044 Beauties of the New Palace

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As soon as Wang Lanping firmly grasped control over the elite army, the pressure surged dramatically—there was simply no money. With fifty thousand troops, even if they idled around Xiangshan sleeping all day, just their daily food, drink, and basic needs would cost at least five thousand taels of silver. Now, the training intensity was several times greater than before the forces were consolidated, and weapon consumption had multiplied, especially for the firearm units. Without a mountain of gold backing them, sustaining such a force was truly a daunting challenge.

Yet this was not the greatest difficulty. The main problem was that the newly established Hongguang regime had promised the Fifteenth Regiment its military pay but continuously delayed the payments with various excuses. Many commanders, helpless, allowed their men to scavenge for funds among civilians, while others resorted to robbing water bandits or mountain brigands just to survive. Now that the entire army was assembled at Xiangshan for drills, with no source of income, every soldier’s gaze turned anxiously toward their commander, Wang Lanping.

Wang Lanping was deeply troubled. The funds for peacetime stationing were already insufficient; wartime expenses would be like water flowing away. Once battle erupted, costs for weapon wear, soldiers’ deaths and injuries, rewards for bravery, and a host of other immediate financial demands would overwhelm them. Some farsighted commanders might promise titles and ranks to keep troops loyal despite monetary shortages, but for the rank-and-file soldiers, once pay stopped, the fragile unity of this newly formed army would collapse. Soldiers were in the army for food and the hope of supporting their families with their pay.

To carve out a place in chaotic times, three things were essential: money, power, and people. Wang Lanping had power and people; what he lacked most was money. Relying on the court was unrealistic; he had to find his own way. He could not rob the common folk, and without fiscal authority in hand, there was only one option left—to emulate Li Zicheng and strike at the local tyrants.

Whose coffers to plunder first? Wang Lanping’s eyes swept the scene, and suddenly he brightened—Liu Zeqing, the commander stationed in Huai’an, came into view. Back when Liu Zeqing was commander in Shandong, he defied Emperor Chongzhen’s orders to defend the capital, marching his troops south while pillaging wealthy locals along the way. Later, as commander in Anqing, he extorted protection fees from merchants and local magnates, amassing considerable illicit wealth. A few months earlier, when he withdrew from Anqing city, he had nearly emptied it of valuables.

By Wang Lanping’s conservative estimate, Liu Zeqing’s ill-gotten gains amounted to at least two million taels of silver. Capturing him would fund the elite army’s expenses for three years.

While Wang Lanping set about securing resources for his troops, a momentous scene was unfolding simultaneously in Nanjing.

News of Wang Lanping’s killing of the Fifteenth Regiment’s commander and his reorganization of the elite army reached Nanjing. Prime Minister Ma Shiying was both shocked and delighted. Controlling the fragmented Fifteenth Regiment in Nanjing had been his greatest ambition since taking the helm of the Hongguang court. Outside the capital, he colluded with the four northern garrisons; if he could also command the capital’s troops, the entire Ming realm would be at his mercy.

The problem was the Fifteenth Regiment nominally belonged to the Five Armies Headquarters, directly under imperial authority. Neither Ma nor the local governors had control, which bred a sense of superiority and arrogance among the regiment’s commanders. The Hongguang regime’s weak imperial power only reinforced their independence and disdain for orders, leading to the current state of disunity and self-importance.

Ma Shiying had long been troubled by this unruly regiment. The quickest solution, he thought, was to pick one man from the Fifteenth Regiment to take charge, then manipulate that man from behind the scenes. Now that Wang Lanping had accomplished this, Ma’s joy was unmistakable.

Yet he was also alarmed. Wang Lanping’s swift success, something Ma had struggled with for months, proved he was a man of exceptional ability—and a future threat to Ma’s power.

Upon receiving the news, Ma immediately acted. Empowered as prime minister, he ordered the Ministry of War to transfer his son Ma Ming to serve as deputy commander of Nanjing’s city defense, overseeing all military affairs within the city and the imperial gardens, ensuring a smooth succession after Wang Lanping’s demise.

Ma had already devised a plan to eliminate Wang Lanping. He sought an excuse and hastened to the palace to see the Hongguang Emperor, knowing many decisions required the emperor’s direct decree. If necessary, he could coerce the emperor—depending on whether Zhu Youlang chose to obey.

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Seated comfortably in his grand sedan chair, Ma Shiying arrived at the palace accompanied by officials from the Ministries of Works and Rites to meet Zhu Youlang.

These days, Zhu Youlang lived in great ease. The Manchu forces no longer pressed south; the rebels were stalled north of the Yangtze River through Wang Lanping’s stratagem; Zhang Xianzhong remained holed up in Sichuan, resigned to passivity. Half of Jiangnan seemed peaceful. With Ma Shiying managing court affairs, the four northern garrisons guarding the north, and Wang Lanping protecting the outskirts of Nanjing, Zhu Youlang felt like a serene sovereign. If this state of calm could endure, how pleasant life would be.

Aware that real power had slipped from his grasp, he resigned himself to enjoying the trappings of imperial dignity—lavish food, drink, and pleasure, spending silver without restraint.

When Ma Shiying entered, Zhu Youlang was savoring fine wine in his private chambers, watching the mesmerising dance of Consort Shuangyan, intoxicated by wine and beauty.

“Your Majesty, Prime Minister Ma seeks an audience,” announced a eunuch.

Zhu Youlang, lost in pleasure, did not hear. The eunuch raised his voice cautiously, “Your Majesty, Prime Minister Ma is here.”

“Oh, yes, please bring him in,” Zhu Youlang said, rousing himself but never taking his eyes off the dancer, chuckling lecherously.

Ma Shiying entered, pleased by the scene—the more the emperor indulged, the more Ma could control everything. The ministry officials bowed deeply, while Ma merely inclined slightly, “Your Majesty.”

“Oh, rise. Prime Minister, what urgent matter brings you?” Zhu Youlang asked.

Ma Shiying nodded. “Your Majesty, regarding the recent court discussion on rebuilding the palace and selecting beauties, I and several ministers have deliberated and finalized plans, here to report to Your Majesty.”

Zhu Youlang beamed, waving the dancers away. “Already? When may I move into the new palace?”

Ma Shiying smiled inwardly. The emperor was naïve—building a palace was unlike building a commoner’s house. “Your Majesty’s wishes are our duty. These gentlemen are the officials from the Ministries of Works and Rites. Your Majesty, please see.”

Taking a scroll from the Ministry of Works official, Ma unfolded it before the dragon-engraved desk. “Your Majesty, these are the blueprints for the new palace, modeled on Beijing’s Forbidden City, though with some modifications. The Beijing palace took nearly a century and incalculable silver to build. Our newly established dynasty cannot afford such extravagance. To hasten completion, we propose scaling down all halls except the main throne hall, aiming to finish within four years at a cost of about twenty million taels.”

Zhu Youlang frowned. “Four years? So long!” Who knew if this blissful life would last that long? He was displeased.

The Ministry of Works official quickly interjected, “Your Majesty, four years is already swift. This vast project requires one hundred thousand laborers—already the maximum we can summon.”

Zhu Youlang waved dismissively. “No! Order the conscription of another two hundred thousand laborers. I want to move into the new palace within a year.”

The official was terrified, falling to his knees. “A year? Your Majesty, the bottleneck is not just manpower. Materials must be transported from all over, and bandit interference slows delivery. Also, the Ministry of Revenue cannot provide twenty million taels within a year. Your Majesty, this timeline is too rushed.”

Zhu Youlang would not listen. He glared, “I don’t care! Raise taxes if there’s no money. I am the Son of Heaven, ruler of all under heaven. The people’s money is mine—collect it all.”

The official tried to argue further but was silenced by Ma Shiying’s glare. Ma smiled, “Your Majesty is wise. Leave it to me. I will ensure Your Majesty moves into the new palace within a year. No need to worry.”

Zhu Youlang grinned, satisfied. “Indeed, the prime minister understands me well. Very well, now go—go! You worthless officials are a drain on the state,” he snapped, pointing at the kneeling official.

The official scrambled away in fear. Ma Shiying added, “Your Majesty, I have more good news.”

Zhu Youlang smiled. “Oh? Do tell.”

Ma signaled the Ministry of Rites official to present a memorial. Zhu Youlang took it and skimmed through it.

Ma said, “Your Majesty, this is a list of beauties from the surrounding prefectures of Nanjing. They number about one thousand and are en route here.”

Hearing this, Zhu Youlang’s eyes sparkled. “Excellent, excellent! Prime Minister, what do they look like?”

Ma replied, “I have not seen them, Your Majesty, but local officials dare not deceive you. They surely selected the very best—one in a hundred.”

Zhu Youlang was delighted. “Good, good. Prime Minister, you have worked hard.”

“Your Majesty’s service is my duty. But there is one more matter, which might spoil your mood. I hesitate to speak. May I proceed?”

“Go ahead,” Zhu Youlang said.

Ma dismissed the attendants, leaving only the two of them in the chamber.

Suddenly, Ma threw off his robe and knelt, face full of alarm. “Your Majesty, Wang Lanping, commander of Nanjing’s defenses, has rebelled.”

“Cough! Cough!” Zhu Youlang choked on his wine, flushing red. “What? What did you say?”

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