Chapter 128
Chapter 128
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 128
Chapter Title: Rivals in the Same Boat
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Dong! Dong! Dong! Dong!
On December 2, 1908, amid the strangely mournful drumbeats echoing through the Hall of Supreme Harmony in the Forbidden City, Prince Chun surveyed the assembled civil and military officials.
Today marked the ascension of the Qing Dynasty's new emperor to the throne.
And that new emperor was none other than the last Qing emperor, Aisin Gioro Puyi—Prince Chun's own son, cradled in his arms.
"Waaah~"
"There, there, don't cry. Don't cry. It'll be over soon. Yes, soon."
Frightened by the booming drums and the stares of all the strangers, the young Puyi burst into tears. Prince Chun hurriedly soothed his little son, murmuring those words as he held him close.
But those words—"it'll be over soon"—rang like a prophecy of the Qing's own end, leaving the court's high officials unable to hide their unease.
Even with the new emperor's enthronement, there was no sense of hope for change within the Qing. Instead, the atmosphere hung heavy, like storm clouds gathering in the sky.
Not only had his half-brother, the Guangxu Emperor, met a mysterious death on November 14 of the previous month, but the very next day, Empress Dowager Cixi—the final pillar upholding the Qing, for better or worse—had passed away as well.
In the midst of all this, a clueless three-year-old child was ascending the throne. Anyone with a shred of foresight could see that the Qing's fate now teetered on the brink.
Yet amid the grim ceremony—more funeral than coronation—Prince Chun did not let out so much as a sigh.
He had chosen the path of bloodshed years ago.
Tragedies and humiliations like these were nothing compared to what he had already endured.
Of course, his brother's death was tragic, and it tore at his heart to see his precious son burdened with the weight of a crumbling dynasty. But thanks to it all, he now stood as regent, ruling the Qing in Puyi's stead.
Those days of cowering, pretending to have no interest in power to avoid the wrath of the ambitious Empress Dowager, had finally borne fruit.
At last, the day has come to change the Qing!
Prince Chun's resolve burned hotter than ever.
Call it youthful folly if you must.
He would revive the Qing.
For the great empire forged by his ancestors. To repay the humiliations inflicted by the foreign powers, Germany chief among them. And above all, for the child nestled in his arms.
Of course, there's one matter I must settle first.
Even with the regency in his grasp, the Qing's dire straits made immediate reforms impossible.
Corruption was everyday life. The people's hearts had long abandoned the Qing court. Warlords dreaming of a new era were carving up the provinces. And the Western powers, not content with lording over them, treated the Qing like a bottomless wallet, constantly extracting tribute.
In an era when the emperor's authority lay in tatters, Prince Chun needed real power to sweep away the rot and push through reforms.
And that real power was military force—an army.
A strong army always led to strong rule.
China's long history proved it, as did the German Empire itself, which had risen from a mere kingdom to Europe's hegemon through iron and blood, crushing Austria and France.
Enrich the country and strengthen the army: enriching might be tough right now, but a strong army would prevent repeats of humiliations like the Opium War or the Boxer Rebellion.
The Qing had tried reforms once before, with the Hundred Days' Reform.
But Empress Dowager Cixi and the conservatives had crushed it, imprisoning the Guangxu Emperor in the Forbidden City and ending it in a mere hundred days.
That same Empress Dowager, who had squandered the last chance to save the dynasty just to cling to her power, now lay in her grave.
Within the imperial court, no one remained to oppose the regent, Prince Chun.
At least not within the palace.
In the end, Yuan Shikai is the problem.
The Qing's army was effectively controlled by the Beiyang Army, and its master was none other than Prime Minister and Minister of Commerce Yuan Shikai.
Prince Chun didn't just dislike Yuan—he had once seriously considered killing him.
The man was a power-hungry sycophant who had betrayed the Guangxu Emperor during the Hundred Days' Reform, siding with Empress Dowager Cixi. Utterly untrustworthy.
Even within the imperial family, people compared him to Cao Cao and stayed on guard.
Without dealing with Yuan Shikai somehow, Prince Chun could never seize the army.
He had briefly considered pressuring Yuan into retirement and then taking the Beiyang Army. But would Yuan's subordinates truly follow him?
Prince Chun shook his head.
Even without Yuan, the Beiyang warlords would heed only their master's voice, not his.
Killing Yuan or disbanding the army would only bring their guns to the Forbidden City's gates—a certainty.
"If I can't remove him, I'll have to join hands with him."
"Dada?"
As Puyi innocently tilted his head, not understanding his father's words, Prince Chun's eyes burned with cold fire.
As the ancients said: rivals in the same boat.
For the greater good, Prince Chun resolved to set aside his personal grudge.
"Your Highness, I hope you've been well?"
"Indeed. I'm glad to see you in good health as well."
Yuan Shikai greeted him with a polite smile, but he couldn't hide his bewilderment at Prince Chun's unannounced visit.
Everyone knew—even street urchins—that Prince Chun despised him.
For a moment, he wondered if this was Prince Chun moving to oust him now that his son sat on the throne. But strangely, Prince Chun treated him with unexpected warmth.
The kind of warmth that might make an onlooker question if something was wrong with his head.
But Prince Chun was perfectly sane.
Sane enough to swallow his rising disgust and sit face-to-face with Yuan Shikai.
What's his game?
Of course, Yuan Shikai wasn't blind to Prince Chun's true feelings.
"Minister of Commerce, what are your thoughts on the Qing's future?"
"With the new emperor on the throne, the chaos should settle, and peace return once more, no?"
Cautious of future recriminations, Yuan gave a safe, boilerplate answer to the sudden question.
"Hm, unexpected. Most are saying a mere infant on the throne means the Qing's end is nigh."
Yuan nearly spat out his tea at Prince Chun's next words.
"Pfft! Y-Your Highness, what do you...!"
"No matter. It's an undeniable fact that doom hangs over this land."
Prince Chun quipped like the brazen Hans he had once met.
But brazenness had its place, depending on the situation and the man.
This attitude only heightened Yuan's wariness.
Does he plan to brand me a traitor?
Given their history, it wasn't impossible.
But if so, why the friendly demeanor now? That nagged at him.
As Yuan probed for Prince Chun's intentions, the prince sipped his tea and continued.
"Yet as a loyal subject of the Qing—and as the emperor's father—I cannot stand idly by."
"Ahem, quite right, Your Highness."
"That's why I intend to remake this Qing entirely. And to succeed, I need your help, Minister."
"My help, Your Highness?"
Regaining some composure, Yuan nodded outwardly while scoffing inwardly.
So that's it—the sudden chumminess had an angle.
Prince Chun wanted his power, or rather, the Beiyang Army's might.
To make that "reform" of his succeed.
Now he wants to try the Hundred Days' Reform again? Too late.
Not that Yuan, who had doomed it with betrayal, had much room to talk.
Still, there was no reason for Yuan to accept.
He smirked inwardly at Prince Chun imitating his dead half-brother and prepared to refuse the offer, barren as it was.
"Forgive me, but my strength is so meager—can I truly be of service...?"
"Help me, and I'll make one of your daughters my daughter-in-law—the empress."
Yuan's words halted at Prince Chun's bombshell.
He couldn't just let that slide.
"You'd make my daughter the empress?"
"Yes."
Yuan pondered deeply.
It wasn't a lack of children.
Like any hero of old with a taste for the fairer sex, Yuan had countless concubines and thirty-two offspring.
Though "hero" was generous; he was closer to a scheming warlord.
Among his fifteen daughters, offering one as empress was tempting indeed.
It meant making him the emperor's father-in-law—effectively recognizing him as the Qing's number two.
But with the emperor's age, actual marriage is a decade away at least.
Who knew if Prince Chun would betray him in the meantime?
Yuan's suspicion was reasonable, and Prince Chun anticipated it, adding quickly:
"If you wish, I'll announce it publicly—make it an engagement outright."
"Haha, Your Highness holds my daughter and me in such high regard. I am deeply moved."
At the promise, Yuan dropped the pretense and laughed genuinely.
Emperor's father-in-law, no less.
Even with the throne's diminished prestige, it was a prize worth having. For a power-hungry wolf like Yuan, it was irresistible.
Of course, I'll play along with Prince Chun for now.
But once his daughter wed the emperor, that would be that.
Yuan was already plotting to dispose of Prince Chun before the ceremony even happened.
Laugh while you can.
Prince Chun sneered back inwardly.
Predictable enough—he had never intended to trust Yuan from the start.
He planned to gradually win over and seize the Beiyang Army, then eliminate Yuan and deal with his daughter—kill her or imprison her, whatever it took.
He couldn't taint his bloodline with that traitor's spawn.
"Then we're counting on you. My fellow in-law."
"Hahaha, of course! In-law!"
Prince Chun and Yuan clasped hands, laughing as they hid their schemes.
But how long their alliance would last was anyone's guess—up to the heavens.
"Prince Chun is making Yuan Shikai's daughter the empress?"
In late 1908, Sun Yat-sen—China's revolutionary, future father of the Republic—shuddered with disgust from deep within as he hid in Singapore after a failed uprising.
The new emperor's age meant it was just an engagement announcement for now, but it was still revolting.
"In the end, he's just another power-grubber."
Sun had once pitied Prince Chun for the humiliation he'd suffered in Germany.
Not that it erased his hatred for the incompetent Manchu court.
When Prince Chun had knelt to the Kaiser, the nonsense of "repel the Qing, annihilate the foreigners" had long been crushed under foreign guns. Most Chinese felt personal sympathy for Prince Chun but no warmth toward the Qing regime.
The Qing remained, to the Han, a barbarian Manchu conquest. Its humiliations were just that—humiliations.
Prince Chun's triple prostrations were merely one more in a long line.
But this? Sun couldn't hide his disappointment in Prince Chun, whom he'd considered the least objectionable Qing royal.
"...The Qing must fall."
And on its ruins would rise a democratic government of nationalism, democracy, and people's livelihood.
That was Sun Yat-sen's lifelong dream—his sole ambition.
Yet reality was cruel to the naive revolutionary, as Lenin would later remark.
Sun was ceaselessly sparking uprisings in Guangdong to topple the Qing, but they always failed.
Worse, his latest Guangdong revolt—funded by most of the money he'd received upon expulsion from Japan amid Tongmenghui backlash and Qing pressure—had collapsed in just 17 days due to ammo shortages. His position grew narrower by the day.
"Still, I must keep fighting."
Even if every comrade turned their back, he would press on.
What doesn't kill a man makes him stronger, Sun reaffirmed, setting down his newspaper and rising.
[Persian Constitutionalists Rise Against Shah's Atrocities. Mohammad Ali Shah Requests Russian Aid to Crush Rebels!]
The headline, revealed by the fluttering paper, foreshadowed yet another clash of great powers in Asia.