Chapter 28: The Son of Heaven Holds the Gates of the Realm

Upon hearing Wang Zhen’s words, Wang Shan immediately regretted having mentioned anything about retreating the army. If he had known his uncle was so determined to fight, why had he bothered to speak and make a fool of himself? He had always known he was less favored than his younger brother Wang Lin in their uncle’s eyes—otherwise, how could Wang Lin have received the higher post of Commandant while he himself was merely Deputy Commandant? Now, to make matters worse, he had given his uncle even more reason to think him timid and cowardly; surely, from now on, he would be looked upon with even less favor. The thought made Wang Shan so remorseful he wanted to slap himself in the face.

Since the days when the Duke of Zhou aided King Cheng, Wang Zhen had never for a moment regretted his hardline stance against the Oirat envoys, which had provoked Esen’s invasion in the first place. Nor did he regret insisting the Emperor personally lead the campaign, even when every civil and military official in court opposed it. He sought not merely to realize his own ambitions, nor to earn the everlasting fame of men like the Grand Eunuch Sanbao. What he wanted was for every Ming emperor, generation after generation, to remember the admonition of Emperor Taizong: “The Son of Heaven guards the nation’s gates; the ruler dies for his realm.”

For over twenty years, since the Xuande era, the Ming Empire had known peace. The emperor, raised in the inner palaces among women, presided over a court dominated by Confucian scholars who knew nothing of war and disdained the martial spirit. The capital’s garrisons had grown arrogant and lax; the young nobles, far removed from their fathers’ valor, cared only for amassing land and wealth, not for taking up arms against the enemy. If this opportunity—Esen’s invasion—was not seized to mobilize the army, temper the troops, and nurture a new generation of capable commanders, then the Ming would one day face the calamity of national ruin.

In times of peace, one must contemplate danger. Wang Zhen refused to admit that urging the emperor to lead the campaign was, as the civil officials claimed, reckless folly born of self-aggrandizement. No, it was not so! Since the founding of the Ming, aside from the Jianwen Emperor who was beset by scholars, which ruler had not both conquered from horseback and governed with wisdom? Even the kindly Emperor Renzong, unable to ride due to his girth, had nonetheless led the defense of Beiping during the Jingnan Rebellion, ensuring Emperor Taizong had a secure foothold—otherwise, Taizong might have perished at the hands of the southern armies.

Since all enlightened monarchs had been warrior-kings, so too must his own pupil, Zhu Qizhen, become one—not the docile, cloistered emperor the scholars so desired, who would sit on the dragon throne nodding at all matters, leaving everything to them, as if only thus could a ruler be deemed wise.

Nonsense! A weak, inactive, and timid emperor might earn the praise of officials and the love of the people, but he could never be a true enlightened ruler. If such a precedent were set, the court would fall entirely into the hands of the scholars, and the realm would no longer be the emperor’s, but theirs!

Survey the histories: in every dynasty where the scholars ruled the court, the country became weak, suffered humiliating defeats, and was ultimately destroyed.

My Ming will not cede territory, will not pay indemnities, will not seek marriage alliances or tribute. The Son of Heaven guards the nation’s gates; the ruler dies for his realm. The emperor must be able to ride into battle and govern in peace!

Though Wang Zhen had studied the classics since childhood and spent a lifetime as a scholar-official, he never considered himself one of the Confucian literati. When the emperor first ascended the throne, Wang Zhen had, disregarding the Grand Empress Dowager and the Three Yangs, insisted that the young Zhu Qizhen end the classic lectures, eschew the promotion of civil governance alone, and instead vigorously develop military strength, giving equal weight to both civil and military officials. Never should the Ming fall into the trap of valuing civil merit and despising arms. Though his proposals were stifled by the Three Yangs and the Empress Dowager, Wang Zhen had never abandoned his ideals. He firmly believed that the Ming was on a downward path precisely because the civil officials already dominated the court. If the nobles and generals were entirely excluded, the Ming would follow the Song’s decline toward destruction.

Without a strong army to defend the nation, all the wealth in the world is but a mirage. Have the lessons of the Song not been warning enough?

Wang Zhen knew very well what kind of man his pupil Zhu Qizhen was: kind-hearted like his grandfather Emperor Renzong, but lacking the tenacity and decisiveness of his forebears. Such a man, without guidance, would be at the mercy of the civil officials.

He himself was old, while the emperor was still young—only twenty-three, with a long road ahead. Wang Zhen could not accompany him to the end, but he could do his utmost now to help him grow, at least to become a sovereign who was not manipulated by his ministers, a ruler with his own mind, worthy of his ancestors.

The army must not retreat! Even if nothing is gained, they cannot simply turn back!

The consequences of such a retreat were more than Zhu Qizhen could bear, and more than Wang Zhen could bear. This campaign was Zhu Qizhen’s first act of decisive authority since his accession, done against the advice of the cabinet and the six ministries. Until now, all matters had been decided by the ministers, with Zhu Qizhen little more than a figurehead. Now, he sought to exercise his power as Son of Heaven, to show his ministers that he would no longer be the puppet emperor shut away in the palace, but would become a sovereign like his grandfather. To that end, he insisted on leading the campaign himself, to establish his imperial authority.

Wang Zhen knew full well how the officials viewed the emperor’s campaign. They opposed it so fiercely because they were afraid—afraid the emperor might win, gain dominance, and shatter the civil monopoly they had worked for generations to secure. The founding Emperor had warned that scholars were not to be trusted; Emperor Taizong had treated civil officials as mere children. Would today’s officials wish to face such emperors?

Of course not. That is why they hoped the emperor would give up, return in defeat, and leave all state affairs to them—this was what they most desired.

The more they wished for the emperor’s return, the less Wang Zhen would let them have their way.

He was resolved not to retreat, but he could not be sure of victory. After hesitating several times, he finally turned to Ji Guang and asked, “Ji Guang, you are the only one I trust, the only one at my side who truly understands military affairs. The others are not of one heart with me, nor do they wish me well. Only you will speak the truth to me. Tell me—can our army win at Datong?”

Ji Guang raised his head and met Wang Zhen’s anxious gaze. Slowly, he replied, “I would not dare deceive you, sir. I truly do not know whether our army can win at Datong, but I am certain we cannot lose!”

Wang Zhen paused, slightly disappointed by Ji Guang’s uncertainty, but the next words—“cannot lose”—relieved him, and he replied with satisfaction, “Very well, as long as we do not lose, it is a victory. With your word, I am reassured!”

“As long as the grain supplies arrive on time, we cannot lose this war.”

Ji Guang was confident in his judgment. This campaign included not only the three main garrisons of the capital with over a hundred thousand troops, but also twenty thousand imperial guards, sixty thousand elite soldiers from Xuanfu, and more forces arriving from the surrounding regions—a total of over three hundred thousand men. Against Esen’s tens of thousands, it was perhaps possible not to win, but it was all but impossible to lose.

“As for grain, I have already ordered the necessary dispatches to Xuanfu. Wherever the army goes, the local granaries will send supplies. The capital is also providing grain. We are fighting within our own territory; there is no need to worry about shortages.”

The matter of grain had been raised before the campaign, but Wang Zhen had no concerns. There were seven major granaries in Xuanfu under the Ministry of War, each stocked with over a million bushels—enough to feed the army for half a year. With such abundant supplies on their route, how could the army run out? The civil officials who claimed the campaign would be cut off from supplies were fearmongering, trying to shake morale and force the army to retreat.

With everything arranged, Ji Guang had nothing more to add. He was a taciturn man; in the past, this had led to his being sidelined, and if not for the emperor’s favor, he might have spent his entire life in obscurity. Now, entrusted with command thanks to the emperor’s and Wang Zhen’s trust, he was prepared to give his life for them. In this campaign to Datong, he was ready to lay down his life if necessary.

Ji Guang remained silent, but Wang Shan spoke up, thinking of an urgent matter. “Uncle, since the army set out in haste, morale is shaky. Those who resent you are stirring up trouble in secret, hoping to throw the army into chaos. If they learn of defeat at Datong, they will seize the chance to foment unrest and hinder our advance. This must be guarded against.”

Wang Zhen nodded, recognizing this was no trivial concern. He instructed the two of them, “You are to have men watch for any urgent reports from Datong. When one arrives, detain both messenger and horse. Not a word of this must leak.”

“Yes, sir,” they replied. Ji Guang hesitated, glancing toward the Xishui River. “And His Majesty?”

“I will speak to His Majesty myself.”

With a wave, Wang Zhen sent them on their way and strode quickly toward the riverbank, where in the distance the emperor could be seen gazing out over the water and mountains.

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