The Escape of the Ming Emperor

The night was quiet. Crown Prince Zhu CiXuan was drifting off to sleep when he suddenly heard noisy sounds outside, jolting him awake.

There were footsteps, clashing of weapons, cocking of muskets, and groans and sobs of soldiers, mixed with the chirping of crickets and warbling of nightingales, merging into a chaotic and noisy chorus.

He struggled to lift his head from the soft cotton quilt and pillows, and a sense of dread welled up inside him. "Running away again?" He understood his father the Emperor and his ministers' decision, but he couldn't help feeling weary. They had been fleeing for so many years as the Qing troops relentlessly pursued them, and the Ming dynasty teetered precariously.

"Your Highness, it's time to get up and await orders," the eunuch said urgently as he flipped open Zhu CiXuan's tent. "His Majesty and the ministers are discussing strategies. Please hurry to the main conference tent."

He rubbed his sleepy eyes and tried to wake himself up. The eunuch hurriedly lit the oil lamp nearby, and in its dim glow, Zhu CiXuan saw anxiety on his face too.

"What exactly happened?" Zhu CiXuan sat up and pushed him impatiently.

"Your Highness, please forgive me. The Qing troops will reach Kunming in three days. The ministers are discussing strategies and escape routes..."

Zhu CiXuan didn't let the eunuch finish. He struggled up, hurriedly put on his clothes, knowing it would be another long night. Holding a torch, the eunuch walked ahead as Zhu CiXuan followed closely behind.

It was dark all around, with only sporadic bonfires and personal torches giving off faint light.

The stars and bright moon hung high up, cloaking the dark night in a hazy veil. The moonlight was like water, bathing everything in a shimmering silver glow. Tall trees whispered in the night breeze, their ink-black shadows mottling the ground. The faint cries of crickets and warbling of nightingales filled the tranquil night with vigor and life. Clouds drifted by, at times obscuring and at times revealing the speckled stars and shifting moonlight. The blurred, ephemeral scenery evoked a sense of fantasy.

Everything seemed so serene, yet could not conceal the turmoil in his heart.

They had to flee again. Zhu CiXuan wondered how much longer and what dangers they still had to endure before this endless drifting could end. He only hoped his father the Emperor could settle down soon, so they and others forced from their homes could one day return to their homeland. But for now, they could only follow the moonlight, wandering aimlessly into the night, searching for a new foothold.

Stepping into the council tent, chaos surrounded him. Soldiers rushed to and fro while horses neighed and whinnied. Ministers argued loudly about where to go next. Zhu CiXuan saw his father, the Emperor, standing to one side with a grave expression, listening to the ministers' reports, exhaustion apparent in his furrowed brows that he could not conceal.

"Your Majesty, the Qing troops will reach Kunming in just three days. Defending the city is no longer viable," said Ma Jixiang, Commander of the Embroidered Guard, frowning.

"We should flee to Sichuan, the land of abundance, with fertile fields stretched for thousands of miles, prosperous and wealthy, where we can easily recruit soldiers and horses to revive the Great Ming," one suggested.

"No, the north of Sichuan has already surrendered to the Qing. Going there would mean certain capture," another rebutted.

"The land of Burma is distant, surely the Qing troops cannot sustain a prolonged invasion. By the time they arrive, Your Majesty will have fled without a trace," proposed Ma Jixiang.

The British missionary Ouyang Jiang disagreed with Ma Jixiang's assessment: "Though far, Burma borders China. Once the Qing conquer Yunnan, the king of Burma will surely betray Your Majesty and hand you over to the Qing court. It would be safer to head south to the islands where the Qing will find it hard to pursue. Your Majesty will be safe there."

"Those foreign devils are treacherous and fickle. Of course they will hand us over to the Qing troops. Did they not also once recognize the Yuan dynasty as the rightful ruler?" Prime Minister and Minister of Personnel Deng Shilan angrily retorted.

"A sea voyage south requires many ships and funds. How can I acquire them?" Zhu Youlang's face was grave. "And the lengthy journey is fraught with peril. What if we are intercepted en route? We would be delivering ourselves into the Qing's net."

"Your Majesty, do not worry. Our mission will provide money and men to support you fully," the missionary said confidently. "With advanced seafaring technology, the Qing will not be able to follow. I assure Your Majesty you will arrive safely in the south seas."

"Or go to Taiwan - Zheng Chenggong commands strong forces and will surely aid the Great Ming."

"Going to Japan wouldn't be bad either. At least we can wait out the danger temporarily."

One missionary even suggested: "Your Majesty, going to Europe will surely revive the Great Ming and shake the world."

The ministers' opinions exploded forth chaotically as each insisted on their own. Zhu Youlang seemed to have no power to mediate as his expression grew increasingly grave.

Crown Prince Zhu CiXuan looked upon the shattered remnants of the once mighty Ming court with heart-wrenching sorrow. I understand that no matter which direction we take, danger and obstacles await. I only hope Father can decide on a path to end this endless flight, so we who have been forced from our homes may one day return to our native soil.

He knew it was just a hopeless dream, yet he could not stop desperately wishing for it, because his longing for the Great Ming and that long-lost home still filled his heart. He yearned for the day he could stop running, sleep in peace within those familiar palace walls, and wake still safely inside.

As opinions spewed chaotically and ministers argued, the scene descended into turmoil. Watching his father's increasingly gaunt figure, a surge of sadness rose within. No matter where they went, peril awaited, and his father's health could not endure such an endless flight.

He knew that if this continued, the Great Ming would crumble into pieces. He understood his father's desire to revive the dynasty, but his body was no longer what it was. He only hoped his father could choose a place to rest, temporarily avoiding Qing pursuers to recuperate and gather strength, ready to raise armies to reclaim their land when the time came. But that seemed like an impossible dream now.

At this moment, all they could do was follow the Ming remnants step by step, searching in the darkness for a new refuge, continually fleeing the Qing troops' relentless march.

At this moment, all he could do was silently guard his father's side amidst the chaos, praying for an end to come soon.