Chapter 102: The Past

Chapter 102: Past Events

“Your Majesty, we have arrived at Nanhaizi,” Wang Zhen announced, riding alongside to guide Zhu Qizhen.

By now, Zhu Qizhen had grown considerably taller—if one judged by stature alone, he was nearly the height of an adult.

It was already the fourth year of the Zhengtong era.

Since that first year of Zhengtong, Zhu Qizhen no longer entertained any fanciful ideas. Instead, he behaved obediently and refrained from action, spending each day reading memorials, practicing martial arts, and studying. In matters of state, he seemed silent, as if turning a blind eye.

Though Zhu Qizhen did nothing overtly, he had quietly established a personal intelligence network. Through the Jinyiwei—Imperial Secret Guards—officials beneath him could relay the latest developments directly to the Palace of Heavenly Purity.

The number of such officials steadily grew.

They included eunuchs, military officers, and civil servants alike.

Within the capital’s Six Ministries, Zhu Qizhen exerted little effort; there was simply no need. With the “Three Yangs” firmly in place, no intrigue could evade their watchful eyes and ears. Instead, it was in the provinces that Zhu Qizhen obtained firsthand information.

He maintained a lengthy roster.

Reports from various regions differed. For instance, Yishiha in Liaodong reported that Joseon was encroaching on Jurchen lands.

It was through such reports that Zhu Qizhen learned that, at the dawn of the Ming dynasty, the boundary between Ming and Joseon was not along the Yalu River as commonly believed. Zhu Qizhen issued secret orders to Yishiha to assist the Jurchens in suppressing Joseon.

Joseon was ambitious but cautious, and sought to keep such news from reaching Ming ears. If not for Yishiha—a veteran of Liaodong who was well aware of conditions here—this information might never have reached Beijing.

At least, in official reports and Joseon’s tributary envoys, there was no hint of these events.

Zhu Qizhen was content to feign ignorance. After all, the Jurchens were no pushovers, and neither were the Joseon people at this time. The reigning monarch of Joseon was King Sejong, later regarded as a wise and ambitious ruler by posterity.

Joseon was not yet the meek power it would become in later eras but remained formidable.

Thus, the Jurchens and Joseons clashed fiercely over the lands northeast of the Yalu River.

Yishiha operated covertly, careful not to expose his hand openly.

After all, if this matter were escalated to the court, who knew what consequences it might bring?

Another general, Fang Zheng, was now stationed in Yunnan.

Fang Zheng was a seasoned commander, known for having beheaded two hundred enemies at Datong—an achievement Zhang Xuan was aware of. There was unrest in Yunnan; local chieftains had rebelled, and the current Duke of Qian sought reinforcements. The court planned to dispatch Fang Zheng to support Yunnan.

Zhang Xuan met with the veteran general and spoke at length with him. Perhaps under the emperor’s radiant influence, the old general appeared steadfastly loyal to the court, determined to pacify the rebellious factions in Yunnan.

Zhang Xuan, following suit, assigned several Jinyiwei agents to accompany Fang Zheng.

Their purpose was twofold: to protect the general and to serve as a communication channel. Should the general encounter any issues, he could transmit them through the Jinyiwei network.

There were many other officials as well—Liu Dingzhi, Li Shimian, and even a number of graduates from the Zhengtong third year imperial examinations.

One could say Zhu Qizhen’s efforts were not meant to conceal matters from others.

At the very least, the Grand Empress Dowager was aware. Zhu Qizhen often presented matters from secret memorials to seek her counsel. The Grand Empress Dowager understood fully but patiently responded, comparing these secret reports with official memorials to discern who was lying, who was embellishing, and where information was omitted.

Officials below loved to employ euphemisms and selective reporting. Often, they only reported good news and omitted the bad, as if glossing over parts of the truth.

Faced with such circumstances, the Grand Empress Dowager advised him on when to turn a blind eye, when to investigate thoroughly, and when to feign ignorance—and to what degree.

In this way, over time, many opinions published in official memorials bore the Grand Empress Dowager’s imperial seal but were, in fact, Zhu Qizhen’s views.

Zhu Qizhen insisted that all matters be executed through the Grand Empress Dowager. The bond between grandfather and grandson remained as close as in days past.

Yet, in these years, Zhu Qizhen had not been free from conflict with the Grand Empress Dowager.

There was only one matter that sparked real disagreement: the war in the northwest.

When it came to the northwest conflict, Zhu Qizhen was filled with frustration.

This war with Adai Khan had raged since the first year of Zhengtong and had only just ended.

It was precisely because of this decisive victory that Zhu Qizhen found the mood to come to Nanhaizi for a hunt in the June heat—both to relax and to escape the summer heat.

Nanhaizi was the later Nanyuan—the site of the modern Beijing Nanyuan Airport.

It remained an imperial hunting ground, with the Yongding River flowing through and abundant reeds and wetlands. It was a fine place for hunting and a pleasant summer retreat.

The northwest war in the first year of Zhengtong had seen no progress whatsoever. Even after Jiang Gui took office, he achieved nothing, allowing Adai Khan to roam freely.

However, Yang Rong in the court defended Jiang Gui, arguing that deep freezes do not happen overnight; the northwest problem was not new. Jiang Gui had just begun his post and needed time.

No punishment was meted out to Jiang Gui in the court.

Yet by the second year of Zhengtong, Jiang Gui’s actions still failed to satisfy the court—and Zhu Qizhen most of all.

In the spring of that year, an incident occurred that left Zhu Qizhen feeling helpless.

Jiang Gui and An Jing led cavalry beyond the frontier to Yuerhaizi, where the enemy was in sight, but An Jing declared there was no route forward and immediately withdrew.

This act of refusing to engage enraged Zhu Qizhen, as well as veteran generals of the Five Armies Headquarters and civil officials of the Ministry of War.

The court and officials agreed unanimously: more senior ministers must be dispatched to the northwest.

Thus, Minister of War Wang Ji was sent out of the capital to take command in the northwest.

Upon arrival, Wang Ji’s first act was to execute An Jing to enforce military law. This sent shockwaves through the troops. Border generals trembled before Wang Ji’s authority.

Zhu Qizhen was not pleased with this development.

It set a precedent of civilian officials commanding troops, severely infringing upon the authority of the Five Armies Headquarters.

Yet within the Five Armies Headquarters, few commanders could maintain order—unless Zhang Fu were sent to govern.

Otherwise, no general dispatched could compel Jiang Gui into such obedience.

Still, Zhu Qizhen understood that the civilian faction led by the “Three Yangs” had effectively seized administrative power within the established rules.

If military power were to deepen, the imbalance between the merit-based nobility and civil officials would worsen.

Yet, after much thought, the immediate priority remained the pacification of the northwest war; other concerns would have to wait.

Wang Ji rigorously reorganized the army, purging many vacant posts and reducing the number of troops, but strengthening their overall capacity.

In the third year of Zhengtong, Jiang Gui finally secured a decisive victory over Adai Khan.

Jiang Gui led 2,500 cavalry as vanguard beyond the frontier. Upon encountering the enemy, his deputy Li An hesitated, wanting to wait for the rear troops.

Jiang Gui drew his sword and killed him, commanding the army: today there is only advance or death.

They charged nonstop for three days and nights, launching a night assault on the enemy camp, startling their horses. The Tatars were caught unmounted, fighting on foot with drawn swords.

Jiang Gui split his forces into two wings, engaging fiercely and routing the enemy.

Adai Khan fled with his forces, and Jiang Gui pursued, fighting across eighty miles. Adai Khan escaped with a few dozen riders.

This battle shattered Adai Khan’s main force.

It was the moment Jiang Gui’s true prowess emerged—aging yet formidable.

However, the quarrel between Zhu Qizhen and the Grand Empress Dowager arose after this victory.

Many felt it was time to cease hostilities.

After all, on the steppes, the Waasal were also pursuing Adai Khan. With Adai Khan forced to flee north, it was thought the Waasal would not spare him.

But Zhu Qizhen believed the matter required complete eradication—not merely for Adai Khan’s sake, for in his eyes, Adai Khan was already as good as dead.

The difference lay in how he would die.

If any Mongol leader dared to raid the border and then flee unscathed, how could Ming’s deterrent power stand?

Though Adai Khan had now taken refuge in Waasal territory, continuing the pursuit might provoke misunderstanding with the Waasal.

Yet if the Ming halted now, the Waasal would hold Ming in high regard.