Chapter Four

The meeting began under a suffocating tension. Except for a few high-ranking generals stationed at the capital's gates, nearly every senior officer and government official of the Han army had gathered at the Grand Marshal's residence in Zhongnanhai. Even Dai Zi, who had long buried himself in the munitions workshops, had been summoned to attend this critical council.

Outside the city, 1.07 million gunpowder canisters lay in wait, ready to ignite at the slightest spark. Nothing could be more terrifying than this looming threat.

Everyone present was acutely aware of the gravity of the situation. A pall of anxiety and gloom hung over the assembly. In the past, such deliberations would be accompanied by whispered conversations among the officials, furtive exchanges and muttered counsel. This time, however, there was only silence; every man sat ramrod straight, even the usually boisterous and irreverent officers forced their faces into somber stillness, not daring to utter a word.

Lin Feng’s face was ashen; days of sleepless, intensive paperwork had left his eyes deeply sunken. Exhaustion was etched in every line of his body. He feebly shook his head, casting his gaze from one side of the room to the other. Wherever his eyes landed, civil and military officials alike bowed their heads in haste, avoiding his gaze.

A wave of disappointment welled in his heart—this was an admission of helplessness.

The meeting had barely begun, yet an awkward silence had already stretched nearly a quarter of an hour.

Seeing no one willing to speak, Li Guangdi shook his head and managed a bitter smile. By rank and authority, it fell to him to break the deadlock. He cleared his throat and coughed a few times, then spoke: “Gentlemen, the Marshal has made it clear: a million refugees press upon our borders, the fate of the capital hangs by a thread. As loyal servants of the state, we must offer our counsel and strategies to help the Marshal see us through this peril.”

He continued, “What the Marshal may not know is that these refugees are far from united. In my recent investigations, I found that the 1.7 million people outside our walls come from Shanxi, Anhui, Henan, Suiyuan and elsewhere. These unruly masses speak different dialects, follow different customs, and gather by clan or region. There is no unity among them; in fact, scarcity has bred mutual hostility. Therefore, I believe the Han army could divide and rule them—”

“Peigong, mind your words!” Lin Feng could not restrain himself and rose abruptly, his voice stern. “To slaughter the people would earn us the condemnation of all. Unless we are facing annihilation, such ideas must never be spoken! If we draw the sword now, what will history make of us? Where will we stand when the chronicles are written?”

“We are facing annihilation now!” Zhou Peigong interrupted Lin Feng without the slightest courtesy, his gaze unwavering as he met the Marshal’s eyes. “Of these refugees, some five to six hundred thousand are able-bodied men. In my view, we might conscript them into the army, give them a few days’ rations, and drive them as the vanguard to attack Shandong before the snows fall, feeding them off the enemy. In this way, we could expand Han territory and send the trouble southward—”

“This must not be!” Chen Menglei was aghast. He leapt to his feet and fell to his knees with a thud, offering Lin Feng a hasty apology before turning to Zhou Peigong, eyes blazing with anger. “Peigong, you are deluded! This is a policy that will destroy the nation. Have you forgotten the fate of the bandits Chuang and Zhang? If we emulate the brigands, how are we any different from them? When we have lost the people’s hearts and the world rises against us, we will not even find a plot to bury our bones!”

Lin Feng waved Chen Menglei to silence. He understood the point: Li Zicheng had followed just such a path—moving like locusts, seizing everything, destroying what could not be taken, turning landlords into corpses, rich and middling peasants into paupers, and the poor into soldiers. This anti-civilization, anti-human style of war might bring short-term gain to a military group, but in the end it would spiral out of control. When armies fight without political purpose, and only for plunder, war itself loses all meaning.

He exhaled deeply, signaling Chen Menglei to rise, then turned with regret to Zhou Peigong. “Peigong, though your words are not without merit, this plan cannot possibly work. Leaving aside the difficulty of training half a million soldiers, do you truly believe we could ever control such a force? Remember what happened recently in Beijing and Tianjin? Even with our small numbers, discipline was hard to maintain. If we formed a ‘Han army’ of half a million men who live by looting, who would control them—you? Or me?”

Zhou Peigong could only sigh. “That is why I say this lies on the edge of the possible and impossible. If we take this path, it will surely grow beyond our control.”

“There are many such examples in the histories,” Lin Feng said with a bitter smile. “Remember Cao Cao in the Three Kingdoms? When he forcibly absorbed the remnants of the Yellow Turbans, these brutal soldiers immediately sacked Xuzhou, leaving a trail of bones and weeping behind. Do you think a statesman like Cao Cao would have made such a foolish decision if he’d had a choice? ‘Vengeance for my father’—what a feeble excuse!”

“If a man as strong as Cao Cao could not control such a rabble, how could we? And this is not the Three Kingdoms era—Wu Sangui’s Great Zhou army and the remnant Manchu forces eye us from the south, Galdan and the Mongols marshal their strength in the north, the Manchu homeland gathers force in the east. Peigong, if we lose the moral high ground, what will we have left?”

Lin Feng’s words weighed even heavier on the assembly, and silence returned to the hall. After a long pause, Li Guangdi sighed softly and rallied himself. “Gentlemen, there are other ways…”

He rose, stepped past Chen Menglei and Zhou Peigong, and bowed to Lin Feng before turning to address the assembly. “Colleagues, we have overlooked something. We have been wringing our hands over relief efforts, but have we considered—must we use only grain for relief?”

The officials were baffled, murmuring among themselves, unable to grasp his meaning.

“Oh? Well said! And what is your name, sir? Where do you serve?” Lin Feng laughed heartily, calling out to the man who had spoken up.

“I am Tang Bin, native of Henan, currently serving in the Grain and Forage Office under Lord Li.”

“Excellent! Your remarks just now opened my eyes. Do you have any further ideas?” Lin Feng descended from his seat, personally helped Tang Bin to his feet, and brushed the dust from his clothes. “Don’t be nervous, speak freely.”

Tang Bin’s excitement was palpable; his shoulders trembled, but he steadied himself. “Marshal, you know that our northern lands are bitterly cold; the freeze often lasts months, and with so many refugees, survival by wild foods alone requires thorough preparation.”

“Exactly!” Lin Feng beamed with approval. “Old Tang is right. One cannot make assumptions in civil matters. It’s one thing to talk, another to act. We must not take this lightly. Go on.”

“Yes, Marshal!” Tang Bin had regained his composure. He raised his head, gently slipping from Lin Feng’s support, and bowed in turn to all his superiors, then continued. “In my humble opinion, the first step is not to gather grain, but to build shelters—grass huts and sheds. Since we are determined to provide local relief, we must assign personnel to control the refugees, dividing them by region and clan. Though they appear chaotic, most are in fact whole villages or counties fleeing together, led by elders of their clans. For example, if we send unrelated officials to distribute wild foods, who can say how much will reach the refugees? If we do not restore order and ethics, the strong will prey upon the weak, and our efforts will be wasted.”

“Well said! A true patriot!” Lin Feng praised him at just the right moment, and Tang Bin, elated, felt his spirits soar.

“From today, you are Li Guangdi’s deputy, in charge of relief efforts!” Lin Feng’s smile faded as he strode back to his seat. “This matter concerns the very survival of the Han army. You must give it your all! My orders are as follows:”

“From this day forth, all citizens within Han territory must, before the freeze, gather bark, roots, wild vegetables, and grass seeds for household collection. No grain will be taken, only wild forage. Anyone who uses this as an excuse for extortion, regardless of rank, will be executed on the spot without further approval!”

After the civil officials received their orders, Lin Feng turned to Zhou Peigong. “Peigong, draft a military order: Zhao Guangyuan at Xuanhua must fully cooperate with local authorities to purchase food from the steppe herders. Whatever is edible, we will buy it—sweet grass, plump seeds, barley, millet—all to be carted and stored.”

“Order Zhao Liangdong and Liu Laosi, stationed at Datong and the Dezhou front, to close the borders and bar any more refugees. Work with the Shanxi and Huizhou merchant caravans to smuggle as much fodder as possible from Shanxi, Henan, and Shandong—no matter the quality or type, especially cheap horse feed like black bean cakes. Bring it all in and store it.”

Pausing for a moment, Lin Feng turned to Zhou Peigong again. “Send word to Yang Haisheng to return to Beijing and report for duty immediately.”

Zhou Peigong started slightly, but, meeting Lin Feng's gaze, he said nothing, lowering his eyes to take notes.

Watching Zhou Peigong draft the orders, Lin Feng leaned close to Tang Bin and Li Guangdi and spoke softly: “Gentlemen, when you return, tell the merchants at the guilds that I am purchasing seeds and farm tools in large quantities—they must think of ways to help.” He hesitated briefly, then continued, “Also, when dividing the refugees, try to resettle them toward Shanhaiguan.”

“Ah… My lord…” Li Guangdi and Tang Bin immediately grasped his meaning, exchanging alarmed glances.

“I have no choice…” Lin Feng said darkly, gesturing to the map on the wall. “We cannot deploy troops to Shanxi, Henan, or Anhui. Shandong lies next to the main force of the Manchu army; we cannot upset the current standoff with Wu Sangui. If we provoke the Manchu rear by attacking Shandong, the consequences are unpredictable. Even if it does not bring the Manchu army north, it would certainly hurt us. As the saying goes, pick the softest fruit—Liaodong is vast, sparsely populated, fertile, and weakly defended. We have no choice but to turn our attention there.”

“But…” Li Guangdi protested, flustered. “Marshal, the situation is perilous on every front. Both military and government walk on thin ice. If war breaks out now, I fear—”

“I have no choice either,” Lin Feng replied bitterly, as if struggling to cast off a burden. “Do we have another option? What will become of these million refugees come spring? Do we have any other way? Don’t be fooled by our energetic debate—do you really think bark and roots will suffice? If I am not mistaken, if seven out of ten of these 1.7 million refugees survive the winter, it will already be a blessing from heaven…”

“This…” Li Guangdi and Tang Bin fell silent, calculating inwardly. To watch five or six hundred thousand people die with open eyes—words could not capture the weight of such sorrow.

“That is why we must find a way for these people to survive,” Lin Feng said coldly. “Precisely because the situation is critical, we must attack.”

Seeing their hesitation, Lin Feng’s voice grew resolute: “The Han sword must carve out land for the Han plow.”

He turned away, refusing to face them further, his tone final. “The matter is settled. My mind is made up. Even if it means a thousand dangers, even certain death, I will not regret it!”