Faeelin
Banned
MerryPrankster said:
She was a concubine at the late Ming court, who fell in love with Wu Sangui.
For info on Wu Sangui:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wu_Sangui
Perpetual Brightness: Surviving Southern Ming
- Thread starter Faeelin
- Start date
She was a concubine at the late Ming court, who fell in love with Wu Sangui.
For info on Wu Sangui:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wu_Sangui
Faeelin
Banned
G.Bone said:
Yunnan, March 1660
Alone amongst the peoples of China, the Bai in the southwest had a peculiar tradition.
They ate cheese.
In the eyes of many Han, this strange tradition was yet one more sign that they were barbarians, for what sort of people ate curdled goat’s milk? But in Chen Yenyuan’s opinion, it was one of the few things that redeemed living in the wilderness that was Yunnan. As she bit into a piece, she listened to Wu Sangui’s whining.
“Look at this!’ he demanded, holding up an order from Beijing.
Chen Yenyuan looked at the note, and smiled. “I can’t read,” she said.
Wu Sangui didn’t hear her. “They want to recall me!” He moaned. “After all I’ve done for them. Why?”
Chen Yenyuan put her arms around her lover. “Oh, Sangui,” she said affectionately, “they don’t trust you.”
“You think so?” he asked.
”I’m afraid not,” she said with a sigh. “They still have your son as a hostage at the court, despite all you’ve done for them.” She frowned. “Now, what did the Manchu accuse you of doing?”
Wu Sangui looked at the note again. “They claim that I assisted the Emperor of Eternal Experiences in traveling through our territory.” He shook his head, and accepted a cup of tea that Chen poured for him. “I don’t understand,” he said. “We had him on the run, he was hiding in Burma,” he trailed off. “How did he get through our army?”
Chen Yenyuan frowned. “Perhaps all of your men are not as loyal to the Dynasty of Clarity.” She ran her hand through Wu’s hair. “It’s grossly unfair for them to treat you like this,” she said. “It’s the same way the Dynasty of Brightness treated you.” Wu sipped his tea, and she said, slyly, “You’re just as good as any of the men who call themselves Sons of Heaven.”
Wu beamed at the compliment. “Do you truly think so?” he asked.
Chen Yenyuan smiled. “Of course you are!” she said. “You’re the one who kept the Qing from overrunning China for years, and when you had to, you defeated the army of the bandits and rebels, saving China.”
Wu Sangui took another sip of the tea, and smiled. “I know,” he said. He looked at Wu Sangui, and smiled. “You’re beautiful, you know.”
She smiled. “I know,” she said. “But it’s good to hear it from the greatest warrior in China.”
As Wu Sangui reached for her, Chen Yenyuan remembered something she had once heard.
Her beauty, it had been said, was enough to destroy a kingdom. Could it be enough to build one?
Alikchi said:
Well, he does control the SW corner of China. He could form an alliance with the revived Ming, plus the Burmese and Thai might want him as a buffer state to keep the Qing away.
His son the hostage might be in a bit of trouble though.
Faeelin
Banned
And now, the conclusion of Wu Sangui's tale, for now.
Yunnan, December 1660
Wu Sangui looked at the men before him. Some wore the robes of Chinese gentlemen, and others wore the savage costumes of the peoples of this part of China. Some were Han soldiers; other were Manchu officers.
An eclectic mix, but they were what he had to work with.
“It is not easy,” he said carefully, “to be a righteous man in dishonest times.” He nodded, and the Han officers knocked down the Manchu, pinning them to the ground. When they were finished, he continued, “There are men in this room of the Ming.” He looked at the Han. “There are others in this room of the Qing.”
”How can a righteous man decide who to support?” he asked.
There were sympathetic nods from the Han, and some of the local savages. The Manchus laid on the floor, but glared at him. “The land will once again suffer through civil war,” he said. “The people who the Son of Heaven should protect will suffer for the inequities of their masters. This, I will not allow.”
Wu Sangui took off his cap, and sighed dramatically. “It is the duty of the righteous to end suffering and injustice.” He frowned, but there was a mischievous gleam in his eye. “Therefore,” he declared, “until the dynasties have resolved their conquest, Yunnan, will be kept out of the war.”
The cheers washed over him, while the Manchu lay silent.
Later that night, Wu Sangui lay in bed next to his lover. “I worry, Yenyuan,” he said. “What will they do to my son?”
Chen Yenyuan stroked her husband’s hair. “I wouldn’t worry,” she said. “They know that if they harmed him, you would join the Ming once again.” She smiled. “They would never risk that.”
He smiled. “You’re right,” he said. He stroked her chin, and gazed at her dreamily. “How did I get so lucky?”
”Not a day goes by,” Chen Yenyuan replied, “That I don’t ask myself the same question.”
Yunnan, December 1660
Wu Sangui looked at the men before him. Some wore the robes of Chinese gentlemen, and others wore the savage costumes of the peoples of this part of China. Some were Han soldiers; other were Manchu officers.
An eclectic mix, but they were what he had to work with.
“It is not easy,” he said carefully, “to be a righteous man in dishonest times.” He nodded, and the Han officers knocked down the Manchu, pinning them to the ground. When they were finished, he continued, “There are men in this room of the Ming.” He looked at the Han. “There are others in this room of the Qing.”
”How can a righteous man decide who to support?” he asked.
There were sympathetic nods from the Han, and some of the local savages. The Manchus laid on the floor, but glared at him. “The land will once again suffer through civil war,” he said. “The people who the Son of Heaven should protect will suffer for the inequities of their masters. This, I will not allow.”
Wu Sangui took off his cap, and sighed dramatically. “It is the duty of the righteous to end suffering and injustice.” He frowned, but there was a mischievous gleam in his eye. “Therefore,” he declared, “until the dynasties have resolved their conquest, Yunnan, will be kept out of the war.”
The cheers washed over him, while the Manchu lay silent.
Later that night, Wu Sangui lay in bed next to his lover. “I worry, Yenyuan,” he said. “What will they do to my son?”
Chen Yenyuan stroked her husband’s hair. “I wouldn’t worry,” she said. “They know that if they harmed him, you would join the Ming once again.” She smiled. “They would never risk that.”
He smiled. “You’re right,” he said. He stroked her chin, and gazed at her dreamily. “How did I get so lucky?”
”Not a day goes by,” Chen Yenyuan replied, “That I don’t ask myself the same question.”
Faeelin
Banned
Wow, I haven't updated this in over a month?
Beijing, March 1664
It was the middle of the night, and Beijing was covered in darkness. No one was out, at the late hour, reveling; even the prostitutes were in bed. But in the Forbidden City, by a painting of the Son of Heaven, a man was praying.
The room’s walls were bare, save for images of a Child and his mother, and the man was dressed in homespun cotton robes. He knelt before the crucifix, and recited the words he had been taught.
“Absolute Infinite Brightness, God, Everlasting Life, Love and Mercy,” he whispered, “enlighten our minds, and cleanse our hearts, to reflect our love for you.”
The Emperor did not even turn when he heard the sound of a cane hitting the floor. “What are you doing up so late, Father?”
Adam Schall smiled in the darkness. “I’m an old man,” he said. “We always get up in the night.” He looked at the Emperor. “But why are you up?”
The Son of Heaven sighed, but didn’t turn to look at Adam Schall. “No, Father,” he said. “I keep thinking of Xiao Xian.” He frowned. “You know,” he said, “I’ve thought of killing myself, because I don’t think I can live without her.”
The Emperor crossed himself in the darkness, and sighed, “I won’t.” He looked at the crucifix again, and then at the floor. “It would keep me from her.”
The Emperor walked out onto a balcony, and watched as the heavens moved.
“I drank your tea, and understood your soul,” he said mournfully. “I ruled the world, and you ruled my heart. How could you have left me?”
Beijing, March 1664
It was the middle of the night, and Beijing was covered in darkness. No one was out, at the late hour, reveling; even the prostitutes were in bed. But in the Forbidden City, by a painting of the Son of Heaven, a man was praying.
The room’s walls were bare, save for images of a Child and his mother, and the man was dressed in homespun cotton robes. He knelt before the crucifix, and recited the words he had been taught.
“Absolute Infinite Brightness, God, Everlasting Life, Love and Mercy,” he whispered, “enlighten our minds, and cleanse our hearts, to reflect our love for you.”
The Emperor did not even turn when he heard the sound of a cane hitting the floor. “What are you doing up so late, Father?”
Adam Schall smiled in the darkness. “I’m an old man,” he said. “We always get up in the night.” He looked at the Emperor. “But why are you up?”
The Son of Heaven sighed, but didn’t turn to look at Adam Schall. “No, Father,” he said. “I keep thinking of Xiao Xian.” He frowned. “You know,” he said, “I’ve thought of killing myself, because I don’t think I can live without her.”
The Emperor crossed himself in the darkness, and sighed, “I won’t.” He looked at the crucifix again, and then at the floor. “It would keep me from her.”
The Emperor walked out onto a balcony, and watched as the heavens moved.
“I drank your tea, and understood your soul,” he said mournfully. “I ruled the world, and you ruled my heart. How could you have left me?”
Faeelin
Banned
Beijing, April 1664
The doctors hovered, once again, around the Son of Heaven’s bed. They shook their heads and whispered to one another, and nodded that there was nothing they could do. The Emperor, it seemed, was having another one of his fits. They sat around, drinking tea, and doing nothing, while the Emperor visited another world.
The Emperor’s body lay in a bed in the City of Heavenly Peace; but the Emperor found himself in a bamboo grove, where a bearded sage lectured to a group of people. Surveying them, the Emperor saw Confucian scholars sitting next to peasants, and courtesans next to grandmothers. There was a gentle rain falling, but no one seemed to be getting wet. Shrugging, he sat on the grass, and listened to the man’s words.
“Before faith came, humanity was an impious lot, immoral and prone to wickedness. But God gave us the Law, and the teachings of the Sages.” The Sage counted off the teachers of mankind. “Moses, Elijah, Confucius, and Mencius brought us the Law of Heaven. But the Law was merely to guard us, and did not bring us to God. The law was our teacher, to bring us to Christ, that we might be saved through faith.”
The Emperor shifted in his seat on the ground, and looked up at the dismal sky. The Sage continued speaking. “But after the faith has come, we are no longer under a tutor.”
The Emperor’s jaw dropped, as he took in the man’s words. The man was about to continue speaking, but then he stood up and scowled. “You would deny the teachings of Confucius?” he demanded.
The Sage laughed. “He came to fulfill the Law, not to destroy it. But you obey the Law because you should, not because it gains you salvation. Only your faith can do that.”
A mist began to spread through the clearing, enshrouding the people and the sage. “The Law was different for different people. To the Jews, he sent a prophet; to the Chinese, he sent a sage. But whether Han or Manchu, scholar or peasant, man or woman, all are one in Jesus Christ.”
The last words the Sage said were simple. “It is Christ, and Christ alone, that can bind the people.” And then the fog enveloped him, leaving The Emperor alone
The doctors hovered, once again, around the Son of Heaven’s bed. They shook their heads and whispered to one another, and nodded that there was nothing they could do. The Emperor, it seemed, was having another one of his fits. They sat around, drinking tea, and doing nothing, while the Emperor visited another world.
The Emperor’s body lay in a bed in the City of Heavenly Peace; but the Emperor found himself in a bamboo grove, where a bearded sage lectured to a group of people. Surveying them, the Emperor saw Confucian scholars sitting next to peasants, and courtesans next to grandmothers. There was a gentle rain falling, but no one seemed to be getting wet. Shrugging, he sat on the grass, and listened to the man’s words.
“Before faith came, humanity was an impious lot, immoral and prone to wickedness. But God gave us the Law, and the teachings of the Sages.” The Sage counted off the teachers of mankind. “Moses, Elijah, Confucius, and Mencius brought us the Law of Heaven. But the Law was merely to guard us, and did not bring us to God. The law was our teacher, to bring us to Christ, that we might be saved through faith.”
The Emperor shifted in his seat on the ground, and looked up at the dismal sky. The Sage continued speaking. “But after the faith has come, we are no longer under a tutor.”
The Emperor’s jaw dropped, as he took in the man’s words. The man was about to continue speaking, but then he stood up and scowled. “You would deny the teachings of Confucius?” he demanded.
The Sage laughed. “He came to fulfill the Law, not to destroy it. But you obey the Law because you should, not because it gains you salvation. Only your faith can do that.”
A mist began to spread through the clearing, enshrouding the people and the sage. “The Law was different for different people. To the Jews, he sent a prophet; to the Chinese, he sent a sage. But whether Han or Manchu, scholar or peasant, man or woman, all are one in Jesus Christ.”
The last words the Sage said were simple. “It is Christ, and Christ alone, that can bind the people.” And then the fog enveloped him, leaving The Emperor alone
Faeelin
Banned
IT LIVES
Beijing, July 1666
In a Forbidden City there is a forbidden gathering. The conspirators whisper furtively to one another, even though they are alone. For who knows what the ghosts think of traitors?
“How would you do it?” asked one of the men. “His food is tested, and he is guarded here in the city.”
There was a dark laugh from another man. “Guards can be bribed; poisons need not kill immediately.” The man smiled, his face barely visible in the darkness. “Especially with this emperor.”
“Don’t be so quick to underestimate him,” replied a third man. “He has the support of the Han, for what it’s worth.”
One of the other men scowled. “Making them governors and generals, taking up the Red-Haired God....” He spat. “That will only end poorly.”
The first man sighed. “I wish we didn’t have to do this,” he said mournfully. “But if it must be done,” he said whispered, “it had best be done quickly.”
And so it was.
Beijing, July 1666
In a Forbidden City there is a forbidden gathering. The conspirators whisper furtively to one another, even though they are alone. For who knows what the ghosts think of traitors?
“How would you do it?” asked one of the men. “His food is tested, and he is guarded here in the city.”
There was a dark laugh from another man. “Guards can be bribed; poisons need not kill immediately.” The man smiled, his face barely visible in the darkness. “Especially with this emperor.”
“Don’t be so quick to underestimate him,” replied a third man. “He has the support of the Han, for what it’s worth.”
One of the other men scowled. “Making them governors and generals, taking up the Red-Haired God....” He spat. “That will only end poorly.”
The first man sighed. “I wish we didn’t have to do this,” he said mournfully. “But if it must be done,” he said whispered, “it had best be done quickly.”
And so it was.
Faeelin
Banned
Beijing, November, 1667
The wind howled through the prison, chilling an old man to the bone. He was dying of consumption, and would be executed tomorrow, but that night, at least, he could pray. “Forgive those who transgress against us as we transgress against you.” The old man smiled at the words. They had never seemed as true as they did now.
The sound of footsteps echoed through the hall, but the old man ignored them until the door to his cell opened. A boy in white robes walked into the cell, his face etched with grief. The sight brought tears the old man’s eyes.
“My son,” whispered the old man. “I am so sorry that this happened.” He put his arms around the boy, who held him for a moment. Then the boy let go, and looked at the old man.
“Tell me Grandfather,” said the boy. “How did my father die?”
The old man coughed for a moment, blood splattering on the floor. “He was hunting, as they said.” He saw the image as clearly as could be. “But he did not fall off of his horse into a river.” Adam laughed at the thought. “He was a Manchu! How could he fall off of a horse?” The old man sighed, and nodded. “They shot him when he was riding by the river, and his body fell in.”
The old man frowned. “They didn’t even find the body. Now who will make offerings at his grave?”
The boy scowled. “Loyal subjects are persecuted across China because they accepted the faith. My father’s memory is disgraced while his murderers rule China.”
“They will all pay.”
The wind howled through the prison, chilling an old man to the bone. He was dying of consumption, and would be executed tomorrow, but that night, at least, he could pray. “Forgive those who transgress against us as we transgress against you.” The old man smiled at the words. They had never seemed as true as they did now.
The sound of footsteps echoed through the hall, but the old man ignored them until the door to his cell opened. A boy in white robes walked into the cell, his face etched with grief. The sight brought tears the old man’s eyes.
“My son,” whispered the old man. “I am so sorry that this happened.” He put his arms around the boy, who held him for a moment. Then the boy let go, and looked at the old man.
“Tell me Grandfather,” said the boy. “How did my father die?”
The old man coughed for a moment, blood splattering on the floor. “He was hunting, as they said.” He saw the image as clearly as could be. “But he did not fall off of his horse into a river.” Adam laughed at the thought. “He was a Manchu! How could he fall off of a horse?” The old man sighed, and nodded. “They shot him when he was riding by the river, and his body fell in.”
The old man frowned. “They didn’t even find the body. Now who will make offerings at his grave?”
The boy scowled. “Loyal subjects are persecuted across China because they accepted the faith. My father’s memory is disgraced while his murderers rule China.”
“They will all pay.”
I'd forgotten about this. Finally got around to reading to the end. Excellent writing Faeelin. I don't have anything substantial to say at the moment. I look forward to more.
Faeelin
Banned
Beijing, January, 1668
Winter had been hard for the people of Beijing, and the city had been hit by snowstorm after snowstorm. Even in March, there was still a coat of white across its streets and houses. It was appropriate, many whispered, that the Earth itself dressed in the color of mourning for the Shunzi Emperor.
The Kangxi Emperor stood on a balcony, and sipped tea as he overlooked the grounds below him. There were thousands of servants in the palace; but the land seemed bare and desolate. The only footprints in the snow belonged to the bannermen who were loyal to Oboi, and the only sound came from the sound of their boots, marching across the courtyard.
The Son of Heaven stepped off the balcony, and sat down by a brazier to look over a work his father had given to him before he died. A servant stepped into the room quietly, and placed a bowl of soup next to him. The Kangxi Emperor frowned, as he noticed how the servant refused to look him in the eye. “Tell me, Liu Kang,” he asked, “how are the people eating?”
The eunuch bowed his head, and sighed. “About how you would expect,” he said. “Oboi and his men collect taxes from across the Empire for their own coffers, and punish those who cannot collect what they demand. Officials, fearing for their lives, oppress landlords, and landlords oppress peasants.” [1] The eunuch hesitated for a moment, and added, “I’ve heard rumors of cannibalism in Shandong, and of children killing themselves so that their parents could live.”
Disgusted, the Son of Heaven pushed the soup away.
[1] This is not all Oboi’s fault. Waging a war, and rebuilding from one, is expensive. And the Manchu are facing difficulty feeding Northern China without control of the south. But whether or not it is Oboi’s fault, he’s going to get blamed for it.
And not all of Oboi’s reforms are negative. As in OTL, the Examination system is revamped so that instead of the traditional “Eight-Legged Essays”, the examination entails five questions discussing contemporary problems, a petition to the emperor, and five cases where a student had to establish a verdict.
Winter had been hard for the people of Beijing, and the city had been hit by snowstorm after snowstorm. Even in March, there was still a coat of white across its streets and houses. It was appropriate, many whispered, that the Earth itself dressed in the color of mourning for the Shunzi Emperor.
The Kangxi Emperor stood on a balcony, and sipped tea as he overlooked the grounds below him. There were thousands of servants in the palace; but the land seemed bare and desolate. The only footprints in the snow belonged to the bannermen who were loyal to Oboi, and the only sound came from the sound of their boots, marching across the courtyard.
The Son of Heaven stepped off the balcony, and sat down by a brazier to look over a work his father had given to him before he died. A servant stepped into the room quietly, and placed a bowl of soup next to him. The Kangxi Emperor frowned, as he noticed how the servant refused to look him in the eye. “Tell me, Liu Kang,” he asked, “how are the people eating?”
The eunuch bowed his head, and sighed. “About how you would expect,” he said. “Oboi and his men collect taxes from across the Empire for their own coffers, and punish those who cannot collect what they demand. Officials, fearing for their lives, oppress landlords, and landlords oppress peasants.” [1] The eunuch hesitated for a moment, and added, “I’ve heard rumors of cannibalism in Shandong, and of children killing themselves so that their parents could live.”
Disgusted, the Son of Heaven pushed the soup away.
[1] This is not all Oboi’s fault. Waging a war, and rebuilding from one, is expensive. And the Manchu are facing difficulty feeding Northern China without control of the south. But whether or not it is Oboi’s fault, he’s going to get blamed for it.
And not all of Oboi’s reforms are negative. As in OTL, the Examination system is revamped so that instead of the traditional “Eight-Legged Essays”, the examination entails five questions discussing contemporary problems, a petition to the emperor, and five cases where a student had to establish a verdict.
Faeelin
Banned
Beijing, March, 1668
Spring returned to Beijing, slowly. The snows melted, and the plum flowers blossomed once again in the Imperial Park. But as the Kangxi Emperor watched a bird fly above the Forbidden City, he couldn’t help but frown. He skimmed a few lines of poetry in the book he was reading, but in reality he was watching the Bannermen who were guarding him. The number of guards had been doubled the past few days, and the Kangxi Emperor didn’t know why. Given the fate of his father, however, he had some ideas.
“How are the provinces faring?” he asked one of the guards, a Manchu named Sonin. The guard shifted awkwardly for a moment, and then shrugged. “Well enough. Some trouble collecting taxes from the Han, but what else can you expect from them?”
The Kangxi Emperor bit his lip for a moment, and nodded. “They always cause trouble, don’t they?” he asked.
Sonin laughed. “I know. My wife’s always telling me how her father is always protesting to the governor of Tianjin to lower taxes. They claim they’re too harsh, given the way things are.”
The Kangxi Emperor looked around, and lowered his voice. “It’s good of you to remain with your wife, given how things are these days.”
Sonin smirked. “What the Lord of Heaven has joined, let no man tear asunder.” He lit a pipe, and puffed on it for a moment. “I know that I’m far from the only man in the army who feels that way, Son of Heaven.”
And then Sonin walked off, blowing clouds of smoke behind him.
Spring returned to Beijing, slowly. The snows melted, and the plum flowers blossomed once again in the Imperial Park. But as the Kangxi Emperor watched a bird fly above the Forbidden City, he couldn’t help but frown. He skimmed a few lines of poetry in the book he was reading, but in reality he was watching the Bannermen who were guarding him. The number of guards had been doubled the past few days, and the Kangxi Emperor didn’t know why. Given the fate of his father, however, he had some ideas.
“How are the provinces faring?” he asked one of the guards, a Manchu named Sonin. The guard shifted awkwardly for a moment, and then shrugged. “Well enough. Some trouble collecting taxes from the Han, but what else can you expect from them?”
The Kangxi Emperor bit his lip for a moment, and nodded. “They always cause trouble, don’t they?” he asked.
Sonin laughed. “I know. My wife’s always telling me how her father is always protesting to the governor of Tianjin to lower taxes. They claim they’re too harsh, given the way things are.”
The Kangxi Emperor looked around, and lowered his voice. “It’s good of you to remain with your wife, given how things are these days.”
Sonin smirked. “What the Lord of Heaven has joined, let no man tear asunder.” He lit a pipe, and puffed on it for a moment. “I know that I’m far from the only man in the army who feels that way, Son of Heaven.”
And then Sonin walked off, blowing clouds of smoke behind him.