Chapter Five

In this campaign to save lives, the more than eighty thousand livestock seized by the Han army during the Battle of Tianjin played a crucial role. According to Li Guangdi’s original intention, a large portion of these animals was to be returned to the people of Tianjin Prefecture. Historically famed as a commercial hub renowned for its mules and horses, Tianjin had suffered a heavy blow in the last war between the Qing and the Han. Thousands of households who made their living from mules and horses lost all their means of production and circulating capital due to the Qing government’s forced requisition, teetering on the brink of bankruptcy. In light of this, Li Guangdi’s economic plan included an orderly return of some of the spoils by the Han army to sustain production. However, the current relief operation for refugees made this impossible.

The military authorities of the Han played a most inglorious role regarding the use of these animals. Li Guangdi had intended for all the mules and horses to be used for the refugees: the majority forming transport teams to carry food and building materials necessary for survival from various directions, and the weaker female animals providing fresh milk or being slaughtered for food. Yet, during implementation, the army privately obstructed this policy. Many strong animals were chosen to replenish the artillery and logistics units of the Han army. Even more intolerably, General Zhou Peigong of the Han army even conceived a plan to organize a “Rapid Response Musket Corps”—elite musketeers mounted on mules carrying small artillery, who would dismount and form lines for battle upon reaching the front.

Though Li Guangdi could already discern the insidious influence of Marshal Lin behind this plan, his deep-rooted Confucian sense of benevolence compelled him to flatly reject such an unreasonable demand. With the chief government official threatening resignation, the military had to temporarily compromise.

Yet, in this movement for extreme justice, Lin Feng once again committed an egregious crime against history. According to Tang Bin’s plan, if the more than 1.7 million refugees were to survive several months in the minus twenty degree winter, countless thatched huts and semi-dug shelters would need to be built. Imagine what an immense public works project it was to provide housing for 1.7 million people: how much timber, brick, and tile would it require? Moreover, after exhausting the wild plants for food, the region around the capital would be left barren, meaning that throughout the winter, these people would also be desperately short of fuel for warmth. As everyone knows, aside from hunger, a temperature of minus twenty degrees is enough to kill any healthy person.

In the autumn of 1684, upon the command of Marshal Lin Feng, the number one official of the Han government, the Forbidden City—China’s sacred totem, the everlasting pride of the Chinese people, which had stood in the heart of Beijing for centuries—was completely demolished. Tens of thousands of Beijing’s citizens, regardless of age or gender, were conscripted to participate in this historic act of destruction. For reasons of national sentiment and faith, only the Temple of Heaven and ** were partially preserved; all other palaces were dismantled within days. Countless bricks, stones, and tiles were continuously transported to construction teams of refugees outside the city. Under Li Guangdi’s organization, they established forward settlements along the Luan River. Wang Dahai’s corps, with more than sixty cannons, set out to join Sun Sike’s central cavalry, ordered to advance several hundred kilometers to closely monitor the Qing troops at Shanhaiguan. They received strict military orders: should they detect any hostile actions from the Shanhaiguan garrison, they were to annihilate “any creature with a queue.”

Expectedly yet unexpectedly, the demolition of the Forbidden City was met with fierce opposition from the scholarly community. What was unexpected was that the main opposition did not come from the ultra-conservative elder scholars, but from young literati from other provinces who had come to aid the anti-Qing cause at the Han army’s call. It was a puzzling phenomenon. Lin Feng had thought this measure would be warmly received by these young men, as they were the most radical group of their time, and any revolutionary move should have appealed to them.

According to intelligence from Chen Menglei, nearly all eight hundred of those petitioning at the Temple of Heaven were young scholars from other provinces, accounting for about eighty percent of the scholars who had traveled to the capital. Because of the government’s desire to establish a positive political image, these scholars were warmly welcomed by Li Guangdi’s administration upon their arrival, housed in quiet hostels, and treated on par with junior military officers of the Han army. Except for not receiving a salary, their food, clothing, and accommodation were all given priority. These gestures were highly effective. In these chaotic times, these itinerant scholars, after enduring countless hardships on their journey to Beijing, found such warmth deeply moving, almost immediately feeling an affectionate sense of belonging—thus psychologically distinguishing themselves from other surrendered officials.

“Ah, no need for such ceremony!” Lin Feng cheerfully stepped forward to help Gao Shiqi up and pressed him into a chair. “We are young men, meant to sing, drink, ride, and fence—if we all act so finicky, wouldn’t that be terribly dull?!”

“Marshal, you are mistaken…” Gao Shiqi, recovering from his nervousness, spoke earnestly. “As the sages say, there are proper rites and moral order, and so ceremony must not be abandoned. We are all disciples of the sages, and as such—”

“I understand, I understand,” to be honest, Lin Feng now dreaded these sorts of speeches. These men were masters at recitation; once they started to lecture, they could go on for hours without repeating themselves, far surpassing any shrew in power. With a wry smile, he cupped his hands to the scholars below. “Gentlemen, you have come from afar to join my cause, and I am profoundly grateful—allow me to thank you all here and now!”

The scholars hurried to rise and bow in return. Lin Feng smiled, “It has been my oversight not to visit the hostels to see everyone. I must apologize for that!” He glanced at Gao Shiqi, pretending to ask, “Mr. Gao, what brings you all to petition at the Temple of Heaven today?”

“Not at all,” Gao Shiqi replied with a bow, his expression solemn. “It is precisely regarding the demolition of the Forbidden City.”

“Oh, I see. Then I wonder, what wrong have I committed?” Lin Feng spread his hands helplessly. “You have all seen it: the palace was leveled for the sake of the livelihood of the millions outside the city, with no intention of extravagance or indulgence.

“To be honest, I had originally intended to take down the Temple of Heaven as well. Just think, such a large structure, if dismantled, could keep several hundred people warm through winter—what a pity! But Mr. Li Guangdi firmly opposed it, so I had no choice but to leave it standing as an example.”

“…”

“As for this so-called greater good, I daresay I see it more clearly than any of you!” Lin Feng’s smile faded, his demeanor turning grave. “These palaces and treasures, were they not all built from the people’s blood and sweat? By tearing them down today, I am merely returning them to the people…”

“But, Marshal…” Gao Shiqi’s face turned ashen. “Centuries of cultural splendor… countless priceless treasures of China…”

“Sigh… If our China is left without people, what use are these ‘treasures’?” Lin Feng said earnestly. “You are all future officials of the Han. Go and see your people for yourselves—they are devouring each other out there. Tell me, was the Temple of Heaven or the Forbidden City always here since the world began?”

“…”

“Exactly. It’s like the relationship between the hen and the egg. Our task now is to keep the hen alive. As long as we have our people, can we not rebuild these things? It is indeed a pity to lose ancient paintings and calligraphy, but as long as we survive, can we not create even finer treasures and art?”

“Marshal… you are wise indeed…” Gao Shiqi’s face flushed red, his throat choked with words. The arguments of loyalty and principle he and his friends had prepared could not be spoken. In truth, their real intent was not to oppose relief for the refugees, but to urge Lin Feng to spare or at least reduce the destruction of these “imperial objects,” perhaps by replacing them with the houses of other Beijing residents. But with the city’s people gathered outside in overwhelming numbers, this suggestion could not possibly be voiced.

“Well, perhaps I am not entirely right about this matter,” Lin Feng said, tossing a lifeline to the hundreds of scholars whose faces had grown grim. “You gentlemen are undoubtedly knowledgeable; perhaps we simply see this matter differently. Throughout history, even sage-kings and wise ministers have had disagreements—why not us?” He clapped Gao Shiqi on the shoulder, smiling. “So, let us wait and see. Whether I am right or you are, only the future can judge. Perhaps I am wrong, or perhaps you are right; who can say, isn’t that so, Xiao Gao?”

Seeing Lin Feng admit his mistakes so openly, the scholars’ loyalty surged, moving them deeply. Gao Shiqi immediately knelt and, flustered, said, “Your student is at fault… I have damaged the Marshal’s reputation… I am at fault…”

“There is no fault, none at all.” Lin Feng cut him off, speaking sternly. “How could you be at fault? Today’s matter is simple: I demolished China’s treasures to save the people, while you gentlemen risked your lives to save those treasures. This event will be recorded in history, line by line—I, as the Han Marshal, am responsible for the people’s lives; you, as Confucian disciples, are entrusted with the nation’s treasures. Neither of us is wrong!” He laughed. “So, I say, whether right or wrong, let’s laugh it off today—surely this will become a story passed down as a tale of virtue!”

“Marshal, your insight is clear!” Gao Shiqi regained his composure, his face showing shame as he bowed. “We scholars are inadequate and have disappointed your expectations; we beg your forgiveness.”

“No harm, no harm!—The imperial examination is this month. Are you all prepared?” Lin Feng pointed to himself, grinning. “To be honest, I will be your chief examiner this time. I will not let you pass easily! Show me your true skills, for if you have nothing to offer, I will certainly make things difficult for you!”

The scholars were taken aback, then burst into laughter. Since ancient times, the imperial examination was a solemn national event, always presided over by rigid, severe scholars. Never had they seen such a humorous and jovial chief examiner.

Yet, it was only fitting. Everything in the Han government was just starting; the first intake of loyal officials naturally had to be overseen by the chief executive himself. Even if other ministers wanted to, they might not have had the courage. So many students and disciples occupying office would be enough to keep anyone awake at night, even with the chief’s suspicion alone.

A snowflake drifted onto Lin Feng’s shoulder. He sighed, brushed it away with a somber expression, and waved to Gao Shiqi. “Xiao Gao, if you lack anything at the hostel, don’t hesitate to ask Mr. Li Guangdi. The weather is cold—disperse early, don’t catch a chill!”

After the scholars had left, Lin Feng did not return to his residence but sat alone amid the falling snow, lost in thought. The snow had come early, and the relief efforts had only just begun. What was to become of these millions of lives?