants of the Chahan tribe and the Grand Princess Nangnang who is watching the winds from the Hetao region might all rush over. At that time, we will truly be all alone in southern Mongolia."

Abatai spat out, "What 'orthodox' nonsense! Huduntu was a complete idiot, leaving behind a widow with a nursing baby, who knows where this bastard came from!" He gritted his teeth and said, "That Huduntu had eight wives and none of them could conceive, but this Sutai was taken to see Chongzhen and had a son. Isn't that suspicious?"

Wu Nag and Fan Yongdou both shook their heads—what's suspicious about this? Not at all!
"General, Emperor Chongzhen is quite good to Hu Dun Tu Han's son!" Fan Yongdou said slowly. "He not only sent troops to escort the mother and son back to the grasslands, but also granted them the title of Prince of the Ming Dynasty! Moreover, the large sum of reward he gave them was said to have come from the imperial treasury! Do you know why?"

Abatai snorted: "Isn't that obvious?"

"Your Highness is wise!" Fan Yongdou laughed. "Emperor Chongzhen's actions were far from simple. His seizure of Tumotechuan was not merely to deal with us."

"Huh?" Abatai glanced at him sideways, looking completely confused.

“General, think about it,” Fan Yongdou leaned forward slightly, “the Tumote River has good water and grass, and a large area. In the past, Han people farmed here, so it has a foundation. If the Ming Dynasty occupies this place, builds up the land, and raises 20,000 to 30,000 soldiers, it might be able to be self-sufficient.”

He paused for a moment, watching Abatai's expression gradually turn serious, and then said, "If this matter succeeds, the pressure on the Ming Dynasty's border troops in Shaanxi and Shanxi will be much less. Why? Because they will no longer have to keep a close watch on the northern border against the Mongols! At that time, Chongzhen will be able to transfer those capable Western Army troops to Liaodong and the capital in waves! We will be facing a force that is not what we have now."

Abatai's brows furrowed into a knot.

Fan Yongdou added fuel to the fire: "Even more crucial is food. The northwest of the Ming Dynasty is suffering from a severe drought this year. I've heard that people in northern Shaanxi are even resorting to cannibalism! Why is there chaos? Because there's no food! Moreover, to defend against the Mongols, the Ming Dynasty has established too many military garrisons in the northwest, resulting in a large number of soldiers requiring provisions. Relying on the land reclamation in those harsh, cold regions is simply not enough. We must rely on the civilian grain transport from Shaanxi for relief. But in recent years, Shaanxi has become drier year by year... This year, northern Shaanxi has suffered a complete crop failure. Where will the surplus grain be to be transported to the military garrisons? But can we stop the civilian grain transport? Obviously, we can't stop!"

If we stop, the northwestern border troops will rebel! If we don't stop, the people of Shaanxi will rebel! So the only way out is to transfer more than half of the northwestern border troops away. The Tumed River and Chahan tribes are the key to whether the Ming Dynasty's northwestern border troops can be transferred away, and also the key to whether Chongzhen can clean up the mess in the northwest..."

He concluded ominously, "Therefore, we cannot afford to lose the Tumote River. Losing it would be helping Chongzhen out of a predicament and extending his life!"

Abatai gasped and stood up abruptly: "So, according to you, this battle is unavoidable, and we have to win! But... can we win?"

Wu Nag replied, "We can win. In this snowy weather, the Ming army's firearms are powerful, but in this awful weather, the matchlock is hard to ignite, and the gunpowder is easily dampened. Our advantage is that we are familiar with the terrain, and... we have more people."

When he said "many people," he was referring to the Mongol tribes that were dependent on them.

Abatai immediately understood how to fight this battle, and a fierce glint appeared in his eyes: "Good! Then let's fight! Wunage, go and urge the Ordos tribe and those Tumed people who haven't completely fled to come here as the vanguard! Use their lives to fill the Ming army's guns and cannons!"

He turned to Fan Yongdou: "Mr. Fan, you have many connections, keep a close eye on Sun Chuanting!"

"Rest assured, General." Fan Yongdou bowed and accepted the order.

Abatai said fiercely, "Sun Chuanting, I'll meet you right here in the snow! And that little bastard, I'll take care of him too!"

……

Even in Beijing, a thousand miles away, this early winter is just as cold.

But in the West Warm Pavilion of the Qianqing Palace in the Forbidden City, the floor heating was warm, the doors and windows were tightly closed, and incense was wafting in the air.

Emperor Chongzhen sat upright on a heated couch, with Grand Secretary Huang Lijie sitting opposite him, flanked by Assistant Grand Secretaries Sun Chengzong and Yang Sichang, and below them were Minister of War Wang Zaijin and Minister of Revenue Bi Ziyan. None of the ministers wore smiles.

"You've all seen Sun Chuanting's military report," Emperor Chongzhen began, his voice steady. "Huangshabao has fallen, and our forces are poised to advance directly towards the Tumote Plain. This matter in southern Mongolia is of great importance; let's all discuss it." The experienced and prudent Sun Chengzong spoke first: "Your Majesty, southern Mongolia is bitterly cold. With such a large-scale expedition, our supply lines are stretched too thin. Although Abatai's forces are small, they may become desperate; we must be wary. We should strictly order Sun Chuanting and Yuan Chonghuan of Datong to proceed cautiously and steadily, prioritizing the pacification of the Mongols, and absolutely not to be greedy for quick success or act rashly."

Wang Zaijin shook his head and said, "Military tactics are not fixed, just as water has no fixed shape. Whether or not we should proceed cautiously is Sun Baigu's own decision, and the central government should give him full trust."

Yang Sichang, who understood Chongzhen's thoughts best, immediately cupped his hands and said, "Your Majesty, I have done the calculations. If we obtain the Tumote River and successfully cultivate the land, the pressure on the border towns of Shaanxi and Shanxi will be greatly reduced. If the border troops can be transferred eastward, Shaanxi and Shanxi will no longer need to transport grain from the people, and the famine may be alleviated. Moreover, the Tumote River has fertile water and grass, which should be able to resettle many refugees and quell internal strife. This is a key step in Your Majesty's 'war as a form of relief' strategy. Although this war is risky, it is worth the gamble!"

When he mentioned the famine in Shaanxi, Bi Ziyan, the Minister of Revenue, looked even more distressed.

“Your Majesty, Minister Yang is considering long-term benefits, but this old minister… this old minister is speaking of the most urgent matter at hand!” Bi Ziyan’s voice trembled. “The urgent dispatch from Shaanxi, six hundred li away, has come from a place where there has been no rain in northern Shaanxi in August, and the autumn harvest… has been completely lost! Now, starving people are blocking the roads, even resorting to cannibalism… If no more grain is sent for relief, a peasant uprising is imminent! If the Northwest descends into chaos, the entire country will collapse!”

These words hit the warm pavilion like a heavy stone. Even Sun Chengzong and Wang Zaijin fell silent. No matter how good the strategy in southern Mongolia was, they still had to live to see the harvest. If the northwest was bombed now, everything would be over.

Emperor Chongzhen listened without showing any emotion. He picked up the warm rosewood thermos on the low table and took a small sip of goji berry tea.

"I understand what you have to say, Bi Qing." He put down his cup and glanced at everyone. "I am more anxious about the famine in the Northwest than you are about it."

He abruptly changed the subject, asking a seemingly unrelated question: "Mr. Huang, how is the relocation of the vassal kings progressing?"

Huang Lijie was taken aback, then hurriedly replied, "Your Majesty, the Prince of Qin and the Duke of Yansheng have already submitted their reports, and the Prince of Zhou, the Prince of Zhao, the Prince of De, the Prince of Lu... have all responded to the imperial edict and are packing their belongings. They will be able to enter the capital soon."

The people present exchanged glances, each wondering to themselves. The arrival of a vassal king in the capital was a good thing, but what did it have to do with the current famine in the northwest?

Seeing their puzzled expressions, Chongzhen's lips twitched slightly, as if a faint smile was about to appear.

"Do you all know why I am in such a hurry to summon them to the capital?"

No one answered.

Emperor Chongzhen slowly said, "Uncle Zhou has a good reputation in Kaifeng and is concerned about the country. I have made up my mind. When he comes to the capital, I will appoint him as Grand Master of the Imperial Clan and give him the title of Imperial Commissioner to go to Shaanxi to provide disaster relief on my behalf."

The moment these words were spoken, the warm pavilion fell into complete silence. Several ministers were stunned. Send a prince, especially a prince like the Prince of Zhou, to that perilous land littered with starving corpses to provide disaster relief? Did this conform to the "Imperial Ancestral Instructions of the Ming Dynasty," or rather, did it align with the spirit of the "Imperial Ancestral Instructions of the Ming Dynasty" established after the Jingnan Rebellion?
Ignoring their surprise, Chongzhen continued, "Uncle Zhou is of noble status. He has come to the disaster area in person, wielding my imperial sword. He can force the imperial family, officials, gentry, and wealthy households in Shaanxi and Shanxi to open their granaries and distribute grain! Anyone who dares to disobey or make excuses is defying the court, and Uncle Zhou can execute them first and report later!"

His gaze sharpened: "Having Uncle Zhou preside over this matter will firstly demonstrate the Emperor's benevolence and appease the people; secondly, it will prevent corruption and ensure that the grain truly reaches the mouths of the disaster victims. This is the only emergency solution to resolve the 'military-civilian dispute over grain' in the Northwest and quell public resentment!"

Emperor Chongzhen had considerable experience in dealing with food shortages in his previous life! Therefore, the burden he was placing on Prince Zhou was even greater than he was currently stating. However, there were some issues that were not convenient to discuss at the moment.

He paused for a moment, then concluded: "The Battle of Mobei was to snatch a bowl of rice from outside for the starving people of the Northwest of our Great Ming. The disaster relief provided by Uncle Zhou was to allow the starving people of the Northwest of our Great Ming to share a mouthful of rice from within."

Chongzhen's voice was calm and firm, echoing in the warm pavilion.

"Everything is for the sake of the people of my Great Ming Dynasty, so that they can survive."

"Eating is the most important thing."

Silence lingered in the warm pavilion for a long time. The ministers then realized that the emperor's strategy was far more ambitious and far-reaching than they had anticipated. It turned out that the move of "bringing vassal kings to the capital" had ultimately come to fruition here.

The decree was quickly drafted and sent out.

The plans in Beijing were transformed into documents, which, riding on post horses, sped towards the snow and wind of the northern frontier.

Meanwhile, Kuku and Tun's military orders were carried by fast horses to the Mongolian tribes scattered across the grasslands.

On the vast snow-covered plains of the Tumote River, the surface appeared calm, but undercurrents were already surging. Both sides had settled their plans; now, the true test would be decided with swords and blood.

The snowstorm has arrived.

(End of this chapter)