Excerpted from “The Ming-Qing Wars,” by A.Q. Khan.
- 1646 looked as though it would be a pivotal year in the conflict that had torn China in two. Wu Sangui was poised for another attempt on the Southern Ming capital of Nanjing, while Shi Kefa rallied the loyalist forces and looked to prevent the turncoat general from crossing the Chang River. In April, the battle was joined, as Wu left his winter quarters in Hefei and moved his army south. After consultations with his generals, Shi Kefa opted for a defensive strategy; he elected not to give battle to the Qing general north of the Chang River, and instead concentrate his forces so as to prevent Wu’s army from crossing the Chang, without which Nanjing could not be captured. Initially Wu drove straight for the Ming capital, attempting to cross the river near Jinhekou, barely twenty kilometers south of Nanjing itself. Yet this most direct of approaches played straight into the defenders’ hands, and the Qing armies failed to cross the Chang successfully. Wu Sangui, having been denied once, opted to pursue a more circuitous route. He moved southwest, hoping to cross the Chang further upstream at an undefended ford and then swing back towards Nanjing, pulling the Ming defensive lines out of position and striking their capital city from the rear (1). The Qing forces moved at a forced march, stealing a march on their Ming counterparts, and made for the small town of Shiqiao, which had been chosen as an ideal crossing point due to the shallow water and large sandbar in the middle of the river near the town. When Wu Sangui and his army arrived, there were no Ming troops to be found, and the plan seemed to have been a smashing success. Boats were commandeered from the surrounding villages for animals and the high command, while the mass of the army waded through the thick and murky water, scarcely more than a hundred and fifty centimeters deep at its highest point. And then, seemingly out of nowhere, the riverboat navy of the Wu-Tang Clan arrived.
Excerpted from “The Story of the Glorious Sword of the Wu-Tang Clan,” by Gao Feiyang.
- Inspector of the Deck did not organize his forces, nor did he make grand plans. As he was a servant of the Dao, Inspector of the Deck took no conscious action. Thus, he was perfectly prepared (2). The Thrice-Damned Traitor, ever a master of lies and deceit, attempted to avoid honorable combat by the expedient of sneaking his foul host across the Mother of Rivers at an out-of-the-way location. Yet he could not fool Inspector of the Deck, who learned of the Thrice-Damned Traitor’s movements and sprang into action with fearsome and noble alacrity.
“Brothers!” said Inspector of the Deck to the boatmen and warriors of the Wu-Tang Clan. “Let us stain the river red with the blood of the enemy!”
Then the Glorious Armada (3) fell upon the foe, who were unprepared for the righteous rage of the Wu-Tang Clan. When they saw the Glorious Armada approach, they wept piteously, gnashed their teeth, and rent their garments, for they knew that their end had come. The Thrice-Damned Traitor, filth-encrusted vermin that he was, fled ignominiously at the first sign of combat, slinking back from whence he came. For the rest of the infidel host there was no mercy. Ten thousand heads were taken. There was much rejoicing.
After the great victory, Inspector of the Deck and his warriors celebrated with vigor. As the campfires crackled in the night, the warriors began beat-boxing, and Inspector of the Deck rose to perform a free-style poem-song.
Inspector of the Deck gave a shout. “The Wu-Tang Clan is ferocious and fearsome! With great fury we strike, and then are gone. With a will of Iron, we pummel the foe!”
Then there was a great shouting and clamor. The warriors spoke with one voice in approval. From this point, they marched under the Iron Flag of the Wu-Tang Clan.
Excerpted from “The Ming-Qing Wars,” by A.Q. Khan.
- Wu Sangui’s second attempt to cross the Chang River met with no more success than the first one, as partisans from the anti-Qing sect Wu-Tang Clan appeared on rowboats and barges, bringing the operation to an abrupt and unsatisfactory conclusion. A disgusted Wu formulated a new plan; he intended to march the army back through Anhui and onto the Central Plain of Jiangsu, where he would be able to strike at cities north of the river with impunity and hopefully draw the Ming defenders out into the open where they could be fought with more success. Yet this plan, and indeed the entire war itself, was preempted by a message from the Manchu Prince Regent Dorgon, which reached Nanjing in mid-June of 1646. The Qing wanted peace. While it was an abrupt turnaround from their position of 1644, when they had haughtily dismissed a Ming diplomatic mission, the Manchus found themselves in a more precarious position two years later. Popular discontent, which had been relatively muted since the Manchu conquest, boiled over in early 1646 when the Qing abruptly ordered all Han Chinese men to adopt the traditional Manchu hairstyle at once on pain of death (4). This decree served as a catalyst for anti-Manchu sentiment, and before long the Qing found themselves beset on all sides by dissidents and rebels. Prince Regent Dorgon refused to compromise, famously declaring “Keep your hair and don’t keep your head, or keep your head and don’t keep your hair” (留发不留头，留头不留发). There was absolutely no unity or cohesion to the rebels, who were united by nothing other than a general dislike of the Qing. Yet they were a growing problem for the Manchus. In Shandong, the Elm Garden Army (榆园军, Yu yuan jun), a loose agglomeration of bandits and peasants, terrorized Manchus from Qingdao to Qufu; in Hebei, the Eight Dragons Army (八龙军, Ba long jun) threatened Beijing itself at one point (5). Furthermore, and perhaps even more troubling, the Hui Muslim communities in Shaanxi and Gansu rose in revolt as well. It was this urgent need to pacify their newly-won dominions that forced the Qing to the negotiating table in the summer of 1646.
Peace was a welcome prospect for the Southern Ming as well. Even after the Purge of the Eunuchs and the installation of Shi Kefa as the Hongguang Emperor’s Chief Minister, there was a great deal of internal dissension and conflict in the Ming ranks. Moreover, the ultimate loyalty of a worrying number of their troops was highly suspect, as was the loyalty of a worrying number of the generals who commanded those troops. The Southern Ming saw the Qing peace overture as a chance to rest and reorganize their forces. The general Ming mindset also favored a peace with the Manchu; oddly enough from a modern perspective, they considered Zhang Xianzhong the greater threat (6). Thus it was that both sides were eager to come to an arrangement that would end the war - at least for now - and enable both the Qing and the Ming to focus on what they each regarded as the greater short-term threat to their hegemony. After scarcely a month of negotiations, the Treaty of Suzhou was signed in late July of 1646. The Ming paid a relatively substantial bribe to the Qing, in return for which the Manchus withdrew from Anhui and Jiangsu Provinces altogether (7); additionally, it was agreed that the Qing would give the Ming a free hand in the southwest, while the Ming would extend the same courtesy to their Qing counterparts in the northwest. As previously noted, neither side viewed the treaty as worth much more than the paper it was printed on. With peace secured, the Qing were free to devote their attention to pacifying the north. The Ming, meanwhile, looked first to bring the southwest under control and to quell the ever-present grumbling at court. For not everyone was happy with the peace . . .
Excerpted from “Spending the Night at Yunmen Temple,” by Wu Ming . (8)
Zheng Sen, son of the martyred general Zheng Zhilong, was in a ferocious rage. He paced back and forth in the small audience chamber, moaned with anguish, and clawed at his eyes.
“How can this be?” he said, voice rising in a wail. “How can we leave our work against the barbarian invaders unfinished? I will never raise my hand in anger against the Han people!”
Shi Kefa struggled mightily to avoid rolling his eyes, barely succeeding. He forced himself to sound stern rather than amused. “You will do what your Emperor tells you to do, Young Zheng,” he said. “That is what your father before you would have done.”
Zheng’s mutters faded into a resentful silence. Shi smiled, hoping to placate the young firebrand. “As it so happens,” he said, “you will not be asked to raise your hand against the Han people. You have been chosen to carry out another task.”
Zheng visibly perked up at this news. “Am I to march on Beijing itself and destroy the Manchu hordes once and for all?” he asked hopefully.
“No,” said Shi, shifting in his seat. “It has come to the court’s attention that the bandit king Zhang Xianzhong is guided and advised by red-haired barbarians from the far West. For too long we have indulged these devils from beyond the sea. Now you will redress the situation. Sail to Taiwan, and thence to Aomen. Remove the barbarian scourge, and bring these islands back into association with the Dragon Throne. Do this and we will make you the Great Barbarian-Subduing Admiral, Lord of Five Thousand Years.” (9)
In the corner of the room, the Emperor stirred for the first time. He was engrossed in painting; attempting to imitate the style of Ni Zan, he made each brushstroke with the greatest of care. Without looking up, he spoke. “Indeed, we will even grant you a new name,” he said. “To celebrate your success, you shall henceforth be Zheng Chenggong.”
Zheng knocked his head on the floor three times, then stood and regarded the emperor with awe. “All that I do in this world,” he said, “I do for the Son of Heaven.”
The Emperor abruptly stood, picked up his small dog, and marched over to the window. “Yes,” he said abstractly, still staring into the distance. “And so you shall. Find the barbarians. Leave none alive.”
NOTES
(1) Geography lesson aside, it boils down to this: Wu Sangui is on one side of the river, and Nanjing is on the other side. And it’s a big river . . .
(2) I’ve hit this note a few times. It’s a reference to the Daoist concept of 无为 (wuwei), which translates as something like “non-conscious action.” It’s a bit difficult, but the idea revolves around not acting with undue thought, but moving in harmony with Nature and the universe. Or something to that effect.
(3) A bit of hyperbole. It’s mostly commandeered fishing boats.
(4) As per OTL.
(5) The Elm Garden Army actually existed; the Eight Dragons Army I just made up.
(6) Again as per OTL; initially the Ming hoped to form an alliance with the Qing against Zhang Xianzhong, Li Zicheng, etc. This was because barbarians invading from the north were as regular an occurrence as the sun rising in the east. From the Ming point of view, this was normal and could be dealt with. A bandit army taking over Sichuan (and Tibet ITTL), on the other hand, was highly irregular.
(7) For clarity’s sake, I’m using the modern names for places, rather than what they actually would have been called at the time.
(8) This book was written by a eunuch who survived the purge, and is a lightly fictionalized account of the early years of the Southern Ming court.
(9) Shi and the Emperor could not care less about the vagaries of barbarian religious doctrine. Catholic? Protestant? Who cares?
*Next entry is probably more Southern Ming. Invasion of Taiwan, etc. As always, thanks for reading.
