plumnovel Chapter 56 Bloodshed at the Great Wall
Chapter 56 Bloodshed at the Great Wall
On the 20th day of the eighth month of the sixteenth year of Chongzhen's reign, outside the city of Xuanfu.
Before dawn, the eastern horizon was tinged with a pale white, but it was stained a dirty yellow by the smoke and dust rising from the horizon.
The dust wasn't stirred up by the wind, but by the hooves of horses—thousands upon thousands of warhorses galloped across the grasslands, raising a cloud of dust that resembled a moving city wall, slowly pressing southward.
Ma Ke stood atop the north gate tower of Xuanfu Town, clutching the last military report that had arrived the previous night from the Dushikou beacon tower: "At the beginning of the hour of Yin (3-5 AM), Dushikou fell. All three hundred defenders perished."
Dushikou is located 120 li northeast of Xuanfu and is an important pass on the Great Wall defense line.
Three hundred men couldn't even hold out for an hour.
"General!" The scout captain rushed up the horse path, his armor covered in mud. "We've scouted! The Plain White Banner and Bordered White Banner are leading the charge, followed by the Mongol Tumed and Khalkha tribes. Their forces number no less than 60,000! They're less than 30 li from the city!"
"Where's Haug?" Marco asked.
"They set up a large camp twenty miles away, and judging from the flag, it was the Plain Blue Banner."
Marco nodded. Dorgon indeed put Hauge at the forward position—both as a sign of his importance and a way to wear him down. If the Prince Su won, the credit would go to the Regent for his skillful maneuvering; if he lost, it would weaken his political enemies.
"Give the order," his voice was hoarse but clear, "close all four gates and block the barbican. Load all cannons with solid shot, musketeers forward, archers ready with rockets. Militiamen go up the city walls to move logs and stones."
The lieutenant hesitated: "General, the logs and stones...were used up three days ago."
Marco paused for a moment: "Demolish the house."
"dismantle……"
"Demolish all the houses near the city wall in the north! Beams, pillars, bricks, doors—move them all up to the wall!" Marco turned and stared at his deputy. "Tell the people: If the city falls, the houses you keep will still belong to the Tartars. Demolish them to defend the city; if the city is saved, the court will build new ones for them!"
The order was given. At first there were cries and curses, but they were quickly silenced by the officers' reprimands.
Beams and pillars were dragged up the city wall by thick ropes, piles of blue bricks were stacked, and door panels were erected behind the crenellations as barricades. An old man clung to a roof beam, refusing to let go, and when soldiers pulled him away, tears streamed down his face: "This is what my father left me... what my father left me..."
Marco walked over, took out the last piece of silver from his pocket, and stuffed it into the old man's hand: "Uncle, I'm sorry. After the beating is over, I'll build you a better one."
The old man clutched the silver, slumped into the rubble, and muttered, "It's endless...it's endless..."
At the hour of Chen (7-9 AM), the vanguard of the Qing army arrived three miles outside the city.
The siege was not launched immediately. The cavalry spread out outside the city like a slowly unfurling black blanket.
The armored soldiers dismounted and formed ranks, and shield carts were pushed out from the rear—large carts made of hardwood, covered with wet cowhide to protect against arrows and muskets. Each cart was followed by twenty or thirty bondservant aqa, pushing ladders and grappling hooks.
Marco observed carefully through his binoculars. The Qing army's formation was impeccable, with cavalry flanking and providing cover, infantry in the center, and shield carts in front. This was a standard siege formation; it seemed Hauge did not intend to launch a reckless attack.
"Commander-in-Chief!" the artillery battalion commander rushed over, "The bombardment cannons are in position. Shall we fire?"
"Wait." Marco lowered his binoculars. "Wait until their shield wagons are two hundred paces away."
"Two hundred paces? That's too close!"
"We can only hit accurately when we're close." Marco stared at the slowly advancing shield carts. "We don't have much gunpowder, so every shot will draw blood."
The shield vehicle is getting closer and closer.
Four hundred steps.
Three hundred steps.
Two hundred and fifty steps.
A deathly silence fell over the city walls. The soldiers held their breath, the matchlocks crackled as they burned, and sweat trickled from their foreheads into their eyes, but no one dared to wipe it away.
Two hundred steps!
"Release!" Marco roared.
boom--!
The six cannons on the city wall roared simultaneously, spewing out scorching flames from their muzzles. Iron bullets pierced the air and crashed into the shield cart formation with a sharp whistle.
The first bullet struck the vehicle, shattering the hardwood and tearing the leather. A group of men in captivity behind the vehicle screamed and fell to the ground. The second bullet missed, carving a deep trench in front of the vehicle, and the flying dirt and rocks knocked down several men.
But the Qing army's formation remained intact. The shield carts continued to advance, with the infantry following closely behind, crouching low, carrying ladders on their shoulders.
One hundred and fifty steps.
"Muskets!" Marco roared again.
Behind the crenellations, three hundred fire cerium guns fired simultaneously. White smoke billowed, and lead bullets rained down on the shield cart array. Countless holes were punched through the cowhide, and the screams behind grew even louder. But there were too many shield carts; as one fell, another was placed in its place.
One hundred steps.
A bugle call suddenly sounded in the Qing army ranks. The shield carts abruptly parted to the sides, revealing hundreds of archers behind them. They drew their bows and fired—
Arrows rained down, blotting out the sun.
"Raise your shields!" the officer on the city wall roared.
Door panels, rattan shields, pot lids—everything that could be used as a shield was raised. Arrows thudded into them like a sudden downpour on banana leaves. Arrows still managed to slip through the gaps, and muffled groans of those struck echoed throughout the room.
"Don't show your face! Wait for the arrows to stop!" Marco lay prone behind the battlements. An arrow grazed his helmet and struck the flagpole behind him, its fletching still trembling.
The rain of arrows subsided slightly.
"Up!" Marco leaped up. "Roll the log!"
The militiamen picked up the beams, pillars, and stone slabs they had obtained from demolishing houses and smashed them down the city wall while shouting work songs.
Heavy logs tumbled down, crashing onto the shield carts, the sounds of breaking and screams mingling together. Some Qing soldiers, unable to dodge in time, were struck by the stones and instantly turned into mincemeat.
But more Qing soldiers rushed to the base of the wall. Ladders were erected, grappling hooks were thrown up, and bondservant soldiers, with knives in their mouths, began to climb using their hands and feet.
"Golden juice!" Marco's voice was hoarse from shouting.
A large iron pot was placed on the city wall, boiling with a mixture of excrement, poisonous herbs, and arsenic. Local militiamen scooped it up with long ladles and poured it over the Qing soldiers climbing the wall. Screams rose sharply as the scalded Qing soldiers dropped to the ground, their bodies mangled beyond recognition.
But there were too many Qing soldiers. One group fell, and another took their place. The corpses on the ladders piled up to form steps, and those who came later would step on the bodies of their comrades to continue climbing.
At noon, the Qing army climbed the city wall for the first time.
He was a burly, heavily armored Ba Yala soldier who wielded a long sword, felling two Ming soldiers before gaining a foothold at the crenellation. More Qing soldiers emerged from behind him.
Marco drew his sword and charged. Seeing his gleaming armor, Nayara grinned and met him head-on. Blades clashed, sparks flying. Marco's hand was lacerated, and the sword nearly slipped from his grasp. He dodged the second blow, then kicked Nayara in the back of the knee. Nayara staggered, and Marco seized the opportunity to plunge his sword into the gap between the armor plates under Nayara's armpit.
Hot blood sprayed all over his face.
"Push it down!" Marco roared.
The soldiers worked together to yank the still-convulsing body of Bayara off the city wall. Several Qing soldiers who had just climbed up were also thrown into the pile of corpses at the base of the wall.
A brief respite.
Marco leaned against the battlements, panting. His left arm was slashed, and blood soaked through his sleeve. He tore off a strip of cloth to hastily tie it up and looked out of the city—the Qing army's first wave of attack had retreated, and they were regrouping two hundred paces away. At least five or six hundred corpses lay on the ground, but their formation remained impeccable.
This is only the first day.
"General, the casualty report is in." The lieutenant's face was smeared with blood and ash. "Two hundred and seventy-three dead, one hundred and sixteen seriously wounded, and the number of minor wounded is negligible. Forty percent of the arrows have been used, thirty percent of the gunpowder, and the molten metal... only two pots are left."
Marco didn't speak. He looked south, towards Juyong Pass, towards Beijing.
Will reinforcements arrive?
he does not know.
On the same day, in Beijing, at the Wuying Hall of the Forbidden City.
Empress Zhou sat on a chair behind a screen, with Zhang Weixian, Huang Degong, and Ni Yuanlu (who had come from Nanjing by imperial decree to assist in the northern defenses) standing before her. The palace doors were tightly closed, and the chirping of cicadas outside the windows made the palace seem even quieter.
"We saw the beacon fires in Xuanfu last night," Empress Zhou said calmly. "What's the situation now?"
Huang Degong clasped his hands in greeting: "Your Majesty, Xuanfu has already been engaged in battle this morning. General Ma Ke sent someone to break through the siege and deliver a message, saying that it can hold out for at least ten days. But..." He paused, "but the Qing army is too powerful. If Xuanfu falls, Juyong Pass will be the next gateway."
"Can Juyong Pass be defended?"
"General Zhou Yuji has arrived at Juyong Pass and is reinforcing the city's defenses. There are currently 30,000 troops inside the pass, and enough provisions to last a month," Huang Degong said. "However, if the Qing army divides its forces and detours around Gubeikou, launching a pincer attack from the flank and rear..."
He didn't finish speaking, but everyone understood. The Great Wall defense line was too long, and the Ming army lacked the manpower to defend it.
"What are His Majesty's orders in Nanjing?" Empress Zhou asked Ni Yuanlu.
Ni Yuanlu bowed: "His Majesty's decree is clear: if necessary, Beijing can be abandoned and the city moved south to Nanjing. But..." His voice lowered, "But His Majesty also said that this decision should be discussed by the Empress and the officials who remain in the north, based on the actual situation in the north."
The hall was deathly silent.
Abandoning Beijing. These four words weighed as heavily as Mount Tai, making it hard to breathe.
What is Beijing? It is the capital of the Ming Dynasty, the political center for over two hundred years since Emperor Yongle moved the capital there, the location of the mausoleums of Emperor Chengzu and all the emperors of the Ming Dynasty, and the place where the hearts of the people are tied. To abandon Beijing is to admit the loss of the north, to hand over half of the country to another.
But if we don't give up... can we hold on to it?
Zhang Weixian suddenly knelt down, tears streaming down his face: "Your Majesty! My family has received the Emperor's favor for generations. I would rather die on the walls of Beijing than be a subject who abandons the capital!"
Huang Degong also knelt down: "This humble general is willing to lead the Beijing garrison to defend to the death! The city stands as long as we live; the city falls, we die!"
Empress Zhou looked at the two veteran generals, her eyes welling up with tears. How could she not want to defend the city? But she was the Empress Regent, and the fate of the city rested on her shoulders, not just the fate of a single city, but the continuation of the entire Ming Dynasty.
"Please rise, both of you," she said softly. "To defend, of course, is necessary. But there are laws to upholding." She looked at Ni Yuanlu, "Mr. Ni, does His Majesty have a specific strategy?"
Ni Yuanlu took out a secret letter from his bosom and presented it with both hands: "It is written by His Majesty."
Empress Zhou unfolded the letter. It was short, and the handwriting was hasty, clearly written in a hurry.
"If things are not going to work out, three things should be done: First, the Crown Prince, the imperial family, and all officials should move south; second, the granaries and armories should be burned and destroyed to prevent the enemy from receiving supplies; third, an edict should be issued to the world that this is a strategic retreat, not an abandonment of territory. Remember, saving people is more important than saving land."
After she finished reading it, she handed the letter to Zhang Weixian. The old Duke's hands trembled violently as he read it, and the letter fluttered to the ground.
"Your Majesty..." his voice was hoarse, "Is this truly the case?"
"It's not really necessary," Empress Zhou stood up, walked to the palace window, and gazed at the palace walls gradually turning autumnal. "It's just preparing for the worst. General Huang—"
"Your subordinate is here!"
"Of the 50,000 newly trained troops in the Beijing Garrison, 30,000 will be dispatched to Juyong Pass and placed under the command of Zhou Yuji. The remaining 20,000 will guard Beijing." Empress Zhou turned around, her gaze resolute. "I will guard it with you. However, the important documents of the Crown Prince, the princes, the Six Ministries, and the palace library will begin to be transported south starting today."
She paused, then added, "This matter must be carried out in secret and not publicized, so as not to undermine public morale."
"I obey your decree."
The three men withdrew.
Empress Zhou stood alone in the empty hall, her fingers tracing the cold imperial desk.
On the table was an inkstone that her husband had given her when she first married into the Prince Xin's mansion in the early years of the Chongzhen Emperor's reign. At that time, he was still the Prince Xin, and she was a young lady from the Zhou family. She thought that the biggest troubles in her life were nothing more than the expenses of the mansion and the relationship with her sisters-in-law.
Who would have thought things would turn out this way?
"Your Majesty," she murmured to herself, as if speaking to someone a thousand miles away, "I...have done my best."
Outside the window, a gust of autumn wind swept by, blowing down a few early yellow locust leaves.
August 22, Bohai Sea, off the coast of Dengzhou.
Zheng Sen stood on the deck of the "Jinghai" ship, gazing at the horizon where the sea met the sky in the north. The wind was strong, a northerly wind, which billowed the sails and caused waves to crash against the gunwales, splashing up droplets of water like shattered jade.
"General, a fleet has been spotted ahead!" the lookout shouted.
"How many?"
"More than thirty ships of various sizes, judging by their flags... they belong to the Later Jin!"
Zheng Sen's spirits lifted: "Order all ships: Form battle lines and seize the windward position!"
Signals were given, and thirty Fujian ships and fifty Cangshan ships quickly changed formation, leaving white wakes on the sea. Zheng Sen's navy set sail north from Dengzhou after the fifteenth of August, patrolling along the Liaodong coast, specifically targeting the Later Jin's grain and salt ships.
The opposing fleet had clearly spotted them as well, and began to turn, attempting to flee eastward.
"Trying to run?" Zheng Sen sneered. "Uncle Lin, take ten speedboats to intercept them on the east side. The rest of the ships, follow me and charge head-on!"
Naval battles differ from river battles; there is no terrain to rely on, and everything depends on ship speed, cannon power, and formation.
Zheng Sen's navy was highly experienced, having fought against the Dutch and pirates for many years. Ten Cangshan ships, like arrows released from a bow, intercepted their path from the east. The Fujian ships, on the other hand, formed a horizontal line and slowly approached.
The Later Jin fleet consisted mostly of requisitioned civilian ships, converted for transporting grain and troops; they had never seen such a formation before. In the chaos, several ships collided with each other, further disrupting their formation.
Entering firing range.
"Fire!" Zheng Sen commanded, waving his flag.
Boom boom boom—!
The Fujian-style ships unleashed a volley of cannon fire from their broadsides, iron bullets whistling as they rained down on the Later Jin fleet. A grain transport ship was hit in the waterline, seawater rushed in, and the ship rapidly tilted. The bondservant aqqas on board cried out and jumped into the sea, like dumplings being dropped into boiling water.
"Approach! Musketeers, prepare!" Zheng Sen continued to give the order.
When the Fujian-style ship approached to within a hundred paces, the musketeers on its side began firing. Bullets rained down, sending splinters of wood flying from the opposite ship.
Later Jin soldiers drew their bows and retaliated, their arrows landing on the deck of the Fujian ship with a clanging sound, but they did not cause much damage—the Fujian ship had a thick deck and was protected by parapets.
Half an hour later, the sea was covered with broken planks, corpses, and scattered grain sacks. Of the thirty Later Jin ships, eight were sunk, twelve were captured, and the remaining ten fled in disarray.
"Take stock of the spoils," Zheng Sen ordered.
Lin Cha and his men boarded the prisoner-of-war ship and quickly reported: "General, it's all grain! Roughly estimated at no less than five thousand shi! There are also two hundred bags of salt and some iron!"
"The grain was loaded onto our ships, but the salt and iron... sank," Zheng Sen said. "The ships were burned; they weren't left for them to repair."
"What a pity about these ships..."
"It's no pity." Zheng Sen looked at the northern coastline. "Our mission is not to seize spoils, but to make them feel the pain. So much pain that they will have to divide their forces to defend the sea route and relieve the pressure on Xuanfu."
He paused, then asked, "What about the casualties?"
"We have seventeen wounded, all of them minor injuries. Three have died: one was shot in the throat by a stray arrow, and two fell into the water while jumping aboard."
Zheng Sen paused for a moment: "Write down the names, and double the compensation."
"Yes."
The fleet regrouped and continued north. The sea breeze carried a salty, fishy smell and a faint stench of blood, causing the flags to flutter wildly. Zheng Sen gazed at the vast ocean, mentally calculating the days to come.
The fighting must have already broken out in Xuanfu, right?
My father once said: Those who live at sea understand the tides best. The high tide is unstoppable, the low tide carries away mud and sand. Is the Ming Dynasty currently experiencing a high tide or a low tide?
he does not know.
All he knew was that as long as the tide hadn't completely receded, he had to row forward with all his might.
August 25th, Xuanfu Town, the seventh day.
The city wall is in a terrible state.
The northern city wall was blasted open by the Qing army's Ujjha (red-coated cannons), with three breaches, the largest of which was two zhang wide. The breaches were temporarily blocked with corpses, door panels, and sandbags, but the Qing army managed to tear a little open with each charge.
The defending troops demolished all the houses in the north of the city, even carrying the main beam of the county government office onto the city wall. They had run out of arrows three days ago, so the musketeers switched to using gravel and bricks as ammunition, loading them into the gun barrels and firing them. Although the power was reduced, it could still injure people.
Marco's left arm wound had become infected. When the army doctor used a red-hot knife to cut away the rotten flesh, he bit down on a wooden stick, sweating profusely, but didn't utter a sound. After the wound was cut away, they applied ointment and wrapped it tightly with a cloth soaked in liquor.
"General, please go and rest." The lieutenant's eyes were bloodshot. "I haven't slept for seven days."
"A rest?" Marco chuckled hoarsely. "Do the Tartars allow us to rest?"
Outside the city, the Qing army was preparing for a new offensive. This time, they brought over a dozen tall armored wagons with canopies on top, where archers could hide and fire at close range. Behind them followed bondservants carrying sacks of earth—this was to fill in the moat.
The moat of Xuanfu had been silted up years ago, leaving only a shallow ditch. But Ma Ke ordered his men to dig it deeper overnight and divert river water to fill it. Now it is three zhang wide and one zhang deep, becoming the first line of defense.
"How many rockets do we have left?" Marco asked.
"Less than fifty."
"Bring them all out, specifically for the shield carts. Even if you can't penetrate them, just scare them."
The rockets were lit, and the archers aimed. But the Qing army had learned their lesson; the cowhide covering the shields was soaked in water, so the rockets would burn out after a short while. The archers in the sheds seized the opportunity to unleash their arrows, pinning down the city walls.
Taking advantage of the chaos, the bondsers rushed to the moat and threw sandbags into the river. One fell, and another took his place. The bodies and sandbags filled the ditch together, rapidly narrowing the waterway.
"Commander-in-Chief, this won't do!" the artillery battalion commander exclaimed urgently. "If they fill it in, the shield wagons can be pushed directly to the city walls!"
Marco stared at the busy, ant-like workers and suddenly said, "Release the gate."
"What?"
"Open the sluice gates at Xishuiguan," Marco said. "Drain the river."
The lieutenant was shocked: "But if the moat dries up, it will be even easier for them..."
"That's exactly what we want—to make it easy for them." Marco's eyes were bloodshot. "Once they've filled in most of it and the trucks are in the riverbed, you close the sluice gates and release the water—I want them all, trucks and all, to be submerged!"
The order was given. The sluice gates of the West Water Gate were quietly raised, and the water level of the moat began to drop. Seeing this, the Qing soldiers assumed the defenders had given up and filled the moat even more vigorously. In less than an hour, a thirty-zhang-long section of the river was filled in, and the shield carts rumbled up and pushed it across.
The moment the first armored vehicle stepped onto the other side—
"Close the gate!" Marco roared.
The sluice gates fell. The accumulated river water from upstream surged down, crashing into the riverbed like a white wall. The current was swift, instantly submerging the filled sandbags, and the shield carts became stuck in the mud and water, unable to move. The archers in the sheds hurriedly crawled out, only to become live targets for the muskets on the city wall.
"Attack!" Marco swung his knife.
All the firearms on the city wall fired simultaneously, and stones, bricks, and the last batch of arrows were all thrown at the Qing soldiers trapped in the riverbed. Screams filled the air, and the river water quickly turned red.
In this wave, the Qing army left behind more than four hundred corpses and retreated.
But Marco knew this was just a delaying tactic. Less than 20% of the gunpowder remained in the city, logs and stones were long gone, and more than half the soldiers had been killed or wounded; fewer than 2,000 were still capable of fighting. Meanwhile, outside the city, the Qing army still numbered over 50,000.
"General," the scout captain, covered in blood, climbed the city wall, "the South Gate... the South Gate has been breached!"
"What?"
"The Qing army's daytime attack on the city was a feint! At night, they sent assassins to dig tunnels from an abandoned kiln a mile outside the south gate. Just now... they just dug through the base of the south city wall!"
Marco's mind went blank. He rushed towards the south of the city and, sure enough, saw a hole collapsed at the base of the city wall. It wasn't big, but it was big enough for a person to crawl through. A dozen or so Qing soldiers had already rushed into the city and were fighting with the defenders.
"Block it!" Marco drew his sword and charged forward.
Street fighting broke out in the narrow alleys of the south of the city. The defenders, familiar with the terrain, divided and surrounded the Qing soldiers. Marco personally cut down two, and a third lunged at him with his sword. He dodged to the side, the blade grazing his ribs, and his armor plates shattered.
A sharp pain shot through him, and he staggered backward. The Qing soldier, grinning maliciously, lunged forward, but suddenly froze—a long spear pierced his back, the tip emerging from his chest.
It was that seventeen-year-old soldier, his face still streaked with tears, his hands trembling.
"General..." the soldier's voice trembled.
Marco, clutching his wound, nodded: "Well done."
The tunnel was finally sealed, filled again with corpses and bricks. But everyone knew this was just the beginning. Now that the Qing army had found a way to dig tunnels, they would dig a second, a third…
Late at night, Marco sat in the city tower, writing military reports by the light of an oil lamp.
"On the 25th of August, the seventh day of the defense of Xuanfu. About four thousand enemy soldiers were killed, but our army suffered more than half casualties and ran out of arrows and food."
The city wall has been breached in three places, and a tunnel has been dug through it. Your Majesty, I bow again: I can only hold out for three more days at most. If reinforcements do not arrive, I will die with the city.
"I implore the court to quickly decide on a major plan and not to worry about Xuanfu."
After writing it down, he summoned the captain of the night watchman's team: "Find the three most clever ones and have them break out in three groups. One group will go to Juyong Pass to report to General Zhou Yuji, another will go to Beijing to report to the imperial court, and the third..." He paused, "...will go directly to Nanjing to report to His Majesty."
"General, you..."
"Go on," Marco waved his hand. "Tell the brothers to have a good meal tonight. Tomorrow... tomorrow might not be the time to eat."
Under the oil lamp, his shadow stretched long, clinging to the mottled wall, like a weathered stone statue.
Outside the city, the Qing army camp was brightly lit. Inside the central command tent, Hauge was examining a map. Seven days, nearly five thousand casualties, and they still hadn't captured Xuanfu. What would Dorgon think of him?
"Your Highness," the lieutenant entered, "Issuing an edict from the Regent."
Hauge took it and unfolded it. There was only one line of text: "If Xuanfu is not captured within three days, replace him with Ajige."
He gripped the imperial edict tightly, his knuckles turning white.
"Send the order!" He looked up abruptly, his eyes flashing with murderous intent. "Tomorrow at dawn, the entire army will launch a general attack! Whoever first breaches the city walls will be rewarded with a thousand gold pieces and promoted three ranks! Those who cower and refuse to advance—will be executed!"
Outside the tent, the autumn wind howled, carrying the stench of blood as it drifted south.
The people in Beijing will probably be able to smell this aroma tonight.