The Regent’s Mandate

Ci'an held the small mechanical songbird in her hands, its painted wooden form a small, solid comfort in her world of shattered certainties. The boy-emperor's simple act of kindness had done more to soothe her wounded spirit than any profound wisdom from the classics ever could have. His validation of her actions in the council, his quiet praise, had extinguished the flickering flames of her self-doubt and ignited a new, steady resolve in her heart. She looked at the small child before her, at his serious, ancient eyes, and felt a profound shift within herself.

"You are right, Your Majesty," she said, her voice regaining its strength. She rose from her knees, no longer a weeping victim but a Dowager Empress who had been reminded of her own station. "I cannot hide in my gardens and allow my sister's anger to dictate the fate of the empire. A fire, if left unchecked, will consume the very foundations of the throne. I have been a silent partner for too long."

Ying Zheng nodded, his expression one of grave seriousness. He had successfully nurtured her wounded pride and grief into a newfound sense of purpose. Now, it was time to give that purpose a direction. He had to empower her, to remind her that her authority was not a gift from Cixi, but an inherent right of her position.

"She does not listen to Prince Gong," Ying Zheng said, his logic as simple and clear as a child's. "She thinks he only wants power for himself. And she does not listen to me, because she thinks I am only a child repeating things I overhear." He took a step closer to her, looking up into her face. "But she must listen to you. You are her sister-regent. Your seal is on the edicts too. Your name holds the same weight as hers. Without you, she is not a regent; she is just a usurper."

The word "usurper" hung in the air, a shocking and dangerous thought. It reframed the entire political dynamic. Ci'an had always seen herself as Cixi's junior partner. Ying Zheng had just reminded her that they were, by law and tradition, equals. Cixi's declaration that she would "rule alone" was not just an insult; it was an illegal power grab.

Having reinforced her standing, Ying Zheng then moved to plant the seed for his next grand project. His immediate goal, the creation of the Northern Fleet, was in motion. But ships were useless without trained men, and modern cannons were useless without gunners who understood them. He needed to begin building a modern military from the ground up, and that required a new kind of institution.

"The new ships will need brave captains and skilled sailors to guide them," he said, his voice thoughtful. "And the army on the land will need new generals, ones who understand how to fight with the new fire-spitting rifles." He paused, then delivered the key idea, framing it as a lesson learned. "My old tutor, Weng Tonghe, once told me a story about the Western nations. He said they are strong because they have special schools just for their soldiers and sailors. They do not just give a man a sword and tell him to fight. They teach him the science of war."

He was proposing the creation of a modern military academy, a concept that would be revolutionary for the tradition-bound Qing military, which still relied on archery, horsemanship, and rote drills.

"Prince Gong cannot propose this," Ying Zheng continued, laying out the political strategy with a clarity that belied his age. "If he suggests creating a new military academy, Huang A Ma Cixi will accuse him of trying to build his own private army, of training officers who will be loyal only to him. She will block it out of pure political spite."

He looked at Ci'an, his gaze steady and meaningful. "But you can propose it. You are not a general with an army. You are the Empress Dowager. You can frame it not as a radical new idea, but as a project of national unity. A way to strengthen the traditional Manchu banners, to make all our soldiers strong and unified, not just one faction's. You can argue that it is the only way to ensure the loyalty and competence of the next generation of officers, binding them to the throne itself, rather than to ambitious princes or viceroys."

It was a brilliant political maneuver. He had given her a mission, and he had provided her with the perfect, unassailable justification for it. The proposal for a modern military academy, when coming from the gentle, non-political Ci'an, would be seen not as a power play, but as a patriotic act of a concerned regent seeking to heal the divisions in the court. It was a proposal Cixi would find exceedingly difficult to oppose without looking like she was actively working against the interests of the dynasty.

Ci'an listened, her mind, so long accustomed to deferring on matters of state, slowly beginning to grasp the subtle genius of the plan. The boy was right. This was a role only she could play. Her perceived political weakness was, in fact, her greatest strength. She could champion causes that would be seen as self-serving if they came from anyone else.

A new light entered her eyes, a look of determination that Ying Zheng had never seen there before. She was no longer just a grieving woman. She was a regent with a mandate, a purpose given to her by the Son of Heaven himself.

"I will do it," she said, her voice firm and clear. "I will draft a memorial to the Grand Council myself. I will speak to the Manchu princes. The Great Qing will have its academy. Our soldiers will be the finest in the world."

Ying Zheng gave a small, solemn nod of approval. He had accomplished everything he had set out to do. He had survived Cixi's counter-attack. He had exploited the schism he created in the regency. And he had successfully transformed the quiet, passive Ci'an from a potential pawn on the board into a conscious, willing, and powerful ally who would now champion his next great modernization project.

He had a voice in the military through Prince Gong. He now had a second, independent voice at the highest level of the court. His secret war was being fought on multiple fronts, and he was winning. He bowed his head respectfully to the woman he had just recruited. "Thank you, Huang E'niang," he said. "The ancestors will be proud."