My flight to London was booked, but they changed my ticket to Tumu Fortress.
I opened my eyes and found myself the Ming emperor Zhu Qizhen, the “God of War” from the history books, the man who squandered the empire's wealth and was escorted by the enemy to the gates of his own capital to call for them to open up.
I knew what was coming. So:
Wang Zhen's head was hung from a flagpole that very day.
Ten thousand elite troops left the woods in the dead of night.
I released everyone who was left before sunset.
Then I sat alone in the middle of the empty camp and waited for Esen to arrive.
The day I was captured became my first day of school.
A year in the enemy camp: I learned archery and horsemanship, trained troops, and thoroughly investigated my opponent's resources.
Seven years back in the capital: I learned patience and how to wait.
Seven years later, my coup was my graduation defense.
As for the history books calling me the “Emperor Who Called at the Gate,” when I shouted from beneath the city walls, I was telling them not to open it.
Esen thought he had captured a trump card. What he got was an exchange student who was impossible to handle.
