Chapter 103: Past Events Part Two

Chapter 103: The Past, Part Two

The Grand Empress Dowager both agreed with Zhu Qizhen’s reasoning and felt that the matter carried great risk.

At present, the Ming Dynasty’s ability to dispatch large forces beyond the frontier was waning due to issues with the horse administration and the garrison system. Mobilizing a large army for the sake of rescuing mere dozens of men was questionable—beyond whether they could even be found in the vast grasslands. Even if found, should the Oirat tribes muster forces to besiege them, the loss of such elite troops on the steppe would leave the nine border defenses dangerously exposed.

For the sake of caution, this undertaking was absolutely forbidden.

Yet, Zhu Qizhen’s argument held merit.

People influence one another. Before the Grand Empress Dowager, Zhu Qizhen persistently emphasized the threat posed by the Oirat. In the Palace of Heavenly Purity, he hung a map marking the vast region beyond the nine border defenses—from Liaodong to the Western Regions—as a blank expanse labeled “Oirat.” The Grand Empress Dowager, upon viewing it, was deeply unsettled.

Though the map’s scale was somewhat imprecise, it was clear that the Oirat territory rivaled that of the Ming.

Thus, the Grand Empress Dowager was unwilling to show weakness before the Oirat.

At last, Zhu Qizhen devised his first military operation.

He ordered Ma Shun and the Embroidered Uniform Guard to confirm the whereabouts of A’dai Khan and instructed Li Dachuan to select over three hundred skilled horsemen from the capital garrison.

From Beijing to the northwest, Jiang Gui also dispatched his adopted son as a guide. After three months of preparation, they crossed the desert, attacking and killing A’dai Khan.

The Oirat detected A’dai Khan’s presence, but Li Dachuan and his men extracted him from their grasp like teeth from a tiger’s mouth. This enraged Dolgun, who ordered a triple encirclement. Li Dachuan led his troops to break through the siege.

The Oirat soldiers, mostly cavalry including heavily armored elite riders, were formidable defenders but not unbeatable. This clash revealed that the Ming’s elite troops, handpicked from hundreds of miles away, were truly exceptional.

They retreated over three hundred li southward.

The Datong military commander, Guan Zheng, led several thousand cavalry to provide support. Seeing this, the Oirat abandoned pursuit, claiming they had come to escort the imperial forces through the desert and returned the captured prisoners one by one.

Still, only a little over a hundred horsemen returned with Li Dachuan, suffering over fifty percent casualties, and all for the head of A’dai Khan.

This had all occurred that very spring.

The entire court, civil and military alike, praised the operation highly, and even the Grand Empress Dowager acknowledged Li Dachuan as a capable general.

Yet Zhu Qizhen felt somewhat disheartened.

Was it worth sacrificing a hundred and fifty elite cavalrymen for a single head?

Those who died were not only those lost on the steppe; many Embroidered Uniform Guards stationed as scouts since the tenth year of the Xuande reign vanished after the Oirat discovered their entire line. Their fate was clear without needing to be said.

Still, Zhu Qizhen suppressed his melancholy. He incorporated the surviving hundred-plus men into the Palace of Heavenly Purity’s guards, expanding the unit to three hundred.

For years, Zhu Qizhen had practiced mounted archery daily. Naturally, these guards followed him closely.

Even some sons of dukes and marquises who could not endure the hardships were expelled.

Most of the nobility were second-generation military families, with fathers who commanded troops in battle. They had no tolerance for those who fled at the last moment. Especially since even the emperor himself persevered, how could they, who considered themselves superior, fail to endure?

Those who faltered were harshly whipped upon return, except in cases like Zhang Zhong, who suffered from congenital illness—an unavoidable circumstance.

Everyone else had to hold fast.

Thus, this three hundred-strong cavalry unit, while not the absolute elite of the Ming military, was certainly above average.

Unconsciously, Zhu Qizhen had gathered the loyalty of a large number of nobles.

This time, the hunt at Nanhai Pond carried strong political overtones.

Zhu Qizhen did not come alone but led a massive force of over ten thousand horsemen, including nobles with their personal retainers and officers of various ranks. While middle-ranking officers could not command personal troops, they were allowed to bring their sons.

The entire Nanhai Pond was guarded by the Imperial Guards.

In fact, this event was a direct continuation of Li Dachuan’s killing of A’dai Khan.

The Grand Empress Dowager sought to use this display to show the world that the emperor had grown up.

Zhu Qizhen wiped the sweat from his brow, looking at the endless red walls of Nanhai Pond and then at the long, orderly procession behind him. Though numbering over ten thousand, under the Embroidered Uniform Guard’s organization, there was no disorder.

“Let’s go,” Zhu Qizhen said.

“Proceed!” came the command, and Zhu Qizhen, accompanied by three hundred bodyguards, entered Nanhai Pond.

Upon arrival, he did not immediately begin the hunt but rested first. The formal hunt would commence the next day.

Nobles and civil officials alike were likewise arranged.

The Xuanzong emperor had once held several hunts here, but it had been years since such grandeur was seen. Nobles were eager to compete for glory before the emperor.

While Zhu Qizhen rested, Wang Zhen was busy attending to every detail, unwilling to slack even slightly.

Wang Zhen was indispensable to Zhu Qizhen.

Having cared for him since youth, Wang Zhen knew him better than he knew himself. After Zhu Qizhen replaced Wang Zhen’s role with Ruan An, he always felt uneasy.

The reason was simple: Ruan An was too honest.

The eunuchs of the Directorate of Ceremonial were crafty and overbearing—too much power was dangerous—but having no guile or subtlety was equally problematic. The emperor could not be pitted against the Grand Secretariat in a contest of wills.

Wang Zhen understood precisely what to do without being told, striking the perfect balance.

Ruan An, however, required explicit orders from Zhu Qizhen and followed them to the letter, like a blueprint—no more, no less.

This was perhaps Ruan An’s nature, which made him suitable for overseeing the construction of Beijing but not the Directorate of Ceremonial.

Thus, Zhu Qizhen secretly recalled Wang Zhen.

At first, Wang Zhen merely served close by, but gradually regained control over the Directorate.

Wang Zhen seemed to have learned from past mistakes. When Zhu Qizhen had Jin Ying investigate, it was found that Wang Zhen had never engaged in any corrupt dealings—he had not pocketed a single coin.

Seeing this, Zhu Qizhen granted Wang Zhen a residence in the capital along with generous gifts of gold and silver as compensation.

Recently, Wang Li’s timely intelligence had led to the deployment of Datong troops beyond the frontier, earning him merit.

He had already been appointed a commander within the Embroidered Uniform Guard.

Zhu Qizhen had decided to send Wang Li to Xin’an to establish a new military command there, a reward for his service.

After Zhu Qizhen designated Xin’an, it became an important gateway connecting the South Seas. The civilian developments matched Zhu Qizhen’s predictions.

Although strict regulations required overseas travelers to hold Ming household registration—only those registered in ports like Jiugang and Wansheng Shitangyu could engage in maritime trade—this was not a problem for many merchants.

After all, Jiugang was entirely controlled by the Shi family. Zhu Qizhen had appointed Shi Chang’an as the pacification commissioner of Jiugang precisely to restrain the many pirates who had tried to seize their holdings.

Those pirates and merchants who assisted were all rewarded; obtaining household registration in Jiugang was merely a matter of paper and pen.

Even some powerful individuals within Ming borders had no difficulty forging such documents.

Consequently, Xin’an flourished rapidly, earning the nickname “Little Guangzhou.”

After Li Shimian became magistrate of Xin’an, he took his duties seriously, personally overseeing the tax system’s establishment.

Especially after discovering the merchants’ immense wealth, he imposed taxes without mercy. Xin’an quickly became the wealthiest county in Guangzhou, surpassing even the two surrounding counties.

The only issue was its unfriendliness toward foreigners. After all, Zhu Qizhen’s pretext was supporting Ming citizens overseas, so while household registrations could be falsified, it was unreasonable to expect those claiming to be Ming people not to speak Chinese.

How else could they claim to be Chinese?

The “Three Yangs” regarded Xin’an with renewed interest, and Yang Rong even submitted a memorial proposing a similar opening in Fujian, his home province. Such advocacy for one’s hometown was common in this era.

Thus, Xin’an became a mixed and unruly place. Zhu Qizhen sought to strengthen control over it, using it as a foothold to extend influence overseas. Sending Wang Li there was also a chance for him to prove himself.

Whether he could succeed remained to be seen. Wang Li had many competent men sent by Wang Zhen, and Ma Shun was watching over from above. If even then he could not accomplish the task, his life would amount to nothing more than aimless survival.