Zhu Youjian sat silently on the dragon throne, the echoes of Yang He's letter still ringing in his ears.
Money spent on suppression vanishes. Money spent on pacification multiplies.
The logic was flawless — if one ignored the fact that the imperial treasury was emptier than a temple donation box after a drought.
"Pacification is the priority now!" cried every minister in unison.
Zhu Youjian almost laughed. Every single one of them was chanting it like a hymn — none offering a single coin of their own. He had seen this trap too late.
"Pacification requires silver, farmland, and cattle," he said slowly. "Where shall this money co from?"
The answer ca like arrows:
"Your Majesty's personal funds."
Then again.
"Your Majesty's personal funds!"
And again — a chorus, rhythmic, rciless.
Zhu Youjian felt his temples pulse. But he had already spoken of the people as "my children." He could hardly retract it now without strangling his own image of virtue.
So he bit down, lifted his brush, and wrote:
"Let 100,000 taels of imperial silver be dispatched for the pacification of Shaanxi and Shanxi.
Those coerced into rebellion who surrender will be forgiven and given seed, cattle, and land.
Let them return to farming — the Court shall embrace them anew."
Censor Wu Shen knelt, took the decree and the silver, and set out for the northwest — to redeem the realm with coin and compassion.
But one na was marked for death.
Wang Jiayin — who had already crowned himself "King."
For him, no forgiveness. Only the sword.
Several weeks later — outside Yan'an Prefecture
In a grove of gnarled trees, Miao i crouched with a few dozen surviving bandits — the last remnant of Wang Zuogua's shattered host.
Months of running had stripped them to the bone. No more great raids, no more rich caravans — only scraps stolen from terrified peasants.
"Brother," whispered a scarred man nad Miao Dengyun, "there's news from the cities. Supre Commander Yang He has issued an edict of pacification! Surrender, and we're forgiven. They'll even give us cattle, farmland, and grain."
Miao i blinked, then smirked. "Is that so? Then we'll surrender — eat our fill, rest a while, and rise again."
Miao Dengyun laughed. "A fine plan! I'll go first — talk terms with Hong Chengchou himself."
Yan'an Prefecture's gates lood dark and grim.
Hong Chengchou — newly appointed Governor of Yansui — was a man feared by all. He had risen from a humble Grain Intendant to command armies, breaking bandit hordes that outnumbered him ten to one.
But when Miao Dengyun arrived waving the edict of pacification, Hong Chengchou welcod him with the calm politeness of a Confucian scholar.
"Hero Miao," he said, smiling faintly, "your repentance brings peace to the land. It is most comndable. Please — attend a banquet tomorrow. Let us seal this reconciliation with wine."
Miao Dengyun's chest swelled. Even the iron-hearted governor bows to policy now. The Emperor himself commands pacification — what can he do but smile?
The next day, Miao i and his last 320 hardened n marched proudly into Yan'an Prefecture, weapons sheathed, swagger in every step.
The banquet was magnificent — roast at, hot wine, the illusion of peace. Cups were raised in laughter.
And then —
The hall doors burst open.
He Renlong stord in, blade flashing like lightning.
Before Miao i could even stand, his head was gone — rolling across the banquet floor, eyes still wide with disbelief.
The bandits froze for half a heartbeat — then chaos erupted. But from every shadow, imperial soldiers poured in, slaughtering them to the last man.
When it was over, the hall was red.
Hong Chengchou erged from behind the trees outside, careful not to stain his robes. He looked upon the corpses, his gaze cold.
"Hmph. Notorious villains," he muttered. "Their surrender was a lie. They ant to eat the Court's grain and rise again. Yang He may be fooled by sweet words — but I, Hong Chengchou, am not."
He turned away as calmly as if leaving a dinner party, his boots untouched by blood.
Trivia:
The Iron Governor — Hong Chengchou's Calculus of rcy and Murder
Hong Chengchou (1593–1665) was one of the most complex figures of the late Ming — a man equal parts Confucian scholar and ruthless strategist.
His massacre of Miao i's band is not just fiction — it reflects a real historical tension between Yang He's pacification policy and Hong Chengchou's pragmatic ruthlessness.
Yang He, an old-school idealist, believed bandits were simply starving farrs — that rcy could turn them back into citizens. But Hong Chengchou, a career survivor, had seen too many "surrenders" turn into ambushes. To him, compassion without caution was suicide.
Ironically, his skepticism was partly justified. Many "pacified" rebels in Shaanxi and Shanxi did indeed rearm once their bellies were full. Yet Hong's brutality also sowed deeper resentnt, feeding the endless cycle of revolt that would later engulf the Ming completely.
After the Ming fell, Hong Chengchou himself surrendered to the Qing — using the sa cold logic he once used on bandits: "Better to live and serve than die for a dead ideal."
So the man who killed false surrenderers beca history's most famous true one.
Reviews
All reviews (0)