Transmigrating to the Chongzhen era, I started by confiscating the Donglin Party.

On the eighth day of the eleventh month of the fifteenth year of Chongzhen's reign, at the end of the Yin hour.

Twenty li south of Xuzhou, beside the official road at Yanziji, there is a grove of withered trees. The bark of the tree trunks has been stripped off, standing stark white in the morning mist, like hanged corpses. More than thirty bodies lie in the grove—judging from their attire, they are defeated soldiers, wearing tattered cotton-padded coats and worn-out leather armor, still clutching rusty knives in their hands.

Li Ce crouched down and pried open the eyelids of the most recent corpse. The pupils were dilated, but the body was still limp; it had been dead for less than two hours.

"Arrow wound." Zhou Zhen used the tip of his knife to pry open the tattered cloth covering the corpse's chest, revealing a bloody, mangled hole. "A three-edged arrowhead, three inches deep in the flesh; it was a standard-issue arrow used by the border troops."

"Bianjun..." Li Ce stood up and looked around.

At the edge of the withered forest, there were messy hoofprints. Not the scattered tracks of a defeated army, but those of a well-organized cavalry unit—the horseshoes were of uniform size and spaced evenly, numbering at least a hundred riders.

"A cavalry force came by after midnight last night." He stepped on the frozen ground. "They killed the fleeing soldiers and cleared the road."

Zhou Zhen's expression changed: "Your Majesty means... someone is clearing the way for us?"

Li Ce didn't answer. He walked to the official road outside the forest and bent down to examine it closely. There were fresh ruts on the road—not from a flatbed cart, but from a horse-drawn carriage with a box, its wheels encased in iron, and the ruts were very deep.

"They didn't just clear the way," he said softly, "they also delivered things."

Following the tracks north for three miles, they found the carriage behind an abandoned local temple. A chestnut horse was tethered to a temple pillar, grazing on withered grass. The carriage was covered with an oilcloth; lifting it revealed twenty wooden crates neatly stacked inside.

The first hole opened, and there was an arrow.

Brand new triangular arrows, with straight shafts and neat fletchings, fifty arrows per bundle, ten bundles in total.

The second weapon was a crossbow.

The standard military crossbows still bear the inscription "Made under the supervision of Datong" on their arms.

The third, fourth... all contained weapons. Bows, knives, spearheads, and even three boxes of gunpowder, all tightly sealed with oiled paper.

Zhou Zhen gasped, "This...who sent this? Soldiers from Xuzhou Garrison? Or..."

"Not government troops." Li Ce pulled a slip of paper from the bottom of the box. The paper was ordinary rough-edged paper, but the handwriting was neat:

"Passing through at the hour of Xu (7-9 PM), do not enter Xuzhou City. There is an ambush in the city, and the commander of the East Gate has already taken three thousand taels of silver from the Left Camp. Go around the city to the north for thirty li, and there is a ferry crossing across the Bian River. Arrows and crossbows are provided; Tongguan will need them."

There was no signature.

Only a tiny drawing was made in the corner of the paper—a swallow carrying a stalk of rice.

Li Ce stared at the pattern for a long time, then suddenly remembered someone.

In the seventh year of the Tianqi reign, shortly after he ascended the throne, he investigated a batch of old archives while reorganizing the Beijing garrison. Among them was a folk society called "Yanxing Society," whose members were mostly retired border soldiers and couriers from Beizhili and Shandong, specializing in transmitting military intelligence and aiding wounded soldiers along the Nine Garrisons. Later, Wei Zhongxian labeled it as "colluding with the border army" and suppressed it.

But I remember the document said that their mark was a swallow carrying ears of grain.

"Does His Majesty know him?" Zhou Zhen leaned closer.

"An old acquaintance." Li Ce tucked the note into his robes. "Order the entire army to change their arrows. Each man will receive a quiver, and crossbowmen will be given an additional crossbow. We will depart in 25 minutes, bypassing Xuzhou City."

"And these weapons..."

"Take it with you." Li Ce mounted his horse. "Since we've already given it to you, let's not waste it."

He took one last look at the south.

As the morning mist gradually dissipated, the outline of Xuzhou's city wall appeared faintly in the distance. Flags seemed to be waving on the city tower, but they were not clearly visible.

"Zhou Zhen," he suddenly said, "tell me, how many people like this are there in this world—the court has forgotten them, but they haven't forgotten the court?"

Zhou Zhen was stunned.

Without waiting for a reply, Li Ce yanked the reins: "Go!"

On the same day, at Chenshi (7-9 AM), in the second hall of the Yangzhou Salt Administration Office.

The charcoal fire inside was burning brightly, but it couldn't suppress the tense atmosphere.

Empress Zhou sat in a grand chair behind a screen, with three lists of names laid out before her. The screen was made of fine bamboo, through which one could vaguely see the scene outside—five salt merchants sat upright in round-backed chairs on the left; seventeen representatives of salt producers were crammed onto a long bench on the right, their coarse cotton-padded jackets still stained with salt; and in the middle stood eight representatives of canal workers, their trousers soaking wet, having just arrived from the docks.

Yunniang stood beside the screen and said softly, "Your Majesty, everyone has arrived."

The empress nodded, but did not leave immediately.

She first looked to her left—the five salt merchants, the youngest of whom was over forty. The one sitting in the head seat was Qian Guangyi, whose family had been in the salt business for three generations. Although his operation was not the largest, his reputation was the best. The Wang family had tried to take over his saltworks three times, but the attempt failed each time because the salt producers petitioned together.

The tall, thin man in the middle is named Sun Shouren. He used to be the accountant for the Wang family. Three years ago, he was kicked out for refusing to falsify accounts. He then opened his own small salt shop, specializing in business with the poor, earning only one coin per pound of salt.

Among the saltworks representatives on the right, a one-armed old man stood out. His name was Chen Dashuan. Thirty years ago, he lost his right arm in an accident at the saltworks, and the Wang family paid him ten taels of silver to settle the matter. Later, he took the lead in filing a complaint, and the Wang family broke his leg, leaving him with a limp.

The leader of the canal workers' representatives was a dark-faced man named Zhao Tiemao, with a scar on his left cheek—a mark he got from a beam when he was rushing to transport official salt after the canal boat caught fire last year.

The Empress understood.

She rose, but did not step beyond the screen; she merely coughed lightly. The outer room fell silent.

"I have invited you all here today to discuss three matters." Her voice was not loud, and somewhat muffled through the bamboo screen, yet every word was clear. "First, from this day forward, the salt fields and canal transport in Yangzhou will be directly under the control of the imperial court. The price of salt will remain at ten coins per pound until the day we die. Anyone who dares to raise the price will be punished for treason."

A gasp could be heard from the outside.

"Secondly," the Empress continued, "the wages of the kitchen staff will increase by 30%. They will be provided with two meals of dry rice daily and one meat meal every ten days. Those who are injured or disabled will be cared for by the government until their death. After their death, their children will have priority to fill vacancies in the kitchen staff."

Some of the kitchen representatives began to wipe away tears.

"Third, the wages of the canal workers will also increase by 30%. If the ships are damaged, the government will repair them. The compensation for the wounded and the injured will be paid according to the standards for border troops. From now on, you are no longer of lowly status, but are grain transport officials of the Great Ming Dynasty."

Zhao Tiemao suddenly stood up, then knelt down again with a thud, kowtowing repeatedly: "Thank you, Your Majesty! Thank you for your grace, Your Majesty!"

He knelt down, and everyone in the room knelt down as well.

The Empress looked at the kneeling figures through the bamboo screen, her heart heavy. Grace was easy to bestow, but what about the silver? What about the grain? To fulfill these promises, real gold and silver, a steady stream of grain, were needed.

The most important thing right now is to get this new framework up and running.

"Qian Guangyi," she called out.

The elderly man at the head of the left trembled: "I...I am here."

"I hereby appoint you as the temporary head of the Salt Industry Supervisory Committee, in charge of the seven major salt fields in Yangzhou. I will give you ten days to settle the accounts and settle the salt producers. If you do well, I will grant your descendants a place as students in the Imperial Academy. If you do not do well..." The Empress paused, "...the reputation of your Qian family for three generations will be ruined in your hands."

Qian Guangyi prostrated himself on the ground, his voice trembling: "This humble subject... would gladly die a thousand deaths!"

"Sun Shouren".

The tall, thin man quickly looked up.

"You will be the deputy supervisor of the salt administration, in charge of salt prices and accounts. The daily market price must be reported to the government office before noon. If there is even a single discrepancy, I will chop off one of your hands."

"Chen Dashuan".

The one-armed old man raised his head and said, "This old man is here!"

"Five saltworkers will be elected from among the saltworkers to form a 'Saltworker Association,' and you will lead it. If there are any cases of wage deductions or mistreatment of saltworkers in the salt fields, you may come directly to the yamen and beat the drum. I grant you permission to go directly to the second hall to report matters on the first and fifteenth of each month."

The old man clenched his one-armed fist and pounded it heavily on his chest: "Don't worry, Your Majesty! If anyone dares to bully the kitchen staff again, I'll risk my life to fight them!"

"Zhao Tiemao".

The dark-faced man looked up, tears welling in his eyes.

"Five canal workers should also be selected to form a 'Canal Workers' Cooperative.' You are in charge of matters on the canal. If officials extort money or bandits rob boats, you can deploy the dock guards to protect the canal and execute them first, then report to the authorities."

"Yes!" Zhao Tiemao roared. "Your subject... this humble subject will certainly do his duty!"

The Empress was silent for a moment, then slowly said, "Rise, all of you. From this day forward, you are no longer pawns in the hands of the Wang family, but subjects of the Ming Dynasty. I want you to remember—your salt feeds the soldiers of the nine border regions; your grain saves the people of the north. If this is accomplished, history will record your deeds."

Everyone stood up, their faces flushed and their eyes shining.

The Empress knew that the time was right.

She gestured for Yunniang to go out and deliver the message. Yunniang went to the screen and announced loudly, "Her Majesty's decree: Lunch will be served to everyone. After lunch, Qian Guangyi and Sun Shouren will remain in the hall for a discussion. The rest of you may take five taels of silver as a resettlement allowance and go back to deliver the message—say that Her Majesty the Empress has said that from this day forward, the world in Yangzhou has changed."

The crowd knelt down again to express their gratitude.

After everyone had left, the Empress emerged from behind the screen. She did not sit in the main seat, but rather in a chair to the side, and said to Qian and Sun, who remained, "Sit down, and tell the truth."

Qian Guangyi carefully sat down, halfway on his bottom: "What does Your Majesty wish to ask?"

"Although the Wang family has fallen, the salt industry in Yangzhou remains deeply entrenched." The Empress looked directly at him. "Besides the five of you, who else could cause trouble? Who else is hiding a private army? Who has connections with Zuo Liangyu, the Later Jin, or the pirates?"

Qian Guangyi and Sun Shouren exchanged a glance.

"Speak," the Queen's voice turned cold. "If you don't speak now, you'll be considered accomplices when things come to light."

Sun Shouren gritted his teeth and pulled out a small notebook from his bosom—it was a secret ledger: "Your Majesty, this is what I have secretly recorded over the past three years. You already know about the Wang family's sixteen smuggling waterways and forty-nine rendezvous points. But there are still three hidden lines that Wang Zhaolin hasn't even told his son about."

He turned to a page and pointed it out to the Queen:

"The first route is by sea, starting from Liujiagang in Yangzhou and heading north to Niangniang Palace in Liaodong to trade with the Later Jin. The Wang family has been operating this route for twenty years, transporting 50,000 catties of pig iron and 8,000 catties of saltpeter annually in exchange for ginseng, sable fur, and pearls."

"Secondly, we traveled along the Yangtze River to Jiujiang to trade with Zuo Liangyu's generals. Zuo's camp was short of pay, so the Wang family gave them salt on credit, and Zuo's camp promised to 'protect Yangzhou.' Last September, Zuo Liangyu even sent three hundred soldiers disguised as canal workers to be stationed at the Yangzhou docks."

"The third..." Sun Shouren lowered his voice even further, "...take the Grand Canal to Linqing, and make contact with the remnants of the Shanxi merchants. Although the eight major Shanxi merchants have fallen, their network on the Grand Canal remains. The Wang family used them to sell smuggled salt to Xuanda, and even...to Mongolia."

The Empress took the dark curtain and quickly flipped through it. The more she looked, the heavier her heart became.

She had initially thought that the downfall of the Wang family was merely the severing of one tentacle. Now it seemed to be an underground network spanning half of China. Salt, iron, arms, intelligence, and even military forces all flowed within this network.

"There's one more thing," Qian Guangyi suddenly spoke up. "Before Wang Zhaolin died, he sent a message to Jiujiang. The messenger was his trusted steward, Wang Fu, riding the Wang family's best Mongolian horse. Judging by the time... it should have arrived last night."

The Empress looked up abruptly: "What did the letter say?"

"I don't know the specifics," Qian Guangyi shook his head. "But before Wang Fu set off, I overheard Wang Zhaolin telling him: 'Tell Commander Zuo that the Emperor has evidence of his receiving bribes. If he wants to live, he should quickly lead his troops eastward and, under the pretext of 'purging the court of corrupt officials,' seize control of Nanjing. After the deed is done, he should receive 30% of the salt tax revenue from Jiangnan.'"

Yunniang's expression changed drastically behind the screen.

The Empress smiled.

The smile was faint and cold.

"What a fine Wang Zhaolin," she murmured, "even in his dying moments, he wants to drag someone down with him."

She got up and walked to the window. The wintersweet outside the window was in even greater bloom, its golden petals gleaming like gleaming blades in the thin winter sunlight.

"Yunniang," she said, turning her back, "send a message to Li Jizhen in Nanjing by carrier pigeon: If Zuo Liangyu makes a move, there is no need to ask for permission, just attack him directly. Tell Li Jizhen that I will grant him three things: First, he can mobilize all the troops of the Nanjing garrison; second, he can intercept the grain transported from Jiangnan to pay for his army; third, after the matter is accomplished, I will guarantee his descendants three generations of wealth and honor."

"yes!"

"Furthermore," the Empress turned to Qian and Sun, "write down what you just said, sign it, and then do two things: First, within three days, find out all the Left Camp spies in Yangzhou City; second, in the name of the Supervisory Council, issue a notice—anyone who reports collusion with the Left Camp or the possession of military equipment will be rewarded with one hundred taels of silver; anyone who captures them will be rewarded with one thousand taels of silver."

The two men accepted the order and withdrew.

The hall fell silent once more.

The Queen stood alone, suddenly feeling a chill. She reached out to touch the charcoal brazier; the fire was still burning brightly, but the coldness seeped from her very core.

If Zuo Liangyu's 100,000-strong army were to march east, could Nanjing hold out? Li Jizhen, though loyal, was ultimately a civil official with no military experience. And the Emperor was on his way north, unable to return in time to provide reinforcements…

"Your Majesty," Yunniang quietly entered, holding a letter in her hands, "Just delivered by the 'Military Intelligence Station' on the north bank of the Huai River, urgent dispatch from 800 li away."

The Empress accepted it. The letter was in Li Ce's own handwriting, the handwriting messy, clearly written on horseback:

"My esteemed Empress: On the night of the seventh, I crossed the Huai River and was greatly comforted by the old soldiers who had set up an inn. On the morning of the eighth, I arrived in Xuzhou. There was an ambush outside the city, so I had to detour. I received a number of military weapons anonymously, which I suspect were the work of my former subordinates, the 'Yanxing Society.' Tongguan is in dire need of our attention, so we travel day and night. We should enter Henan on the ninth. I entrust all matters concerning Jiangnan to you. If things do not go well, please take care of yourself and do not worry about me. Also, keep this sachet with you; every time I smell it, it is as if I see your face."

There is no "朕" (the imperial "I"), no "臣妾" (your subject/concubine).

Only "I" and "you".

The Empress held the letter in her hand, her fingertips trembling slightly. She walked to the desk, picked up her pen to reply, but didn't know what to write. Should she write about the crisis in Yangzhou? About Zuo Liangyu's unusual actions? About her current fear?

No.

She put down her pen and took out the small sachet from her bosom—it was a pair with the one she gave Li Ce, and inside was a lock of hair that she had secretly cut from his pillow the night before she left the capital.

She pressed the sachet to her chest and closed her eyes.

After a long while, he opened his eyes, which were now completely free of any hesitation.

"Yunniang," she said calmly, "prepare the carriage. I'm going to the dock."

"Your Majesty, things are chaotic at the docks..."

"It's only in chaos that I go." The Empress fastened her cloak. "I want everyone in Yangzhou to see—as long as the Empress is here, the sky won't fall."