bullyxtreme Chapter 36 After Tongguan Pass: The Trapped Dragon
Chapter 36 After Tongguan Pass: The Trapped Dragon
January 16th, the sixteenth year of the Chongzhen reign (1644), Xi'an.
The New Year celebrations had just ended, but there was no festive atmosphere in the Prince of Qin's mansion. The gilded and red-lacquered pillars in the front hall were still there, but the lanterns hanging under the eaves were long gone, and the paper tassels trembled in the cold wind.
The ground was covered with unswept snow, mixed with muddy footprints, horse manure, and several pools of dark red blood—the remains of an execution from who-knows-when.
Li Zicheng sat on the dragon throne that once belonged to the King of Qin, still wearing the same old arrow-patterned robe, the elbows worn white from wear. He clutched a military report in his hand, the corners of the paper crumpled from his grip.
"Two hundred thousand shi..." His voice was hoarse, like sandpaper scraping against wood, "In such a vast city as Xi'an, the granary only has two hundred thousand shi of grain left? Enough to last for a few days?"
None of the civil and military officials standing below dared to speak. To the left were military officers such as Liu Zongmin, Tian Jianxiu, and Yuan Zongdi, all of them clad in blood-stained armor, their faces ashen.
On the right are civil officials such as Niu Jinxing, Song Xianze, and Li Yan, who stand with their heads bowed and dare not utter a sound.
"Speak!" Li Zicheng slammed his fist on the table. "Weren't you always so eloquent? All that talk about 'opening the granaries to distribute grain, the people eating and drinking,' and 'three years of tax exemption, the people's hearts are with you'—and now? Where are the people?!"
The hall was deathly silent.
Faint cries and shouts came from outside the window; it was soldiers looting a grain shop in the street. The guard at the gate peeked out, then withdrew, pretending not to hear.
Niu Jinxing stepped forward with a forced smile: "Your Majesty, Guanzhong has suffered from constant natural disasters in recent years, and last year there was a drought, so the grain yield was already low. When we entered Xi'an, the official granaries and the princely treasuries together had 800,000 shi (a unit of dry measure), but in these three months, the army has been exhausted, relief has been provided to the refugees, and in addition..."
"Add what else?" Li Zicheng stared at him.
Niu Jinxing swallowed hard: "In addition, some soldiers... are privately reselling military rations, exchanging them for wine, meat, and silver..."
"Who?!" Li Zicheng suddenly stood up.
No one answered. But everyone's eyes were secretly glancing at Liu Zongmin.
Liu Zongmin's expression changed, and he retorted, "Your Majesty! Our brothers risked their lives to conquer this land. Now that we've taken Xi'an, what's wrong with a little food and drink? Aren't all those officials and wealthy landowners overflowing with grain? If they want grain, just rob them!"
"Rob?" Li Zicheng sneered. "General Liu, go and see how many grain shops are still open in the streets? Go outside the city and see how many villages still have grain stored? Rob? Rob who? Rob those starving people like us?!"
He descended the steps, approaching Liu Zongmin step by step. The two were of similar height, their eyes locked, both burning with rage.
"In the Battle of Tongguan, we lost 30,000 brothers." Li Zicheng said, emphasizing each word. "Why did they die? Because they were climbing the ladders on empty stomachs, and when they ran out of strength halfway up, they were used as target practice by the Ming army! Now you're telling me to just rob for grain—Liu Zongmin, do you think our lives are worthless?"
Liu Zongmin's lips moved, but he ultimately turned his head away.
Li Zicheng retreated to his seat, wearily rubbing his temples: "Prime Minister Niu, what do you say we should do?"
Niu Jinxing cautiously said, "In my opinion, the most urgent task is to resume spring plowing. The Guanzhong Plain is fertile and stretches for thousands of miles. As long as farmers can focus on planting, there will be grain in the fall."
But right now... many farmers have fled their homes due to famine, leaving their fields barren. I suggest reducing or exempting this year's taxes, encouraging displaced people to return to their hometowns, and distributing seeds and oxen...
"Distribute seeds? Oxen?" Liu Zongmin scoffed. "Prime Minister Oxen, we don't even have enough grain in our granaries, where would we get seeds and oxen? You make it sound so easy!"
"Then what is your opinion, General Liu?"
"In my opinion?" Liu Zongmin's eyes flashed with a fierce light. "Which of these gentry and landlords in Guanzhong doesn't have grain hidden in their homes? Take troops to search them. If you find any, conscript seventy percent into the army, and keep the remaining thirty percent for themselves—those who refuse to hand it over, behead them!"
"Absolutely not!" Li Yan couldn't help but exclaim. "Your Majesty, when we first entered Guanzhong, we promised 'no killing, no looting.' If we now allow our troops to search for grain, we will surely lose the hearts of the people! If we lose the hearts of the people, we will be like rootless duckweed in Guanzhong. When the Ming army comes..."
"The Ming army?" Tian Jianxiu interjected. "Sun Chuanting was also weakened in the battle of Tongguan and won't be able to get here in the short term. In Hanzhong, hasn't the Eighth King (Zhang Xianzhong) already made his move? Once he throws Sichuan into chaos, the Ming army will be unable to attend to both ends, which will be a good opportunity for us to rest and regroup."
Mentioning Zhang Xianzhong made the atmosphere in the hall even more somber.
Li Zicheng remained silent for a long time before slowly asking, "Hanzhong... any news?"
Gu Jun'en, who was in charge of military intelligence, stepped forward and reported to Your Majesty: "Sun Kewang, a general under the Eighth Prince, has captured Hanzhong Prefecture and is besieging Nanzheng."
However, Qin Liangyu of Sichuan retreated to Jianmen Pass, holding its position firmly, making it difficult for Sun Kewang to advance. Furthermore… the Ming court had already dispatched troops from Huguang to Sichuan to provide support.”
"Huguang..." Li Zicheng tapped his fingers on the armrest, "Zuo Liangyu?"
"Yes. Zuo Liangyu has sent his son, Zuo Menggeng, with 30,000 troops, who have already arrived in Kuizhou."
A murmur of discussion arose within the hall. Although Zuo Liangyu's troops were known as "arrogant and fierce soldiers," they still numbered 100,000. If he were to launch a full-scale attack on Sichuan, Zhang Xianzhong might not fare well.
"Your Majesty," Niu Jinxing said, seizing the opportunity, "I still maintain that the fundamental solution lies in stabilizing Guanzhong and appeasing the people. The act of seizing grain must never be tolerated."
Liu Zongmin was about to argue when Li Zicheng raised his hand to stop him.
"All of you, step back." He closed his eyes. "Let me think."
The group left the main hall. Reaching the corridor, Liu Zongmin grabbed Niu Jinxing's arm: "Prime Minister Niu, can your grand principles feed us? Our brothers are starving; who's going to talk to you about the people's will?"
Niu Jinxing broke free and said coldly, "General Liu, the people's hearts can't feed you, but without the people's hearts—you won't even be able to find food."
The two parted unhappily.
On the same day, eighty li east of Tongguan, in Lingbao County.
This area was already under the control of the Ming army. Outside the east gate of the county town, the previously abandoned post station had been renovated and a new plaque had been hung up: "Lingbao Trade Market".
Although it was called a border market, it was actually just an open-air market. But unlike ordinary markets, the things sold here were quite special—on one side were Ming soldiers displaying grain, salt, iron pots, and cloth;
On the other side were people dressed in tattered clothes with shifty eyes, pulling out all sorts of things from their pockets: gold bracelets, jade hairpins, pearl necklaces, ivory fans, and even calligraphy, paintings, and antiques.
Wang Shuan was on duty today, leading a squad of new recruits on patrol at the border market. Looking at the people who came to exchange goods, he knew in his heart that these were either members of the rebel army or had connections to them. Most of what they were handing over was looted property.
"Sir," a tall, thin man approached, pulling a gold hairpin from his sleeve. A jade pendant the size of a thumb adorned the hairpin's tip. "How much grain can this be exchanged for?"
Wang Shuan accepted the gold hairpin. He knew nothing about jewelry, but he could tell it was finely crafted and not an ordinary item. Following his superior's instructions, he weighed it in his hand: "One tael of gold, the jade is of decent quality... exchange it for one shi of rice and five jin of salt."
The tall, thin man grew anxious: "Sir, this jade came from the palace! It's worth at least fifty taels of silver!"
"Then you can keep it." Wang Shuan handed the hairpin back. "We only charge by weight and quality here. You can exchange it if you want, or leave if you don't."
The tall, thin man gritted his teeth: "Change!"
Wang Shuan waved, and soldiers behind him carried over a bag of rice and a small bag of salt. The tall, thin man picked up the rice and grabbed the salt, then disappeared into the crowd without looking back.
A new recruit nearby whispered, "Brother Wang, does this count as... aiding the enemy?"
Wang Shuan glanced at him: "Do you know who he is?"
"Judging from their attire, they seem to be members of the rebel army."
"So, after he exchanged the grain, did he eat it himself, or did he take it back to the camp?" Wang Shuan asked.
The recruit was stunned.
"Commander Sun said," Wang Shuan looked west, towards Tongguan, "that if the rebel army of several hundred thousand men were truly starving, they would fight to the death to attack the city."
Now we're exchanging grain for their gold and silver treasures. Firstly, this depletes their resources, and secondly, it gives them something to look forward to—with grain, they won't be in such a rush to fight. This is called… it's called 'economic draining.'
The new recruit nodded, seemingly understanding but not quite.
Just then, a commotion broke out at the other end of the market. Wang Shuan hurried over and saw several Ming soldiers surrounding an old man. The old man was holding a bundle in his arms, the bundle covered with a faded piece of brocade, and a corner of it was showing—a white jade Guanyin statue.
"Sir, this is truly a family heirloom..." The old man knelt on the ground, "I didn't steal it! My son was a minor officer in the rebel army, and he died in battle a few days ago. This is his belongings... I just wanted to exchange it for some grain to go back to my hometown..."
Wang Shuan knelt down and took the white jade Guanyin. The Guanyin was exquisitely carved, with flowing robes and a dignified appearance. He examined it closely and saw two lines of small characters engraved on the base of the Guanyin: "Made in the thirty-eighth year of Jiajing, offered by believer Li Maochun."
"Who is Li Maochun?" he asked.
The old man wept: "It was my ancestor, who served as the Provincial Treasurer of Shanxi during the Jiajing reign..."
Wang Shuan remained silent. He returned the Guanyin statue to the old man, then stood up and said to the soldier, "Give him two shi of rice and one tael of silver for travel expenses."
"Brother Wang, this..."
"Do as I say," Wang Shuan interrupted.
The old man left, profusely thanking him. Wang Shuan watched his retreating figure, a lump forming in his throat. The old man's son had died at Tongguan, at the hands of his own soldiers. Now, he had traded grain for the old man's family heirloom.
In this world, who is really making things difficult for whom?
Three days later, in the western part of Xi'an, Li Guo arrived at his camp.
Li Guo is Li Zicheng's nephew, 28 years old this year, and serves as a "General" in the rebel army. His troops are stationed on the banks of Kunming Pond in the west of the city. They are considered to be one of the more disciplined troops in the rebel army, but recently they have also run out of food and their morale is low.
Late at night, Li Guo sat alone in his military tent, the oil lamp before him flickering dimly. On the table lay a letter—delivered at dusk by a secret envoy disguised as a peddler, bearing Sun Chuanting's official seal.
The letter is short, just three sentences:
"If the general leads his troops to surrender, all his soldiers can be allocated land and settled according to the 'Perpetual Land Law,' and will be exempt from taxes for three years. The general may be granted the title of 'Earl of Shunyi' and appointed as a general with a substantive post. Awaiting your reply."
The letter was accompanied by an attachment, a copy of the land deeds issued in Ruzhou, Henan, which included the names of Wang Shuan and others, the amount of land, and the official seal.
Li Guo stared at the letter for a full hour.
He recalled the scene when he joined his uncle in raising an army. At that time, northern Shaanxi was suffering from a severe drought, with no harvest. The government was pressing for grain as if it were their death. His uncle led them into the county town, opened the granaries, and distributed grain. The people knelt on the ground, shouting "Long live the King of Chuang!"
At that time, he felt that they were doing the right thing.
But what happened next? More and more people gathered, and the fighting grew bigger and bigger. Opening granaries to distribute grain turned into looting, killing corrupt officials turned into indiscriminate killing, and the people went from being "feasting on food and drink" to fleeing at the mere sight of the enemy.
During the battle of Tongguan, he personally witnessed his brothers charging the city on empty stomachs, only to fall off the ladder halfway up and be smashed to pieces.
I also saw the soldiers on the city wall of the Ming army. Although they were also emaciated, there was something in their eyes—the fierce determination to "defend the land" and the resolute determination that "their homeland is behind them".
He hadn't seen that look in the eyes of his own people in a long time.
Footsteps sounded outside the tent. Li Guo quickly stuffed the letter into his pocket.
A guard lifted the curtain and entered: "General, General Liu Zongmin has arrived."
Li Guo's heart tightened: "Please."
Liu Zongmin strode in, reeking of alcohol. He glanced at the oil lamp on Li Guo's table: "Still not asleep so late?"
"I was thinking about military rations." Li Guo stood up. "Uncle Liu, what brings you here?"
"I'm here to have a drink with you." Liu Zongmin plopped down, pulled a leather bag from his pocket, uncorked it, and a strong smell of alcohol filled the air. He took a swig and handed it to Li Guo: "Try it, it's a century-old vintage dug out of the Qin King's cellar."
Li Guo took it and sipped it. The liquor was strong, burning his throat.
"Uncle Liu," he asked tentatively, "Is there really no other way to make military rations?"
"A solution?" Liu Zongmin sneered. "Niu Jinxing and his bunch of scholars are always talking about 'popular support' and 'spring plowing.' But spring plowing requires seeds, and where do seeds come from? Popular support? Can popular support turn into grain?" He took another swig of wine. "If you ask me, we should do what we did in Henan back then: pick a few wealthy families, confiscate their property, and wipe them out! We'll have grain, and we'll have silver too!"
"But that way..."
"But that would lose the people's hearts, wouldn't it?" Liu Zongmin stared at him. "Li Guo, you've been with His Majesty for so long, how come you're starting to act like a scholar? What are we doing? We're rebelling! Rebellion means killing and looting! If we don't kill and loot, why should our brothers follow us?"
Li Guo remained silent.
Liu Zongmin patted him on the shoulder: "I know you care about your brothers. But in this world, soft-hearted people don't live long." He stood up, staggered out, and said, "Go to sleep early. In a few days... there might be something big going on."
"What action?"
Liu Zongmin stopped at the tent entrance, turned around, and a fierce glint flashed in his eyes: "His Majesty has not yet made a decision. But I suggest—send troops out of the pass to seize grain in Henan. Sun Chuanting's small force cannot hold such a long defensive line."
The curtains fell, and the footsteps faded into the distance.
Li Guo sat in the darkness, his hand pressed against the letter in his pocket.
The letter was thin, yet it burned his chest.
On the 20th day of the first lunar month, the urgent report of the fall of Hanzhong Prefecture finally reached Nanjing.
Inside the Wenhua Hall, Li Ce stood before a huge map, his vermilion brush heavily circling the characters "Hanzhong".
Ni Yuanlu, Jiang Dejing, Li Jizhen and other important officials stood below, all with solemn expressions.
"Zhang Xianzhong has captured Hanzhong and massacred the city." Li Ce's voice was calm, but the veins on the back of his hand holding the pen bulged. "Sun Kewang's 50,000 troops are advancing towards Nanzheng. Qin Liangyu has retreated to Jianmen Pass, and Zuo Liangyu's son, Zuo Menggeng, is leading 30,000 troops to Kuizhou—what do you gentlemen think?"
Li Jizhen spoke first: "Your Majesty, we should urgently dispatch troops from Huguang and Jiangxi to reinforce Sichuan. Sichuan is the land of abundance; if it falls, Huguang will be in grave danger."
"Who should we send?" Li Ce asked. "Zuo Liangyu himself is still observing in Jiujiang, only sending his son with 30,000 troops as a show. The other troops in Huguang are to guard against Li Zicheng's advance from Shangluo. The Jiangxi troops... are currently working with the Fujian troops to guard against Zheng Zhilong's fickleness."
He put down his vermilion brush and rubbed his temples: "We are surrounded by enemies on all sides, and we need troops everywhere. It's like I'm holding a bowl of water in my hands. I have to plug the leaks wherever they occur—but the bowl is only so big, and the amount of water is only so much."
Silence fell over the hall.
After a long silence, Ni Yuanlu whispered, "Your Majesty, could we... perhaps negotiate with Li Zicheng again? Even if we can only appease him temporarily and concentrate our forces to quell Zhang Xianzhong first?"
"Peace talks?" Li Ce shook his head. "Li Zicheng is short of food right now. If I negotiate peace, I'll have to give him food. Once he recovers, the first person he'll attack will be me." He paused. "However... dividing and conquering is an option."
He walked to the desk, picked up his brush, and wrote down a secret edict:
"Sun Chuanting is granted the authority to make on-the-spot decisions: all generals of the rebel army who are willing to surrender may be settled in accordance with the new policies of Henan. In addition, 200,000 taels of silver will be allocated to establish a 'Pacification Office' at the Tongguan front line, which will be dedicated to the task of instigating defections."
After writing, he affixed the imperial seal.
"Furthermore," he said, looking at Li Jizhen, "go to Zuo Liangyu and deliver the imperial decree, promoting him to 'Grand General Who Pacifies the Bandits,' in charge of military affairs in Huguang and Sichuan. Tell him that as long as he is willing to devote all his efforts to pacifying Zhang Xianzhong in Sichuan, I will grant him the right to govern Wuchang for generations after the matter is accomplished."
Jiang Dejing was startled: "Your Majesty, this..."
"You can't catch a wolf without risking your cub," Li Ce said calmly. "What Zuo Liangyu wants is territory, so I'll give it to him. We can't lose Sichuan; if we do, the Ming Dynasty will truly be cut in two."
After everyone else left, Li Ce stood alone in front of the map.
On the map, from Shaanxi to Sichuan, from Henan to Hubei and Hunan, everything is marked in red, and everywhere is filled with the smoke of war.
He recalled the devastating collapse that swept across the country in the seventeenth year of the Chongzhen Emperor's reign, from his past life. Li Zicheng captured Beijing, Zhang Xianzhong occupied Sichuan, Zuo Liangyu marched east, and the Qing army entered the pass... like dominoes, one after another, they fell.
He has regained some time and managed to get a few cards back on track. But the game is too big, with too many cards; if he makes even the slightest mistake, he could lose everything.
The sound of a night watchman's drum came from outside the hall.
It was already past midnight.
Li Ce walked out of the Wenhua Hall and stood on the steps. The winter night in Nanjing was damp and cold, and the wind felt like knives on his face.
He looked northwest. There lay Tongguan Pass, Sun Chuanting, Zhou Yuji, and countless soldiers who stood guard to the death in the cold wind.
They also looked southwest. There lay Hanzhong, Zhang Xianzhong, Qin Liangyu, and the gateway to Sichuan, teetering on the brink of bloodshed.
Finally, he looked north. There lay Beijing, Empress Zhou, Huang Degong, and the framework of his newly established dynasty.
"I've done all I can," he murmured to himself. "The rest... I'll leave to fate."
God willing.
He didn't believe in these two words in his previous life. But after seven lifetimes of reincarnation, he gradually understood: it's wishful thinking for humans to conquer nature; all humans can do is try their best within limited scope.
Then, leave the rest to fate.
On the same night, at Tongguan Pass.
Zhou Yuji's arrow wound on his left arm had become infected, and the army doctor said that if it wasn't treated soon, he would lose his arm. But he didn't come down from the city wall; instead, wrapped in a tattered cotton-padded coat, he sat behind the parapet.
A guard brought over a bowl of porridge—so thin you could see your reflection in it. Zhou Yuji took it and drank it slowly.
Below the city, the campfires of the rebel army stretched like a galaxy. They were also running out of food, and their offensive slowed, but their encirclement tightened. Like a pack of hungry wolves surrounding a wounded tiger, they waited for it to bleed to death.
"General," the lieutenant approached, his voice hoarse, "the batch of 'thunderbolt shells for crossbows' from Nanjing has arrived."
Zhou Yuji's eyes lit up: "How much?"
"Three thousand. And five hundred more gunpowder packets."
"Alright!" Zhou Yuji stood up, aggravating his wound and wincing in pain. "Tell the brothers to use it sparingly, but don't be stingy when it's needed. The longer we hold out, the closer His Majesty's reinforcements will be."
The lieutenant nodded, but did not leave.
"Is there anything else?"
"General," the lieutenant lowered his voice, "today... another seventeen brothers escaped by lowering themselves down the city wall during the night."
Zhou Yuji remained silent.
Deserters. This is the thing the defending army fears most. Once there's one, there will be another. Morale, like sand, slips through your fingers, little by little.
"They've run away... so be it." He finally said. "You can't hold them back by force. Tell the rest: those who want to leave, I won't stop them. Those who want to stay—I, Zhou Yuji, will stay with them to the very end."
The lieutenant's eyes reddened: "General..."
"Go ahead." Zhou Yuji patted him on the shoulder.
After the deputy general left, Zhou Yuji walked alone to the city wall. He looked eastward, towards Nanjing, the direction Li Ce had come from.
"Your Majesty," he murmured, "I...have done my best."
The cold wind blew across the city walls, causing the tattered flags to flutter and make a mournful sound.
Like the cries of countless departed souls.