diymy Chapter 9 The Shocking Change in the Beijing Garrison
Chapter 9 The Shocking Change in the Beijing Garrison
On the 14th day of the tenth month of the fifteenth year of Chongzhen's reign, at the beginning of noon.
The military camp outside Deshengmen in the north of Beijing.
The soldier on the watchtower at the camp gate yawned; the autumn sun made him sleepy. He took out half a hard biscuit from his pocket, took a bite, and then his gaze swept across the official road outside the camp, and his movements suddenly froze.
dust.
A cloud of dust, obscuring the sky, rolled in from the official road to the north. The sound of horses' hooves initially sounded like muffled thunder, gradually becoming clearer and clearer, like the drumbeats before a downpour, growing denser and louder.
"Enemy—" the sentry instinctively tried to shout, but swallowed the words back down.
He recognized the flag.
The character "周" is large and prominently displayed on a black background with gold trim.
It is the flag of Zhou Yuji, the General of Shanxi.
How dare Zhou Yuji's troops so openly march to the outside of the Beijing garrison? And with... a convoy?
The sentry squinted to take a closer look.
From the dust, the outlines of large carts came into view. The carts were piled high with sacks, covered with tarpaulins, but golden grains of wheat peeked out from the edges, shimmering in the autumn sun.
Grain cart.
A total of 120 grain carts, escorted by 2,000 cavalry, marched in a grand procession toward the camp gate.
The sentry dropped the bread from his hand. He turned and rushed down from the watchtower, his voice hoarse:
"The food! The food is here—!!!"
At the same time, in the central command tent of the capital garrison.
Zhang Weixian did not sit down.
He stood in front of the sand table, his back to the tent door, clutching a bronze command arrow in his hand, his knuckles white from gripping it so tightly.
The sand table shows the deployment of the Beijing garrison – five major camps, forty-eight guards, and a registered force of 36,000 soldiers.
But Zhang Weixian knew in his heart that the actual number of soldiers capable of fighting was no more than 20,000. The rest were either ghost employees or rich kids who were sent in by nobles to coast along.
Worse still, how many of these 20,000 people are Zhu Chunchen's men? How many still remember the meager annual "tribute" from the Duke of Cheng's mansion?
Three days ago, during the Changping mutiny, he temporarily stabilized morale by exposing Ma Ke's crimes on the battlefield and distributing pay on the spot. But that was external. What about internally?
Footsteps came from outside the tent, very light, but Zhang Weixian's ears twitched.
"Come in."
The curtain was lifted, and a thirty-year-old captain named Zhao, from Cangzhou, Hebei, entered. He had a scar on his face that ran from his brow bone to the corner of his mouth, a mark left from his early years fighting against the Jurchens.
He was an old subordinate of Zhang Weixian, who had brought him from the Datong border army, and was now in charge of a detachment of men in the Right Wing Battalion.
"General," Commander Zhao said, clasping his hands in a low voice, "the investigation is complete."
"explain."
"Wang Cheng, the Left Wing Battalion Commander, secretly left the camp three nights ago and went to the Duke of Cheng's residence. He stayed for half an hour and entered through the back gate."
Zhang Weixian's eyes turned cold.
Wang Cheng, a veteran of the Beijing Garrison, held a hereditary position as a deputy commander. He seemed honest and hardworking in training, but unexpectedly…
"And another thing," Commander Zhao stepped forward, his voice even lower, "This morning at dawn, Li Sheng, the battalion commander of the Divine Machine Battalion, took two trusted men to the 'Drunken Immortal Pavilion' outside Anding Gate. That pavilion is owned by Xu Yunzhen's brother-in-law. They met someone in a private room—the steward of Li Guozhen's household."
Zhang Weixian slowly turned around.
He was a burly man, always clad in armor, with shoulders broader than the average person. Standing in the tent, he resembled an iron tower, his shadow casting a shadow over half of the sand table.
"Where's the evidence?"
General Zhao took out a neatly folded piece of paper from his pocket and handed it over.
It is a gift list.
"When Li Sheng came out of Zuixianlou, his pockets were bulging. I had one of my clever underlings pretend to be drunk and bump into him, and he just casually took it out." Commander Zhao paused, "The contents listed were: ten boxes of Liaodong ginseng, four bolts of Suzhou embroidery, and silver notes... eight hundred taels."
Zhang Weixian took the gift list, glanced at it, and smiled.
His laughter was cold.
"Eight hundred taels." He slammed the gift list on the table. "A mere battalion commander's annual salary is only forty-eight shi of rice, which is less than thirty taels of silver. Where did he get eight hundred taels to give as gifts?"
"General, should we..." Commander Zhao made a gesture.
"No rush." Zhang Weixian shook his head. "His Majesty has decreed that the Beijing garrison must not be thrown into chaos until the grain arrives."
He walked to the tent flap and lifted a corner of the curtain.
Inside the camp, soldiers were drilling. Shouts of battle, the clash of weapons, and the instructors' reprimands blended into a cacophony.
But Zhang Weixian could see clearly that the ranks of the Zuoye Battalion were obviously loose, with several veteran soldiers hiding in the crowd and slacking off.
The musketeers of the Shenji Battalion were clumsy in loading powder, clearly indicating that they hadn't had live-fire training in a long time.
These are all people that Zhu Chunchen and Xu Yunzhen stuffed in.
It's one thing for them to draw salaries without working and exploit soldiers on ordinary days. But what time is it now? His Majesty is wrestling with the Jiangnan, Liaodong, and the entire court in the Qianqing Palace; the Beijing Garrison is the last line of defense. What if these people betray us at this crucial moment…
Zhang Weixian lowered the curtain and turned around:
"Take a few men and keep a close eye on Wang Cheng and Li Sheng. Remember who they've met, what messages they've relayed, and what time they leave and return to camp each day. But don't alert them."
"yes!"
Just as Commander Zhao was about to leave, a commotion suddenly arose outside the tent.
The sounds of footsteps were chaotic, the noise of voices was deafening, and cheers were mixed in—
"Grain! The grain carts have arrived outside the camp gate!"
Zhang Weixian's pupils contracted.
So fast?
According to the schedule, the grain ships only arrived in Tianjin last night. Unloading, loading, and transporting the grain will take at least a full day. Is Zhou Yuji... traveling overnight?
He grabbed his helmet, put it on, and strode out of the tent.
The camp was in complete chaos.
The drills stopped, and the soldiers all rushed towards the camp gate, craning their necks to look outside. The officers shouted orders to maintain order, but it was no use—the word "food" carried more weight than any military command.
Zhang Weixian mounted his horse, lashed the horse's rump with his whip, and headed straight for the camp gate.
The scene outside Deshengmen is spectacular.
One hundred and twenty large carts lined up in a long queue, stretching from the official road all the way to the end of the road.
Each cart was pulled by four mules, with sacks piled high on top and tarpaulins fluttering in the wind.
The coachmen and laborers who escorted the vehicle were all covered in dust and dirt, with sunken eyes, but their eyes were shining with a light—the light of having risked their lives and finally gotten the job done.
Zhou Yuji rode on horseback and stood at the very front of the caravan.
He was still in his armor, his body stained with blood from Beitangkou and salt from the sea. His face was covered in stubble, and his eyes were bloodshot, but he stood straight as a flag planted in the ground.
Seeing Zhang Weixian ride out of the camp, Zhou Yuji clasped his hands in greeting:
"General Zhang."
"General Zhou," Zhang Weixian returned the salute, his gaze sweeping over the convoy. "This is...?"
"The first batch of 38,000 shi of grain has arrived." Zhou Yuji's voice was hoarse but clear. "His Majesty has decreed that the officers and soldiers of the Beijing Garrison who have rendered meritorious service in protecting the city shall be allocated 5,000 shi of grain first, and their pay will be issued today—half in cash and half in grain."
As soon as the words were spoken, a deathly silence fell over the camp gates.
Then--
"Long live!!!"
A roar like a mountain collapsing and a tsunami erupted from the throats of the Beijing garrison soldiers! Some threw their helmets into the air, some hugged their comrades and beat them violently, and some knelt on the ground and kowtowed repeatedly towards the Forbidden City!
food!
Real food!
This is not empty talk or pie in the sky; it is real, tangible grain piled up right in front of us!
Looking at the soldiers who were so excited they were practically going crazy, Zhang Weixian suddenly felt a lump in his throat.
Having led troops for twenty years, he knew all too well what these soldiers were thinking. Loyalty to the emperor, patriotism, defending the capital—all that was empty talk. Soldiers were fed; that was their duty. Only with food could they risk their lives.
But what kind of food have they been eating all these years? Moldy old rice, coarse wheat mixed with sand, and often delayed payments, sometimes for six months to a year. Why did the border troops mutini?
Why was the Beijing Garrison so corrupt? The root of the problem lies here—the soldiers couldn't even fill their stomachs, so how could you expect them to fight to the death?
Now, the food has arrived.
The emperor did not lie to them.
Zhang Weixian took a deep breath, suppressed his emotions, and loudly gave the order:
"Commanders and captains of each battalion, organize your men to unload the rations! Call out names from the register, and issue three dou of rice to each person! It must be distributed to every soldier before 3 PM today!"
"yes!!!"
The officers' responses were louder than ever before.
The camp gates swung open, and soldiers poured out, unloading and carrying grain like ants carrying food. Bags of wheat and brown rice were passed from the carts into the camp, piling up into small golden mountains.
Zhang Weixian invited Zhou Yuji into the central command tent and personally poured him a bowl of water.
"Was the journey smooth?"
Zhou Yuji took the bowl of water, drank it all in one gulp, and wiped his mouth: "The remnants of Hun Hailong's forces tried to launch a surprise attack on the dock, but they were wiped out. The prisoners and Hun Hailong himself have been sent to the Northern Garrison Command."
Zhang Weixian nodded and lowered his voice: "Things aren't peaceful here with the Beijing garrison...."
He briefly explained the matter concerning Wang Cheng and Li Sheng.
After listening, Zhou Yuji remained silent for a moment: "When does the general plan to make his move?"
"Wait until the grain is distributed." Zhang Weixian's eyes were sharp. "Only when the soldiers are well-fed will they know who to listen to. Only then will no one dare to cause trouble."
Zhou Yuji thought for a moment: "Do you need my people to help?"
"No need," Zhang Weixian shook his head. "The Beijing Garrison will handle its own affairs. Your presence with troops stationed outside the camp is the biggest deterrent."
As the two were talking, hurried footsteps suddenly came from outside the tent.
"General!" A guard rushed in, his face pale. "Something's happened at the Left Wing Battalion!"
Zuoye Camp.
Lieutenant General Wang Cheng stood on the command platform in the drill ground, looking at the sea of soldiers below, his palms sweating profusely.
He was in his early forties, with a square face, slightly overweight, and a neatly trimmed beard, looking more like a wealthy landowner than a military general.
But he was able to rise to the rank of Lieutenant General in the Beijing Garrison not because of his ability, but because of his connections—his brother-in-law was the second steward of Zhu Chunchen's household, and he handled half of the silver that was given to Duke Cheng every year.
Three nights ago, Zhu Chunchen urgently summoned him to his residence, and his words were very simple:
"The grain is almost here. Once the grain arrives in the capital and the Emperor has gained a firm foothold, the first thing he will do is purge the Beijing Garrison. Your years of embezzling salaries and reselling military equipment are enough to warrant ten beheadings."
Wang Cheng's legs went weak at that moment.
"My lord... save me!"
Zhu Chunchen looked at him with the same gaze one would give a dog:
"I can save you, but you have to do me a favor."
"What is it?"
"On the day the grain carts arrived at the camp, incite the Left Wing Battalion to riot over pay. We don't expect you to actually stage a mutiny, just create chaos to distract Zhang Weixian and tie him down."
Zhu Chunchen paused for a moment, then said, "After this is done, I will give you 50,000 taels of silver and arrange for you to go to Jiangnan. You will have a different identity and can still be a wealthy man."
Fifty thousand taels.
Wang Cheng was tempted.
All the embezzlement he's made over the years amounts to no more than 20,000 taels. 50,000 taels would be enough for him to live on for three lifetimes.
Can……
"Zhang Weixian is not someone to be trifled with," Wang Cheng hesitated. "What if he really pulls a knife..."
"Don't you have over three hundred men under your command?" Zhu Chunchen sneered. "They're all men you brought from your hometown, loyal to you. Just say the court is unfair with rations; all the other garrisons in the capital have received their full pay, but the Left Wing Garrison is being withheld. If the soldiers riot, and there's a large group to punish, will Zhang Weixian dare kill them all?"
Wang Cheng thought about it for half the night and then agreed.
Now, the grain carts have really arrived.
They stopped right outside the camp gate, carrying bags of grain into the camp. Soldiers in other camps cheered deafeningly upon receiving their rice. But what about the grain for his left flank camp…?
Zhang Weixian didn't send anyone to notify us to collect the grain!
Wang Cheng knew that Zhang Weixian was testing him—testing whether he dared to cause trouble, and testing how many people in the Zuoye Camp listened to him.
He gritted his teeth and climbed onto the platform.
Below the stage, all 1,200 soldiers of the Left Wing Battalion looked up at him. Their eyes held expectation, anxiety, and doubt.
"Brothers!" Wang Cheng spoke, his voice trembling slightly, but he tried to make it louder, "The grain has arrived! You've all seen it!"
There was a commotion in the audience.
"But where's the food?!" Wang Cheng raised his voice, pointing towards the camp gate. "All the other camps are getting their rations, but our Left Wing Camp isn't! Why?!"
The soldiers looked at each other in bewilderment.
"I'll tell you why!" Wang Cheng stomped his foot angrily, "Because Zhang Weixian wants to purge the Beijing Garrison! He's going to use our Left Wing Garrison as a scapegoat! He's cutting off our rations and salaries, forcing us to riot, so he has an excuse to kill people!"
These words were like a stone thrown into water, creating waves.
"Why should I?!"
"We're also part of the Beijing Garrison! Why aren't we getting our rations?!"
"We need to get an explanation from Zhang Weixian!"
From the crowd, several of Wang Cheng's trusted men took the lead in shouting. They were people Wang Cheng had brought from his hometown, and over the years they had lived a life of luxury alongside him, long since bound to him. Now that Wang Cheng was finished, they couldn't escape either.
Emotions begin to spread.
Those soldiers who were initially hesitant, seeing the jubilant scenes of other battalions receiving their rations and then looking at their own empty hands, felt increasingly resentful.
"Let's go! To the central command tent to get supplies!"
"If you don't give it to us, we won't train!"
"Right! No drills!"
The crowd began to surge towards the camp gate.
Wang Cheng breathed a sigh of relief as he watched the soldiers below the stage grow increasingly agitated, but then he took another deep breath.
He knew that the fire had been lit.
But what happens next...?
Central command tent.
Zhang Weixian listened to the report from his personal guards without showing any expression.
Zhou Yuji stood up: "I'll go and mobilize the troops."
"No need," Zhang Weixian raised his hand to stop him, "The Left Wing Battalion won't cause any trouble."
He walked to the tent and lifted the curtain to look at the sky.
At noon, the autumn sun hangs high in the sky.
"I passed down the order to distribute the grain half an hour ago," Zhang Weixian said. "The grain carts for the Left Wing Battalion should have already arrived at the back gate of their camp."
Zhou Yuji was taken aback.
"When Wang Cheng was stirring things up on the platform, the grain carts were only three hundred paces behind him." Zhang Weixian smiled, a cold, hard smile. "I deliberately didn't have anyone notify him. I just wanted to see how high he could jump."
He turned and gave the order to Commander Zhao:
"Take a squad of men and go to the back gate of the Left Wing Camp. Show the grain carts and distribute the grain according to the register. Remember—only distribute to ordinary soldiers; withhold the grain from officers, especially Wang Cheng's few confidants."
"yes!"
Commander Zhao accepted the order and left.
Zhang Weixian then said to another of his personal guards:
"Go to the Shenji Camp and 'invite' Li Sheng over. Tell him... I'd like to invite him for tea to discuss the payment of wages."
"yes!"
Only Zhang Weixian and Zhou Yuji remained inside the tent.
Zhou Yuji looked at Zhang Weixian and suddenly said, "General, are you trying to... divide and conquer?"
"Hmm." Zhang Weixian nodded. "What do soldiers want? A bite to eat. Once the food is in their hands, who would still follow Wang Cheng and cause trouble? As for those officers... without soldiers, they're just teethless dogs."
He paused, then added:
"This is what His Majesty taught us."
Zhou Yuji's eyes flickered.
"His Majesty said that governing an army is like controlling water. It is better to dredge than to block, and better to appease than to kill." Zhang Weixian looked out of the tent, "Once the food is distributed, people's hearts will be at peace. Once people's hearts are at peace, we can then purge a few corrupt officials, and no one will speak up for them."
Before he could finish speaking, a commotion arose outside the tent.
It was the direction of the Left Wing Camp—but the commotion quickly changed, from angry shouts to astonished discussions, and then… cheers.
Zhou Yuji walked to the edge of the tent and lifted the curtain to look inside.
At the back gate of the Zuoye Camp, twenty grain carts appeared out of nowhere. Commander Zhao and his men were distributing the rations, pouring buckets of coarse rice into the soldiers' sacks. The soldiers, clutching their rice sacks, grinned from ear to ear; there was no trace of any sign of unrest.
On the platform, Wang Cheng's face turned deathly pale.
He watched helplessly as the morale he had built crumbled before the grain. The soldiers took their rations and dispersed in twos and threes, some going straight back to their barracks to start fires and cook.
He was left with only a few dozen trusted officers.
These people, who hadn't received their rations, looked grim and gathered around Wang Cheng.
"Sir! Where is our food?!"
"Yeah! Why aren't we getting them?"
Wang Cheng opened his mouth, but couldn't say a word.
He knew it was over.
Zhang Weixian didn't withhold rations; he deliberately delayed doing so. This was his way of telling him—I saw through your trick. I've got my eye on your people.
What should we do now?
Keep causing trouble? The soldiers have all dispersed, who's going to bother with you?
Admit defeat? What are the consequences of admitting defeat? All that embezzlement over the years, is enough to get you beheaded several times over?
Wang Cheng's mind went blank.
Just then, a group of armored soldiers walked in from the direction of the camp gate.
The one leading the group was Zhang Weixian.
He didn't ride a horse, nor did he bring many men, only eight personal guards. But those eight men, with their eight swords, marched forward with the imposing presence of a thousand troops.
When the soldiers of the Left Wing Battalion saw Zhang Weixian, they instinctively stood up straight, and some of the more timid ones even took a step back.
Zhang Weixian walked down from the platform, looked up, and gazed at Wang Cheng on the platform.
"General Wang," he spoke calmly, "has the grain been distributed?"
Wang Cheng's lips trembled: "It's...it's gone..."
"That's good." Zhang Weixian nodded. "But I just heard that the Left Wing Battalion has something to say about the distribution of rations? They say I've been withholding their pay and they're going to cause trouble?"
"No, no!" Wang Cheng vehemently denied it. "It's a misunderstanding! It's absolutely a misunderstanding!"
"A misunderstanding?" Zhang Weixian laughed. "But I heard that General Wang didn't say that on the command platform just now."
He paused, his voice suddenly turning cold:
"You said I was going to purge the Left Wing Battalion and use you as an example. Did you say that?"
Wang Cheng's legs went weak, and he almost knelt down.
"General! I...I was just...I was confused for a moment! I listened to the instigation of that villain!"
"A villain?" Zhang Weixian raised an eyebrow. "Which villain?"
Wang Cheng was speechless.
Would he dare to implicate Zhu Chunchen? If he did, Zhu Chunchen wouldn't let him off the hook. If he didn't, Zhang Weixian wouldn't let him off the hook either.
dilemma.
Zhang Weixian stopped looking at him, turned to the soldiers who had not yet dispersed below the stage, and said loudly:
"Brothers of the Left Wing Battalion! Have you received your rations yet?"
"It's been sent!" someone in the audience responded.
"Is that enough?"
"enough!"
"Very well." Zhang Weixian nodded. "Now I have a few things to say, so please listen carefully."
His voice was loud and clear, echoing throughout the entire training ground:
"First, from today onwards, the rations and pay of the Beijing Garrison will be paid in full, without any delay. His Majesty has decreed: Only when soldiers are well-fed can they defend their country!"
"Secondly, those of you who have been drawing salaries without working and exploiting soldiers, I will give you three days. Within three days, voluntarily go to the military court to confess and return the embezzled funds, and you may be treated leniently. After three days—"
His gaze swept over Wang Cheng, then over the officers:
Military law is merciless.
The audience was silent.
The soldiers looked at Zhang Weixian and the officers on the platform who usually acted arrogantly, their eyes filled with complex emotions.
Zhang Weixian continued:
"Third, starting tomorrow, the Beijing Garrison will be reorganized. Those who are capable of fighting will remain; those who are not will be given severance pay and sent home to farm. Vacancies will be filled by recruiting new soldiers from Beizhili and Shanxi, selecting the best candidates."
These words were like a bomb.
Reorganize? Fiscalize the old and weak? Recruit new soldiers?
This means that the Beijing Garrison is about to undergo a major reshuffle!
On the platform, Wang Cheng's face was deathly pale.
He knew that Zhang Weixian was serious this time. The purge wasn't just talk.
"General..." he began, his voice trembling, "Reorganizing the troops is a matter of great importance. Shouldn't we...shouldn't we consult the Ministry of War first? Shouldn't we consult the Duke of Cheng?"
"The Duke of Cheng?" Zhang Weixian turned around and looked at him. "Is Zhu Chunchen the Commander of the Beijing Garrison?"
"No, it's not..."
"Is it any of his business to interfere in the affairs of the Beijing Garrison?"
Wang Cheng choked.
Zhang Weixian ignored him and addressed the audience:
"Disperse. Those who have received their rations, go back and eat well. Tomorrow at Chenshi (7-9 AM), the entire army will assemble at the drill ground for my personal inspection!"
The soldiers responded with a roar and dispersed.
On the platform, only Wang Cheng and his dozens of trusted confidants remained.
Zhang Weixian then turned and went up on stage, walked to Wang Cheng, and looked at him:
"General Wang, are you leaving on your own, or should I 'invite' you to leave?"
Wang Cheng was drenched in cold sweat: "General... I... I'm willing to confess! I'm willing to return the stolen goods!"
"Too late." Zhang Weixian shook his head. "Inciting unpaid wages and bewitching the army—that alone is enough to cost you your head."
He waved his hand:
"Take it down!"
Eight guards stepped forward and instantly subdued Wang Cheng and the officers.
"General! General, spare my life!" Wang Cheng cried hoarsely. "It was Duke Cheng! It was Zhu Chunchen who made me do this! He gave me fifty thousand taels of silver! He told me to cause trouble and delay you! The silver is still under my bed in the barracks! I'll hand it all over! Please spare my life!"
Zhang Weixian remained expressionless.
"Take him to the military court. Record his confession and the stolen money together."
"yes!"
The guards dragged the weeping Wang Cheng and his men away.
Zhang Weixian stood on the platform, looking at the empty training ground, and let out a long breath.
The Left Wing Camp has been captured.
Next up is the Divine Machine Battalion, then the other battalions...
This malignant tumor, the Beijing Garrison, must be completely eradicated.
He turned to Zhou Yuji, who had been following behind him, and said:
"General Zhou, I need your help with something."
"Please speak, General."
"Take two thousand men and 'station' them outside the Duke of Cheng's residence." Zhang Weixian's eyes were icy. "Tell them... that the capital is unstable recently, and you have been ordered to protect the noble and important officials. No one is allowed to enter or leave without my warrant."
Zhou Yuji understood immediately.
This is to place Zhu Chunchen under house arrest.
"clear."
Zhou Yuji accepted the order and left.
Zhang Weixian stood alone on the platform, his cloak fluttering in the autumn wind.
He looked towards the Forbidden City.
Your Majesty, I have struck the first blow from the Capital Garrison.
There will only be more blood to come.