Who killed the Ming Dynasty?

Imperial Physician Wang Huichun placed three fingers on Zhu Cilang's wrist, intently examining his pulse.

Ma Shiying stepped forward a few paces, his voice heavy with sorrow:

"Your Majesty is unwell, and this old minister is extremely anxious. However, the country cannot be without its principles for even a day, and now Your Majesty..."

He suddenly raised his sleeve to wipe away his tears, then his tone turned worried.

"Three of the six ministries' ministerial positions are vacant, and more than ten censorate positions are vacant. If an emergency were to occur and these positions were to be filled—what precedent should be followed?"

Zhu Cilang struggled to sit up, coughed a few times, and said weakly:

"Ahem... The Ministry of Personnel keeps the records, and the Grand Secretariat knows the wise and foolish. You gentlemen... should draft your opinions..."

Ma Shiying kowtowed twice, his words becoming increasingly earnest:

"Although a draft proposal can temporarily replace imperial decision-making, it is ultimately difficult to establish a fixed rule without the emperor's approval."

"If we encounter urgent military or national affairs, or disputes among the six ministries, even if we have good strategies, we fear that we may miss the opportunity."

He suddenly pulled out a scroll of yellow silk from his sleeve and held it high with both hands:

"Your Majesty, I request that, following the precedent set by Zhang Jiangling in the early Wanli period, the Grand Secretariat be permitted to assist in the management of state affairs and temporarily exercise the power of imperial approval (to act on behalf of the Emperor) to address urgent matters..."

This is indeed a difficult problem.

Zhu Cilang secretly went to Chengdu Prefecture, but without the power to approve imperial edicts, the court's political affairs would come to a complete standstill, and the state apparatus would be unable to function.

His coughing stopped abruptly, and his tone turned cold:

"Minister Ma, are you suggesting I emulate Emperor Shenzong's system of granting children the privilege of youth?"

His heart sank suddenly. Ma Shiying was going to do what Emperor Shenzong did when he ascended the throne at the age of ten, handing over the power of approving imperial edicts to the cabinet and letting the cabinet ministers take control of the government.

Ma Shiying bent even lower, her voice choked with emotion:

"This old minister dares not!"

"However, the affairs of state are numerous and complex. If Your Majesty works day and night, it may harm your health."

"We request that the authority to approve imperial edicts be temporarily suspended for one hundred days, and shall be returned once Your Majesty has recovered your health!"

He said in a trembling voice,

"At this critical juncture for the nation, if Your Majesty does not grant this request, the country will collapse. This old minister...this old minister's heart is ready to be laid bare! I humbly beg Your Majesty...to consider the well-being of the nation!"

Zhu Cilang remained silent for a moment, then, thinking that with Shi Kefa in court, there should be no major problem, he slowly said:

"What Minister Ma has suggested is reasonable. How can I be at peace if the affairs of state are stagnant?"

He thought for a moment, then spoke cautiously.

"In that case, the Directorate of Ceremonial Affairs and the Cabinet shall discuss this together."

"All routine government affairs proposals shall be implemented after being approved by the Directorate of Ceremonial; the removal or dismissal of civil officials shall be handled immediately."

"As for the appointment of military officers and military affairs in border towns, one must still report to the emperor in person and obtain his approval; one must not act arbitrarily."

He ultimately kept a backup plan, determined not to relinquish military power lightly.

"Your subject...will obey Your Majesty's decree!"

Ma Shiying bowed again, and as he raised his head, a bead of sweat slid down the bridge of his nose.

He turned to look at Wang Huichun:

"Mr. Wang, how is His Majesty's health...?"

Wang Huichun's fingertips trembled slightly, and he withdrew his hand from taking the pulse, bowing his head respectfully in response:

"Your Majesty's pulse is deep and wiry, as if there is internal heat burning within... However, your constitution is strong and your health is good. If you calm down and take care of yourself, you will be fine in a hundred days."

When Ma Shiying left the palace, it was pouring rain outside the window.

He stood under the eaves, straightened his court robes which were soaked by the rain, and then resolutely walked into the rain.

The vermilion palace gates were closed tightly in the rain.

The night was deep.

After the fifth chime of the third watch gong, the side gate on the west side of the Qianqing Palace quietly opened.

Zhu Cilang had changed into merchant's attire, with rhinoceros-hide wrist guards hidden in his cotton sleeves, only a mutton-fat jade seal at his waist revealing his secret.

The iron spear wrapped in coarse cloth in Zhang Wu's hand was soaked by the rain, and a faint bluish-black gleam could be seen underneath.

"Your Majesty, General Wang has prepared a fast horse and is waiting outside Shence Gate."

Zhang Wu's low voice mingled with the sound of rain.

"The lanterns from Grand Secretary Ma's residence have been moved to Wenyuan Pavilion."

Zhu Cilang glanced one last time at the roof ornaments of Fengxian Hall shrouded in rain, then suddenly tossed the jade seal to Han Zanzhou:

"If he does not return within one hundred days, hand this item over to Grand Secretary Shi."

As the old eunuch knelt to receive the emperor, his figure had already disappeared into the rain.

Only the bronze bells on the palace walls jingled in the wind and rain, as if asking something.

On the banks of the Qinhuai River, a merchant ship is quietly moored at the shore.

As Zhu Cilang stepped onto the deck, twenty elite soldiers from the Beijing garrison, clad in straw raincoats, emerged from the cabin—

These were the elite troops under the command of Lieutenant General Wang Jing, who were now all disguised as servants of merchants.

After the recapture of Dezhou, Zhang Wu of the Beijing Garrison was promoted to General for his meritorious service, and Wang Jing was promoted to Assistant General.

This group of people were all elites who had gone through bloodshed and fire, and could be called the elite among elites.

In July, the heat of Nanjing had not yet subsided, but the torrential rain brought a chill.

The merchant ship quietly glided away from the riverbank in the inky rain, heading upstream along the Yangtze River towards Chongqing Prefecture, heading west.

Accompanying Zhu Cilang was Zhang Youyu, the Vice Minister of Revenue, who disguised himself as a bookkeeper.

......

Chengdu Prefecture.

In August, the autumn winds begin to blow in Chengdu.

Song An, disguised as a grain merchant, was captured by Zhang Xianzhong's soldiers as soon as he entered the territory of Chengdu Prefecture. He is currently being escorted to the Shu King's Palace.

"Hurry up!"

The soldier's sword hilt pierced his waist, causing him to stumble and fall against the barbican wall.

His cheek was pressed against the damp brick surface; he knew this city wall all too well.

The walled city wall was 22 li long and 35 zhang high; he was originally from Chengdu Prefecture.

The steam from the Jinjiang River, mixed with the smell of blood, drifted over.

Several egrets flew over the ruined city wall, then flapped their wings and disappeared into the river on the other side of the crenellations.

Yesterday (the ninth day of the eighth lunar month), Zhang Xianzhong's army had captured Chengdu.

"What are you looking at!"

The guards roughly pulled on the ropes, and Song An was dragged into the barbican.

Pass through the moon gate.

Wine flags hung half-down under the eaves of the houses along the street, swaying weakly in the wind.

An old woman knelt in the corner of the wall, holding a lifeless child in her arms, her empty eyes staring at the sky, muttering to herself.

Song An was dragged across the Imperial River Stone Bridge, dark red bloodstains seeping into the cracks of the blue bricks.

Turning past the broken walls of Donghua Gate, the collapsed city gate tower pressed down on half of the "Silence" plaque, and wild dogs were seen gnawing on human bones among the charred pillars.

At the entrance of a dilapidated shop, a surviving elderly man peeked out.

A poorly clothed child huddled in a street corner, watching in terror as the soldiers escorted the procession past;

In addition to the smell of blood, the air was filled with the acrid smell of burning houses, and sporadic cries could be heard from afar.

The once prosperous Chengdu has been transformed into a living hell.

Song An stumbled into the Shu Prince's mansion and looked up to see the "Chengyun Gate" plaque hanging askew.

Broken glazed tiles were scattered all over the ground, and the eaves beasts that were originally part of the Shu King's sleeping quarters were now leaning to one side, having lost their former majesty.

The moment he was pushed into the Chengyun Hall, he saw a man leaning against the throne, slowly peeling walnuts with a gold-inlaid knife.

The crisp sound of the hard shell cracking echoed through the palace, particularly eerie.

Inside the hall, two rows of soldiers stood on either side, and bronze censers at the corners of the hall emitted leaping flames.

Just then, the person on the throne leaned slightly forward.

Song An finally saw his face clearly:

The man was tall and thin, with a slightly yellow face, and his eyebrows slanted sharply towards his sideburns like knives, and thick hair behind his ears.

"Report to the King!"

The messenger knelt down to report.

"This...this merchant Song An said he brought grain from Nanjing to..."

The sound of Jin Cuo's knife peeling walnuts came to an abrupt end.

Song An gasped.

This person—

It turned out to be Zhang Xianzhong, the legendary Eighth King who skinned people to make saddles!

He instinctively clenched his fists, which were already covered in cold sweat.