I was living at the end of the Ming Dynasty, and I dealt a brutal blow to the Eight Banners!

May of the seventeenth year of the Chongzhen reign.

Having defeated the Ming army at Fangshan and Guangliqiao, Li Dingguo began his march towards Beijing.

Upon receiving news of the defeat at Guangli Bridge,

The entire city of Beijing was in a state of high alert, with everyone on edge.

The crescent moon, like a hook, hung in the sky above Beijing, casting a pale, lifeless glow.

The night wind howled, stirring up dust from the street corner, which, along with a few fallen leaves, drifted across the empty street.

Outside Deshengmen, refugees huddled at the foot of the city wall, their clothes tattered and their faces sallow and emaciated.

They held the moldy bran cakes, shivering, their eyes sunken like skulls, as if they might be swallowed up by the biting wind at any moment.

Occasionally, a few low groans could be heard, but they were quickly drowned out by the sound of the wind.

On the city wall, the guards gripped their spears tightly, staring blankly into the distance.

Their armor was already rusty, and their weapons seemed heavy and unusable.

A young soldier leaned against the battlements and whispered to his companion beside him, "I heard that the Shun army has already crossed Guangli Bridge and is only twenty or thirty li away from the capital..." His voice trembled, filled with barely concealed fear.

His companion did not answer, but silently lowered his head and tightened the patched shirt inside his armor.

Their eyes were filled with despair, as if they could already see the moment the city fell.

The once bustling crowds of drinkers on the street have vanished, leaving only a few closed shops with "Closed" signs pasted on their doors.

But at that moment, a dozen or so carts loaded with wooden crates were parked in front of a silk shop.

A group of guards, armed with swords and carrying torches, stood watch beside the cart.

Several shop assistants went in and out, carrying wooden crates from the cart into the shop one by one, and carrying empty crates out.

Manager Liu of the silk shop stood in front of his shop, directing several employees to stuff the last two bags of flour into the cellar.

The cellar was filled with grain, cloth, gold, and silver, almost to the brim.

Manager Liu glanced at Left Commander Zhou Kui, who was sitting and drinking tea to the side, from time to time, his forehead beaded with sweat.

"Quick! Fill the rice bins with old rice!" Manager Liu shouted in a low voice, his voice tinged with anxiety. "If the enemy army breaks through the city, just say that our shop has already been looted by starving people!"

The workers dared not delay and quickly poured the old rice into the rice bin, then piled several bags of bran in the corner to make it look like the place had been ransacked.

Seeing that it was almost done,

Zhou Kui got up, went down a few steps, hunched over, and scanned every corner of the cellar with a cold gaze, as if afraid of missing something important.

Not long after,

Zhou Kui then led his group away from the silk shop with satisfaction.

After Zhou Kui and his group had gone far away,

Manager Liu quickly led his staff to the backyard.

In the backyard, the butler was kneeling under an old locust tree, holding a shovel and digging frantically into the soil.

His forehead was covered in sweat, and his clothes were covered in dirt.

A deep pit has been dug under the tree, and several packages of silver ingots wrapped in oilcloth are placed in the pit.

Seeing that the steward was about to put the jade Guanyin into the pit, Manager Liu quickly stopped him, saying, "There's no need to bury this."

"Master?" The butler looked up, his voice trembling with tears. "This is a treasure passed down from our ancestors. If it's left outside, it will surely be stolen by bandits!"

Upon hearing this, Manager Liu's face darkened. He strode over to the steward and kicked him to the ground: "If the thieves don't manage to steal anything valuable, they certainly won't let us go. We're already dead, what do we care about our ancestors! Take it out and put it in the most conspicuous place in the room!"

The steward dared not argue any further, and could only grit his teeth and take the jade Guanyin out of the pit, then buried the other precious antiques and silver ingots in the ground.

Manager Liu stood aside, his gaze fixed on the distant city wall with a sinister look, secretly plotting how to protect his family's property in this catastrophe.

……

Inside Chongwen Gate, a small wooden sedan chair hurriedly passed through the long street.

The sedan curtain was slightly lifted, revealing the chubby face of Wang Dehua, the Grand Eunuch of the Directorate of Ceremonial, contorted in the shadows.

He held a handkerchief in his hand, constantly wiping the cold sweat from his forehead.

"Quick! Go to the yamen!" Zhou Kui whispered to his confidant, his voice tinged with urgency. "Hide those twelve boxes of calligraphy and paintings in the storeroom in the secret room! And all that gold, silver, and valuables—don't leave a single piece behind!"

After his confidant agreed, he instructed his men to hurry to the yamen (official residence).

Since the adults in the sedan chair were in a hurry, the sedan chair bearers dared not slack off and quickened their pace.

The sedan chair bumped and jolted as it passed through the narrow streets, and Zhou Kui's heart pounded with its unease.

The scene of the Shun army breaking through the city kept flashing through his mind, as if he could already see his family property being looted and his adopted daughters being left to wander the streets in misery.

Suddenly, the sound of rapid hoofbeats came from outside the sedan chair.

Wang Dehua suddenly lifted the sedan curtain and saw a group of Imperial Guards galloping past, their hooves sounding particularly jarring in the quiet street.

"That henchman Luo Yangxing, could it be that he's sniffed out something..." Wang Dehua cursed under his breath, his unease growing.

He shrank back into the sedan chair, clutching the handkerchief tightly in his hand, as if that would make him feel a little more at ease.

……

Inside the Forbidden City, the candlelight in the Hall of Diligent Governance flickered in the wind, illuminating the haggard face of Emperor Chongzhen.

He sat on the dragon throne, holding a memorial in his hand, staring blankly at the waning moon outside the window.

The memorial stated that the Shun army had captured Guangli Bridge and was approaching the capital.

"Three battalions...ten thousand elite troops!" Emperor Chongzhen muttered to himself, his voice filled with despair. "They couldn't even hold out for five days, and the rebel army has already reached the capital!"

His fingers dug deeply into the spine of the "Imperial Ancestral Instructions of the Ming Dynasty," his knuckles turning white from the force.

The air inside the hall seemed to freeze, so oppressive that it was hard to breathe.

Wang Chengen stood to the side, head bowed, not daring to make a sound.

He knew that Emperor Chongzhen was on the verge of collapse, and any word he uttered could provoke his rage.

Suddenly, Emperor Chongzhen stood up abruptly and slammed the memorial in his hand to the ground: "Chen Xinjia!"

Chen Xinjia quickly stepped forward and knelt down, saying, "Your subject is here."

"Three years ago, you asked me to transfer the elite troops from the nine border regions to fight, and you asked for 800,000 taels of silver for their pay. I even melted down the gilded screen in the Kunning Palace! And what was the result?"

Yang Guozhu died in battle at Huailai, and Wang Pu's entire army was wiped out! Of the elite troops of the Nine Border Regions, now less than one-tenth remain!

"If I hadn't listened to you back then, I wouldn't be in this situation where I have no soldiers to command!"

Chongzhen's voice was sharp and trembling, as if a sharp blade had shattered the silence in the palace.

Chen Xinjia kept his head down, and large beads of sweat appeared on his forehead.

He knew that Emperor Chongzhen loved to bring up old grievances, but any explanation at this moment would be futile, and he could only silently endure Emperor Chongzhen's anger.

At the same time, Zhou Yanru stood behind the pillar, stroking his beard and sneering.

He had a secret letter hidden in his sleeve, a promise sent by Li Dingguo the night before: on the day the city is surrendered, the court officials and their families will be safe and sound.

His gaze swept over the assembled officials in the hall, as he secretly made his plans.

"I recommend Yang Shen as the governor of the city's defenses. He is a loyal and brave man..." Wu Sangui advised, his voice carrying a hint of composure.

"Loyal and brave?" Wu Shen sneered. "Last month, Yang Shen forcibly abducted an opera troupe to celebrate his elderly mother's birthday. How can the court employ such a lawless person?!"

The hall was deathly silent, with only the heavy breathing of Emperor Chongzhen audible.

……