The Grand Council chamber, just days after the explosive scandal of the Marble Boat, was a place transformed. The suffocating atmosphere of Cixi's absolute authority had evaporated, replaced by a nervous, electric energy of a new order being born. Prince Gong, who had for so long been a voice of opposition, now stood at the center of the room, not as a protestor, but as the clear architect of the court's agenda. The faction loyal to Cixi was in disarray. Their figurehead was absent, having boycotted the council meetings in a display of furious, impotent pique, and her supporters were demoralized, politically neutered by the sheer scale of their patron's disgrace.
The first order of business was to translate the de facto victory into an official, bureaucratic reality. Prince Gong, his voice resonating with newfound power, laid out the first proposal under the new power-sharing arrangement.
"Your Imperial Majesty," he began, addressing the quiet and nervous Empress Dowager Ci'an, who now sat alone on the regents' dais, looking both small and immensely significant. "In light of the recent… financial irregularities… and in accordance with your wise decree, it is imperative that we establish a formal body to oversee the expenditures of the state. A body to ensure that the wealth of the empire is used to strengthen the nation, not to adorn private gardens."
He proposed the formal creation of a new government entity: the "Joint Regency Audit Office for Military and Treasury Affairs." It was a dry, bureaucratic title that masked its true, revolutionary purpose. This office, a committee of high-ranking officials, would be a new choke point in the flow of power. Every major expenditure related to the military or the treasury, every budget allocation, every contract, would now have to pass through this office for approval. And its final decisions, its official chops, would require the seals of both Dowager Empresses to become law. It was the institutional embodiment of the veto power Ci'an had seized.
Cixi's remaining loyalists, leaderless and fearful, mounted a feeble resistance. Grand Councillor Ronglu, his face still pale from his public humiliation, argued that such a body was redundant, that the Board of Revenue already served this function.
Viceroy Li Hongzhang, who had remained in the capital to see this new arrangement cemented, cut him down with a sharp, dismissive wave of his hand. "The Board of Revenue, under its current leadership, has proven itself to be either catastrophically incompetent or criminally complicit," the Viceroy stated bluntly. "Its authority in this matter is forfeit. We need new eyes, and a stronger lock on the cash box."
The debate was a formality. The momentum was entirely on the side of the reformists. Prince Gong proposed the members of the new Audit Office: a board composed of trusted officials loyal to his own faction, pragmatic modernizers from Li Hongzhang's circle, and a few respected, politically neutral censors. The vote was called, and the motion passed with an overwhelming, almost celebratory, majority. The vipers had been defanged, and the reformers were now in control of the state's most critical functions.
The very first act of the newly minted Joint Regency Audit Office was to address the business that had started it all: the Northern Fleet. With a speed that was breathtaking for the usually glacial pace of the Qing bureaucracy, they met, reviewed, and unanimously approved the full, unredacted budget for the Office of the Beiyang Fleet.
In a small, functional chamber, Prince Gong, Li Hongzhang, and the other members of the new audit committee met with Li Fengbao, the naval expert Ying Zheng had maneuvered into power.
"Deputy Commissioner Li," Prince Gong said, a deep satisfaction in his voice. "The funds you require are no longer a matter of debate. They are a matter of national priority."
He pushed a heavy, official document across the table. It was the formal authorization, bearing the seals of the Grand Council, the new Audit Office, and most importantly, the vermillion seal of the Empress Dowager Ci'an. "You have the authority and the silver to not only fulfill the German contracts for the new ironclads, but to begin immediate work on the domestic infrastructure. Draft your plans for the new docks at Port Arthur. Hire the engineers for the training academy at Tianjin. Send your requisitions for the munitions foundries. You will have what you need."
Li Fengbao, the quiet scholar who had spent years writing ignored treatises on naval power, looked down at the document, his hands trembling slightly. He was being handed the resources and the authority to build a modern navy from scratch, a dream he had thought impossible. "Your Highness… I… this servant will not fail the throne," he stammered, overwhelmed.
"See that you do not," Li Hongzhang added, his tone stern but encouraging. "The fate of the empire may well rest on the quality of the ships you build and the men you train."
The project, which had been just a contentious political idea weeks ago, was now a tangible reality, fully funded and moving forward with unprecedented speed and efficiency. The river of silver that Cixi had once diverted for her own pleasure was now being channeled into the forging of steel hulls and the casting of modern cannons.
The news of the council's decisions spread through the Forbidden City like wildfire. It was a political earthquake. In his quiet study, Ying Zheng received the report from Weng Tonghe. The old scholar, now serving as the secret liaison between the Emperor and Prince Gong's faction, had detailed the proceedings with a newfound sense of purpose in his invisible script.
Ying Zheng read the report, a cold, grim smile touching his lips. His victory was now institutionalized. It was no longer dependent on a single political confrontation; it was now embedded in the very bureaucracy of the state. He had created a new lever of power, and his proxies were firmly in control of it. He was no longer just influencing events from the shadows. Through the decrees signed by Ci'an and the actions of the new Audit Office, he was now directly controlling the state's most important strategic projects. The purse of the empire was now, for all intents and purposes, his own.