002 The Eve of the Power Struggle

The Xuanwu Gate is a gate located on the northern side of the Forbidden City. During the reign of the Kangxi Emperor, it was renamed the Shenwu Gate to avoid using the characters in the Emperor’s personal name, Xuanye.

Several eunuchs, their noses and mouths covered by rough cloth handkerchiefs, were slowly pulling a flatbed cart. Beneath the white cloth covering the cart, a pair of embroidered red shoes protruded.

The atmosphere was thick with terror!

"Gentlemen, does this need to be inspected? It’s a nursemaid who died—smallpox again."

"Move along! Hurry, move along!"

The guards on duty scrambled far away, terrified of contracting the contagion. Watching the cart recede, they remained shaken, whispering among themselves:

"Six more died in the palace yesterday, including a newly enfeoffed consort."

"It’s likely because our Great Qing committed too many atrocities upon entering the pass; Heaven is sending down disasters as a warning."

"Are you tired of living? Shut your mouth!"

Past the Xuanwu Gate lay Jingshan Hill. The eunuchs took a winding path, found a secluded spot in the hills, lifted the white cloth, and grinned at the corpse. Hidden beneath the body was a bundle of gold ornaments stolen from the palace.

High risk, high reward.

...

The Forbidden City, the Inner Three Courts.

This was the predecessor to the Qing cabinet, overseen by several Grand Secretaries who handled communications and shared the burden of governance for the Emperor.

A confidant whispered, "Grand Secretary, take a look at this."

The elderly Fan Wencheng took it casually, but he was immediately struck by the title on the document. Once he began reading, he was completely absorbed.

He thought to himself: *Brilliant, simply brilliant.*

*This lad is no ordinary person.*

*His political instincts are top-tier, and his understanding of the human heart is exceptional!*

...

The bedchamber.

At thirty-seven, Empress Dowager Xiaozhuang was still full of grace and charm. The years she had spent submitting to Dorgon were merely a matter of political expediency.

She was a woman of extraordinary complexity.

With a major upheaval imminent, the mother and son were in dire need of allies.

"Your humble servant, Fan Wencheng, pays respects to His Majesty and the Empress Dowager."

"Minister Fan, please, rise. Sit, sit. Try this new tea sent as tribute from the south."

"Thank you, Empress Dowager. I have a document here that I wish for you to examine." Fan Wencheng pulled the memorial written by Jiang Qingyun from his sleeve.

A palace maid took it and handed it to Xiaozhuang.

After reading it just once, Xiaozhuang was secretly alarmed, though she warned herself to remain composed.

"Minister Fan, what is your take on this?"

"In my humble opinion, these are the words of a man with profound strategic foresight. By announcing to the people that smallpox is not a disaster sent by Heaven, but a man-made tragedy, and by identifying the root cause, we can both soothe the resentment of the officials and the populace, and consolidate the foundation of our Great Qing. Furthermore, his suggestions regarding the screening of patients, the importance of water wells, and the clearing of waste are all quite sound."

"Prince Yu has just passed away, and the court is in mourning. The war in Shanxi has reached a stalemate. We really must do something. The various princes are at the frontlines overseeing the campaign; in the capital, you and Hong Chengchou carry the most weight. You two should deliberate and handle this."

"As you command. There is one more thing that requires the instruction of His Majesty and the Empress Dowager: what office should be bestowed upon Jiang Qingyun, the author of this memorial?"

"For anything below the sixth rank, you may decide at your own discretion."

...

Fan Wencheng kowtowed once more and withdrew from the bedchamber.

...

Xiaozhuang watched him leave, her heart filled with complex emotions. After dismissing her attendants, she turned to the young Shunzhi Emperor, who sat silently beside her.

"Fulin, what do you think?"

"Imperial Mother, the winds of change are blowing. The morale of the two Yellow Banners is strong; even a lowly soldier dared to lead the charge. I—"

"Fulin, do you still remember the eight characters I told you the year you ascended the throne?"

"Hide one's light and bide one's time; keep one's head low and show obedience," Shunzhi said, grinding his teeth.

The hall was so quiet that the drop of a needle could be heard.

Xiaozhuang extended her left hand toward the sunlight streaming into the hall, admiring her long, scarlet fingernails, and spoke slowly:

"Hide one's light and bide one's time; keep one's head low and show obedience."

"Tomorrow, you will join me in seeing the Prince Regent off as he leaves the capital."

...

In the evening.

Dorgon entered the palace, and the mother and son hosted a banquet for him.

During the feast, a small Yue opera troupe from Hangzhou performed to add to the festivities. Their slender waists and graceful movements, filled with the charm of the Jiangnan region, softened the sorrow of Dorgon’s loss of his brother.

Shunzhi toasted repeatedly, keeping his head low and appearing obedient.

Xiaozhuang was dressed in full regalia, looking radiant and moving.

After the banquet, Shunzhi returned to his bedchamber alone. Every time he closed his eyes, his mind was flooded with scenes of those two engaged in their illicit affair.

A humiliating shame!

At twelve years old, his sense of self-esteem was at its most sensitive.

He stared at the bright yellow canopy above his bed and whispered to the silence: "Old thief! Sooner or later, I will grind your bones to dust!"

...

It was an era where travel was slow. It had been forty-two days since the memorial was submitted, and Jiang Qingyun had been living quite comfortably in the outskirts of the city.

These days, the flow of refugees fleeing the capital was endless.

The funeral processions leaving the city were endless.

Following his own strong advice, the Jiang family had practiced "variolation." Jiang Qingyun had persuaded his father with the saying, "There is no such thing as a thousand-day defense against a thief," as military officers generally tended to be rough-hewn in their thinking.

Cowpox was more advanced, but it was out of reach, so he had opted for the most reliable form of human variolation.

After a mild fever, Jiang Qingyun reflected: *I left my address at the house in Needle Alley; logically, they should have summoned me by now. Smallpox doesn't distinguish between banners, ethnicities, or status; people are dying in droves. These Qing officials are truly capable of enduring heavy losses.*

"Young Master, the Master is here," the maid Green Pearl whispered.

Jiang Zhongcheng, having just finished practicing with his broadsword, was still steaming.

"Yun'er, give up on the idea of taking shortcuts. From now on, just practice your martial arts and inherit the family trade honestly."

"Father, you don't understand—"

"You little brat, look at your thin arms and legs; you don't look like a man of a martial family at all. From today on, you must eat plenty of meat and train hard. Otherwise—"

...

Before he could finish, a horseman came galloping toward them.

Jiang Qingyun’s heart pounded, but he feigned calmness.

At this moment, he tried to embody the saying: *One who harbors thunder in his chest but maintains a face like a calm lake is fit to be a great general!* To stand out among the countless posers in the capital, one's bearing was essential.

"Is Jiang Qingyun of the Han Bordered Yellow Banner here?"

"I am he!"

The messenger dismounted.

"Return to the capital immediately! Grand Secretary Fan of the Secretariat and Minister Hong of the Ministry of War have summoned you!"

...

Jiang Qingyun remained calm. After tidying up, he donned a simple robe, strapped a single-edged sword to his waist, and rode into the city with the messenger.

His entire family was ecstatic.

The young master’s promotion was within reach—a joyous occasion!

Jiang Zhongcheng was already shouting for servants to go buy wine and meat to celebrate in advance.

The maid Green Pearl was worried; when the man arrived, she had seen the young master’s hands trembling behind his back. Everyone else cared only about how high the young master would rise, but she was the only one who worried about whether he was hungry.

Her heart ached for him.

Galloping was strictly forbidden within the Nine Gates.

But today was different!

The two riders entered through the Dongzhi Gate, heading west and then south, whistling past as pedestrians scrambled to avoid them.

...

The Ministry of Rites main hall.

Hong Chengchou sat to the right, and Fan Wencheng to the left.

Because Fan Wencheng also held the post of Minister of Rites, they had chosen to meet at the Ministry of Rites yamen.

Jiang Qingyun walked steadily into the hall. After a moment's hesitation, he obediently lifted his robe and knelt.

He said loudly:

"Your humble servant, Jiang Qingyun, pays respects to Grand Secretary Fan and Minister Hong."

"Raise your head!" Fan Wencheng said softly.

Their gazes locked.

...

Silence.

A deliberate silence.

This was a psychological tactic, a display of authority by superiors over a subordinate.

Fortunately, before his transmigration, Jiang Qingyun had years of experience in government office work (and sitting on the cold bench), so he possessed great patience and even more experience. He looked calmly at these two famous turncoats, his heart utterly untroubled.

If all went as expected, they would be his enemies in the future.

A deputy section chief of a new era was about to launch a fierce offensive against the high-ranking ministers of the old.