Chapter Fifty-Five: The Commander-in-Chief of Nurgan

Chapter Fifty-Five: The Nurgan Commandery

Zhu Qizhen asked, “What is it?”

Jin Ying replied, “The Nurgan Commandery.”

Zhu Qizhen echoed, “The Nurgan Commandery?” Naturally, he was familiar with it—it referred to what would later be known as Northeast China and Outer Northeast. Yet, in Zhu Qizhen’s mind, the Nurgan Commandery was nearly a formality, a nominal jurisdiction. It was little more than a means to exert loose control, with the various tribes essentially governing themselves.

Its presence was marked only on maps.

Jin Ying said, “When the Taizong Emperor was in power, ships were built at Nurgan and appointed officials were sent to govern. However, after maritime affairs in the Western Ocean were halted, these officials became redundant in Nurgan. That’s why the late emperor summoned the officials from Nurgan Commandery last year to relocate within the passes. Still, the commanders of the local garrisons remain loyal to the Ming.”

Zhu Qizhen was deeply shaken. His thoughts immediately turned to Guizhou.

In the early Ming, Guizhou was managed in much the same way. At first, only one or two cities in Guizhou belonged to the court, while the rest were governed by local chieftains.

Nurgan Commandery and Guizhou had the same beginning, but their endings differed.

“But this year, things have changed. After the Oirat crushed Arutai, they sent envoys to win over the Nurgan Commandery. Yet this isn’t a major concern—those garrisons rely on supplies from within the passes and know where their best interests lie.”

“But this year brought another change: the Jurchen suffered a severe drought.”

Zhu Qizhen asked, “A drought?”

Jin Ying replied, “Previously, the cabinet reported that the Jurchen killed a Ming envoy over the matter of the gyrfalcon. This was the main cause: the drought left the tribes unable to survive, and the eunuchs persistently demanded gyrfalcons, showing no sense of proportion.”

Zhu Qizhen, shaken from his contemplation of Ming’s tenuous control over Nurgan, recollected himself. He knew well that these local chieftains were fickle, loyal only to whoever provided for them—even Guizhou’s chieftains were so. The people in the deep mountains and forests beyond the passes were even less reliable.

How long Ming’s authority could last there was difficult to say.

Zhu Qizhen asked offhand, “Did the local authorities offer disaster relief?”

Jin Ying answered, “Officials suspected that some in Nurgan Commandery were colluding with the Oirat. If relief grain were sent, it might simply become military supplies for the Oirat.”

Zhu Qizhen understood immediately.

Not only was this possible—it was highly likely. Even in later generations, misuse of relief supplies was rampant, much more so in this era. Besides, who were the garrison commanders of Nurgan Commandery?

They were all leaders of local tribes.

These leaders treated their people as slaves—no, they truly were slaves. No matter how severe the drought, the leaders’ lives were unaffected, while the fate of the slaves was of no concern. Of course, if too many slaves died, they would feel the loss keenly, as slaves represented resources. Yet, if ample relief supplies could bring greater profit, the deaths of some slaves would not be unwelcome.

The Oirat were powerful, but Ming was not weak either.

Beyond the hidden conflicts between Toghon and Tutu Buha in the Oirat, there was a fatal economic issue: an insatiable hunger for supplies from the Central Plains.

Many tribal elites maintained the lifestyle habits inherited from the Yuan court, which required vast amounts of Ming goods.

Luxury items aside, even the daily necessities desired by ordinary herders were countless.

Take, for example, the iron pot.

Ming imposed strict economic sanctions on the steppe—no one was allowed to trade with the tribes. This was one reason the steppe tribes repeatedly invaded southward.

No matter the casualties, if they managed to seize a village or a fortress, it was a windfall. Human lives on the steppe were cheap.

There was no real boundary between Outer Northeast and the steppe.

If Northeast China had too many supplies, what would the Oirat do? The answer was obvious.

Moreover, the Nurgan Commandery was not Han. In Yang Shiqi’s mind, the deaths of some wild tribesmen were not a tragedy.

On the whole, Yang Shiqi’s approach, though cold-blooded, was not mistaken. The court’s finances were already strained, and this incident had embarrassed the court. To offer disaster relief would be to further injure its prestige—especially since even if relief was given, there would be little benefit. The court might expend money and effort only to be ridiculed as a fool.

Having thought it through, Zhu Qizhen said, “No matter what, the court’s dignity must be upheld. Even if the eunuch is guilty, it is for me to punish him—or, failing that, for Liaodong to do so. When did mere nobodies dare to kill my officials? This precedent must not be set.”

Zhu Qizhen did not know the eunuch who had gone to the Northeast to collect gyrfalcons, but he guessed the man must have been eager to curry favor. Zhu Qizhen secretly resented his lack of discretion, yet some things needed to be said.

Jin Ying replied, “Your Majesty’s care for us is deeply felt and unforgettable, but the Nurgan Commandery concerns the court’s great affairs and must not be neglected.”

“If not for the Oirat’s crushing defeat of Arutai, the deaths of a few wild tribesmen would not matter. But now the Oirat have unified the steppe and covet Nurgan Commandery. If the court sits idle and loses the Jurchen’s loyalty, the garrisons at Haisi and Jianzhou may well defect to the Oirat.”

“This matter cannot be ignored.”

Zhu Qizhen nodded in agreement.

He surmised that Yang Shiqi had considered this, but the grand strategy of the Ming had been set by Emperor Renzong long ago. In modern terms, it was a strategic contraction.

The loss of control over the Northern Desert, the abandonment of Annam, the dissolution of the Western Ocean fleet—none were grave matters. Now, it was simply a matter of relinquishing Nurgan Commandery.

Yang Shiqi likely thought that as long as Ming defended the Great Wall, whatever happened in the wild lands outside was of no consequence. Ming had no real interests in Nurgan Commandery.

Though Nurgan Commandery was vast, its contribution to the Ming treasury was less than that of a single inland county. To wage war over it was never a profitable proposition.

Moreover, the Grand Empress Dowager had already decreed the cessation of all non-urgent matters.

Was the Jurchen drought urgent or not? In the minds of many, it was clearly categorized as non-urgent.

This was not just Yang Shiqi’s opinion—it was shared by a large faction of civil officials.

Yet the world was far from peaceful.

The Oirat’s rise was meteoric, and within a few years they became the overlords of the steppe, filling the power vacuum left by Ming.

And now, should Nurgan Commandery be handed over as well?

It was easy to give up territory, but reclaiming it would be far harder.

Zhu Qizhen rose and paced, asking, “What do you propose?”

Jin Ying felt a slight relief. He had worked tirelessly behind the scenes to make a striking impression today, and having finally persuaded Zhu Qizhen, he relaxed.

He replied, “I have no solution myself, but I know of someone who does: the eunuch in charge of Liaodong, Yishaha.”

Jin Ying then gave Zhu Qizhen a detailed account of Yishaha: “Yishaha is a Jurchen, fluent in both Chinese and the Jurchen tongue. The Taizong Emperor charged him with inspecting Nurgan Commandery, recognizing its strategic importance and establishing more than a hundred garrisons. Yishaha was sent nine times to inspect Nurgan Commandery and is intimately familiar with it. Being Jurchen himself, he understands the Jurchen well.”

“This matter was also reported to me by him.”

“I ask Your Majesty to summon Yishaha to the capital to present his strategy.”

Zhu Qizhen looked at Jin Ying and sighed inwardly, admitting that Wang Zhen was no match for Jin Ying—at least in terms of the strength of his circle.

Look at Wang Zhen’s associates—Cao Jixiang couldn’t even handle minor tasks competently. Yet whom did Jin Ying recommend? Even without meeting him, Zhu Qizhen could tell from his credentials that Yishaha was formidable. Nine missions to Nurgan Commandery, and able to keep it under control—he must have both diplomatic and military skills.

He couldn’t compare to Zheng He, but among famous officials, he was not lacking.

“Approved,” Zhu Qizhen said. “Send orders for Yishaha to return to the capital.”

Jin Ying, hearing this, finally relaxed. With this achievement, he would surely secure his position at the emperor’s side.

He replied, “I obey.”