The Han culture is spreading strongly in Southeast Asia

Chapter 531: Authentic, Really Authentic

It was late at night again. Mo Zibu, along with a group of Jinyiwei officers and inner court attendants, collected various information and began to mark the situation in the river.

"Your Majesty, sixty-seven bannermen who have served in the Western Regions have been selected from the enclosure. Shall we have them come in to see you now?"

Mo Zibu pondered for a moment, then slowly said, "Separate them one by one and have them write about their experiences while serving in the Western Regions, as well as their personal views on the Western Regions.

Those with talent and learning will be allowed to come to the court, while those who are idle can continue to raise horses for me at Mulan Paddock."

After Mo Zibu entered Beijing, he detained more than 100,000 bannermen from all over the country, among whom thousands who were capable of riding, shooting and fighting were selected and handed over to Li Xianwen to form the Black Flag Army.

The rest of their family members were detained, waiting for these people to make meritorious contributions before their bannerman status was exempted.

There were also some women and children whose families had lost all their men, who were detained and awaiting assignment to retired meritorious soldiers.

Of course, after they were detained, Mo Zibu could not let the court keep them doing nothing, so he sent them all to Mulan Paddock and its surrounding areas to graze horses and weave cloth.

They also worked as porters, transporting rice, grain, cloth from the south, and coal and charcoal from the Wanping Xishan coal yard into Beijing.

What, why don't you let them dig coal?

What a joke! Since the Xishan Coal Yard is operated by the Fuxing Company, it is considered a mine under the emperor's nose and is a favor to him. The wages are sufficient and it is the highest-paying job in the whole of Zhili.

It was not the turn of the Bannermen captives to do it. The people of Yizhou, Baoding, Hejian and one state had already rushed to do it.

Mo Zibu was also helpless, as the Chinese people are hardworking and thrifty in their bones.

Such heavy physical work with the risk of silicosis has become a target of scramble, just for the extremely high income of about 400 grams per month, which is about five times that of farming.

After a while, the Hanlin attendants and the servants of the Ministry of Civil Affairs selected the people.

There were fifty-one people in total who had a thorough understanding of the Western Regions, forty of whom could speak Uighur and seven could speak Russian.

Among them, the one who wrote the best article and had many insights into the Western Regions was Yi Jiang'a, a Manchu from the Plain White Banner with the surname Baidu.

But when Mo Zibu called him in, he saw that Yi Jiang'a was only in his thirties, and still had the temperament of a dandy Bannerman. He did not seem to have any good insights into the Western Regions.

Mo Zibu's face darkened. "How many years have you served in Huijiang? What was your position? What achievements have you made?"

When Yi Jiang'a heard the emperor's question, cold sweat dripped down his face. He pressed his forehead to the ground and said in a trembling voice:

"Your Majesty, I have been serving as the Minister of the Yuepulhe (Yuepuhu County) for seventeen months."

"Hmph!" Mo Zibu snorted coldly, "At seventeen months old, you're probably not even fluent in Uighur. You definitely can't write such a profound memorial. Who taught you to write this? Tell me quickly!"

Pfft!
Before Yi Jiang'a could reply, Heshen, who had been busy beside Mo Zibu, knelt down with a thud.

Mo Zibu glanced at He Daren in surprise. "Is this person your relative? What is his background? Who taught him these things about the Western Regions?"

Mo Zibu did not suspect that Heshen and Yijiang'a were in collusion, because if Heshen knew these things, he would have revealed them and made meritorious deeds long ago.

"Your Majesty, Yijiang's father, Lord Yonggui, is the adoptive father of my first wife, Feng. Yijiang is actually my adopted brother."

"Yonggui?" Mo Zibu muttered. The name was very familiar, but he was not sure, because the names of the bannermen were specially chosen with auspicious characters, and there were many people with the same name.

For example, Baoning, who had made meritorious service in Gansu, was wanted by Mo Zibu to be sent to Yili to be the next deputy of the Yili general. There are more than 20 people with this name among the current bannermen captives.

"My adoptive father, Yonggui, once accompanied General Dingbian in suppressing the rebellion of the Dzungars in Yarkand.

He was subsequently appointed the second Minister of State for Huijiang Affairs, and he also quelled the Mahaqin Rebellion of the Hui people, making considerable contributions." Heshen quickly told him everything.

In fact, Yonggui's achievements in history are more than that. During his five years in Kashgar, he built canals, promoted farming, and constructed dams and reservoirs to control flooding in the rivers around Kashgar during the flood season.

Han people were also recruited to join the army and settle together with the officers and soldiers of the Green Camp stationed in Kashgar, so that the court could take root in Kashgar, and the necessary supplies such as food, cloth, salt, etc. would not have to be transported thousands of miles from Gansu.

It can be said that without Yonggui's series of reclamation operations laying the foundation, the Qing court would not have been able to control southern Xinjiang for so many years, and it would not have been possible to completely lose control until the emergence of Yakub Beg.

Hearing Heshen say this, Mo Zibu also remembered who this person was, and quickly asked the Hanlin attendant beside him to fetch the documents and memorials related to Yonggui for inspection.

After a long while, Mo Zibu finally smiled. "Only with this kind of experience can one write such practical provisions. Is your father in good health? Can you summon him to make an inquiry?"

This is also Mo Zibu's regret. Yonggui was actually born in the 1706th year of Kangxi's reign, that is, , and is already years old this year.

At this age, let alone taking office, he would probably have trouble even getting on the bed.

"Although my adoptive father suffers from lung disease, he is still in good spirits and is at a ranch outside Chengde City. I can summon him to make an appearance."

Heshen was also anxious. Yonggui's lung disease was not mild, and after the bannermen lost power, they could not hire famous doctors or buy medicine for treatment. If they delayed any longer, he would die.

"Okay, call him in immediately!" Mo Zibu waved his hand and quickly asked Heshen to go down and bring Yonggui.

For the current Dayu Dynasty, there are almost no Han people who are familiar with the Western Regions, except for some military generals with experience.

This is not because the Qing Dynasty was unwilling to allow Han people to go to the Western Regions. Going to the Western Regions was almost like exile, which was not a good job. There was no need to restrict Han people.

So the actual situation is that the Qing rulers still knew that the Han bureaucratic class did not get much benefits.

He worked so hard to get an official position for you, and you sent him to the Western Regions in the blink of an eye. Even if he doesn't resign, can he work well for you when he gets there?

For a few hundred dollars a month, you exile someone five thousand miles away and still make him work for you?
He just lives his life and doesn't give you anything big, so he can be considered to have a conscience.

Therefore, only those bannermen who had gained great benefits would be sent to the Western Regions, and they also knew that this was equivalent to working for themselves, so they would do their best.

. . . .

Outside Chengde City, in the hinterland of the Great Wall, it is already quite cold in the ninth month of the lunar calendar.

Yonggui was wrapped in a tattered sheepskin coat, his old face was red from the cold, and the gray braid behind his head looked extremely messy.

And in this small house in the horse farm, twenty or thirty old bannermen were crowded together.

They had no extra firewood to keep warm, so they huddled together, trying to make themselves as comfortable as possible by relying on each other's body heat.

Dozens of people were crowded together, sitting on the hay for the livestock, chatting about random things.

Most of them were reminiscing about their good old days, while a small number were imagining when their children and grandchildren would be rewarded for their contributions in Shaanxi and Gansu so that they could cut off their braids and live a normal life.

Well, now the Manchus don't have their queues cut off because Mo Zibu forbade them to do so. To be honest, the Manchus were not an ethnic group, but a group of mountain kings, among whom were many Han people.

Now, after more than a hundred years, if they cut their braids and blend into the crowd, you won't be able to detect them at all.

So Mo Zibu didn't let them cut their braids in order to identify them.

In the pastures from Chengde to Chifeng, there are more than a dozen cases every month of bannermen cutting their braids and running away, trying to disappear into the crowd.

"Oh, if I had known this day would come, I would have hidden a large box of sesame cakes. The gold and silver treasures were stolen, but you can't take the sesame cakes too.

If we had saved this for now, hey, we could have two each, add some hot water, and eat them warm, how wonderful it would be! "

There was a yellow belt from the Aisin-Gioro family who squinted his eyes and kept fantasizing.

Life in the paddock was not easy. He rarely had enough to eat. Thinking back to his past wealth and luxury, he felt very regretful!

"Master, please stop talking! This glutton is about to burst out of my mouth!"

There were two more people who were so hungry that they almost went crazy with greed after hearing the vivid description of Yellow Belt. They drooled and kept begging Yellow Belt to stop.

"No, no, no!" Yellow Belt Prince An Qi Kun waved his hands, "Don't call me Master, and don't call yourself a slave. We all dream of being the slaves of Emperor Guangzhong.

Besides, if the manager finds out, he'll whip me in the face again!"

Qi Kun was really scared. A few days ago, someone called each other "master" and "servant", but the manager of the Royal Ranch of Fuxing Company heard it and cursed that Emperor Guangzhong was the only master in the world.

Then they beat the bannermen severely, making them scream in pain.

Qi Kun was also whipped on the face in the chaos. It was swollen immediately and hurt him for more than ten days, so he had a very deep impression of it.

"You're useless!" A man with a bronze face, who looked like a military commander, cursed with disdain.

But I'm not scolding them for not daring to use the words "master" and "servant" anymore, but I'm scolding them for only daring to fantasize about eating sesame cakes. How the hell do you want to eat roasted whole lamb?
At the very least, you have to have a bowl of this braised pork.

At this moment, the sound of horse hooves was heard, as if a cavalry was coming outside, and the old men in the house became alert.

"Hey, the emperor just summoned someone to write about his experiences in the Western Regions. He must have seen our impact, and someone is about to become rich!"

Qi Kun jumped up and ran the fastest.

He was the direct descendant of Prince An and a descendant of Yue Le, the son of Abatai, the seventh son of Nurhaci. He was originally the person with the highest status in the house, so no one competed with them for the position.

A group of people, in the cold wind of the September grassland, with the faint moonlight, watched the horse team with torches coming in the distance.

"Oh, isn't this Heshen? Why are you here?" Qi Kun was younger and had a good eye. He knew who was coming from a distance at a glance.

He is a big man among the bannermen. He has not betrayed anyone, but has won the emperor's favor and is kept in the palace. He does not have to suffer like them, not having enough food and clothing.

Although some people said that Heshen had cut off the thing in his crotch and became a eunuch in charge of writing for the emperor, others were still extremely envious of him.

"My Lord, is there good news? Is the Emperor going to pardon us?"

Qi Kun asked hopefully, but Heshen curled his lips in disgust.

"If you keep talking like that, you'll be damned forever. What merits have you accomplished? Why would the Emperor pardon you?"

Qi Kun didn't feel embarrassed at all when being criticized. When a person has been hungry for a long time and is on the verge of starvation, dignity is nothing.

"I smell the fragrance, it's the smell of braised pork, it's the smell of braised pork!"

Therefore, Qikun, who is always a lover of food, was not affected at all, and his sensitive dog nose smelled the scent immediately.

Heshen was speechless. For the first time, he felt speechless about these shameless fellow tribesmen.

The several large lumps of solidified stewed meat on the horse's back were quickly pulled down and put into the pot to cook. Qi Kun also had the sesame cakes he had been longing for.

This guy, whose face was thicker than the corner of the city wall, kept sniffing, and ran faster than anyone else after lighting a fire, while shouting happily:

"Wow, there are onions and garlic, lungs, liver, small intestines, steamed bread, and dried tofu. This taste is really authentic!"

"It's so authentic, so authentic!" A group of veteran Bannermen also shouted, "It's been so many years since we've had this."

As they made noise, the children were awakened from their sleep. When they saw the braised pork, they immediately became energetic. They gathered around the big pot, singing and dancing while swallowing their saliva.

Heshen felt a little sad, but he suppressed it immediately.

Today, he was able to bring some food to these people, but he actually took a big risk. He couldn't take care of the rest. It all depended on his luck.

"Godfather, you have suffered." Heshen held Yonggui's hand.

"My brother-in-law wrote a good proposal, and the emperor was very satisfied with it. He specially sent me to come and ask you to submit your opinion.

I have brought the carriage and food, please wash up, change your clothes, and follow me to the palace immediately."

Yonggui let out a long sigh, tears almost coming out. He could finally leave this place.

However, he did not listen to Heshen. Instead, he grabbed some mud with a little horse manure on it from the ground and smeared it on the hem of his sheepskin coat.

He Shen understood immediately and gave a thumbs up. "Old people are always wise. It's time to let His Majesty see that we have been punished."

"Lord Yong!" Just as Yonggui was about to get on the carriage amid countless envious gazes, the general who had just cursed him as "useless" cried out in a miserable voice.

Yonggui hesitated for a moment, then said to Heshen, "Hai Lu has been through many battles and is skilled in riding and shooting. He once followed General Dingbian on the Western Expedition and was included in the Purple Light Pavilion as a tribute to meritorious officials.

He has fought in the Western Regions for many years and is particularly familiar with the Hui people. His sons, including Changqing, are also brave warriors. If the Great Emperor wants to pacify the Hui people, he will need them."

He Shen hesitated for a moment and said, "General Hai, I can only take you to the palace gate and wait. I really have no say in whether His Majesty will summon you or not."

After hearing this, Hai Lu and his son Changqing and others kowtowed to the muddy ground.

"Your Excellency's kindness and righteousness are enough. If we can obtain His Majesty's pardon, Hailu and I are willing to defend the Hui tribe forever for the court."

(End of this chapter)