Chapter 23: The Current State of the Capital Garrison

The cold war between the Emperor and the Empress finally came to an end. On the afternoon before the first issue of the newspaper was to be published, Zhu Youxiao was lost in thought in his study when Lady Ke announced from outside that Consort Duan had arrived.

Zhu Youxiao left his study, and Consort Duan greeted him with a deep curtsey. She then took a food box from one of the palace maids, placed it on the table, and said, “Your Majesty toils day and night on state affairs. I fear for your health and have specially prepared some small pastries from my hometown. I hope Your Majesty will enjoy them.”

Zhu Youxiao had seen her once during the last selection of consorts. She was, without doubt, exceedingly beautiful. To speak fairly, if one were to compare Consort Duan and Consort Wang with Zhang Yan, each had her own distinct charm: Zhang Yan was alluring and graceful, Consort Duan possessed a heroic air, and Consort Wang was gentle and endearing. Three delicate blossoms, each with her own unique allure. Today, as Zhu Youxiao looked at Consort Duan, her beauty was undiminished, but there was a hint of loneliness between her brows.

Zhu Youxiao felt a pang of dissatisfaction. In truth, after Lady Ke had spoken with him, he understood that Zhang Yan’s actions were, in fact, the right thing to do, though emotionally he had found it hard to accept at first. But now, seeing Lady Duan, his thoughts took another turn. He constantly reminded himself that he was not here to be a mere stud, but he also knew that Consort Duan and Consort Wang were, after all, his women. He was their world, and having brought them into the palace, to simply ignore them was perhaps the greatest injustice to these young girls of fourteen or fifteen. How frightened and heartbroken they must be.

Having sorted out his thoughts, he opened the food box, took a small pastry, and savored it slowly. After finishing, he said, “I have been busy these days and have neglected my virtuous consorts. Tonight, I shall visit your palace, and we can talk about life and dreams together.”

Consort Duan did not quite understand what “life and dreams” meant, but upon hearing that the Emperor would come to her palace that night, she was overjoyed and at a loss for words. All the unease and uncertainty of recent days vanished into thin air.

So that night, Zhu Youxiao went to Consort Duan’s palace. Being a groom for the second time, he was much more adept than the first, though as usual, he first asked about her menstrual cycle to ensure it was a safe time before they joined as husband and wife.

The next afternoon, Consort Wang sent pastries from her hometown, and so that night Zhu Youxiao became a groom for the third time.

On the third night, he went directly to Kunning Palace. Gazing at that face he had not seen in over ten days—though it felt like years—he could no longer restrain his longing and held her tightly in his arms, never wanting to let go again.

From then on, he spent most nights in Zhang Yan’s palace. Even if it was not her safe period, he would hold her as they slept. Each month, he would also visit the other two consorts’ palaces twice. The three women of the inner palace, receiving the Emperor’s affection, became ever more radiant and beautiful. United in harmony, they treated one another as sisters, and none of the palace intrigue or rivalry for favor ever occurred.

On the twenty-eighth day of the fifth month in the first year of the Tianqi era, the Temple of Loyal Martyrs in Liaodong was completed in its initial form. The temple enshrined the spirits of soldiers who had sacrificed their lives for the country since the wars in Liaodong, from the earliest, such as Zhang Chengyin, the General of Ningyuan who died in the Battle of Fushun, and officials like Thousand-Commander Wang Mingyin, Captain Wang Xuedao, and Tang Yaoshun, to the most recent fallen heroes of the Liaoshen campaign, such as Chen Ce and Qin Bangping. Regardless of rank, as long as their names were known, ancestral tablets were erected for them, inscribed with their hometown, rank, and name, and placed in different halls according to the battle in which they fell.

Outside the temple stretched a long avenue, flanked by kneeling stone statues, each with a stone pillar behind it bearing the official title, name, birthplace, and father’s name of the fallen. From warriors like Li Yongfang and Zhao Yihe in the Battle of Fushun to Ma Chenglin in the Battle of Liaoyang, all were commemorated. Large open spaces were reserved for those who might, in the future, betray the country or cower before the enemy.

The Temple of Loyal Martyrs was guarded by the Embroidered Uniform Guard. Each day, there were dedicated personnel to offer sacrifices, and the people were permitted to pay their respects at will. From the day it was built, crowds of people from all walks of life came daily to honor the departed and curse traitors. The Capital Garrison even organized collective visits from each battalion, where soldiers would swear oaths before the ancestral tablets of the heroes, concluding with, “All for the Great Ming, all for the Emperor,” then saluting together.

More than half a year had passed since the Capital Garrison was reorganized. There were now six infantry battalions, four cavalry battalions, and two artillery battalions of regular soldiers. Those who did not qualify as regulars were assigned to the logistics battalion. At present, there were fifteen thousand and eighty-five regulars, with nine thousand seven hundred warhorses, and over ten thousand packhorses.

After prolonged training, all regulars were now proficient in using short spears and flintlock muskets. By the end of May, the Armory had completed the production of fifteen thousand flintlock muskets with bayonets, so now every regular soldier possessed a new musket. The cavalry were additionally equipped with sabers.

The military code, particularly the laws regarding wartime conduct, was memorized by every soldier: failing to advance at the drum or retreat at the gong meant execution. Even regulars who decapitated an enemy during battle would be executed if not authorized. Retreating in battle meant the squad leader was executed; if the leader did not retreat, the whole squad was executed. Disorder in formation, making noises to signal retreat, or looting during battle—all were punishable by death. The rule was simple: charge when ordered to charge, retreat only when permitted, or face execution!

Various training manuals were developed, detailing everything from how to dress wounds upon meeting the enemy, how to obey firing commands, to constructing fortifications and even building latrines during camp. Soldiers most feared the military police; for most infractions, the penalties were not severe, but being assigned to clean latrines was humiliating indeed.

Yang Guangkui now held overall responsibility, mainly for drill and training. In daily exercises, Lu Qin led four cavalry battalions, Yang Guanggao commanded three infantry battalions and one artillery battalion, while Zhou Yuji led the remaining three infantry battalions and one artillery battalion. Basic firearms training was complete, but each regular soldier still had daily firearms drills. Based on performance in simulated combat, fifteen percent of the soldiers had earned the Second Class Bayonet Badge, and all officers had received the Second Class Badge.

In addition, soldiers underwent strict drill practice. During training, even being a step ahead or behind would earn a blow from the military police’s staff. Zhu Youxiao decreed that corporal punishment was only to be administered on the buttocks, so at first, many could only sleep face-down. The results, however, were excellent.

When Zhu Youxiao inspected the troops on parade, he found that on level ground, the largest gap in a line of soldiers was no more than half a foot, and even in complex terrain, it was never more than a foot. He was very satisfied—so long as the formation was not disrupted in battle, it was good enough. There was no need to measure with rulers and strings as in later times; he wanted fighting soldiers, not performers.

He once ordered Zhou Yuji to have the soldiers charge into rivers or down steep slopes on command, and any who hesitated were severely beaten. As a result, during inspection, when the command was given, a squad of soldiers charged straight off a five-foot embankment without hesitation. Even after falling, they immediately got up and pressed forward without the slightest pause.