I woke up to find myself Zhu Youxiao, the carpenter emperor of the Great Ming.
Before me stood Wei Zhongxian, the Nine-Thousand-Year-Old, his smile obsequious as he prepared to take charge of the Eastern Depot.
On the desk lay a mountain of memorials: Liaodong in crisis, rebellion in the southwest, the Yellow River bursting its banks.
In my ears rang the dirge of the dynasty's final days: factional strife from the Donglin Party, an empty treasury, mutiny among the frontier troops.
I knew that, according to history, in twenty-one years this great ship, the Ming, would sink with a crash.
But now, I was the one at the helm of this battered vessel.
I couldn't build firearms, knew nothing about smelting steel, and had no System or golden finger.
My only advantage was knowing every trap history had in store, along with the supreme authority of the imperial robes I wore.
And so,
Wei Zhongxian became the blade I used to root out corruption, while the Donglin Party became a piece in my game of balancing the court.
Sun Chengzong built the Ningyuan defensive line, while Yuan Keli stabilized the Dengzhou and Laizhou fleets.
With a carpenter's patience and precision, I dismantled factional rivalries, patched up the finances, and fortified the border defenses.
When Nurhaci was driven back from beneath Ningyuan's walls by Red Barbarian cannons,
When Wei Zhongxian lived out his days in a Nanjing retirement home,
When Chongzhen learned from me how to become a true emperor,
I knew I had personally halted the countdown to the Ming dynasty's fall.
This is the story of a transmigrator who, trapped in a desperate situation, uses historical knowledge, political acumen, and a little modern thinking to keep an ancient empire alive against all odds.
