An ungrateful wretch!

Within Daming Palace-

"Am I supposed to sit by and watch those Tartar savages ravage our prefectures and counties, slaughtering the people under my rule?" Emperor Chongping demanded thunderously.

Grand Secretary Yang Guochang pondered for a moment before saying, "Their only purpose in coming south is to seize some wealth and goods. Within ten days or a month at most, they will withdraw their troops of their own accord."

That amounted to letting these brigands plunder their fill, then leave at their leisure.

Emperor Chongping sneered. "Withdraw their troops, indeed! You may wish to play Yan Song and wait for the enemy to leave, but I have no wish to play Jiajing of the former Ming and burn down Fengtian Hall myself!"

"Your old servant would never dare!" Yang Guochang's expression changed drastically, and he hastily knelt to beg forgiveness.

Emperor Chongping cast a cold glance at Yang Guochang, prostrate below him, and said darkly, "Ministry of War."

Li Zan, Grand Academician of the Hall of Martial Valor and Minister of War, cupped his hands. "Your Majesty, your servant is here."

He was a middle-aged official in his early forties, with a beard beneath his chin. Faced with Emperor Chongping's furious questioning, he remained composed, betraying no panic.

"How soon can the garrisons of Hebei and Shandong muster their troops and march north to provide support?" Emperor Chongping asked, his piercing gaze fixed on Li Zan.

Li Zan answered solemnly, "Your servant has already sent letters to Kang Hong, the provincial military commander of Hebei, and Lu Qi, the provincial military commander of Shandong. Hebei has a hundred thousand troops capable of fighting who can provide support from nearby. A hundred thousand can be drawn from Shandong's garrisons, though they will likely need half a month."

With the nation's military system in decay, he dared not guarantee how many of those two hundred thousand troops actually existed, or how much fighting strength they possessed. But if their task was merely to drive thirty thousand Tartars beyond Shanhai Pass, their numbers ought to suffice.

"Kang Hong's hundred thousand troops are in Baoding Prefecture. Reinforcing us should be easy; they could arrive within a day... But don't Shandong's garrisons have two hundred and sixty thousand men? Why can they send so few?" Emperor Chongping asked with a frown.

After Liaodong fell, Chen Han had not only stationed a large army in Ji Town but also established provincial military commanders above the regional military commissions of Shandong, Henan, and Shanxi. They oversaw military affairs throughout their provinces, guarding against invaders and suppressing bandits, and were respectfully known as military commissioners.

Li Zan explained, "In recent years, nine out of ten parts of Shandong have suffered drought. This summer in particular, no rain fell for several months, leaving a thousand miles of parched earth and poor harvests. Heretics of the White Lotus Sect seized the opportunity to gather the people in rebellion. These rebels stormed county seats, killed officials, and rose against the throne. The garrisons under Shandong's regional military commission have been suppressing bandits throughout the prefectures and counties. Beacon fires burn on every side, and troops are needed everywhere. For Lu Qi to muster even a hundred and twenty thousand men now has required painstaking efforts, patching one gap only to leave another exposed."

Emperor Chongping sighed. He knew about the drought relief in Shandong. Waving a hand, he said, "Proceed this way for now."

As for the capital's twelve division camps, not a single person proposed mobilizing the troops of the capital region's three surrounding districts. Without nearly two hundred thousand elite soldiers standing guard, the great dignitaries of the court would not even sleep soundly.

Bandits were running rampant in Shandong, but was Shaanxi any different? Only the three districts surrounding the capital remained sheltered beneath the wings of a powerful army. There, bandit infestations could be cleared at any time, and the situation remained under control.

Looking at Grand Secretary Yang Guochang, still kneeling, Emperor Chongping felt most of his anger ebb away. He sighed. "Minister Yang, rise as well. The floor is cold."

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Yang Guochang said in a trembling voice. Yet he did not rise immediately. Holding his ivory ceremonial tablet, he continued in an aged voice, "Your servant is nearing the twilight of his life. I feel myself old and muddleheaded, my strength failing, and increasingly unequal to the affairs of government. Above, I cannot ease the cares of my sovereign; below, I cannot comfort the people or secure the borders. I beg leave to retire."

Emperor Chongping fell silent for a moment, then said, "With the nation in such difficulty, this is precisely the time for sovereign and ministers to unite their efforts and weather the storm in the same boat. How could Grand Secretary Yang bear to abandon me?"

With Yang Guochang at court, unlike his predecessor, he could at least obtain silver for the treasury to meet the expenses of border defense, bandit suppression, and preparations against invasion. If he left, where would the money come from?

Yang Guochang repeated his request. Han Huang, the deputy grand secretary, who had remained utterly unruffled with lowered eyelids as though asleep, composed his expression and glanced at Emperor Chongping. Reaching over to take Yang Guochang's arm, he said gently, "Grand Secretary, His Majesty is concerned about the border and spoke in a moment of distress. We all understand your feelings of self-reproach. Yet with the nation in such difficulty, we cannot spare you from directing affairs even for a moment. You must show consideration for His Majesty and keep the greater good in mind."

Yang Guochang allowed Han Huang to help him up, but those "gentle words" sent a chill through his heart. Looking toward Emperor Chongping's unreadable face above, he said shakily, "The affairs of the nation are indeed arduous. Even if it costs me these old bones, I shall relieve my sovereign's cares and resolve his troubles."

While the sovereign and ministers of the great Han urgently discussed how to counter the Tartar invasion in Daming Palace-

In Willow Lane on Ningrong Street in the capital, Jia Heng had just washed away the smell of wine and changed into an everyday robe. Beneath the eastern window, he sketched a map of the great Han's thirteen northern and southern provinces on a sheet of xuan paper.

Chen Han succeeded Zhu Ming and naturally inherited its territory. Later, after a century of the dynasty's rule, the Jianzhou Jurchens rose in Liaodong. Twenty-five years ago, they seized Liaodong and founded a state called Jin. From that point onward, Chen Han entered a fully defensive strategic posture. The frontier situation is essentially that of an oversized Northern Song. Perhaps it is slightly better: the capital is at Chang'an, and the You-Yun region has not been lost.

Jia Heng studied the map on the xuan paper, which he had drawn using the accounts of the frontier situation Xie Zaiyi had shared with him over the past two days.

Wang Shouren, the sage of the former Ming, once said that vast though the Ming was, only four places truly mattered. If those four fell, the Ming would perish. Those four were Xuan-Da-Ji-Liao. Chen Han has already lost Liaodong, leaving only Jizhou. Its sole good fortune is that its capital is at Chang'an. Even if the Tartars enter the passes, it could still cling to a corner of the realm in Shu. But judging by the little Southern Ming court in my previous life, that is hardly a safe refuge either.

After his conversations with Xie Zaiyi over the past two days, together with his study of this world's histories, Jia Heng could almost certainly conclude that this world of Dream of the Red Chamber stood on the eve of an age of chaos.

Tanchun had been sent away in a marriage alliance in Dream of the Red Chamber. Chen Han could not even defeat the foreign kingdoms along the Western Sea Coast-just how far must its national and military strength have declined?

That alone offered a glimpse.

There are only a dozen or so years of peace left. By then, not only will the great edifice of the Jia household collapse, but this nation, too, will fall into foreign hands. Beneath the green maples, ghosts will chant; bones will pile like mountains, their names forgotten... The sacred vessel of our Chinese realm will be seized by foreigners.

Jia Heng let out a deep, heavy breath.

If he did not want to die like a blade of grass in the chaos a dozen or so years from now, he had to begin laying his plans in advance.

But first, I must get past Jia Zhen and his son.

Ningguo Mansion.

In a reception hall carpeted with wool, Jia Zhen listened to Jia Rong's report, his face darkening. "Did he truly say that?" he asked coldly.

"How would I dare conceal anything from you, Father? Jia Heng said he wouldn't break off the engagement even for ten thousand taels of gold!" Jia Rong said indignantly.

"What a Jia Heng! He certainly has some nerve!" Jia Zhen snorted and slapped the small table, making the cups and saucers on it rattle.

Ever since he had become head of the Jia clan, aside from the masters of the western mansion, none of the relatives within the five degrees of mourning kinship in either mansion had dared defy him like this.

An ungrateful wretch!

Seated quietly beside him was a beautiful woman of around thirty. Her cloudlike hair was swept into a married woman's bun, revealing a forehead smooth as jade, while her golden dangling hair ornament glittered in the candlelight. An exquisitely made yellow-brown silk gauze dress, fashioned from fine fabric, showed off her full, shapely figure.

The beautiful woman's features were delicate, her rosy cheeks glowing against fair skin like peach blossoms in the second month. Her little nose was finely sculpted, its bridge straight, and her full, lustrous cherry lips bore a light touch of rouge. Below her pale, slender neck, her breasts rose proudly, rounded like full moons. With a charming smile, she said, "My lord, why be so angry? If Jia Heng refuses, we can find Rong another good match..."

"What do you know?" Jia Zhen did not even let You-shi finish. His face dark as still water, he cut her off with a cold shout and scolded, "Rong is a good-for-nothing! All he ever does is chase women and go hawking and hunting. What daughter of a duke or marquis would take a fancy to him? I finally managed to find him a good marriage. How can I let that penniless scholar ruin it?"

At Jia Zhen's rebuke, You-shi's delicate body trembled. She clenched the pink embroidered handkerchief in her hands and pressed her red lips together, not daring to say more.

After so many years of marriage, she knew perfectly well that Jia Zhen was truly furious.

Jia Zhen suddenly turned his sinister gaze on Jia Rong, who was cowering like a frightened quail. "Rong," he said coldly, "bring Jia Heng here tomorrow. I'll meet him myself and see whether he still recognizes me as head of this clan!"