Chapter 83
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 83
Chapter Title: You Are a Legend
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1839.
A year after the beacons of war had been lit, envoys from various nations gathered in Beijing to grasp the state of a world in upheaval.
Kim Jwa-geun, a rising power within the Andong Kim clan, felt a considerable sense of confusion.
“...Weren't they said to be at war? Judging by the atmosphere here, it doesn't seem that way at all.”
“Hmph... Indeed. It seems the words of those Westerners were not to be trusted after all.”
Although only a year had passed since he had passed the state examination, no one in the Joseon envoy's delegation dared to disregard him.
It wasn't simply because he was a member of the Andong Kim clan, the true power in Joseon.
He was the third son of the powerful statesman Kim Jo-sun, who had solidified the already prestigious Andong Kim clan's foundation, and the younger brother of Queen Dowager Sunwon, the current regent.
His eldest brother was bedridden with a stroke, and even his distant cousin, Kim Hong-geun, was not in good health, making it all but certain that he would one day become the clan's leader.
Upon his return from this mission to Qing, he was already slated for a promotion to Vice Minister of Personnel—an unbelievably fast track to success.
Therefore, even the chief and deputy envoys, the leaders of the delegation, treated Kim Jwa-geun as a future colleague, and he, in turn, accompanied them as if it were only natural.
“According to the officials I've spoken with, the Qing Dynasty is reportedly winning victory after victory against the British forces.”
“Good heavens, does this mean we were completely deceived by that false letter from the Dutch? What a predicament.”
Of course, they never expected the Westerners to speak only the truth, but they had at least thought a fierce battle was being fought.
Kim Jwa-geun bowed respectfully to Jo In-yeong, the Chief Scholar and head of the envoy.
“My lord, given the circumstances, it would be best to draw a clear line, stating we have no connection with the British, and ensure the Son of Heaven's anger is not directed toward us.”
“I am of the same mind. Fortunately, the Son of Heaven himself has offered to host a banquet in our honor, which suggests he is not displeased. They even say it will be a Grade 4 Manchu-Han banquet, which is held only on special occasions. If we play our cards right, we might even stand to gain a great deal from this visit.”
The Manchu-Han banquet was a culinary marathon, typically lasting over three days with a continuous stream of dishes. Joseon envoys were usually offered a Grade 5 banquet.
A Grade 4 was a special class reserved for occasions like the Son of Heaven's wedding or birthday; offering it to an envoy was highly unusual.
They wouldn't do something so extravagant if they were losing the war, which surely meant the Qing were confident of their victory.
In that case, it wouldn't be an exaggeration to see this as something akin to a victory celebration for the Qing.
“Not only us, but envoys from Japan and Ryukyu are also scheduled to attend. I've even heard that a delegation from Vietnam will be arriving soon.”
“So, no matter how clever those Westerners are, they couldn't disrupt the order of the Middle Kingdom. I wonder how we'll explain this when we return...”
“First, if those Dutch scoundrels bring another false letter, we should arrest them immediately and torture them to uncover who is behind it.”
It was a relief to learn the truth; otherwise, the entire nation would have been played for a fool by the Westerners' silver tongues.
The only immediate problem was the fact that Britain's Killian Gore—who had overstepped his bounds and been crushed—might be linked to Joseon.
If they could resolve this issue smoothly, Joseon could return to its previous state of tranquility.
Just as the delegation was waiting outside the Forbidden City for the banquet to begin.
“My lord! My lord! It's a disaster!”
One of the chief interpreters, who had been rushing about since their arrival in Beijing, ran up to them, panting for breath.
“What is all this commotion about?”
“Th-the banquet has been canceled!”
“What? Canceled? Why so suddenly? Is His Majesty perhaps unwell...?”
“That's not it!”
Despite the disrespect of interrupting the Chief Scholar, the interpreter paid it no mind and continued, gasping for air.
“According to rumors from within the palace, all the official reports sent to the capital have been falsified. Shanghai and Nanjing have fallen, and a report just came in that British warships have reached the waters off Tianjin. The Forbidden City is in complete chaos.”
“What!”
Not only Jo In-yeong, but also Kim Jwa-geun, who was listening beside him, gasped, his mouth falling open.
“Is-is that even possible? Shanghai and Nanjing have fallen? And they've pushed past them all the way to Tianjin? Tianjin is right on our doorstep!”
Although Tianjin was some distance from the sea, if one came through the port, it was a comfortable two-day walk away.
If Tianjin, which had long served as a satellite city for Beijing, fell into their hands, it would take less than a week to reach Beijing itself.
It was no exaggeration to say that the muzzles of British guns were pointed directly at the heart of the Qing Empire.
“But is it true? It makes no sense that they would be preparing for a banquet, completely unaware of the situation until now.”
“It seems everyone kept quiet and submitted false reports, fearing they would be exiled like the previous governor-general if they reported a defeat.”
“Madness. Utter madness. No, I can't believe it.”
Unlike the dumbfounded Jo In-yeong, Kim Jwa-geun hurriedly observed the reactions of the Japanese and Ryukyuan envoys in the distance.
It was obvious that they, too, were visibly flustered and restless, just like his own delegation.
‘Could it be… not a rumor, but the truth?’
There was a chance the interpreter had received false information, but was it plausible that the envoys of other nations had all been fed the same lies?
The firmly shut gates of the Forbidden City now exuded an inexplicable, desolate aura.
“For now… we must gather as much information as possible, whether through bribes or connections.”
Something… something was happening.
***
“What in the world is the meaning of all this!”
Crash!
As the Daoguang Emperor slammed his fist down, glaring furiously, his ministers couldn't meet his gaze and lowered their heads.
“You said we were winning! That we were securing victory after victory! How then could Shanghai and Nanjing fall into the hands of those Westerners! And what? Now they've pushed all the way to Tianjin? If you have mouths, then speak!”
“W-we are… we are deeply sorry, Your Majesty!”
“Please, have us killed!”
“If you have time to spout such nonsense, then analyze the situation properly and propose a solution! Is this news I've heard even true? I can't tell what is truth and what is lies anymore!”
Drunk on the daily reports of victory, he had invited envoys to Beijing and even prepared a celebratory banquet. What kind of thunderbolt was this?
Being forced to cancel the scheduled banquet was already a crack in the Son of Heaven's prestige.
But it was a relief they had stopped just in time. What would have happened if news of the British army reaching Tianjin had arrived in the middle of the banquet?
The mere thought of such a dizzying scene made the Daoguang Emperor's eyes turn bloodshot.
“Yang Fang! Where in the world has Yang Fang disappeared to that he doesn't even show his face!”
“General Yang Fang has rallied the local soldiers and vowed to retake the cities lost to the British...”
“That madman dares to run his mouth again!”
After hearing the true reports from refugees who fled after the fall of Nanjing and Shanghai, the Daoguang Emperor had doubted his own ears.
Trying to stop British cannons with chamber pots filled with women's urine?
And he had entrusted his army to a man who had proudly paraded that around as a secret strategy.
This was a nightmare.
“Tell that man Yang Fang to come to the capital at once and accept his punishment! And as for the British army stationed in Tianjin, immediately wipe them out...”
As he was about to shout with vigor, the last shred of the Daoguang Emperor's reason sent a powerful warning.
Realistically, could they even win if they sent an army to wipe them out?
Hadn't it been said that so far, no one had managed to inflict any significant damage on the enemy, suffering defeat after defeat?
The problem was that even if someone now came forward, confident of victory, he couldn't bring himself to believe them.
No, the fact that no one was even stepping forward made him understand the gravity of the situation all too keenly.
“I will not hold anyone responsible here today, so speak your objective opinions. If they have taken Tianjin, then Beijing is next. Do you think we can repel them if we were to summon the Eight Banners army now for a decisive battle?”
“...”
“That is...”
“I will not hold you responsible. Say whatever is on your mind.”
Only after he had repeatedly assured them it was fine even to suggest surrender did the mouths of the ministers, frozen like statues, finally begin to move.
“Judging by the testimonies we are receiving, the enemy is too strong. Furthermore, there are rumors that in all the battles fought so far, the number of British casualties is zero...”
“What? There have been several battles, and you're telling me we haven't killed a single one of them? Does that even make sense?”
“W-we believe it to be a baseless rumor, but such talk is circulating.”
They had poured in tens of thousands of men, yet hadn't killed a single enemy? What kind of new joke was this?
This absurd situation was so incomprehensible it felt like he was going mad.
It was unlikely they hadn't killed a single one, but the very existence of such a rumor was proof of the disastrous casualty ratio.
“Is there no one who will step forward and put a definitive end to these false rumors? You may also recommend someone.”
“...”
“...”
This time, the silence that followed was as if it had been rehearsed.
The Daoguang Emperor was not so foolish as to not understand why they reacted this way.
Envoys from Joseon, Ryukyu, Japan, and now even Vietnam were scheduled to arrive in the capital soon.
To raise an army only to be defeated and have Beijing captured while all of them were watching would be a humiliation unprecedented in Qing history.
Moreover, if Beijing truly were captured, what would happen to the envoys present here?
They would either have to flee to Manchuria with the Son of Heaven or rush back to their own countries. If such a situation arose, the majesty of the Celestial Dynasty would be finished.
Who on earth would want to be recorded in history as the one responsible for such a catastrophe?
It wasn't just about the capital potentially falling; it could be the starting point for the collapse of the Sinocentric world order.
Of course, if they won, one might be hailed as a national hero, but given the circumstances, it seemed no one would step forward claiming they could win.
“Then are you saying we must accept that absurd negotiation proposal sent by Lin Zexu? I am asking if I am to be recorded in history as the first Son of Heaven to cede land to Westerners.”
“Your Majesty. It is devastating to even say this, but… the British military strength is overwhelming. There are even reports that additional British troops are steadily arriving. If we delay here, the capital itself may truly fall.”
To be the first Son of Heaven in history to cede land, or to be the first Son of Heaven to suffer a crushing defeat and lose the capital in front of the tributary states.
Either choice was a disaster, but fortunately, his reason—the need to avoid the worst and choose the lesser of two evils—had not abandoned him.
“Who would be suitable… to entrust… with the neg…otiations?”
“Gasp...”
“Th-that is...”
“Y-Your Majesty! For the negotiations, it is only proper that someone of imperial blood be appointed as the plenipotentiary ambassador!”
Unlike their previous silence, this time the ministers all began to speak in a rapid-fire succession.
However, it was not to volunteer themselves, but rather to shout out the names of other suitable candidates in a desperate attempt to evade responsibility.
The British were no fools; the moment negotiations began, the terms would surely be worse than before, and the Qing were in no position to refuse.
Even if the Daoguang Emperor forgave them, they could be held responsible later and politically buried. Who in their right mind would want that position?
Just as all the ministers, in perfect unison, were holding a grand tournament of incompetence by declaring their own unsuitability, someone suddenly brought up a different topic.
“By the way, isn't the Joseon delegation here right now?”
“...Yes. But what does that have to do with this matter?”
“Your Majesty! Has it not been confirmed that the man leading the British army is Killian Gore, who is of Joseon origin? Strictly speaking, Joseon also bears responsibility for failing to control its own subject. Therefore, I propose having the Joseon envoy accompany our delegation to the negotiations to try and placate Killian Gore.”
“Ooh! That is a brilliant idea!”
Participating in surrender negotiations and bringing along an envoy from a tributary state?
It was a mad idea that made one's head spin just hearing it, but such things were not important to the Qing ministers.
If they could reduce their own responsibility even slightly in negotiations where they were bound to give everything away, what reason was there not to include anyone, be it a Joseon envoy or a stray dog?
“Hmm... I doubt Joseon would have any particular solution.”
“Your Majesty! It is the duty of a monarch to be the parent of all their people. If a subject of our own country were to commit such treasonous acts in another nation, would we not also take some form of action?”
“Indeed. Joseon bears a portion of the responsibility for this!”
The Daoguang Emperor wondered if this was right, but as his ministers shouted in unison, his thoughts began to lean toward the idea.
What could he do? They were in dire straits, so they had to play every card they had, even if it meant forcing the issue.
“Very well. If that is the consensus, I shall send an imperial decree to the Joseon delegation.”
“A wise decision!”
This decision by the Qing, which flowed not from logic but from a stream of consciousness, soon became known to the Joseon and Japanese delegations.
“What? You're telling me to accompany the Qing delegation to their negotiations with the British?”
“Ahem... The Son of Heaven himself has issued the decree. What can we do? You'll have to go and endure it.”
Kim Jwa-geun couldn't even manage a bitter smile at the most epic nonsense he had ever heard in his forty years of life.
These bastards... they were simply insane.
This is the Celestial Dynasty?
No. More importantly, how in the world was he supposed to meet Killian Gore and placate him?
He shouldn't have come. He wondered if he had ever regretted a past decision this much in his entire life.
Kim Jwa-geun's vision went dark.
***
“Amazing. Truly astonishing.”
The British army, having occupied Tianjin, was in the midst of preparing to push on to Tongzhou.
Back home, the prevailing thought was to just go all the way to Beijing and plant the flag, so they were sending reinforcements in droves.
After all, any costs incurred could be recouped through reparations, so there was nothing to hold them back.
With another 5,000 troops arriving shortly, the total number of reinforcements would bring their forces to nearly 20,000.
A ground force equivalent to a full division was being assembled.
It was a moment that highlighted the insane military power of the British Empire, capable of sending such a large force to the other side of the world in the mid-19th century.
Of course, this was all possible because they held India. Still, impressive was impressive.
“Minister, we will advance the army as soon as the additional troops join us.”
“That would be nice, but it seems they're finally starting to face reality. They've begun pleading for us to spare them.”
“Isn't it like before, where they send a single governor-general to feign negotiations?”
“If that were the case, I would have ordered an immediate advance on Beijing. This time, they seem to be quite serious.”
So, rather than being stripped bare in front of their tributary states and fleeing to Manchuria, they've decided to show themselves surrendering with a white flag.
Well, they might flip the negotiating table again, spouting nonsense about the lofty pride of the Middle Kingdom, but if they do, I'll just plant a flag in Beijing for real.
Everything up to this point had gone as expected.
Except for one thing.
“The Qing's plenipotentiary ambassadors are said to be two high-ranking officials of imperial blood. It's also written that the Son of Heaven will not refuse any decisions made here.”
“Then we can have a real negotiation. As expected, your predictions were spot on once again, Minister. Hahaha!”
“That's right. However...”
It's fine that high-ranking Qing officials are coming, but why is a Joseon envoy being thrown into the mix?
Surely they don't think that because I have Joseon blood, bringing a Joseon official along will somehow give them an advantage in the negotiations.
It's definitely that.
It's a drag-them-down-with-you tactic to share the blame if the terms of the negotiation are unfavorable.
Even so, does it make any sense to drag an envoy from a neighboring country into a situation like this?
The Qing Dynasty is truly a legend.
“In any case, it's no loss for us, so let's meet with them. They have no choice but to accept any proposal we make, anyway.”
I knew I would meet them someday, but I honestly never expected to see the Joseon literati again so soon.
I wonder what kind of rhetoric they'll try. To be honest, I'm curious.
They'll likely only be able to play the part of clowns, but I hope they don't put on too dull a show.
Suppressing a snort of laughter, I sent back a reply, suggesting we resolve this peacefully.