Jiashen Seventieth Day

On the ninth day of the first lunar month of the seventeenth year of Chongzhen, a modern man woke up in Chongzhen's body. Li Zicheng has proclaimed himself emperor in Xi'an, and the vanguard is advancing towards Shanxi. The national treasury was less than 50,000 taels of silver, and the actual number of 120,000 registered soldiers in the Beijing camp was less than 3,000. There were still seventy days until the fall of Beijing. He didn't bring any gold fingers. He is just a middle-aged man who has been in government agencies for more than ten years - he understands that silence is a weapon in negotiation, that the numbers on memorials do not equal the truth, and that when a system is rotten to the core, diligence is more deadly than laziness. He needed to let the prince go first, he needed to let Wu Sangui come in for reinforcements, and he needed to let those people in the court who had their own thoughts speak the truth - or at least say things that were beneficial to him, so that he could see the truth through the cracks. But the hardest part is never making the right call. The most difficult thing is to make an empire that has written about "about", "probably" and "fairly" for seventeen years learn to accept the real numbers. This is a story about how to rescue fire from the ruins. There is no cool article template, there is no one step to success. Some are just cold white sketches, the intelligence of all employees online, and a scheduling chain in which every link is deformed due to institutional friction. What he wants to do is not to save a dynasty. It's about making a dynasty at least worthy of the people it seeks to save.