Who killed the Ming Dynasty?

Qianqing Palace.

The candlelight danced on the mountain of memorials, casting Zhu Cilang's silhouette before his desk.

A memorial with fresh ink was unfolded before him:

"Manufacturing of the Divine Machine Gun has begun... Redundant personnel in the army have been eliminated, and elite soldiers have been selected."

His fingers lightly traced the paper, and for a moment, his brow finally relaxed—

Firearms innovation and troop reorganization—these painstakingly planned initiatives...

In the end, a few fragile wedges were driven into the crumbling empire.

But in the very next moment—

"Sizzle—"

An urgent report was suddenly torn out, the four characters "Chongqing has fallen" written in a fierce ink, instantly extinguishing any remaining hope.

The military newspaper prominently displayed:

Urgent report!

Zhang Xianzhong, the leader of the bandits in Huguang, led his troops to invade from Huguang, broke through Kuimen, and Zeng Ying's troops were defeated.

The bandits seized my warships and sailed downstream, burning down all the outposts along the river.

By June 20th, Chongqing had fallen!

After the city fell, the soldiers and civilians within were massacred. Prince Rui, Zhu Changhao, and Governor Chen Shiqi, among others, died for their country, and all official documents were burned…

"With the Jurchens in the north and bandits in the south, even with the bravery of Wei Qing and Huo Qubing, it would be difficult to attend to both. The Ming Dynasty is truly beset by internal and external troubles!"

Zhu Cilang looked at the memorial in his hand and muttered to himself.

As a time traveler, he knew clearly that with Chongqing Prefecture fallen, Chengdu Prefecture was on the verge of collapse.

Those cold words are now transforming into the blazing blood and fire before our eyes.

The feeling of powerlessness knowing the outcome is more suffocating than pure uncertainty.

On the third day of the eighth lunar month, Zhang Xianzhong's main force will arrive at the gates of Chengdu and join forces with Sun Kewang and Li Dingguo, who arrived earlier, to besiege Chengdu.

On the ninth day of the eighth lunar month, Liu Jiayin, the Ming general in charge, opened the city gates and surrendered, allowing Zhang Xianzhong to enter the city.

On the tenth day of the eighth month, an order was issued to close the city and conduct a three-day search, resulting in the massacre of tens of thousands of people...

The calamity of Zhang Xianzhong's massacre in Sichuan was imminent.

Despite his deep resentment, Zhu Cilang was at a loss for what to do.

At this time, the imperial court was powerless to advance westward and could only watch helplessly as the Shu region fell.

He rose and walked to the window, standing in the deep shadows of the Qianqing Palace, muttering to himself:

"Even Zhuge Liang's six expeditions to Qishan were hampered by food shortages. Now, the border is in dire need of supplies, and the elite troops of each garrison are trapped north of the Yangtze River."

"Sichuan is a thousand miles away. Even if troops are sent west, it will be too late to help a nearby fire."

His whispers were cold, imbued with a sense of powerlessness.

He turned abruptly, his gaze falling upon the map of the Ming Dynasty—

Its vermilion, like blood, marks the boundary of the Shu region.

The distance from Nanjing to Chengdu is over 5,000 li.

The army will need a full sixty days to set off.

Is the fall of Sichuan a foregone conclusion?

Is destiny already predetermined?

They actually want me to sit back and watch Zhang Xianzhong stain the Jinjiang River with blood!

He stared at the map, his gaze growing increasingly somber.

Perhaps... this is really the only way!

"Whoosh—Clang!"

Outside the window, a fierce wind whipped up fallen leaves, pounding violently against the windowpane.

"Thump! Thump! Thump!"

The water clock in the bronze kettle struck three times in quick succession.

Just as the deep echo of that sound had barely faded, Zhu Cilang suddenly looked up:

"No! I will never stand idly by! I will never allow the millions of people of Sichuan to become innocent victims of the sword!"

A roar echoed through the halls of the Qianqing Palace.

A bold, almost insane idea flashed through his mind.

But this crazy idea caused his boiling blood to suddenly cool down.

He needed to think, to plan, and to find a place where he could temporarily step out of his identity as the "emperor" and calmly examine the plan.

......

That night, on the banks of the Qinhuai River.

In early July, the nights in Nanjing are slightly cool.

Zhu Cilang stepped out of the palace gate, followed silently by two plainclothes guards.

The vermilion gate behind them slowly closed, shutting out the oppressive atmosphere inside the palace.

Along the Qinhuai River, willows sway gently in the evening breeze.

The river is dotted with lights, reflecting a bustling scene.

After the triumphant return from Dezhou, no one in the palace dared to inquire about Zhu Cilang's whereabouts.

He took a deep breath of the air from the Qinhuai River, and the plain blue cotton robe he wore allowed him to temporarily shed the burden of being the "Son of Heaven".

He walked onto the stone bridge, his gaze sweeping over the noisy crowd on the bank and landing on the dimly lit area.

He needs to clear his mind, perhaps he needs the clarity of an outsider, even if only for a moment.

But the infighting in the court, the wars on the frontier, and the fall of Shu were always weighing on his mind.

A soft sigh dissipated into the wind.

My gaze inadvertently fell upon a pavilion not far away—"Lanxin Pavilion".

A blue cloth curtain hangs outside, a bamboo blind is half-rolled up, and several crimson gauze lanterns glow dimly, while clear and melodious zither music flows faintly from the gaps in the curtain.

A cool and aloof face gradually appeared in my mind—Bian Yujing.

The woman I saved in Huai'an.

Bian Yujing appears indifferent, but she speaks frankly and without pretense, and talking to her always brings a sense of calm.

However, if an emperor were to set foot in such a place of pleasure, and it were to alert the city's military patrol, the memorials from the censors would likely pile up on his desk the next day.

He hesitated for a moment, then turned to the guard and whispered:

"No need to follow!"

The guard looked troubled and whispered his advice:

"Young master, it's late, and this place is teeming with all sorts of dangerous people..."

Zhu Cilang only returned a sharp look, and the guard immediately fell silent, bowed, and withdrew.

He straightened his clothes, walked steadily toward the lights.

The pavilion was brightly lit, filled with the sounds of string and wind instruments mixed with the sweet scent of cosmetics.

Zhu Cilang stood at the intersection of light and shadow in the courtyard, his gaze sharp as a blade, instantly piercing through the glitz and clamor within the building.

Inside the pavilion, silk robes swayed in the breeze, and the frivolous young men were drunk and dazed, while the dancers swayed gracefully. Laughter and the clinking of glasses could be heard through the gaps in the curtains of the private rooms.

A rich, cloying fragrance wafted towards me, and a brightly dressed madam approached, a fawning smile plastered on her face.

"Oh! This young master looks quite dashing!"

Her voice was sickeningly sweet.

"First time back? Looking for someone to relax with? We have spring flowers and autumn moons here..."

Zhu Cilang remained calm and nodded slightly.

"I have come here specifically to visit my old friend, Miss Bian Sai. Please inform her of my arrival."

The madam's smile froze for a moment, then blossomed again:

"Oh dear, what bad luck! Miss Bian is currently with our distinguished guest and can't leave right now! How about...?"

"No need."

Zhu Cilang raised an eyebrow slightly, took out a silver ingot from his sleeve, and placed it in the madam's palm.

"Please inform Miss Bian that Zhu Kunyao from Huai'an Prefecture has come to pay a visit. She will know as soon as she hears it."

The madam's hand suddenly felt heavy. She then carefully examined Zhu Cilang, noting his unassuming yet undeniably noble air, and then smiled:

"Oh, oh, no problem at all!"

Her smile became more genuine as she gripped the silver coins tightly.

"Please wait a moment, young master, this old woman will go and deliver the message right away!"

She clutched the silver coins tightly, turned around, and hurried upstairs.

A short while later, the madam hurried downstairs, her face beaming with an even wider smile than before:

"Young Master Zhu, you have quite the clout! Miss Bian invites you! Please come with me!"

She led Zhu Cilang through the noisy corridor on the second floor, where the sounds of music and laughter filled the air.

Zhu Cilang kept his eyes straight ahead and walked with a steady gait, standing out from the ostentatious atmosphere around him.

Upon reaching the innermost room, one arrives at the door of an elegant room with a plaque bearing the inscription "Shuyu".

The madam pushed open the door, revealing an elegantly furnished room with a guqin, several scrolls of calligraphy and paintings, and the gentle fragrance of sandalwood incense, a world apart from the glitz and glamour outside.

"Please have some tea, sir. The young lady will be here soon."

The madam put down her teacup and gently closed the door.