How can one be Emperor Chongzhen without money?

Chapter 13 Land! Land!
September 5th, the seventh year of the Tianqi reign.

The rain had just stopped, and the military camp outside Santunying City was a muddy mess, the torches casting a reddish glow on the mud. Emperor Chongzhen trudged through the mud, his black tunic splattered with mud. Duke Zhang Weixian of Yingguo and Duke Zhu Chunchen of Chengguo followed closely behind. Zu Dashou, the deputy commander of Liaodong, had a tense expression—he had just been privately reprimanded by the emperor for exaggerating the victories at Ningyuan and Ningjin. Leading the way, Sun Zushou held a torch, the flickering light illuminating his angular face, his eyes still bloodshot.

“Your Majesty, he’s in this tent.” Sun Zushou lifted the oilcloth curtain of the low tent, and a pungent smell of sweat mixed with herbs wafted out. A dozen or so wounded soldiers struggled to rise and pay their respects upon seeing the emperor, but Zhu Youjian pressed them down with his hand: “Lie down! I am not the emperor today, but a clerk from the Ministry of War here to hear the brothers speak the truth!”

He sat down on a tattered bench and patted the straw mat next to him: "Sit closer. I ask you—last year when we were fighting the Tartars outside Ningyuan City, when the Jurchen armored soldiers charged over, were your weapons able to hold them off?"

In the silence, the one-armed youth suddenly hissed, "Hold on my ass! I'm so hungry I can barely see, I'm too weak to even swing my spear twice!" His empty left sleeve swayed in the wind. "When the Tartars' heavy arrows come flying, I don't even have the strength to lift my shield..."

"Bullshit!" roared the scarred old soldier in the corner, pounding the ground. "Strength? I killed Tartars even on an empty stomach when I was young! But our swords are like tickling their cotton armor!" He grabbed an old bow from the corner, snapping it with both hands. "Look at this! After a heavy rain on Ningyuan City, the bowstring is as soft as noodles—but the Jurchen horn bows aren't so afraid of moisture..."

Chongzhen turned to Zu Dashou: "General Zu! You fought the Jurchens in Liaodong for many years, hand to hand. Tell me—why were the Jurchen soldiers able to charge with heavy armor? Why were their arrows more resistant to moisture than ours? Did they live on dew and wind?"

Zu Dashou felt a tightness in his throat under the emperor's gaze, but he forced himself to speak: "Your Majesty! The Jurchens... though they don't receive pay, they do have farmland!" Seeing Zhang Weixian give him a meaningful look, he decided to go all out, "Each Eight Banner soldier is allocated sixty mu of land, and the captured Han Chinese are given to cultivate it! Seventy percent of the harvest goes to the soldiers, and thirty percent to the banner lords... Even the bondservants get two meals of sorghum a day!" He thought of the plump and strong Eight Banner horses outside Ningyuan City, his voice hoarse, "The warhorses are carefully fed alfalfa grown on the farmland, much better than the skinny horses of our Ming army..."

Emperor Chongzhen was actually aware of what Zu Dashou was saying. In his and Professor Gao's view, the Eight Banners system before entering the Central Plains was essentially an upgraded version of the Ming Dynasty's garrison system. However, the Manchus only had a limited territory and population outside the Great Wall, so these privileges weren't particularly special. Therefore, the real guarantee of the fighting strength of ordinary Eight Banner soldiers at that time was still land!

Land is fundamental!
Chongzhen then asked Zu Dashou, "General Zu, you fought several real battles with the Jurchens in Ningyuan. How were your household guards?"

When asked about his household servants, Zu Dashou immediately straightened his back: "Your Majesty! My Liaozhen warriors are fed a pound of rice and two ounces of meat at every meal! Their bows are made of mulberry wood, and their arrowheads are weighed at least three qian each!" He caught a glimpse of Zhang Weixian's wink, but continued nonchalantly, "My most elite household servants are all mounted on two horses and clad in full iron armor..."

"Oh?" Zhu Youjian suddenly interrupted, asking casually, "Double-horse armor—it costs so much money, is your salary enough to cover it?"

Zu Dashou grinned: "The salary isn't enough! Fortunately, I allocated estates to my servants in Ningyuan, two hundred mu each. In good years, they can not only be self-sufficient, but also save money to buy new equipment..."

The tent fell silent. Zhang Weixian's torch flickered, and Zhu Chunchen's boot heels silently sank into the mud. Chongzhen clapped his hands and laughed, "Brilliant! Isn't this the military-agricultural system of the Taizu Emperor?" He suddenly turned to a thin soldier in the corner, "And you? How many acres of farmland do you own?"

The soldier trembled under the emperor's gaze: "I've been in the camp for ten years, and I haven't even been allocated a plot of land for farming, let alone a farm..."

"Impossible!" Zhu Youjian's expression suddenly changed, his gaze sweeping over Sun Zushou like a knife. "The Hongwu decree stipulated that every soldier in a garrison should be granted fifty mu of land! At its peak, the Jizhou Garrison controlled thirty-eight garrisons, including Shanhaiguan, Yongping, and Miyun. At least twenty are still operational today. Each garrison has five thousand six hundred soldiers, which should amount to 280,000 mu of military farmland. Twenty garrisons should have 5.6 million mu! Where did all this land go? It couldn't have simply vanished, could it?"

Sun Zushou knelt down with a thud, his Adam's apple bobbing but unable to utter a word. The firelight reflected the cold sweat on his forehead, dripping onto the muddy ground.

"Duke of England!" Chongzhen suddenly turned to Zhang Weixian, "Your family has been in charge of the Central Military Commission for generations. Tell me, is the amount of military land correct?"

Zhang Weixian's face turned pale, but he forced himself to remain calm and said, "Your Majesty is wise... the old system of military settlements has fallen into disrepair over the years..."

"Abandoned?" Zhu Youjian suddenly grabbed a handful of mud from the ground, blackish-yellow mud flowing from between his fingers. "I want to ask, have these lands that should have been used to support the army flown to the sky or sunk into the earth?" He took a step forward, his boots crunching on the mud. "Or... have they been swallowed by someone?"

The torches crackled and popped, and a gust of autumn wind swept past outside the tent, bringing a damp, cold breeze into the tent flaps.

"Duke of Cheng," the Emperor's voice was as cold as ice, "you are in charge of the Rear Army Commandery, you should have a good grasp of the military farm registers of Jizhou, shouldn't you?"

Zhu Chunchen's knees nearly buckled: "Your Majesty... Your Majesty, I will investigate immediately..." "It is time to investigate!" Chongzhen suddenly raised his voice, "Emperor Taizu established the garrisons to support a million soldiers without costing the people a single grain of rice! But now... the soldiers have no land! The generals are receiving salaries without working! The Tartars break through the pass as if they were in an empty land! If this continues, the Ming Dynasty will perish! If the Ming Dynasty perishes, who will you become Dukes of Yingguo? Dukes of Chengguo?"

A thunderous roar echoed in the cramped military tent. The wounded soldiers huddled on straw mats, while the one-armed youth stared at the mud stains on the emperor's robes, a glint of fire flashing in his cloudy eyes for the first time.

"Sun Zushou!" Chongzhen's tone suddenly shifted. "Take me to see the military farms tomorrow! Start from Shanhaiguan, and inspect them acre by acre! I want to see who has hollowed out the foundation of the Great Wall!"

"Your subject... obeys the decree!" Sun Zushou kowtowed heavily, his forehead slamming into the mud.

……

Inside the governor's office in Santunying, the candlelight flickered in the autumn breeze. Wei Zhongxian, dressed in a plain official robe, knelt on the cold blue brick floor, his forehead pressed against the cracks in the bricks.

"Your Majesty..." Wei Zhongxian's voice was hoarse, "The more than five million mu of military farmland in Jizhou involves almost all the noble families in Beijing, as well as hundreds of hereditary military families of commanders and vice commanders. Even the Duke of Yingguo, the Duke of Chengguo, and the Duke of Dingguo have swallowed up a lot. If we investigate thoroughly, I'm afraid they will be forced to..." He suddenly looked up, the candlelight illuminating the bloodshot eyes, "Back then, Zhang Juzheng measured the land of the whole country, and after his death, his grave was dug up and his corpse whipped. The blood on this land is more stench than on the battlefield!"

Emperor Chongzhen was marking the "Map of the Nine Border Garrisons" with a vermilion brush when he heard this, his brush paused, and a drop of vermilion ink fell on the location of Xuanfu Garrison: "The nine border garrisons and thirteen towns govern more than 170 guard posts, with an original quota of more than 70 million mu of military farmland—now it's less than 30%!" He suddenly threw down his brush, the ink splattering onto Wei Zhongxian's pale face. "Do you know what this means?"

Emperor Chongzhen, suppressing his anger, said, "The thirteen garrisons require over eight million taels of silver in military pay annually, while the imperial court's annual revenue is only six million. Military rations were originally entirely self-sufficient, but now 80% rely on local supplies, requiring 3.6 million shi (a unit of dry measure). However, the nine key border garrisons are all located in the harsh northern regions, making it difficult to transport grain from the south. They can only rely on the provinces where the garrisons are located for supplies, and Shaanxi province alone supports five garrisons, and Shaanxi has suffered from severe drought for the past two years..."

Wei Zhongxian then recalled the memorial submitted by the Shaanxi governor in the sixth year of the Tianqi reign, reporting a severe drought across the province, a serious reduction in grain production, and the difficulty in procuring grain from the five towns.

“I don’t want all the land,” Chongzhen squatted down. “I only want half of the land in the four garrisons of Jizhou, Changping, Xuanfu, and Datong.” He counted on his fingers. “The original land quota for the four garrisons was over 20 million mu, so even half of that is over 10 million mu. If each soldier is supported by 100 mu, that’s enough to support 100,000 elite troops!” The firelight danced in his eyes. “I don’t want this land either. I’ll allocate it all to capable generals like Sun Zushou, Zu Dashou, Zhao Shuaijiao, and Man Gui. They can use it to support their own troops, and I won’t question them. In addition, I will allocate the commercial taxes from Datong, Xuanfu, Changping, Jizhou, Yongping, and the area outside the pass to the various garrisons, so that they can raise some silver and have more cash on hand!”

Wei Zhongxian was startled. He understood the emperor's meaning: this was to use military farmland to establish regional military governorships! This was like drinking poison to quench thirst! However, as far as he knew, Sun Zushou, Zhao Shuaijiao, and Man Gui were still loyal. At least under their command, several regional governorships would remain loyal to the emperor, while Zu Dashou was another matter... But as long as he had a regional governorship to command, he wouldn't necessarily surrender to the Jurchens.

As for the future... whether it will lead to a situation of regional warlordism, that's hard to say.

Emperor Chongzhen suddenly chuckled: "After the An Lushan Rebellion, the Tang Dynasty lived for another 144 years..." He changed the subject, "Eunuch Wei, do you know why I kept you and your cronies alive?"

Emperor Chongzhen tapped his fingers lightly on the table. "Wei Banban, do you think I don't know how much land those nobles have seized at the foot of the Western Hills? The three ducal mansions alone have swallowed up more than 200,000 mu of land, and even the Sun Zushou family has occupied a considerable amount of land in Changping Guard." His voice was low and dangerous. "These parasites have been gnawing at the Ming Dynasty for two hundred years, hollowing out the very pillars!"

Wei Zhongxian's forehead was covered in sweat.

"Those civil officials in the south?" Chongzhen sneered. "They don't even want their hometowns to pay the current taxes. Asking them to contribute a single extra coin to cover the holes embezzled by the northern nobles and hereditary military officials is harder than climbing to heaven!"

Chongzhen's eyes flashed coldly: "That's why I'm keeping you around." He leaned forward, his voice low, "At least you eunuchs know that if Liaodong can't be defended, we're all doomed."

Wei Zhongxian was startled.

“Remember,” the emperor’s voice was as light as a feather, yet heavy, “I can tolerate your greed, but I will never tolerate you neglecting the border defenses. If the nine border regions collapse…” He paused meaningfully, “we will all be finished! Also, you had better think carefully about where you can be greedy and where you can’t! And, even if you’re greedy, I will still collect my punishment money! Otherwise, what will I eat?” He paused again at the end: “Now, go and summon Sun Zushou, Zhang Weixian, Zhu Chunchen, and Zu Dashou to me. I will see Sun Zushou first.”

(End of this chapter)