Chapter 166
Chapter 166
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 166
Chapter Title: Chief of Staff Kim Chunsik (2)
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The formidable authority of the Royal Secretariat Chief stemmed primarily from the nature of his duties, which often required private audiences with the king.
In Joseon, private meetings with the king were strictly forbidden among the officials, but saying the king was "alone at the palace" didn't mean there were no attendants. Even when the king was by himself, there were often palace servants present—who doubled as historians.
This was even more true for a crown prince who hadn't yet fully adopted the full royal protocols.
The crown prince was still residing in the Citizens' Hall rather than the king's main throne hall, the Hall of Great Harmony. That was precisely why Kim Unhaeng could run rampant unchecked from the adjacent Office of Royal Secretariat.
So right now, the crown prince was "alone." No one else was around to hear.
Even so, dropping the name "Qing" implied a rather grave situation.
The crown prince tensed up.
"Are you talking about a northern expedition?"
Kim Unhaeng vowed to himself that once he got back, he'd have Yeoni perform some exorcism ritual to banish the ghost of King Hyeonjong.
"No, it's about the succession to the throne. It's time now to assess the state of affairs and make a decision."
The crown prince's face lit up with understanding.
He knew full well who had turned a blind eye to his coup. He'd carefully stored the Qianlong Emperor's rosary beads alongside the smuggled historical texts in the Northern School faction's treasure chest (he still hadn't gotten around to digging up the basement due to being busy).
Whether Yi Geum abdicated or not was no longer even up for debate.
Whether he burst in later like the Zhengtong Emperor, declaring "The Supreme King has descended," or whatever, refusing to step down now would confirm he was truly senile to anyone paying attention.
Soon enough, he'd send a social worker at the right moment to relay the "voice of the people," and even if just to avoid more electroshock therapy, Yi Geum would scribble out an abdication edict and toss it over. Who knew what schemes he was sharpening in secret, though.
More importantly, they needed Qianlong's official recognition. It wasn't a fatal blow like in the Ming days, where lacking Chinese approval undermined legitimacy at home, but it was still crucial.
Especially with 10,000 Manchu Eight Banners troops stationed there.
In the case of the Joseon government under King Jungjong, they pulled off an all-out "Jingde Emperor Show" to secure approval for the usurpation.
Yeonsangun had suffered from manic episodes since childhood, the (perfectly healthy) crown prince had died in the Eastern Palace, and Yeonsangun had gone mad and secluded himself in a detached palace—they spun a full alternate-history novel out of it.
They even pulled off a mother-swapping scam, claiming Jungjong and Yeonsangun were half-brothers, the kind of thing that made you question if this was really a Confucian state. Nothing was off-limits when they had foreign servers to fool.
This wasn't some ad-hoc improvisation; it was national policy. Respected ministers gathered to craft a nine-point phishing manual for the con.
But officials like Wang Hua, the Left Minister of the Board of Rites, weren't fooled by such laughable tricks aimed at the Chinese. Better to sell opium to the British, honestly.
"Whenever envoys came before, you never mentioned the king's illness, did you?"
"Well, that's because..."
"If things are truly as you claim, it should be the queen dowager—King Seongjong's consort—making the request, not the ailing former king petitioning for an heir."
"In Joseon, women don't handle such matters..."
Such a ham-fisted scam was never going to work. Wang Hua even suggested sending a special envoy to investigate the highly suspicious Joseon.
It was the greatest crisis of Grand Prince Jinseong's life. Maybe because Wang Hua was the father of Wang Yangming, the founder of Yangming school, he particularly despised Joseon's Neo-Confucian orthodoxy.
In the end, only after the Jiajing Emperor favored the eunuch Yu Gen and the Ming court went off the rails did they seize the moment, shower bribes, and finally secure recognition for Jungjong's throne.
Thankfully, the current situation was better.
Grand Prince Jinseong's biggest weakness back then was that he wasn't the crown prince, but Yi Hwon was the real deal. They could even attach documents proving the queen dowager's endorsement, as the Chinese demanded.
Unlike the sudden notification to Ming of the king's madness, Joseon had diligently reported suspicions of Yi Geum's dementia beforehand—during the previous eastern envoy mission.
However, the fact that Qing was somewhat aware of Joseon's internal situation could also be a weakness.
The crown prince pointed it out.
"To get Qing's 10,000 troops to withdraw, they'll demand something in return."
There was no way Qianlong wouldn't claim compensation for his tacit approval and indirect support. He'd done next to nothing—barely 1% of what the Wanli Emperor had—and yet he'd brag even more.
He probably wouldn't be that blunt, but even just footing the bill for maintaining 10,000 troops would bankrupt Joseon. In that sense, it might end up similar to Jungjong's era.
The crown prince looked at Kim Unhaeng expectantly, but even he had no skill to score a perfect victory over Qianlong.
A victory that fell just short of perfect, though? That he could manage.
Kim Unhaeng leaned in like a friend plotting a scheme.
"If we rashly ask them to withdraw their troops, they'll sense our desperation and get even bolder. This foolish servant has one stratagem—let us try it. If it fails, there's nothing to be done, but if it succeeds, the kingdom will emerge unscathed."
The latter part was tacked on because even Kim Unhaeng wasn't entirely confident.
But the moment he uttered "stratagem," the crown prince forgot all his worries. The man before him was the master of a hundred stratagems, Kim Chunsik.
"Entrust me with all difficult matters. I'll shield you from any slanderers."
It was the response Kim Unhaeng had hoped for. So he gave the crown prince what he wanted in return.
"Your Highness's grace is as vast as the sea. This servant shall break his bones and shatter his marrow in devotion."
Negotiations with Qing required as much care from Joseon as from the Qing themselves.
Just think about the treatment I got for uttering a few Jurchen words before the emperor.
Now I could swing my official seal at anyone joking about leather cups, demanding to know who dared slander veteran officials, but honestly, it was a stain on my record.
So granting something to Qing in exchange for recognizing the crown prince's throne demanded extreme caution.
One misstep, and I'd end up shouldering the blame as the next Choi Myeonggil, fingered for eternity (though, of course, no one could point fingers at the invading Jurchens themselves).
Posterity wouldn't care, but the present world was the issue.
There were plenty of incompetent or tyrannical Chief State Councillors among the current ones. But a Chief State Councillor without friends? Not in my knowledge—I mean, look at Minister Lee Jo and his ties to Yulgok.
Pushing through to Chief State Councillor on public security alone would inevitably spark uncontrollable backlash.
Forget it—even the central army that betrayed one king once wouldn't hesitate to betray the crown prince and me. As a Korean army veteran with a perfect rebellion success rate, I never trusted the military.
Thus, securing the crown prince's throne while retaining the yangban elites' support was no easy feat.
I had to play both pro-Qing (for the crown prince) and anti-Qing (for the yangban) simultaneously.
To pull that off required a long-cultivated cartel—no, prestige. In a word, make them say, "If it's Kim Chunsik, even cozying up to the Jurchens makes sense."
But time was short.
I had to clear the first condition of this 3-point quest before the Imo Incident year.
In premodern times, five years—even for "foreign affairs"—was never ample.
And even without that, contrary to optimistic predictions from some crown prince faction members, Yeongjo wouldn't die. I knew from the future.
A prolonged regency by the crown prince in this mess would only invite a second rebellion. The abdication issue had to be settled.
No choice, then.
If there was no time to refine and polish, smash it and create anew.
An environment that supported me from the ground up.
This was the 21st-century future tech: terraforming.
Ensuring the boss doesn't worry about trivialities by tidying up the surroundings—that's the true art of the chief of staff.
Once I streamlined personnel operations to the point where he just needed to stamp approvals, the crown prince was delighted.
In that process, Minister of Personnel Jeong Hwi-ryang ascended to Deputy Chief State Councillor as he'd wished.
And for the vacant Minister of Personnel slot, I tapped Hong Bonghan.
Hong Bonghan's half-brother Hong Inhan still hadn't been executed. I took credit for it as the crown prince's mercy (thanks to my advocacy), but for Hong Bonghan, it must have been torture.
As long as his brother lingered without dying, who knew when that mouth might spill his half-brother's name? Even under crown prince protection, his influence would shrink dramatically.
So Hong Bonghan had no choice but to play the criminal, avoiding the office. As I'd thought earlier, this would only resolve once the crown prince formally became king.
I'd targeted exactly that vulnerability.
Organizations without a head can't exert half their strength. The Royal Guard without Kim Seong-eung even lost its main camp to humiliation.
The Personnel Innovation Office was done for.
The court was now under the thumb of the Presidential Secretariat's Personnel Planner (me).
Why fuss over east-west factionalism with the Minister of Personnel seat? Just become Royal Secretariat Chief.
I unrolled the Ascension to Premiership Chart panel I'd gotten from Yi Hwan (it felt oddly surreal).
Then I laid out plaques with the officials' names on the bureaucratic positions. I'd seen some Korean government HR department do this for intuitive planning in a café post.
I shuffled the plaques like chess pieces, piecing them together, promoting and demoting.
That simulation became reality almost exactly.
First, I placed Shim Hwanji and Seo Myeong-seon—the Noron faction's Chundang rising stars—at Left and Right Secretariat Chiefs.
Right Secretariat Chief Han Gwanghoe had been ousted by me recently, and Left Secretariat Chief Jeong Gan was dead, leaving vacancies—no trouble at all.
With Chundang holding the top three spots in the Office of Royal Secretariat, communication between the crown prince and court now had to go through them. It was an unwritten rule that lower-ranked chiefs couldn't oppose superiors—like parachute appointee Chae Je-gong.
I moved Hong Daeyong and Park Jiwon back to the Office of Diplomatic Correspondence. Those Qing enthusiasts would have work soon.
For Kim Jong-su, I attached him as tutor to the royal grandson Pil-seon. His filial service to the senile granduncle Kim Sang-ro more than qualified him.
Couldn't overlook the Haeng clan either. Brothers Kim Munhaeng and Kim Wonhaeng, experts in the Three Offices, went to key posts in the Hall of Worthies and Office of Remonstrance.
Then my physician brother Kim Jeokhaeng started hovering expectantly, but since the Jangdong Kim Mun Medical Group was as vital as the court, I pretended not to notice.
That's when the complaints started.
It was because Pungyang Jo clan's Jo Don—like Jo Jaeho—was Grand Royal Scribe at the time.
Just like those perennial National History Exam darlings from power clans, Jo Don slandered the upright and framed loyalists out of jealousy.
"In ancient times, Secretariat Chief Hwang Hui, renowned for his prestige among high and low, was impeached for recommending talents without consulting the prime minister. How much more so for Kim Unhaeng, whom scholars despise as base?
He monopolizes the scales of all personnel authorities, placing his colleagues, friends, and bribe-senders in key posts at will. From the Three Dukes to the Six Ministries, all emerge from Kim Unhaeng's fingertips. Dismiss this overreaching minister and flog him publicly to restore order."
Hey, comparing a corrupt hack like Hwang Hui to this Eastern Blackbeard?
But if I just quashed the memorial, I'd be the villain alone.
Not-villain me presented the memorial honestly before the crown prince and shed tears.
"Having presumptuously ascended to the throat-and-tongue post, I now truly understand: 'The higher the Way, the safer; the higher the power, the more perilous' [from Records of the Grand Historian]. With the Censorate's attacks, how can I keep my seat? Send this servant to a distant island, as the Grand Royal Scribe demands."
The one sent to the island was, naturally, Jo Don. Hmm. Maybe ministers' resignation letters are like the king's abdication waves?
I also placed brother Kim Seonhaeng as Grand Royal Scribe to prevent future slanders. No stretch since he'd been Secretariat Chief during the cold noodle incident.
Fired and jobless before, he showed up with seasonal grapes in hand, grasping mine.
"I always knew Chunsik was destined for great things! Leave the Office of Inspector General to me."
"I'll trust only in you, brother. Petty schemers ruin the nation's work."
"Talking about teeth again? Spot on—none of the promoted exceeded their quotas, not even any rags-to-riches from humble clans. Why the uproar?"
Exactly. Jo Don's memorial fizzled because I'd handled promotions without breaking court rules.
Brother Kim Seonhaeng's sniping from the Inspectorate was razor-sharp. Backlash from exposed corruptors led to them dropping one by one.
This much prep was done.
For the Southerners' An Jeong-bok or Yi Ik, let military overseer Chae Je-gong handle defense matters—I'd just take credit and leave it.
Now it was time to contact the Scripture Bureau.
Hong Yeom, the Dara Fruit Air Force King, had been raking in tidy profits by advancing erotic commerce in Huai River Basin, pioneering the world's first pornographic comics, plus smuggling ginseng and tiger skins on the side. But truthfully, he was in a bind right now.
His half-brother Qianlong kept badgering him about what was going on in Joseon.
Contrary to Kim Unhaeng or the crown prince's assumptions, the emperor actually wanted the troops out ASAP.
Qianlong's Ten Great Military Feats quest was flashing a dire red alert.
Two years prior, Dawachi's Dzungars sought equal footing with Qing internationally.
Dzungars weren't just poor nomadic wanderers despite low population. They boasted massive agricultural output, ample arms industry including firearms, and trade volumes with Qing too substantial to ignore.
Yet to humanity's lord, they were laughable.
Qianlong dubbed his quest "Unification of Inner and Outer Realms (Global Conquest War)."
Dzungars, Britain, Joseon—to him, it was candles and bulbs competing before the sun. For anyone on earth to claim equality was like launching a second sun.
So Qianlong crushed them. The Dzungars surrendered and submitted to Qing rule.
But that didn't last. After Kim Unhaeng's Beijing trip, Amursana seized the chance of Qing troops dispersed to Joseon and rallied the Dzungars anew.
The early campaign unfolded much like history.
Borjigit clan's Northern Commander Bandi suicided, Manchu representative Western Commander Yongchang was surrounded and routed. Amursana and the Dzungar leaders' momentum pierced the heavens.
Qianlong no longer wished to govern Dzungars either.
Humanity must submit to Qianlong's rule.
Conversely, those not under his rule weren't human.
If the premise held, its converse did too. Faithful to logic's basics, Qianlong's edict sliced the steppes ruthlessly.
"Godless barbarians are but herds of dogs and sheep. Kill them all."
If Kim Unhaeng, busy with "Spring in Hanyang," heard that, he'd chide them to get along as fellow animal friends.
From here, history called for merciless slaughter. Qing forces were formidable when committed, but smallpox claimed far more Dzungars.
Yet two factors warped the timeline.
First, Qing armies were short about 10,000 troops from the original—mostly Manchu Banner cavalry.
Numbers alone seemed trivial, so Qianlong hadn't worried.
But mobility mattered more than raw combat power.
Han Green Battalion held massive artillery and musketeers but still marched on foot. With cavalry "slightly" short, the encirclement speed essential for massacres "temporarily" slowed, letting Amursana evacuate more unified Dzungar tribes than before.
Crucially, Amursana himself hadn't caught smallpox.
Second, this Amursana rallied with an alien concept to Dzungars—international diplomacy, specifically affinity for distant Joseon.
Great ideas are hardest first; repeats get easy. Continuously pushed northwest by Qianlong's suppression army, Amursana exhausted every diplomatic channel.
He sent envoys to old friend Ablai Khan, Kazakh and Kalmyk notables, even distant Russian fortress Semipalatinsk (now in Kazakhstan).
Russians, already prickly from Beijing's missionary crackdown, didn't dismiss the plea lightly.
Author's Note
1. During the Tumu Crisis, the Zhengtong faction apparently lacked a meticulous plan. They reached the gates, but when soldiers blocked them, Zhengtong shouted, "I am the Supreme Emperor!" (no other options), and the troops cheered, opening the gates for the emperor swap.
2. For Jungjong's coup, the envoy team prepared the nine points as described. Only two were true: "Jungjong's age" and "Seongjong's sons' roster." The rest was pure fabrication.
That said, Taejong and Sejo seized thrones without issue, so since it was ministers' "coup" rather than palace infighting (unlike Sejo admitting rebellion), and they bungled it with lies, it got tricky.
(Referenced: Kim Kyung-rok, 2007, "Diplomatic Succession After Jungjong Coup and Joseon-Ming Relations")
3. Hwang Hui is famous as prime minister, but under Taejong, he long served as Secretariat Chief (then Junior Secretariat Chief). He was impeached for hogging personnel powers. Hard to call him corrupt outright, but definitely not a paragon of integrity.
4. "Herds of dogs and sheep, kill them all" is verbatim Qianlong. Dzungar Qing trade volume was 90,000-190,000 taels of silver per go.
5. Amursana originally reached Semipalatinsk with smallpox, then died en route to Tobolsk.
Qing and Russia bickered over his corpse; Qianlong hostage-took Beijing's Orthodox priests to threaten, but Russia defied even Kyakhta Treaty violations to keep the body.
Factors included Russia's Volga-to-Kazakh nomadic control push, Amursana's prestige there (20th-century Kalmyks even revived him in anti-Russian independence cults), and delicate Qing-Russia ties.
But in-story, just take it as Amursana safely seeking Russian aid—no issue.
6. The cold noodle memorial appears in Chapter 137, "As the God Wishes" part. Kim Seonhaeng was indeed Secretariat Chief then, sacked, then around story-time became Grand Royal Scribe—exact match.