Chapter Nine: To Gamble or Not to Gamble?

In the dead of night, while all was quiet and still, the Guanju Palace was ablaze with lights.

Outside the dimly lit chamber, Empress Zhezhe and Consort Zhuang, Bumubutai, paced back and forth in anxious circles. Both longed to push open the door and see what was happening inside, yet neither dared to act rashly. At last, the tightly closed door creaked open a sliver, and an elderly imperial physician emerged, his face etched with exhaustion. Zhezhe and Bumubutai hurried to meet him, their voices trembling with worry, “Physician, how is Consort Chen?”

The physician shook his head with a heavy sigh. “Your Majesty, I have done all that I can.”

“What?” Zhezhe cried out, her voice breaking. “Is Consort Chen—?”

“It has not come to that,” the physician replied, his tone mournful. “It seems Her Highness is holding on, hoping to see His Majesty one last time before she departs this world.”

Zhezhe was beside herself with panic. “What should we do? What are we to do?”

But Bumubutai had regained her composure. She turned to Zhezhe and said, “Your Majesty, Consort Chen is His Majesty’s most beloved. If we conceal news of her grave illness and withhold it from the Emperor, he will surely blame us. The most urgent thing now is to dispatch express riders to Songshan at once, so the Emperor may return to Shengjing in time for a final farewell.”

“Yes, yes, you are right.” Zhezhe nodded repeatedly. “Someone, quickly go to the Prince Li’s and Prince Zheng’s residences, have both princes send riders posthaste to Songshan. Tell His Majesty Consort Chen is critically ill and he must hurry back to Shengjing!”

The chief eunuch, who had been waiting by the side, scrambled out of the inner palace to relay the Empress’s decree to the acting regents in Shengjing: Prince Li and Prince Zheng. Prince Li, Dai Shan, was away on business, but Prince Zheng, Jirgalang, dared not delay. He immediately dispatched a courier riding at full gallop, six hundred li in a single urgent relay, to the front at Songshan.

[A word on the six-hundred-li express: In the Ming and Qing dynasties, relay posts were set every ten li, with major stations every thirty li, each with fresh horses. To cover six hundred li at express speed meant constantly changing horses without pause, ensuring the message reached its destination within twelve hours. There were also four-hundred-li, three-hundred-li, and two-hundred-li express levels, with the eight-hundred-li express being the most urgent of all. The eight-hundred-li express was a desperate race, pushing horses and men to the limit—sometimes a thousand li or more in a single day, with the message delivered but horses and riders often collapsing dead from exhaustion. In the Tang dynasty, Emperor Xuanzong would employ such measures to ensure Yang Guifei could taste fresh lychees.]

The long streets lay silent beneath the late night sky. Suddenly, the thunder of hooves shattered the dreams of those slumbering. The gate guards of the Jianzhou Jurchens were dozing at their posts when the urgent clatter of hoofbeats wrenched them awake. Looking up, they saw a rider charging toward the gate, his voice ringing out in the night, “Open the gate! Prince Zheng, acting regent, six-hundred-li express—!”

Three guards stepped forward to block the way. The leader held out his hand and demanded, “Pass.”

The courier produced a letter, stamped with the distinctive purple seal of Shengjing’s acting regent. Satisfied, the guard captain turned and shouted, “Open the gate!”

A dozen Jurchen guards rushed out from the gatehouse. They heaved the heavy bolt aside, and as soon as the gate opened a crack, the courier’s steed shot through like a gust of wind and vanished into the vast night beyond.

■■■

Changyong Fort.

With a little time to spare, Wang Pu was hoping to catch a brief nap when Xiao Qi suddenly pushed the door open and entered to report, “General, that fellow Zhen Youcai is clamoring to see you, says it’s urgent.”

“Where is he?” Wang Pu asked.

“Waiting outside.”

“Bring him in.”

At Xiao Qi’s signal, two house guards brought Zhen Youcai into the hall. Wang Pu frowned and asked, “Zhen Youcai, what do you want?”

Zhen Youcai kept his head bowed, stealing a glance at Wang Pu before quickly lowering his eyes again. In a quiet voice, he said, “General, are you planning, under cover of darkness while the Jurchen guards can’t see clearly, to send men disguised as Prince Li’s escort to trick the Shengjing city gates open?”

Wang Pu’s face darkened as he glanced at Xiao Qi, who hastily shook his head. Such a crucial military secret, he would never have revealed to Zhen Youcai.

But Zhen Youcai seemed to have read Wang Pu’s mind. He muttered, “No need to be surprised, sir. I figured it out myself.”

“You figured it out?” Wang Pu was inwardly startled. “How did you do that?”

Zhen Youcai explained, “I saw soldiers outside the manor collecting Prince Li’s guards’ armor, and then the general asked me if I could speak Manchu. So I guessed you were planning to have someone impersonate Prince Li’s guards and trick the city gate. General, if that’s really your intention, let me advise you to abandon the idea at once. It’s not so easy to fool the Shengjing gate.”

Wang Pu’s expression was unreadable. “Why do you say that?”

Zhen Youcai replied, “Back when Nurhaci first raised his banners, the Jurchens had only a few tens of thousands of troops, yet time and again they took our Ming strongholds—Fushun, Kaiyuan, Tieling, Shengjing, Liaoyang—despite heavy garrisons. The valor of the Eight Banners was part of it, but the real reason was that Nurhaci excelled at using inside men to trick the gates open. The towering walls of our eastern fortresses never served as the barriers they should have.”

Xiao Qi interjected, “What’s that got to do with us?”

“Everything,” Zhen Youcai answered. “Nurhaci conquered all of Liaodong by tricking city gates open—do you think he’d let anyone else use the same trick on him? If you send men to impersonate Prince Li’s guard, you’re just asking to die.”

“I don’t believe it,” Xiao Qi retorted. “Are you saying that even if Prince Li himself calls at the gate, the Jurchen guards wouldn’t open it?”

Zhen Youcai said, “You don’t know. When the old chieftain Nurhaci was alive, he set strict rules: after dark, all city gates are shut. Without the chieftain’s or acting regent’s pass—unless the emperor himself comes—the gates stay closed, no matter what!”

Wang Pu said, “Daishan is Prince Li and acting regent of Shengjing; he must have a pass.”

“It’s too late,” Zhen Youcai replied regretfully. “Of course Daishan carried a pass—how else could he re-enter the city? But by now, I’m sure he’s destroyed it.”

“Damn it!” Xiao Qi clenched his fists, voice hard. “General, let me check. If that old dog has really destroyed the pass, he’s useless to us. Might as well hack him to death.”

“Xiao Qi, don’t be rash,” Wang Pu stopped him, then turned to Zhen Youcai. “Is that all you have to tell me?”

Zhen Youcai’s eyes darted. “Oh, there’s one more thing.”

“Speak.”

“I’ve got a plan, if you want to seize Shengjing by surprise.”

“What plan?” Wang Pu asked coolly. “Let’s hear it.”

Zhen Youcai said, “The Jurchens guard tightly at night, no hope of tricking the gate then. But by day, they’re more lax. Smuggling a few dozen men into the city isn’t hard.”

This was not untrue. In recent years, the Ming army had been too weak to threaten Liaodong. Korea and Mongolia had both submitted to the Jurchens. In such times, the Jurchens never thought Shengjing would face attack. It was a matter of human nature. Ever since Nurhaci raised his banners, the Jurchens had known mostly victory, except for two setbacks at Ningyuan—they were bound to grow arrogant.

“In broad daylight?” Xiao Qi cried. “Are you mad? How do you get over a thousand men near Shengjing by day? Are the Jurchens in the city all blind?”

Wang Pu waved him silent. “Go on,” he told Zhen Youcai.

Zhen Youcai explained, “General, you may not know this manor is actually an imperial estate. Every so often, it delivers grain, vegetables, and fresh game to the palace in Shengjing. It’s almost time for another delivery. Have your men disguise themselves as wagon drivers, hide weapons in the grain carts—the gate guards know me well, they rarely inspect, so we should be able to get inside.”

If Zhen Youcai was telling the truth, it was a feasible plan. In daylight, the Jurchens’ guard was down, and since Changyong Fort regularly delivered goods to the palace, the guards would be even less suspicious. But the risk was enormous. If Zhen Youcai was lying, the consequences would be dire. Fail to trick the gate at night and you could slip away under cover of darkness; by day, escape would be near impossible—the Jurchen cavalry and archers were not to be trifled with.

“Zhen Youcai.” Wang Pu narrowed his eyes and suddenly asked, “Should I be grateful to you? You’ve just saved me and over a thousand Ming soldiers, haven’t you?”

“I wouldn’t dare,” Zhen Youcai replied, bowing his head, not daring to meet Wang Pu’s cold gaze. “I’m only doing this for my own skin. If you fail at Shengjing, I won’t live either. Only if you succeed can I survive—heh, heh heh...”

“So,” said Wang Pu, “I should trust you?”

“General, don’t trust him,” Xiao Qi warned urgently. “He’s crafty—he might be setting us up.”

Zhen Youcai dared not speak, his eyes rolling nervously—a picture of guile and cunning.

...

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