The Office of the Beiyang Fleet had become the new center of gravity in the court's ongoing power struggle. The chamber was filled with a tense, brittle energy. On one side of the great table sat Prince Gong and Viceroy Li Hongzhang, their faces grim and determined. On the other sat Cixi's loyalists, led by the increasingly flustered Grand Councillor Ronglu. At the head of the table, the quiet, unassuming expert Li Fengbao tried to steer the conversation back to the practical matters of shipbuilding.
The German contracts for the new ironclads were signed, a major victory for the modernist faction. But ships alone could not make a navy. The debate now raged over the domestic infrastructure needed to support them: the construction of new deep-water docks at Port Arthur, the establishment of a proper training academy for sailors, and the funding for modern munitions depots. These were projects that had to be funded and built within China, and it was here that Cixi's faction was digging in its heels.
They obstructed, delayed, and obfuscated at every turn, using the full weight of their bureaucratic power to grind the process to a halt.
"The treasury is simply too strained for such ambitious domestic projects at this time," Ronglu argued, his tone one of feigned fiscal prudence. "The initial outlay for the German ships was immense. We must be patient. Perhaps in a few years…"
"In a few years, the Japanese will have a fleet that can blockade our entire coast!" Li Hongzhang retorted, his voice sharp with impatience. "Patience is a luxury we do not have."
Ronglu smiled, a condescending, infuriatingly placid expression on his face. "The funds are simply not there, Viceroy. Unless you can make silver appear from thin air." He then added the line that was his faction's new, official excuse. "Besides, a significant portion of the Coastal Defense Fund is already allocated to another vital naval project: the essential renovations and expansion of the training facilities at Kunming Lake."
This was the cover story, the lie that masked the truth of Cixi's secret vanity project. Prince Gong, who had been waiting for this moment, his heart pounding with a cold, predatory excitement, saw his opening. He had just received the documents from his new ally, the architect Lei Tingchang, and they were more damning than he could have possibly imagined.
"Ah, yes," Prince Gong said, his voice deceptively calm. "The Kunming Lake renovations. A project of the utmost importance, I am sure." He looked around the table at the members of Cixi's faction. "Since we are all so deeply concerned with the wise expenditure of naval funds, perhaps we should review the plans for this vital 'training facility' together."
Before Ronglu or the others could object, he signaled to an aide. Two junior officials entered, carrying a massive, heavy scroll, which they unrolled with a dramatic flourish across the entire length of the council table.
It was not a blueprint for a dockyard or a barracks. It was a magnificent, breathtakingly detailed architectural rendering, drawn on the finest silk. It depicted a sprawling, idyllic landscape of pavilions, covered walkways, and ornate gardens. At its center was a colossal, three-story opera house, its design a masterpiece of intricate woodwork. It was, unmistakably, the master plan for a new and impossibly lavish pleasure palace.
A stunned silence fell over the room. Cixi's appointees stared at the plans, their faces turning pale.
"A beautiful design," Prince Gong said conversationally. "Though I see no barracks for sailors. Perhaps they are to sleep in this magnificent opera house?"
He then signaled again. His aide brought forward a stack of ledgers, their pages filled with the meticulous accounting of the old architect's network of craftsmen. He opened the top one.
"The plans are one thing," the Prince said, his voice now turning to ice. "But the expense ledgers are even more… illuminating." He ran a finger down a page. "I see here an expenditure, approved last month by this very committee, for three hundred thousand taels of silver for the purchase of rare, fragrant nanmu hardwoods from the southern provinces." He looked up, his eyes locking onto Ronglu. "An interesting choice of material for a naval dock. Are our new sailors to be trained in a theater built from wood more precious than gold?"
He turned another page. "And here. An entry for fifty thousand taels for the importation of Venetian glass mirrors. A curious detail for a munitions depot. Will our admirals use these to check their reflections before battle?"
The members of Cixi's faction were squirming in their seats, their faces a mixture of shock and terror. They had been approving these expenditures for months, blindly following Cixi's orders, assuming the cover story would hold. They had been exposed.
But Prince Gong had saved the most damning piece of evidence for last. He gestured to a specific, ornate detail on the architectural drawing, a feature on the shore of the lake. It was a massive, elaborate pleasure boat, complete with a two-story superstructure and decorative paddlewheels, all designed to be carved from solid marble. A boat that could never sail. A monument to pure, decadent extravagance.
"And this," he said, his voice now a low thunderclap of rage that seemed to shake the very room. "The centerpiece of this new 'naval facility.' An expenditure of seven hundred and fifty thousand taels of silver. Enough money to purchase a new, German-built steel cruiser, complete with all its guns." He looked directly at the horrified face of Ronglu. "All of it spent on the construction of a marble boat."
He let the words hang in the silent, suffocating air. "A useless pleasure boat, carved from solid stone."
He straightened up, his towering form radiating pure, righteous fury. "You have not been renovating a naval yard. You have been funneling the Navy's money, the very silver meant to build the ships that will defend this nation, into building a stone boat for the Empress Dowager's amusement." He slammed his hand on the table again, the sound like a cannon shot. "This is not mismanagement! This is not corruption! This is treason!"
The evidence was absolute. It was undeniable. It was politically radioactive. The loyalists were left utterly exposed, their lies stripped bare, their complicity laid out for all to see on the damning pages of the ledgers. They had been caught red-handed, looting the national defense budget to build a toy for their mistress. Their political careers were over. More than that, Cixi's moral authority to govern, her claims of acting in the best interest of the dynasty, had been shattered. The marble boat would be the stone that finally sank her.