Chapter Fifty-Eight: Great Peace

Chapter Fifty-Eight: Daning

Daning lies just beyond Xifeng Pass, in the ancient region of Hui Prefecture, stretching east to Liaodong and west to Xuanfu—a vital stronghold beyond the frontier. With Daning in place, the defensive line of Beijing is pushed hundreds of li further north. As long as Daning remains secure, Beijing will not be plunged into recurrent peril.

Whenever Zhu Qizhen looked at the Ming border maps, he never felt secure. On paper, Daning still belonged to Ming. But in truth, the court had long since withdrawn its garrison from Daning.

The origins of this situation trace back to the Jingnan campaign. The pivotal move that changed the course of the war was the Yongle Emperor’s decision to cross the frontier, seize Daning, coerce the Prince of Ning, and rally the formidable frontier armies—thereby gaining the strength to vie with Jianwen for the throne.

At that time, the Yongle Emperor valued the Daning army more than Beijing itself. When the Emperor Renzong was surrounded by southern forces and under fierce attack, the Yongle Emperor abandoned him to his fate. By bringing the Daning troops into the pass and allying with the three Guards of Uriyangqad, the Yongle Emperor achieved parity with the southern armies, but he also left behind a thorny problem—Daning itself.

Daning was not always present. It was constructed during the Hongwu era as a staging ground for campaigns against Liaodong. In the Battle of Buyur, Daning was one of the launching points.

Yet, despite its importance, the Yongle Emperor withdrew all troops from Daning, leaving the city defenseless. From then until now, it has never been restored, serving as a buffer zone between the court and the Tatars.

But Zhu Qizhen understood well: to leave territory unoccupied, hoping others will do the same, is pure delusion. He could not comprehend how a place so crucial to the security of the realm could be left vacant.

This issue was weighty indeed, involving the reigns of the Hongwu, Yongle, and Xuande Emperors, as well as Jin Ying, Wang Zhen, and Yishaha. The three men felt a heaviness settle in their hearts, uncertain how to speak—how to avoid offending revered ancestors, yet convey the truth to Zhu Qizhen.

Wang Zhen, for his part, acted as though he had not heard a thing.

Yishaha spoke: “Both the Yongle and Xuande Emperors intended to reestablish Daning, but the cost was prohibitive. When the city was first built in Hongwu’s reign, the imperial court exempted several northern provinces from taxes, directing the people to deliver grain to Daning. At its peak, Daning’s granaries held six hundred and twenty thousand shi, and over 1.2 million strings of paper currency were spent.

“It could be said that the strength of the entire northern realm was poured into this one city.”

“Daning itself is easy to attack from the south but difficult to defend. Its production cannot meet the needs of a large army and yearly grain shipments from the interior are required. Since Yongle’s reign, the north has seen massive construction and multiple northern expeditions.”

“The north’s reserves were utterly depleted. Rebuilding Daning city was simply beyond the means of the time.”

Zhu Qizhen knew well that from the Yongle era to the present, even with the Empress Dowager curtailing all non-essential projects, many major undertakings remained. Hebei, the main battleground of Jingnan, had long been devastated, then further taxed by the construction of Beijing, the Great Wall, and the repeated supply of armies for northern campaigns.

Whenever the Yongle Emperor marched north, it was with armies of half a million. Supplying such numbers was a monumental task. Under these strains, how could the north support a project as vast as Daning, especially when the original city had long since fallen into ruin?

To station troops at Daning would require rebuilding the city, a prospect so costly that even Zhu Qizhen shook his head in secret.

The shortage of provisions in the north was not a recent problem.

Even now, major works remained unfinished—the final stages of Beijing’s construction, begun in Yongle’s reign and yet incomplete; the Xuande Emperor’s mausoleum; the ongoing work on the Great Wall—all these pressed the cabinet to the brink. To add the reconstruction of Daning on top of this?

Even if the court could muster the means, and the Empress Dowager gave her support, the strategic situation had changed. The Oirat had defeated Arughtai and unified the steppe. In such circumstances, rebuilding Daning would inevitably provoke a clash with the Oirat.

Though the strength of the garrisoned households was unknown, judging from the commanders alone, Zhu Qizhen had little confidence in the Ming generals of his time.

He sighed inwardly. Money and provisions—always money and provisions. The Ming dynasty’s fiscal crisis seemed to have arrived too early.

Setting aside the matter, Zhu Qizhen asked, “I have heard that the Yongle Emperor ceded Daning to the three Uriyangqad Guards?”

This rumor had long been widespread.

Jin Ying immediately replied, “Your Majesty, there are hidden truths here. During the extraordinary times of the Jingnan campaign, the Yongle Emperor tacitly permitted this. But upon ascending the throne, he rescinded the arrangement.”

“The three Uriyangqad Guards never pastured at Daning. Though they occasionally crossed the border, they never dared linger.”

Zhu Qizhen nodded slightly. The implication was clear: the Yongle Emperor had indeed done so, but had reversed his policy after becoming emperor. Best not to dwell on the emperor’s dark past.

Still, should Daning remain empty as the Oirat rose in power, the vacuum in this region could not last.

Zhu Qizhen returned to the matter at hand, saying, “Eunuch Yi, can Liaodong provide for itself in grain? Is there enough to relieve the Jurchen in times of disaster?”

Yishaha replied at once, “Liaodong has no civil prefectures, only garrisoned posts, with a total of twenty thousand qing of cultivated land. Only one crop can be grown per year, and yields are barely sufficient for self-sufficiency. If we are to trade with the Jurchen, we would still need to bring in grain from the south.”

Zhu Qizhen said, “When the nation has affairs in the north, it always relies on southern grain. This is not a lasting solution. You should pay close attention to agricultural policy in Liaodong. Every shi of grain gained in the north is worth three from the south.”

“As for the shortfall, merchants can be encouraged to bring grain to Liaodong. The Inner Court can also do its part.” As he spoke, he glanced at Wang Zhen.

Wang Zhen understood and replied, “I will see to it at once.”

The Ming, after all, had not yet fallen to the straits of the Chongzhen era. Though the treasury was tight, both the palace and the prefectures still had funds. The problem was simply that too much needed to be done.

From Wang Zhen’s perspective, Jurchen furs and pearls were still highly sought after, with the palace having great need of them. Even if the palace did not require them, they could always be resold for profit.

Zhu Qizhen was not intimately familiar with the finances of the Inner Court, but seeing no sign of difficulty on Wang Zhen’s face, he breathed a sigh of relief. He knew well that he had authority to use the palace funds, but to divert Ministry of Revenue grain without cabinet approval would certainly draw opposition from Yang Shiqi.

So, he would not touch the Ministry’s reserves if he could avoid it.

He continued to Yishaha, “Whether Liaodong can become Ming’s breadbasket depends on your efforts.”

Yishaha had not expected such high hopes from the emperor and, a little flustered, replied, “I will do my utmost. But Liaodong is cold and harsh, with only one crop per year, mostly millet. The land is vast but underpopulated—mainly Jurchen and Koreans, with Han Chinese exiled from the interior. Without people, and with new external threats, any surplus must go toward repairing fortresses and building checkpoints. I can only promise to try my best.”

Though disappointed, Zhu Qizhen said, “Good. It is best that you speak honestly with me.”

He had long believed that Liaodong’s military administration was the reason for its poor agricultural development, but it was now clear the real problem was too few people—especially Han Chinese.

Without sufficient population, even the establishment of civil prefectures would be pointless.

But to organize large-scale migration to Liaodong as in the early dynasty was beyond his power at present. No matter his ideas, he could only set them aside for now.

He rewarded Yishaha, instructed him to rest, and after further discussion with Wang Zhen, sent him back to Liaodong to handle Jurchen affairs.

Yet, he knew he must explain all this to the Empress Dowager as well.

Thus, the next day, after lunch, he made his report. The Empress Dowager, as if expecting him, had the maids brew tea and bade him sit. With a curling wisp of smoke between them, she regarded him with solemn eyes and said, “Tell me—what are your thoughts on Liaodong, or on Yishaha in particular? Speak plainly.”