Chapter 84: Chen Huai

Chapter 84: Chen Huai

Jiang Gui’s return to the capital from the southwest would take some time. Yet before that, Zhu Qizhen needed to make thorough inquiries regarding Jiang Gui’s background.

Jiang Gui was born in the fourth year of the Hongwu era. His grandfather, Jiang Congdao, joined the ranks when the founding emperor took up arms. His father, Jiang Ke, served as a company commander in the Zhangzhou Garrison from the second year of Hongwu and settled his family there. In the twenty-seventh year of Hongwu, Jiang Gui inherited his father’s position. He was later transferred to the capital’s garrison, under the Divine Strategy Guards. At the end of the Hongwu reign, when troops were mobilized to campaign against the Mongols, Jiang Gui was assigned to the Yanshan Garrison.

When the Yongle Emperor rose in the Jingnan campaign, Jiang Gui joined the expedition and was appointed as a Vice Commander of the Changguo Garrison. He later followed Zhang Fu on the campaign against Annam, and again accompanied the Yongle Emperor on his northern expeditions. Afterwards, he served as Assistant Chief Commander of the Pengcheng Garrison. When Songpan rebelled, Jiang Gui assisted General Chen Huai in quelling the uprising.

Seeing the name General Chen Huai, Zhu Qizhen’s mind flashed with recognition. He had seen this man before at court, where, due to some fault, he had been stripped of his post and ordered into idle retirement within the capital. However, despite being retired, his rank and salary remained. For many grand court ceremonies, his presence was still required.

Zhu Qizhen had taken note of him. Yet he could not help but regret that, once more, he was dealing with a veteran general.

Once Jiang Gui was dispatched to Songpan, he had remained there for nearly a decade, guarding the region and rendering great service.

After reviewing Jiang Gui’s record, Zhu Qizhen felt considerably reassured. At the very least, the consensus among officials was that Jiang Gui was indeed a suitable choice to pacify the northwest, and not without reason.

At least, upon reading Jiang Gui’s career, Zhu Qizhen felt more at ease. The only concern was Jiang Gui’s health; born in the fourth year of Hongwu, he was now over sixty. After so many years of garrison duty, could his body still endure? This troubled Zhu Qizhen deeply.

He pondered a moment and asked Shi Jing, “Are there any members of the Jiang family among the palace guards?”

Shi Jing was momentarily taken aback, trying to discern which Jiang family was meant. In truth, only those who held titles were referred to as “such-and-such family” at court; otherwise, there were countless Jiangs in the empire. Though Jiang Gui’s record was distinguished, he had always lacked a measure of luck in his military career.

Now, even though he was a chief commander with the title of “General Who Pacifies the Barbarians,” he had not been ennobled. Perhaps, after the northwest campaign, he would finally be granted a title.

Shi Jing, always close to Zhang Xuan and well-versed in government affairs, quickly realized Zhu Qizhen was referring to Jiang Gui.

Shi Jing replied, “There are none. Jiang Gui has but one son, who is frail and often ill, and has lived in convalescence in Jiangyin for many years. Jiang Gui’s only companion is his adopted son, Jiang Wan. Other than that, there are no members of the Jiang family in the capital.”

Though Shi Jing managed only a few dozen men, among them were scions of many noble families. Over time, Shi Jing’s web of information became quite extensive; at the very least, he was well informed about the domestic affairs of the gentry.

Zhu Qizhen frowned in silence.

After all, what can be gleaned from papers always feels somewhat stiff and lifeless. Jiang Gui would still take some time to arrive in the capital, and Zhu Qizhen wanted to know more about the people around him to gauge his character.

It was unexpected that Jiang Gui’s family had remained in Jiangyin. Presumably, when he was transferred to the Nanjing Divine Strategy Guards, he had brought his family from Zhangzhou to Nanjing as well.

Seeing Zhu Qizhen’s frown, Shi Jing ventured cautiously, “If Your Majesty wishes to find someone acquainted with General Jiang, perhaps you might summon Old General Chen.”

Zhu Qizhen knew that the Marquis of Pingxiang was Chen Huai.

After some consideration, Zhu Qizhen instructed, “Bring Chen Huai’s dossier.”

Although Zhu Qizhen had many criticisms of the Embroidered Uniform Guard’s intelligence network, especially its total lack of foreign intelligence—regarding the Oirat, Korea, Vietnam, Japan, Hami, and the southern seas, they had no presence at all, and their famed authority was only effective within Ming territory. Even within the empire, their response to the northwest was sluggish, only improving after Zhu Qizhen’s reprimands.

Yet the Embroidered Uniform Guard and the Eastern Depot were not wholly without merit. At the very least, their oversight of officials was thorough. Any official Zhu Qizhen could name was documented in their archives, often more thoroughly than in the Ministry of Personnel.

This was only natural, since the Ministry had spies from the Embroidered Uniform Guard. In fact, the original basis of these files came from the Ministry, with the Guard then conducting further investigations for verification, resulting in even greater detail.

In just a short while, Chen Huai’s dossier was placed before Zhu Qizhen.

Reading through the Marquis of Pingxiang’s record, Zhu Qizhen could not help but smile wryly. “Another veteran, and a general whose strengths and weaknesses are equally pronounced.”

Was Chen Huai a capable commander? Undoubtedly so. It was he who had pacified Songpan, wielding ruthless methods that terrified the tusi of the region. In battle, casualties—whether from death or falling from cliffs—were innumerable. His ferocity was such that the local chieftains still frightened their children into silence with his name.

Yet during his tenure at Songpan, he was far from a model subordinate. He withheld reports of his subordinates’ merits, abused his men, interfered with local administration, and acted with blatant disregard for propriety.

Even after Songpan’s rebellion was quelled in the third year of Xuande, more unrest erupted in the fifth year, for which Chen Huai was partly responsible.

This explained why, despite his achievements rivaling Jiang Gui’s, he had been relegated to idle retirement in the capital.

Zhu Qizhen thought to himself, “Chen Huai is a man suited for external campaigns, not for internal administration.” With his temperament, he was well suited to lead troops into battle, perhaps even excelling, but ill-suited to govern a region.

As for the war in the northwest, if the task was simply to mount a punitive expedition beyond the border, perhaps Chen Huai would suffice. Yet, from Yang Rong’s words, Zhu Qizhen had discerned another mission for Jiang Gui: to reform military affairs in the northwest.

Thus, Chen Huai was not the man for the job.

Nevertheless, Chen Huai was still a pillar of the Ming, a man of military talent. Meeting him would not be amiss.

After reviewing the file, Zhu Qizhen ordered that Chen Huai be summoned.

Within half an hour, an aging general appeared, kneeling and proclaiming, “Your servant, Left Commander Chen Huai, pays homage to Your Majesty. Long live the Emperor!”

Zhu Qizhen said, “Rise, General.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Chen Huai replied.

Upon seeing him, Zhu Qizhen realized that Chen Huai was somewhat younger than Jiang Gui, appearing to be in his forties. This immediately piqued Zhu Qizhen’s interest.

He had assumed, from the fact that Jiang Gui had served under Chen Huai in the Songpan campaign, that Chen Huai too was an old veteran, but now he saw his assumption had been mistaken.

Such things were easily explained; sometimes, misfortune in timing was simply unavoidable. Not everyone who is older occupies a higher position.

Jiang Gui’s age meant that, as a veteran, he would be useful for perhaps another decade, but Chen Huai, being younger, could serve another twenty years or so—still in his prime.

Though perhaps not exceptionally talented in administration, he was at least a formidable field commander.

Zhu Qizhen’s attitude toward Chen Huai softened; perhaps, in time, Chen Huai would become his right-hand man. Would it not be wise to treat him well? He immediately ordered, “Bring a seat.”

Chen Huai, unceremonious, thanked him and sat down solidly. He immediately asked, “Your Majesty, have you summoned your servant because of the northwest campaign? I am ready to serve the court—those petty rebels in the northwest, should I be sent, will be utterly eradicated. Not one man or horse shall be left.”

Zhu Qizhen was unsure whether to commend Chen Huai’s loyalty or lament his lack of political sensitivity.

At present, any official with a modicum of political acumen knew that all major decisions were made by the Empress Dowager, not the Emperor.

Yet Chen Huai, upon arrival, immediately petitioned Zhu Qizhen for command.

Unbeknownst to Zhu Qizhen, this was simply Chen Huai’s nature—he was not a cautious man. His rapid rise was due to his hereditary position as Deputy Commander of the Zhenning Garrison.

Thus, in over twenty years of the Yongle reign, he had advanced to the rank of general officer, while Jiang Gui, whose hereditary post was only that of company commander, had not reached the same rank until age sixty, when Chen Huai had done so at thirty.

Was Jiang Gui any less capable? Not at all; it was merely the difference in hereditary rank.

This was yet another flaw in the garrison system: without hereditary posts, true talent had little chance to emerge.

Zhu Qizhen said, “The court has already decided—Jiang Gui will be appointed General Who Conquers the West and placed in overall command. I have not yet met General Jiang. Today I have summoned you, General Chen, because I heard that General Jiang once served under your command, and I wish to ask your opinion of his abilities.”

Chen Huai replied, “Jiang Gui is adept at pacifying the people, but his temperament is too mild; he lacks the decisiveness in killing and judgment that I possess.”

“In my opinion, sending Jiang Gui to campaign is less desirable than sending me.”