Ying Zheng sat in his study, the reports spread across his table like a general's campaign map. The ink was still fresh on his three great reform edicts, but the first dispatches detailing the resistance were already arriving from the provinces. He was not surprised. He had faced this exact same struggle two thousand years ago. The entrenched power of local aristocrats and gentry, their fortunes tied to the old, inefficient ways, had always been the greatest obstacle to unifying and strengthening the state. He felt a flicker of grim, familiar satisfaction. He knew this enemy. He knew how to fight this war.
Shen Ke stood before him, delivering his analysis of the new opposition. The young scholar's intelligence network, once focused solely on the intrigues within the palace walls, was now extending its reach into the provincial governments.
"They are not challenging the edicts openly, Your Majesty," Shen Ke reported, his voice low and precise. "That would be treason. Their methods are far more insidious. From Shandong, the governor reports that the decree on axle widths was 'damaged by water' in transit and he must await a new copy. From Shanxi, the provincial treasurer claims a 'clerical error' has left no funds for the geological survey teams. They will use the bureaucracy as a weapon against us. They will attempt to kill your reforms with a death of a thousand cuts, hoping to wait you out, to exhaust your will."
Ying Zheng listened, his expression impassive. He looked down at the map, at the vastness of the empire. "An emperor cannot be in every province at once to enforce his will," he said quietly, almost to himself. He then looked up at Shen Ke, his eyes as cold and hard as obsidian. "But his eyes can be."
It was time to unleash his most unsavory, but most effective, new tool. It was time to unleash Li Lianying.
The disgraced head eunuch was brought into the study. In the month since Cixi's fall, Li Lianying had been transformed. The arrogant, powerful man was gone, replaced by a gaunt, hollow-eyed servant who lived in a state of perpetual terror. His new position as the head of the "Office of Imperial Anti-Corruption" was an exquisite torture. He knew that his life depended entirely on his ability to be a ruthless and effective bloodhound for his new masters. Failure, or any perceived lack of zeal, would mean a swift and agonizing death.
He prostrated himself on the floor, his forehead touching the cold stones. "Your Majesty," he whispered, his voice trembling. "This servant has begun his work as commanded."
"Rise," Ying Zheng commanded. "And report."
Li Lianying rose, and from his sleeve, he produced a scroll. It was a list of names, a document he had compiled with the grim efficiency of a man who knew his own survival was on the line. He had used his old, secret network of contacts, the spies who were still loyal to him out of fear or habit, to gather information. The list contained the names of dozens of provincial officials who were not only deeply corrupt, but who had also been the most vocal in their private opposition to the new reforms. And next to each name was a summary of their crimes.
"Governor-General Tan of Liangjiang," Li Lianying read, his voice a dead monotone. "He has been skimming from the grain transport budget for a decade. He has amassed a personal fortune of over five hundred thousand taels of silver. He is now claiming that the new grain transport regulations are 'unworkable' and will lead to famine."
"Provincial Treasurer Ma of Henan," he continued. "He controls the salt monopoly in his region through his brother-in-law. Our estimates suggest he has hidden over a million taels. He is the one leading the gentry's protest against the centralization of the monopoly, claiming it will harm local business."
He went on, name after damning name. It was a litany of the very corruption that was bleeding the empire dry, a network of powerful men who were actively sabotaging the reforms to protect their own illicit wealth.
Ying Zheng listened to it all, his expression unchanging. He now had his targets. He had the names of the men who stood in his way, and he had the proof of their crimes. He would not engage in a slow, frustrating bureaucratic battle with them. He would use the methods he knew best. He would use the law as a weapon and fear as an instrument of policy.
He let Li Lianying finish, then pointed to a name on the list. It was Provincial Treasurer Ma of Henan, the man resisting the salt monopoly reform.
"This one," Ying Zheng said, his voice quiet but absolute. "We will make an example of him. He is powerful, well-connected, and believes himself untouchable. His fall will send a message to all the others."
He then issued his orders, his strategic mind clear and decisive. He turned first to Li Lianying. "You will dispatch your most trusted agents to Henan. You will use your old network to gather undeniable, public proof of Treasurer Ma's crimes. Not just rumors, not just whispers from disgruntled clerks. I want account books, written testimony, physical evidence. I want a case so airtight that not even Prince Chun would dare to defend him."
He then turned to Shen Ke. "While the investigation proceeds, you will use your skills. You will ensure that the Palace Gazette begins to publish a series of articles on the importance of integrity in public officials. You will write about the great, incorruptible ministers of the past. You will praise the new regency's commitment to clean government. You will prepare the ground. And when the evidence against Treasurer Ma is ready, you will ensure that every single, sordid detail of his crimes is published, in full, for every official in the empire to read. We will show them how he stole money meant for famine relief. We will show them the lavish estate he built while his people starved. We will show them the price of resistance."
His plan was a coordinated assault, using both secret police work and public propaganda. It was the same one-two punch he had used to break the will of the warring states two millennia ago. First, the swift and brutal application of law. Second, the masterful control of the public narrative.
Li Lianying and Shen Ke bowed deeply, their minds reeling from the cold, ruthless efficiency of the child who commanded them. They had their orders.
Ying Zheng sat back in his chair after they had departed. The board was set. He had launched his reforms, anticipated the resistance, and now he was launching his counter-attack. The comfortable, corrupt world of the Qing gentry was about to be shaken to its very foundations. They thought they were fighting a political battle of delays and excuses. They were about to learn that they were fighting a war against an ancient tyrant who did not tolerate obstruction.