diymy Chapter 20 Oath in the Snow - New
Chapter 20 Oath in the Snow - New
October 30th, the fifteenth year of Chongzhen's reign, at Chenshi (7-9 AM), outside Deshengmen Gate, Beijing.
The snow that fell at dawn had accumulated to a depth of three inches by dawn.
Three thousand Imperial Guards stood on both sides of the post road, their scarlet cloaks stained dark red by the snow. Five hundred new soldiers carried flintlock muskets on their shoulders, the barrels frosted over. Twelve dragon flags stood taut in the wind and snow, fluttering loudly.
The imperial carriage stopped in the middle of the road, its black carriages tightly closed.
People knelt on both sides of the road.
Supporting the elderly and carrying the young, dressed in tattered clothes, their foreheads pressed against the snow. No one uttered a sound, only the whistling of the wind and snow seeping into their collars. The cries of infants were quickly muffled, like candle flames being extinguished.
Wang Chengen got out of the carriage, the hem of his python robe leaving a trail in the snow.
"His Majesty's decree—" the old eunuch's voice trembled, "Today it's snowing, the people don't need to kneel to see you off, they should all go home."
No one got up.
Wang Chengen walked up to an old woman. The old woman was holding a child in her arms, and the child was clutching half a piece of bran cake in his hand, his fingers, blue with cold, gripping the edge of the cake tightly.
"Old man," Wang Chengen knelt down, "His Majesty requests that you rise..."
The old woman looked up at him, her cloudy eyes asking, "Father-in-law, will the Emperor... return?"
Wang Chengen choked up.
"return."
Li Ce walked out of the city gate.
He wore a dark sash, a gray squirrel fur cloak, and boots that reached his ankles as he stepped into the snow. He didn't look at Wang Chengen, nor at the Imperial Guards, but walked straight to the old woman and squatted down.
The child looked at him curiously.
Li Ce reached out and touched the child's head. The bran cake fell into the snow, and the child burst into tears.
"Don't cry."
Li Ce picked up the bran cake, brushed off the snow, and broke it open.
The bran mixed with grass seeds froze into a hard lump.
He stared at it for three breaths.
Then put it in your mouth and chew.
Hard. Astringent. Scratches the throat.
He swallowed and looked at the old woman: "How long have you been eating?"
"It's been three, three months," the old woman's lips trembled. "Grain is two taels a shi, we can't afford rice... My husband is a soldier at Juyong Pass, he hasn't received his pay for six months..."
Li Ce nodded.
He stood up and faced the dark mass of kneeling people.
"I know you're afraid." The voice was clear in the wind and snow. "Afraid that if I leave, the Jurchens will attack. Afraid that if I leave, grain prices will rise again. Afraid that if I leave... I won't come back."
The wind whipped snowflakes and lashed at people's faces.
Li Ce took out a dagger from his bosom—a standard-issue military dagger from the Beijing garrison, its blade showing signs of wear. He untied his hairnet, letting his long hair fall loose.
"I will only say three things."
He grabbed a lock of hair and pressed the dagger against it.
All around was silent, save for the sound of wind and snow.
Our bodies, hair, and skin are given to us by our parents, and so it is for emperors. To do so is to transgress propriety and is to harm oneself.
But he could no longer care about that. The laws and rituals could not save the country; what he wanted to make to heaven, earth, and all the people was a blood oath heavier than the laws and rituals.
"First, I have a twenty-day deadline for my trip to Jiangnan. Within twenty days, I must bring back 100,000 shi of grain and 800,000 taels of silver, and quell the rebellion in Jiangnan. If I fail to do so—"
The dagger flashed.
Black hair broke off and fell onto the snow.
"Use this hair in place of my body, and bury it at Coal Hill."
The people were in uproar.
Li Ce cut off the second strand.
"Secondly, when I return, the price of grain in Beijing will surely drop to one tael and five mace per shi. If it does not—"
The second strand of hair fell.
"This hair represents my head, and hangs at the gate of virtue and victory."
He cut off the third strand.
"Thirdly, within three years, I demand that the people of the North have access to white rice and new cotton clothing. If this is not achieved—"
The third strand of hair fell down.
"These three strands of hair will be my coffin, tombstone, and epitaph."
He sheathed the dagger, tied three strands of hair together, and handed them to Wang Chengen.
"Keep this safe. If I break my promise, then do as I just said."
Wang Chengen accepted the gift with trembling hands, then knelt down and wept bitterly.
Li Ce turned around and looked at the city gate.
Zhou Yuji stood there. His armor was covered in snow, like a stone sculpture. He held the Zhenyue Sword in his hand, the sword still sheathed, the veins on his hand bulging.
The two looked at each other across the wind and snow.
Three breaths later, Zhou Yuji knelt on one knee. The armor slammed into the city bricks, scattering snow dust everywhere.
Li Ce nodded.
He walked toward the imperial carriage, but instead of getting on, he took the reins from his personal guard.
A black horse with hooves like bowls, knife marks on the saddle, and the leather tears stitched with coarse thread—the horse of General Zhang Wei, who died at Juyong Pass.
He mounted his horse, turned it around, and faced south.
Which direction is the canal? Which direction is Cangzhou? Which direction is the reed marshland?
Han Zanzhou's three hundred elite soldiers should already be in ambush.
"Let's set off."
Two words.
Three thousand Imperial Guards mounted their horses, five hundred new soldiers turned around, and the dragon flag was raised.
The team started moving.
The snow is getting heavier.
The people remained kneeling until the procession became a blurry black line in the snow and fog, until the sound of horses' hooves completely disappeared into the depths of the wind and snow.
A boy suddenly burst out from the crowd, ran after the group for a dozen steps, and fell into the snow. He got up and shouted hoarsely:
"Your Majesty—we are waiting for your return!"
He is Little Stone, the son of Old Liu, the coffin shop owner.
Three days ago at the Xiyuan porridge stall, Li Ce gave him a wooden knife.
The sound was carried away by the wind.
But Li Ce heard it.
He didn't turn around.
The knuckles of the hand holding the reins were white.
At the same time, at Coal Hill
Empress Zhou stood in the pavilion halfway up the mountain, her thin body wrapped in a white fox fur coat.
From here you can see a panoramic view of Deshengmen – kneeling people, a southward procession, and the silhouette of a horse riding away into the distance.
Twelve female guards stood behind her, dressed in flying fish robes, carrying short guns, and with their faces covered by black veils.
"Your Highness," the head female guard whispered, "it's time to set off. The imperial carriage has already left Anding Gate. According to the plan, we will meet at Zhangjiazhuang, thirty miles away."
Empress Zhou did not move.
She watched the black dot in the snow grow smaller and smaller, and asked softly, "Yunniang, do you think... if this person goes, will they ever come back?"
The female guard—Yunniang, a female physician from the Imperial Medical Academy—was silent for a moment: "Since Your Majesty has already decided to accompany the Emperor, why ask about the return date?"
"I'm not asking about the return date." Empress Zhou turned around, her face streaked with tears, but her eyes were clear. "I'm asking whether it was worth it."
She walked to the stone table by the pavilion.
A booklet lay open on the table, its ink stains a mix of new and old. The earliest line, dated to the second year of the Chongzhen Emperor's reign, recorded the names, family backgrounds, preferences, and weaknesses of forty-seven noblewomen from Jiangnan.
The trump card of the Zhou family's daughter's dowry.
She turned to the last blank page, dipped her pen in ink, and wrote:
On the 30th day of the tenth month of the fifteenth year of Chongzhen's reign, the emperor embarked on a southern tour. The people knelt in the snow to see him off, and the emperor cut off his hair to swear an oath. "I will accompany you, even if I die on this journey, I will have no regrets."
Signed: Zhou.
After finishing writing, she closed the booklet and handed it to Yunniang.
"If I don't return," she said, "give this book to the Emperor. Tell him... half the names in it are no longer reliable. But the other half are."
Yunniang took it and carefully put it away: "Why do you say that, Your Highness?"
"Because people's hearts change." Empress Zhou looked south. "The person who gave you a gold hairpin seven years ago might hand you a knife seven years later. This booklet... is the culmination of seven years of hard work, and also a gamble of seven years."
She paused:
"But I bet the Emperor will win."
Why?
"Because of the people who are standing in the snow to see us off today," Empress Zhou said. "They are kneeling not to the emperor, but to someone who is willing to eat bran cakes, cut off his hair, and risk his life for them in Jiangnan."
She took one last look at Coal Hill.
The old locust tree on the mountaintop swayed in the wind and snow, as if waving goodbye.
"Let's go."
The twelve people descended the mountain and disappeared into the snow-covered mountain path.
It wasn't a post road, nor an official road, but a trail worn by hunters. The snow was knee-deep, and every step sank in. No one spoke, only the crunching of boots on the snow.
Half an hour later, at the foot of the mountain.
Twenty mule carts were waiting there, loaded with medicinal herbs, cloth, and porcelain. The middle-aged merchant leading the group bowed and said, "Your Majesty, the carts are ready. As you instructed, we will travel along the Baoding, Zhengding, and Handan route, avoiding the Grand Canal."
Empress Zhou nodded and got into the middle carriage.
The carriage had a mezzanine; she crawled inside, where there was only enough space for one person to sit crouched down. Yunniang covered the goods on the outside and tied them tightly with hemp rope.
"Your Majesty," Yunniang whispered from outside the carriage, "I'm sorry you had to go through all this trouble."
"I don't feel wronged," Empress Zhou's voice came from the inner chamber, muffled, "It's more reassuring than sitting in the imperial carriage."
The convoy set off.
The wheels crunched and squeaked as they rolled over the snow. The fresh snow quickly covered the tracks.
At the same moment, the real imperial carriage was traveling south along the post road.
Twelve female guards, dressed in palace attire and wearing veils, sat in the carriage. From the outside, they looked like an empress sitting there.
The carriage curtains were tightly closed.
Outside the carriage, Shi Wenyi, the Vice Commander of the Embroidered Uniform Guard, rode alongside on horseback, his face grave.
He carried the secret order that Li Ruolian had sent him the night before:
"Use the imperial carriage as bait to slow the journey by 30%. If danger is encountered along the way, the carriage can be abandoned to save the people, but two or three pieces of the Empress's jewelry must be left behind, and the bait must not be lost."
Shi Wenyi gripped the reins tightly.
He knew the queen wasn't in the car.
But he didn't know how far the car could ultimately go.
Deshengmen City Tower
Zhou Yuji was still standing there.
A thick layer of snow had accumulated on the shoulder armor. The lieutenant stepped forward: "Commander, the Emperor has gone far away..."
"I know."
Zhou Yuji didn't move, still gazing south. The Zhenyue Sword in his hand was heavy, and the scabbard was icy cold.
"Issue orders to all gates," he turned, his voice deep and firm, "From today onward, Desheng Gate will only be open for two hours each day. Those entering and leaving will be subject to triple security checks, and any suspicious individuals will be arrested immediately."
"yes!"
"Send another order to Juyong Pass." He paused, "Tell Zhao Tiezhu's brothers—the Emperor has gone south to collect grain. Tell them...to hold out for another twenty days."
The lieutenant's eyes reddened: "Commander-in-Chief, Battalion Commander Zhao, he..."
"I know he's dead," Zhou Yuji interrupted him, "but his soldiers are still alive. Tell them that in twenty days, the food, the pay, and the reinforcements will arrive."
He walked down from the city wall.
Iron boots trod on the snow steps, leaving a footprint with each step.
Beijing stood silent behind him. The nine gates and sixteen streets, the imperial palaces and mansions, the bustling streets and alleys—all were now huddled in the wind and snow, like a wounded beast.
And he had to guard it for the emperor.
The 20th.
He recalled that three days ago at the Military Council Hall in the Western Garden, the Emperor pointed to the map and said, "Your strength lies in defense. I will give you twenty days to build deep trenches and high walls around all the passes from Juyong Pass to Xuanfu, so that even birds cannot cross."
"But defense is not about cowering. Select your most elite 'night scouts' and send them out in shifts. Don't aim to annihilate the enemy, just do three things: spy, harass, and burn their supplies."
Zhou Yuji gripped the hilt of his sword tightly.
The iron in the scabbard was as cold as ice.
But he knew the emperor was right. Pure defense was tantamount to waiting for death. Only by using the most elite forces, like nails driven into the enemy's flesh, on the basis of defense, could they inflict pain and deter them from acting recklessly.
He glanced back in the direction of the imperial city.
The emperor and empress went on a southern tour, leaving the capital empty. This statement should already be circulating among some people by now.
At the same time, the Northern Garrison of the Embroidered Uniform Guard
Li Ruolian stood by the window of the attic, holding the newly translated secret report in her hand.
The Nanjing informant sent messages back via pigeon; the handwriting was hasty.
"Han dispatched 300 eunuchs, who left Yifeng Gate on the fifth day and headed north along the river. They are suspected to be heading to the Grand Canal. Also, there are unfamiliar faces mixed in with the eunuchs, who do not seem to be from the palace."
Li Ruolian closed her eyes, and a complete map of the canal appeared in her mind.
The Cangzhou section is a narrow waterway, with reeds on both banks reaching waist-deep. The withered reeds in November are easily ignited by fire.
He turned around and said to the commander behind him:
"Send a message by carrier pigeon to all spies along the Cangzhou waterway: From today onwards, report the movement of the canal three times a day. Any suspicious convoys, gatherings of people, or unusual cargo—report immediately."
"yes!"
"Investigate one more thing." Li Ruolian took out the silk cloth with plum blossoms painted on it from her bosom. "Go to the Ministry of Revenue and retrieve the palace expenditure records for the past three years. Check all the records of purchasing silk cloth and ink. Especially... items with plum blossom patterns."
The commander was taken aback: "Commander, this area..."
"Start the investigation from the Imperial Kitchen." Li Ruolian's voice was icy. "Liu Shun is dead, but trace the people he came into contact with, the items he received, and the places he went before his death. Plum blossoms... always leave traces."
"Understood."
After the commander withdrew, Li Ruolian walked to the charcoal brazier and held the secret report close to the flames.
The paper curled up, burned, and turned to ashes.
Outside the window, the snow is still falling.
He recalled the emperor's words before leaving the capital: "When I return from Jiangnan—we will settle accounts all at once."
Liquidation.
Li Ruolian looked at the thick stack of files on the table—the confessions and whereabouts of all those who "made irresponsible remarks about the Southern Tour" in Beijing over the past ten days.
Most of them were servants of gentry, storytellers in restaurants and teahouses, and idlers on the streets and alleys.
But there are three that are quite special.
One of them is a poem by Zhou, the Director of Studies at the Imperial Academy, which reads at a poetry gathering: "The king abandoned the bronze vessels, but where did he go after crossing the river to the south?"
One of them is a quote from a former Hanlin Academy editor, surnamed Wang, who said to a friend at home, "The emperor and empress have all left, who will guard the nine ancestral temples?"
One of them was... a young apprentice of a eunuch who was sweeping the Kunning Palace, who was whispering to someone in the imperial kitchen, "The Empress left in a hurry and didn't take many of her jewelry with her."
Li Ruolian circled all three files with vermilion ink.
and so on.
He said to himself.
After the Emperor passed Cangzhou.
Waiting for news of the attack on the imperial carriage to reach us.
Wait for those hiding in the shadows to step out on their own.
Wei Shi (1-3 PM) - Tongzhou Wharf
Li Ce dismounted and boarded the lead boat.
The cabin was simple, with just a table, a chair, and a couch. A map lay open on the table, from Beijing to Nanjing, with the prefectures and counties along the way marked in vermilion ink. Yangzhou and Nanjing were circled repeatedly, the ink marks deeply embedded in them.
The commander of the Embroidered Uniform Guard followed in and whispered, "Your Majesty, Commander Li has secretly reported that Han Zanzhou's three hundred elite troops have left Nanjing and are suspected to be heading towards Cangzhou. The Imperial Guard has slowed down as planned, and all the hidden agents along the way have been activated."
Li Ce moved his finger across the map, stopping at the Cangzhou section.
The canal bends here, and the banks are marked with fine diagonal lines—markers of reed marshes.
"The waterways of Cangzhou are narrow, and the withered reeds are waist-deep," Li Ce said calmly. "If we're going to set up an ambush, this is a good place."
"The commander has dispatched more scouts."
"Not enough." Li Ce shook his head. "Order the fleet to speed up. We must pass Cangzhou before midnight tonight."
The commander was taken aback: "Your Majesty, this... what if we are ambushed..."
"I am determined to be ambushed." Li Ce looked out the window at the wind and snow.
Qianhu's pupils contracted slightly.
"I know that Han Zanzhou buried people in Cangzhou," Li Ce said, pointing to the map. "But he miscalculated two things."
"Please enlighten me, Your Majesty."
"First, he thought I would ride in the imperial carriage slowly and wait for them to finish their preparations." Li Ce sneered, "I will go fast—fast enough that I will break through this waterway before they have time to surround me."
"second?"
"Secondly, he thought the Empress was in the imperial carriage." Li Ce turned around. "That's bait. If he wants to bite, let him bite. He'll only know the pain when he bites hard enough."
The commander took a deep breath: "I understand. Your Majesty intends to... turn the tables on us?"
"Yes." Li Ce nodded. "Let him burn, let him kill. Burn it for Nanjing to see, kill it for Nanjing to see. When his victory report gets back—"
He paused, his voice as cold as ice:
"My fleet has already passed Cangzhou. As for his three hundred elite soldiers... not one of them will be able to return."
The commander bowed and said, "Your subject will go and deliver the order immediately."
He exited the cabin.
Li Ce stood alone by the window. The snow outside had snowed harder, but the icebreakers hadn't stopped. The boatmen's chants echoed intermittently in the wind and snow, like the gasps of a dying man.
He thought of the old woman kneeling outside Deshengmen, and the bran cake in the child's hand.
He recalled the blood-written letter Zhou Yuji had sent three days earlier: "We can hold out for another three days."
I thought of the three strands of hair I had cut off.
The 20th.
He only has twenty days.
The fleet sailed out of the dock and headed south.
The glacier clears the way, and the wind and snow send them off.
The icebreaker led the way, its iron shovels rising and falling, sending ice shards flying. The official boat followed closely behind, its oarsmen shouting commands as their long oars cleaved through the floating ice with a loud crashing sound.
Li Ce stood at the bow of the boat, letting the wind blow his robes.
The waterway widened ahead, and the villages on both banks receded into the distance. Some roofs had collapsed, and some fields were buried under snow, obscuring the furrows. Occasionally, a few farmers stood on the riverbank, staring blankly at the passing fleet, their faces blue with cold and their eyes vacant.
"Your Majesty," Wang Chengen said, bringing over a cloak, "come inside; it's cold outside."
Li Ce did not answer.
He gazed south for a long time. Then he said, "Wang Chengen."
"This old servant is here."
"You know, there must be rumors circulating in Beijing right now... that 'the emperor and empress have fled south, abandoning the country and its people,' right?"
Wang Chengen's face turned pale, and he dared not answer.
Li Ce smiled faintly, a smile that was quickly blown away by the wind.
"Let them spread it," he said. "The more it spreads, the higher those hiding in the shadows will jump."
He turned and went into the cabin.
The cabin door was closed, keeping the wind and snow out.
The ink on the map on the table, marking Yangzhou, was still wet.
Outside the window, the snow fell heavier and heavier, covering up all traces of the snow.
Just like the fate of this dynasty, it is being pushed into an abyss unknown to anyone by a heavy snow.