Chapter Eight

Under Li Guangdi’s leadership, the government apparatus became the brightest facet of the entire Han Army system during this period. In truth, this hastily assembled administrative body suffered from an unprecedented lack of funds and the simplest of structures, perhaps more so than any in history. Yet, despite these limitations, they achieved remarkable results in organizing and relocating refugees, dismantling the Forbidden City, and governing the cities within occupied territories. Their efficiency and the exemplary discipline of their officials stood in stark contrast to the rampant self-serving corruption among many military officers.

This was not due to a lack of talent—far from it. After the defeat at Tuhai and Lin Feng’s takeover of the greater region around Beijing, captured mid-level Qing officials began surrendering in droves. However, due to concerns about loyalty and security, these individuals were not immediately integrated into the new ruling group. Except for a few whose abilities were exceptional and who were given temporary posts, the vast majority remained idle under observation. This was not a matter of Lin Feng’s narrow-mindedness—the political situation was simply too complex. China was fractured into four parts, these Beijing officials hailed from every corner of the empire, and, most critically, the Han Army did not command overwhelming military superiority. No one could afford the risk of betrayal from within.

After the first heavy snow in the north, Li Guangdi’s administration not only completed but surpassed its initial conscription goals. Despite the muddy and impassable roads caused by the snow, the conscripted refugees and laborers displayed astonishing potential. Using the simplest of tools, they carried and shouldered life-saving supplies, delivering them on time to the warehouses. Lin Feng then dispatched large contingents of troops to assist Li’s officials and clerks in distributing two days’ rations to these refugees.

The assembly of 1.7 million people was illuminated with countless sparks of fire over dozens of square kilometers. The sheer mass of bodies generated enough heat to melt nearly all the accumulated snow. Here and there, small groups of clerks, wielding water-and-fire staffs more for form than force, cleared modest spaces to allow officials to publicly announce the new Han government’s decrees.

Every available Han Army unit was mustered, and all operational artillery was set up atop Beijing’s city walls. Lin Feng, commanding all military leaders, braved the cold as he personally oversaw the proceedings from above.

No sign of unrest emerged. When the officials had exhausted themselves explaining the new regulations, the 1.7 million commoners expressed their compliance in silence. The officials’ hearts, suspended with anxiety, finally settled. One after another, elders stepped forward, knelt before the bonfires to accept official appointments, then led their clans—young and old alike—eastward toward Liaodong, guided by Han cavalry.

The organization of refugees in the Beijing area lasted three days and nights. The citizens of the capital witnessed the largest quasi-military operation of their lifetimes: nearly two million people formed a vast, undulating tide. In orderly, clan-based echelons, wave after wave departed the environs of Beijing. Along the official roads beside the streams of people, sixty thousand mules, donkeys, and even oxen—driven by over thirty thousand laborers—pulled crude two-wheeled carts laden with food and battered planks. Throughout all the counties and villages under Han control from Beijing to Shanhai Pass, wealthy households were ordered to erect gruel kitchens, and the poor were tasked with boiling water, offering what aid they could to help the migrants resettle.

The migration of over a million people was a task that would have tested the limits of any seventeenth-century government. Under unprecedented pressure, the Han administration displayed extraordinary capability. According to later accounts, apart from accidental deaths, nearly four hundred clerks and over seventy officials succumbed to illness during this great migration. The number of refugees who perished en route or during resettlement was countless. Yet, in the face of these mortal challenges, the human spirit grew more tenacious and courageous than ever; mass death did not dampen their hope for survival in the slightest. The tide of people pressed onward, treading the paths paved by the bodies of their kin, while those who died quietly were buried by teams following behind, their existence erased from all memory of the world.

Once the crisis of displaced refugees shifted from the Beijing region, the Han government received the unequivocal support of the local gentry and landowners. Lin Feng’s personal prestige soared to unprecedented heights. In the north, where peasant uprisings were commonplace, a regime exhibiting such remarkable political competence stood out in striking relief. After the refugees had been moved, the literati who remained in Beijing celebrated exuberantly, organizing grand poetry gatherings in the city’s restaurants and brothels to praise the brave Han soldiers and “Great Marshal Lin, restorer of the Han dynasty.” For a time, the city teemed with talent and literary masterpieces; if one could forget the fields of corpses a hundred kilometers away, it might almost have seemed an age of peace and prosperity.

Only now did the political situation in the Beijing region under Lin Feng’s occupation finally stabilize.

Of course, latecomers seeking to profit politically found nothing awaiting them. After dispatching them with little ceremony, Lin Feng could not help but sigh—indeed, the times had changed. The political instincts of these so-called “Confucian scholars” were now inferior even to those of merchants.

The Shanxi and Huizhou merchants, who were first to pledge themselves to the new regime, became Lin Feng’s favored confidants, much to the envy of the capital’s scholars. After the scholars departed, these merchants were summoned to remain in the grand hall at Zhongnanhai, seated with pride as they conferred with Lin Feng on important affairs.

“Mr. Xu, have you finished organizing that ‘committee’ I asked for last time?” Lin Feng asked lazily from his place of honor, his tone casual.

Compared to his earlier visit, Xu Danyang appeared even more nervous. The special treatment given to merchants this time had instilled in him an unprecedented sense of superiority, and he was visibly more alert. Hearing Lin Feng’s question, his knees reflexively buckled and he nearly knelt, replying in a trembling voice, “Your Excellency… I beg pardon. The committee matter is most complicated, and… and opinions within our chamber are not unified... But the delegates should all arrive within these next few days.”

“Oh… The Marshal is busy with state affairs, I’ll go to Tianjin to consult with Generals Shi and Yang immediately!” Xu Danyang hastily knelt to take his leave.

After a brief exchange, Lin Feng frowned as soon as Xu departed. “What is Zhao Guangyuan up to? As a general, surely he knows that signing agreements with the Mongols without my permission is a capital offense!”

Li Ergou bowed and replied, “General Zhou is currently receiving the envoy from Chahar. From what I overheard, it doesn’t seem to be General Zhao’s doing. This time, it appears they’ve come to… to…”

“For heaven’s sake, why are you still stammering here?” Lin Feng snapped impatiently.

Li Ergou coughed awkwardly. “From what I’ve heard, it seems… this time they wish to… to propose a marriage alliance with you, Marshal…”

Lin Feng was startled, involuntarily exclaiming, “A marriage alliance?!”