How can one be Emperor Chongzhen without money?

Chapter 138 To be Emperor Chongzhen, you have to be ruthless, even more ruthless! (Please subscribe)

The wind outside Datong City was very strong; it felt like a knife cutting into your face.

Along the official road stood a dense crowd of people. They were all relatives of the Prince of Dai's family, ranging from generals and lieutenants to nameless members of the clan. In the past, they had managed to survive on their meager stipends in this harsh, remote region, barely enough to avoid starvation. But now, it felt as if the sky had fallen.

Several prison carts, along with a few heavily covered horse-drawn carriages, were parked there. The Nine Thousand Years Old—no, there wasn't anyone that powerful in the Ming Dynasty anymore, it should be Duke Ningguo, Wei Zhongxian—was personally escorting the carts. The Eastern Depot agents, hands on their swords, swept their eyes over, their expressions one of utter suspicion!

Within the crowd, some couldn't help but let out low sobs. Someone spoke first, their voice trembling.

"They're gone... This branch of the Dai clan is completely finished."

"Didn't several princes also borrow money and head south? The Prince of Lingqiu is fast; he's already reached Quanzhou. I heard you can make a lot of money there?"

"What's the point of making big money! There's no law at sea, and the winds and waves are fierce. What kind of people are those who sail the seas? By what right does the King of Lingqiu have to squeeze money out of them?"

A younger member of the imperial clan wrapped his tattered clothes tighter around himself and spat on the ground: "Stay in Datong and you think you can survive? Wait to be treated as a relative of a 'criminal clan member,' getting scorned by everyone every day? I've heard that Southern Zhili and Zhejiang are warm and fertile! The court has even promised to allocate government land to them! Even if it's bad, it can't be worse than starving and freezing in this godforsaken place, can it?"

These words were like a pebble thrown into stagnant water, creating ripples.

Many people raised their heads, their eyes finally showing a glimmer of life. Yes, what else could they expect from Datong besides the increasingly unpredictable stipend? Going south would at least offer a way to survive. It was better than being trapped and dying here.

Nanjing, Yangzhou, Suzhou, Hangzhou, Songjiang, Ningbo—no matter how poor or hard-working those places are, could they be worse off than Datong?

A resigned silence slowly enveloped the crowd seeing them off. The confusion remained, but the despair of waiting to die had faded somewhat.

Wei Zhongxian rode on horseback, a cloak covering his python robe. He glanced at Zhu Naijun, the former king, who was huddled in a worn-out carriage. The old man's eyes were vacant, and he looked like a ghost.

He turned his horse around and slowly rode to the carriage that was being closely watched.

"Your Highness," Wei Zhongxian's voice was calm, even with a hint of consolation, "Now that things have come to this, you must try to see things in a more positive light. The Emperor is kind; he's only sending you to Fengyang to reflect on your mistakes in peace. It's better than suffering here in this harsh, cold border region, isn't it?"

There was no movement inside the car for a long time.

Wei Zhongxian remained unperturbed and continued speaking: "The Emperor has decreed that this journey must pass through Luoyang. It will also allow you to witness firsthand how His Highness Prince Fu upholds the proper etiquette of a prince and enjoys his wealth and honor. That is the true spirit of the imperial family and the model for a prince."

He lowered his voice further, his tone laced with feigned familiarity: "Your Highness, listen to me. When you get to Luoyang, pull yourself together. Prince Fu is your junior, and he cherishes family ties most of all. He's also the wealthiest man in the land. Talk to him properly and ask for some donations. Even a little bit he leaves behind will be enough for you to live comfortably in Fengyang for a few years. It's better than... going into those high walls empty-handed. Don't you think that makes sense?"

Inside the car, there seemed to be a very faint rustling sound.

Wei Zhongxian knew that the "wrongful" prince was actually paying a price, so he said no more and waved his hand.

"Let's go!"

The cart wheels rolled over the yellow earth, and the procession slowly began to move, heading south.

We stayed overnight at the official post station.

Wei Zhongxian dismissed his attendants, leaving only his trusted servant Xiao Shunzi to serve him. The feigned gentleness on his face had long since vanished, leaving only a look of utter exhaustion.

He pulled the small yellow silk pouch from his shirt, which clung to his skin. Inside was the deadly secret edict.

He didn't need to look at the words; they were already etched into his bones.

Xiao Shunzi knelt beside him, gently massaging his legs, his voice trembling: "Grandpa, the Emperor's decree... 'Any rebellious words, acts of collusion, or even sudden death... could all confirm the suspicion of the Prince of Fu'... This... isn't this like forcibly shoving a knife into our hands, even telling you where to stab us...'"

Wei Zhongxian closed his eyes and mumbled something in his throat.

“How could I not know? This is a series of schemes, a series of schemes by His Majesty to deal with the Zhu family clan. His Majesty… intends to use my knife to both draw blood from the Prince of Dai and punish the Prince of Fu.”

"But Grandpa, if we really do this, we'll become mortal enemies with the Prince of Fu's mansion..."

"Not do it?" Wei Zhongxian's eyes snapped open, bloodshot. "Not do it? This is a perfect opportunity to defy the Emperor's will! He's even prepared a pretext for 'silencing the Prince of Fu'! If we don't act now, and something goes wrong in Luoyang, the Emperor will blame us for our incompetence! Taking action will only relieve the Emperor's burden, and we might even get credit for the future reckoning with the Prince of Fu! Besides, Liangqing has been posthumously granted the title of Marquis and the posthumous name of Yongyi, and his son has inherited the title of Marquis of Suning. My family will be true nobles from now on! This favor must be repaid! This loyalty must be offered, offered fiercely!" He gasped for breath, clutching the secret edict tightly in his hand, his knuckles turning white.

"Once we get to Luoyang... we'll have to see how things go. The Emperor is forcing us to not only be the fastest and ruthless blade, but also to wipe the blood clean ourselves."

Outside the inn, the night wind was blowing fiercely. Every step on this journey south felt like walking on a knife's edge.

In June, the weather in the capital became unbearably hot. The sun hung high and bright, making the ground scorching hot, and even the cicadas chirped listlessly.

Emperor Chongzhen, having finally found some free time, changed into light casual clothes and said he would take his consorts for a walk on Coal Hill to get some fresh air. Empress Zhou, Consort Tian, ​​and Consort Yuan were naturally delighted. The palace was governed by strict rules, and this was a rare moment of relaxation, especially with the Emperor's presence. Each of them wore a smile. Empress Zhou was gentle and refined, Consort Tian was beautiful and charming, and Consort Yuan was lively and energetic. The group, with umbrellas and fans from their maids, temporarily dispelled the oppressive summer heat.

Emperor Chongzhen smiled and responded to them. However, the smile didn't reach his eyes; his gaze was always shifty, as if he were preoccupied.

Being an emperor must have been incredibly tiring for him.

The Tartars in Liaodong need to be wiped out, the rotten Nine Garrisons need to be rectified, countless members of the imperial family need to be dealt with, and there are also the civil and military officials in the court who each have their own agendas, and even a vassal state like Korea that is hesitant and indecisive. Which one is easy to deal with? If I don't become ruthless and work hard, the Ming Dynasty may collapse and hundreds of millions of people may rebel!
What's worse is that time is flying by, and the Jisi Rebellion is drawing ever closer! It's already June of the first year of Chongzhen's reign. If the wheels of history don't take a major turn, in another year and four months, a combined force of 100,000 Jurchens, Mongols, and Han traitors will be attacking the Great Wall at Jizhou.

If the Great Wall at Jizhou is breached again, and the capital region is ravaged into ruins by the Jurchens, then the risk of him climbing the tree still exists!
So these days, whenever he has a spare moment, he climbs Coal Hill—to see that tree and inspire himself!

Coal Hill isn't very high, but climbing it in June will inevitably leave you drenched in sweat. Standing in the pavilion at the top, looking out, the glazed tiles of the Forbidden City reflect a blinding light under the blazing sun, making the entire capital city look like a giant steamer.

"Your Majesty, look over there, the shade is still quite dense." Empress Zhou pointed to a grove of trees not far away and said softly, handing over a warm, damp handkerchief.

Chongzhen took it, wiped the sweat from his brow, but his gaze passed over the green shade and landed fixedly on a tree on the slope outside the pavilion.

It was a crooked old locust tree, its branches twisted and gnarled, growing awkwardly. You could tell at a glance it wasn't a good tree, and it stood out conspicuously.

But Chongzhen seemed to be led by something, waved his hand, and walked over alone.

Seeing that he seemed preoccupied, the concubines rested in the pavilion and did not follow him.

Chongzhen walked to the tree, where the shade provided a cool respite. He reached out and touched the rough, cracked bark, finding it hot and solid to the touch.

He stood there for a while, surrounded by the deafening chirping of cicadas, which was quite irritating.

He suddenly hummed in a very low voice, with a fierce tone, which only he could hear: "Uncle Fu... don't blame me for being heartless, it's because your family has too much wealth... poor bastards have long since run out of wealth, if I don't squeeze you dry, I might have to climb a tree!"

As he spoke, he glanced at the crooked tree and immediately felt his conscience harden even more.

"Uncle, your peaceful days are over. I've sharpened Wei Zhongxian's knife to a razor's edge... Let's see how tough your neck is!"

After speaking, his eyes flashed with a sharp look, but he quickly concealed it, glanced back at the pavilion, and only when he saw that no one was paying attention did he calm himself down.

He took a deep breath of the hot air, a faint smile returned to his face, and turned back.

"The view is quite expansive from this vantage point," he said casually.

Empress Zhou stepped forward and said, "If Your Majesty finds it pleasant, you are welcome to come here often when the summer heat becomes unbearable."

Emperor Chongzhen nodded, saying nothing more. He glanced one last time at the crooked tree, and was about to order the emperor to return to the palace when he saw Wang Chengen, the newly promoted Grand Secretary of the Directorate of Ceremonial, step forward, stand a few steps away, bow, and whisper:
"Your Majesty, Mr. Yuan Keli and Ma Chengen, the Deputy Commander-in-Chief of Datong, have already presented their credentials outside the palace gates, requesting an audience with Your Majesty."

Chongzhen paused, the feigned ease on his face vanishing instantly, his eyes regaining their usual coldness. He hesitated for a moment, then said:
"Summon them. Tell them to wait in the Wenhua Hall. Also, summon Huang Liji, Zhang Zhiji, Sun Chengzong, and Wang Zaijin to come together."

"This servant obeys the decree." Wang Chengen bowed and accepted the order, then quickly withdrew to relay the decree.

Emperor Chongzhen turned to his concubines and gave them a slightly apologetic smile: "I have official business to attend to. You may all return to the palace to rest."

Having said that, without waiting for a reply, he turned and strode down the mountain. His back was stiff and rigid in the scorching sunlight, showing no sign of ease, only an air of utter isolation.

A warm breeze swept by, rustling the leaves of the crooked old tree, as if reminding Chongzhen—to be Chongzhen, one must be ruthless, even more ruthless!
(End of this chapter)