xymnovel Chapter 40, Line 3 is in dire need of attention.
Chapter 40, Line 3 is in dire need of attention.
"Your Majesty," she murmured, "this old minister... has done his best."
On the same day, in the Bohai Bay.
The sea is white.
It wasn't the white of the waves, but the white of the ice. Ice floes of all sizes stretched from the horizon to before us, some as large as houses, others as small as tables, slowly colliding and pressing against each other in the leaden-gray water, producing a chilling, creaking sound. Through the cracks in the ice, deep black seawater peeked out, like wounds splitting open in the earth.
Zheng Sen's five Fujian ships are now trapped in the icy sea.
The bow of the lead ship, "Tanhai," is already embedded in a table-sized ice floe.
The ship groaned as the ice sloshed around it, and the masts swayed violently in the wind. The sailors, armed with long poles and axes, desperately tried to break through the ice around the ship, but as soon as they made a crack, more ice surged in from the side.
"Young Master! We can't force our way through!" The boat captain was soaked to the bone, his beard covered in ice. "This is the 'Dragon Scale Flood,' a once-in-a-century event! If we go any further, we'll all freeze here!"
Zheng Sen stood at the bow of the ship, his dark sleeves covered in frost. He clutched the "Beiyang Hydrographic Map" in his hand, on which this section was marked in red: "This sea area has a lot of floating ice in winter and spring; sailors should proceed with caution."
"Be careful." He smiled wryly and put the drawing away.
"How much gunpowder is left?" he asked.
"There are thirty barrels left on the ship, each weighing fifty catties," the second-in-command replied.
"Where's your cotton-padded coat?"
"A total of two thousand pieces of equipment were on the five ships, all of which were on the No. 3 ship, the 'Breaking Waves'."
Zheng Sen looked toward Ship No. 3. It was a 400-ton Fujian-style ship with a deep draft and heavy load, and it was currently the most trapped by the ice, its hull already listing.
He paused for a moment, then turned and ordered: "Send word: Abandon the 'Wavebreaker.' Move all the cotton-padded clothes and gunpowder to the other four ships. Then... burn the ship."
"Burn the ship?!" the captain exclaimed in shock. "Young master, that's a ship full of supplies!"
"Burn it, use the fire to melt the ice." Zheng Sen's tone was resolute. "One ship for four ships, it's worth it."
When the order was given, the sailors' eyes welled up with tears. The ship held the cabins where they had slept for three years, the pickled vegetables and rice they had brought from Nanjing, and letters written to their families. But no one disobeyed—the Zheng family's military orders were absolute.
Cotton-padded clothing and gunpowder were urgently transferred. Half an hour later, only empty cabins remained on the "Breaking Waves".
Zheng Sen personally boarded the abandoned ship. He went to the cargo hold, opened a barrel of kerosene, and poured it onto the deck. A pungent odor filled the air.
"Light it," he said.
The torch was thrown down. With a roar, flames leaped up and quickly engulfed the cabin. Tongues of fire licked the ship's planks, crackling and popping. The ice surface melted from the heat, sizzling and billowing white steam.
"Retreat!" Zheng Sen was the last to jump back into the "Explorer".
Using the passage created by the melting fire, the four ships slowly retreated. Behind them, the "Breaking Waves" burned fiercely in the icy sea, like a giant torch illuminating half the sea surface.
The firelight shone on Zheng Sen's face. He saw the mast break in the fire and crash down; he saw the ship gradually tilt and sink into the icy sea; he saw the cotton clothes he had personally carried turn to ashes in the sea of fire.
"Young Master..." the deputy said, his voice choked with emotion.
Zheng Sen didn't speak. He turned around and looked west—the direction of Tianjin, the direction of Tongguan.
"Speed up," he said. "We've already wasted ten days. The brothers at Tongguan can't wait any longer."
February 5th, Wenhua Hall, Nanjing.
Three urgent reports arrived on the same day.
The first document came from Huai'an, written by Li Ruolian himself: "The canal gang has rioted, with three hundred boats blocking the river. I have arrested seven ringleaders and intend to execute them. However, I fear this will provoke a major upheaval, so I request Your Majesty's permission."
The second memorial came from Sichuan, written in blood by Qin Yiming: "Jianmen Pass has been without food for seven days, and my aunt is determined to defend it to the death. I am risking my life to break through the siege; I beg for reinforcements to be sent immediately!"
The third letter came from the sea, from Zheng Zhibao to Zheng Sen: "The fleet is trapped in the Bohai Sea by ice storms. One ship has already been abandoned, and 30% of the supplies have been lost. I have decided to change the grain transport route to land, but Tongguan is far away, and I fear that it will be too late to meet the urgent needs."
Three reports lay spread out on the emperor's desk. The ink was still wet, and the corners of the papers still bore the marks of the wind and frost they had traveled along the way.
Li Ce stood motionless before the desk. The flickering candlelight in the hall cast his long shadow on the wall, making him look like a silent statue.
Ni Yuanlu, Jiang Dejing, and Li Jizhen, three senior officials, stood at the lower end, all with their heads bowed and silent. It was raining again outside the window; the spring rain was fine and dense, tapping on the glazed tiles with a sound as soft as a sigh.
After a long while, Li Ce spoke, his voice hoarse: "Tell me everything."
Ni Yuanlu stepped forward first: "Your Majesty, the Grand Canal is the lifeblood of the nation, and Huai'an cannot be allowed to descend into chaos. I believe that troops should be dispatched again to assist Commander Li in suppressing the rebellion. As for the beheading... it can be postponed to appease the people."
Jiang Dejing shook his head: "Lord Ni, Sichuan is in imminent danger! If General Qin were to die for his country, the gates of Sichuan would be wide open, and Zhang Xianzhong could advance unimpeded into Huguang. We must urgently dispatch Zuo Menggeng to advance troops and order Fang Kongzhao, the governor of Huguang, to provide western reinforcements!"
Li Jizhen then said, "Tongguan has been without food for ten days. General Zhou Yuji is seriously injured, and Gao Jie has taken over military affairs. The morale of the army is wavering."
Zheng Sen's risky attempt to transport grain, though a drop in the ocean, is his only hope. I request that Your Majesty order Sun Chuanting to send troops eastward to meet them and ensure the grain is safely brought through the pass!
The three men each held their own version of events, creating a tense atmosphere in the hall.
Li Ce slowly sat down. He picked up the urgent report from Huai'an, then put it down; he picked up the blood-written letter from Sichuan, his fingertips tracing the four characters "Only death is possible"; finally, he picked up Zheng Sen's letter, looking at the sentence "Your subject has decided to change the land route for transporting grain, but Tongguan is far away, and I fear it will be too slow to meet the urgent need."
He closed his eyes.
Memories of past lives flooded back—in the seventeenth year of the Chongzhen Emperor's reign, multiple fronts were also in dire straits.
He tried to summon Zuo Liangyu, but Zuo Liangyu did not move; he tried to summon Wu Sangui, but Wu Sangui moved slowly; he tried to mobilize troops from all over the country, but none of them came.
Finally, he sat alone on Coal Hill, watching Beijing fall, watching the flames of war rise, and watching the three-hundred-year-old Ming Dynasty crumble in his hands.
"In this life..." he murmured to himself, "I am not fighting alone."
He opened his eyes, and there was no longer any hesitation in them.
"Mr. Ni," he looked at Ni Yuanlu, "draft an imperial edict: transfer another two thousand soldiers from the Beijing garrison to Huai'an, under the command of Li Ruolian. Authorize—any officials below the fifth rank involved in the incident to be executed on the spot. But add one sentence: any workers who have to return to their posts within three days will be pardoned, and their wages will be paid in full."
"Mr. Jiang," he turned to Jiang Dejing, "drafted an edict for Zuo Menggeng: if he does not advance his troops into Jianmen within three days, he will be executed for colluding with the enemy."
Her father, Zuo Liangyu, was demoted one rank for failing to properly educate his son. Separately, a secret order was given to Fang Kongzhao, the governor of Huguang, to lead 20,000 troops westward to meet Qin Liangyu.
"Minister Li," he said finally to Li Jizhen, "draft an edict for Sun Chuanting: 'The defense of Tongguan is entirely entrusted to you. You may dispatch elite cavalry eastward to meet Zheng Sen's grain convoy. Also, tell Zheng Sen—'"
He paused, then said, word by word, "Transporting grain by sea is the greatest achievement. No matter how much is transported, I will remember it."
After the three imperial edicts were drafted, they were sealed and sent to the Office of Transmission.
After the three men left, Li Ce stood alone before the map. On the map, from Huai'an to Jianmen Pass, from Bohai to Tongguan Pass, war raged everywhere, and danger lurked in every direction.
He reached out and stroked the mountains and rivers. His fingertips trembled slightly when they touched the three characters "Jianmen Pass".
"General Qin," he whispered, "hold on for a few more days. I... will definitely save you."
February 10th, by the Grand Canal in Huai'an.
Li Ruolian stood on the newly erected wooden platform. Below, three thousand soldiers of the Beijing garrison stood at attention, their spears gleaming coldly. Further away, there was a dark mass of canal workers, and seven foremen bound like dumplings—Wang Si was at the front, his mouth stuffed with rags, his eyes bloodshot.
Zhao Da stood next to Li Ruolian, his legs trembling, but he didn't back down.
"Brothers in charge of the canal transport," Li Ruolian began, his voice not loud but carrying far, "I will ask one last time: those who wish to return to work, stand on the left; those who wish to stand with Wang Si to the end, stay on the right."
The crowd stirred. Some looked down, others peered around.
Wang Si struggled desperately, making a hoarse sound in his throat.