The ink was barely dry on the imperial edicts, but the work began at once. In the newly established Office of Western Affairs, a suite of rooms buzzing with a nervous, purposeful energy, the leaders of the new order gathered to confront their first major administrative challenge. The Tianjin Military Academy was now a reality on paper, but a building and a budget do not make an institution. It needed a leader.
Prince Gong, Viceroy Li Hongzhang, and the naval expert Li Fengbao sat around a large table, studying a list of potential candidates for the crucial position of Superintendent. This man would be the headmaster of the entire academy, overseeing both the army and navy branches. He would be responsible for shaping the minds and forging the loyalties of every future officer in the Qing's modern military. The choice was perhaps the single most important personnel decision they would make.
"The man must be respected," Prince Gong stated, his finger tracing down the list of names. "His authority must be unquestionable, both by the Manchu nobles and the Chinese scholar-gentry."
"He must be a modern thinker," Li Hongzhang countered, his voice a low growl. "Or at least, not an enemy of modern thought. He must be willing to work with the foreign instructors, to embrace the new curriculum. To place an old conservative in charge would be to poison the well from the start."
"And he must be completely loyal," Li Fengbao added quietly. "His loyalty must be to the throne and to this new vision for the empire, not to a regional army or a political faction."
They soon discovered that finding a man who met all three criteria was nearly impossible. The list of candidates was a testament to the deep divisions within the Qing elite. They debated for hours, each name proposed revealing a fatal flaw.
"General Sheng," Prince Gong suggested. "A decorated Manchu Bannerman, his family has served the dynasty for two centuries. The Imperial Clan would respect him."
"General Sheng believes a cannon is a dishonorable weapon and that a true warrior needs only a horse and a bow," Li Hongzhang scoffed. "He would have the naval cadets practicing archery from the decks of the ironclads. He is a relic."
"What about General Yuan Shikai?" Li Fengbao offered. "His performance in the Korean campaign was brilliant. He is young, energetic, and a master of modern tactics."
"He is too young," Prince Gong countered immediately. "The older generals would never accept his authority. And he is… ambitious. To give a man like that control over the training of the entire officer corps is a dangerous gamble."
They were at an impasse. The most respected generals were too conservative. The most competent commanders were too junior or too politically ambitious. They needed a figure of immense administrative skill and unimpeachable patriotic standing, but every man they could think of was fatally flawed in one way or another.
It was then that Shen Ke, who had been sitting quietly to the side, taking notes as an official record-keeper, asked for permission to speak. Prince Gong, who had come to respect the scholar's keen insights, nodded for him to proceed.
"Your Highnesses, Your Excellency," Shen Ke began, his voice calm and steady. "Perhaps we are looking for the wrong kind of man. The superintendent of the academy does not need to be a great battlefield commander like General Zuo or a young prodigy like General Yuan. He does not need to personally teach tactics or gunnery. His role is administrative and symbolic."
He paused, choosing his next words with the care of a man laying a delicate trap. "He needs to be a master of logistics, of organization, of doctrine. He needs to be a man whose personal integrity is beyond question, even by his enemies. And he needs to be a figure of such high standing that his very appointment would silence all dissent. He needs to be an architect of armies, not just a wielder of them."
Having laid the philosophical groundwork, he then made his shocking suggestion, a proposal that had been secretly passed to him from the Emperor himself.
"There is one man in the empire who fits this description perfectly," Shen Ke said. "A man of impeccable Manchu lineage, a brilliant administrator, and a patriot whose love for the dynasty has never been questioned, even by those who disagree with his methods." He took a deep breath. "That man is Grand Councillor Ronglu."
A stunned, disbelieving silence fell over the room. Prince Gong stared at Shen Ke as if the scholar had just sprouted a second head. Li Hongzhang's jaw actually dropped.
"Ronglu?" Prince Gong finally exploded, his voice a mixture of shock and outrage. "Are you mad, scholar? Ronglu is the leader of the conservative opposition! He is Cixi's staunchest ally! He has fought us at every turn! He is our enemy!"
Shen Ke remained perfectly calm in the face of the Prince's anger. "He was our enemy, Your Highness," he corrected gently. "He was Cixi's man. But Cixi is gone. She has been stripped of all power. Ronglu is now a general without an army. He is politically isolated, humiliated, and without a cause to champion."
He laid out the ruthless pragmatism of Ying Zheng's strategy. "Ronglu is a patriot. He may be a conservative, but he loves this dynasty and fears its collapse. And he is, above all, an ambitious man who craves power and relevance. Right now, he has none. If we offer him this position, if we bring him into our tent, we achieve two critical objectives."
"First," he explained, "we gain a supremely competent administrator. His work on the Board of Revenue, whatever his political views, was famously efficient. He knows how to manage a large bureaucracy. Second, and far more importantly, we completely neutralize the opposition. By making the leader of the conservatives the headmaster of our modernizing academy, we co-opt him entirely. His appointment would silence any and all criticism from the Manchu nobles and the old guard. How can they argue that the academy is a barbarian plot when one of their own is its superintendent? He would be forced to publicly champion the very institution he once privately opposed. We would not just be defeating our enemy; we would be making him our standard-bearer."
Prince Gong and Li Hongzhang were left speechless. The sheer, cold-blooded cunning of the proposal was breathtaking. It was a move that went against every political instinct they possessed. To reward their greatest adversary with a position of immense power seemed like madness.
Yet, as they thought about it, they could not deny the brilliant, twisted logic of the plan. It was a move that would simultaneously solve their leadership problem and shatter the conservative resistance in a single stroke. It was a strategy of political jujutsu, using the opponent's own weight and stature to bring him down and then lift him up again on their own terms.
After a long, tense silence, Li Hongzhang began to laugh, a low, rumbling sound. "The mind behind this plan," he said, looking at Shen Ke with a new and profound respect, "is either a genius or a demon."
Prince Gong stroked his beard, his expression one of deep, reluctant admiration. The idea was terrifyingly audacious. It was a gamble of the highest order. But he had learned, in the past year, to trust the guidance of the mysterious power that was now directing the fate of the empire.
"Very well," he said at last, a slow smile spreading across his own face. "Let us see if the old tiger is willing to wear a new collar."