The Regent's Gambit

The Grand Council chamber in the Forbidden City was a place accustomed to the absolute, unwavering certainty of the Emperor's will. Today, however, it was filled with a quiet, controlled crisis. The Dragon Throne was empty. The senior ministers of the Qing Empire, gathered in an emergency session, all knew the terrifying secret: the Emperor was ill, hidden away in his private chambers, and for the first time since his miraculous return, they had to govern without his direct, overwhelming presence.

Li Hongzhang, his aged face a mask of calm composure that belied the immense pressure on his shoulders, had taken charge. He was no longer just a minister; he was the de facto regent of a nervous empire.

The Minister of War, a stout Manchu named Arintai, was pacing nervously. "The reports from the northern frontier are dire, Minister Li. Viceroy Yuan's quarantine is a thinly veiled slaughter. His 'purification' is creating more chaos than it contains, driving the panicked nomads in all directions. The plague itself continues to spread down the waterways. We need a solution, not just a wall of bayonets that is proving to be as porous as a sieve."

Prince Gong, his youthful arrogance long since burned away and replaced by a loyal, hard-won pragmatism, nodded in agreement. "Yuan Shikai is a blunt instrument, a hammer. He was useful for breaking the back of the rebellion, but he has no finesse for what comes after. His methods will turn the entire frontier into a wasteland and may yet drive the plague south into the heartland. We cannot allow his ambition to create a catastrophe."

Li Hongzhang stood, his frail frame radiating an authority born of decades of service and experience. "I agree," he said, his voice quiet but firm, commanding the attention of the entire room. "The Emperor, before he entered his… meditative seclusion for the restoration of his spiritual energy… anticipated this. He provided us with the solution."

He gestured to an aide, who stepped forward carrying a heavy, lacquered case. The aide opened it, revealing rows of small, sealed vials containing a clear, innocuous-looking liquid.

"The Imperial Medical College has named this the 'Dragon's Tincture,'" Li Hongzhang announced. "A miracle cure, created by His Majesty's own wisdom, that hunts and destroys the plague at its source. Our scientists have confirmed its efficacy. But a cure is useless if it remains in a laboratory in Beijing."

He turned his gaze to the far end of the hall, where a single figure had been standing in silent, stoic observation. "Admiral Meng Tian."

Meng Tian, summoned from the Baoding Academy hours earlier, stepped forward. He was dressed in the simple, dark uniform of his new station, but he still carried the unmistakable bearing of a great commander.

"Minister Li," he acknowledged with a slight bow.

"Admiral," Li Hongzhang said, his tone formal. "Your work developing our new naval doctrines is vital for the future of the Empire. However, the Empire faces a clear and present danger today. The Emperor's will, communicated to me before he entered his seclusion, is that you are to be temporarily reassigned with immediate effect. You will lead a newly formed 'Plague Eradication Corps' to the northern frontier."

Meng Tian was visibly surprised, but his face remained a stoic mask. "I am a warrior, Minister Li, not a physician."

"Precisely," Li Hongzhang countered, his eyes sharp. "This is no longer just a medical crisis. It is now a political and military one, requiring a man of your unique talents and reputation. Your mission has three objectives. First, and most importantly, you will halt the spread of this plague. You will take this cure, along with a full staff of our best physicians, engineers, and logistical officers. You will use the full resources of the state to disseminate the cure into the river systems and begin a mass inoculation of the livestock—both those belonging to our Han settlers and those of the Mongol tribes."

He paused, letting the weight of the task sink in before continuing. "Second, you will do this publicly, with great ceremony. You will be seen as the bringers of life, a direct and powerful contrast to Viceroy Yuan's methods of death. Every Mongol clan whose herd you save will know that it was the Emperor's divine mercy, delivered by the hand of his most honorable general, that saved them from annihilation. We will not just defeat the plague; we will use this opportunity to win the hearts and minds of the northern peoples. We will turn this Russian-made disaster into the greatest propaganda victory of this dynasty."

Prince Gong nodded slowly, a look of deep admiration on his face. "A brilliant move, Minister. It will completely undermine Yuan Shikai's authority and prestige without the need for a direct, public confrontation. It paints him as the butcher and Meng Tian as the savior."

"Third," Li Hongzhang said, his voice dropping to a near whisper, "you will use this mission as a cover to investigate the true origin of this plague. The Emperor is certain it is of Russian design, unleashed deliberately. We need proof. Find the agents responsible. Find their collaborators. This was a clandestine act of war against the Empire, and we will need undeniable evidence before we formulate our response."

Meng Tian understood the multi-layered strategy immediately. This was a gambit of breathtaking complexity. He was being sent not just to heal a sick land, but to wage a subtle political war against a powerful domestic rival, to win a propaganda war for the soul of a people, and to hunt for the foreign ghosts who started the fire.

"And my authority?" Meng Tian asked, his practical mind already working through the obstacles. "What of Viceroy Yuan? He holds supreme command in the north. He will see this as a direct challenge to his authority. He will not cooperate."

Li Hongzhang held up a magnificent imperial scroll, tied with yellow silk and bearing the great seal of the Emperor himself. It was a document Li Hongzhang, with profound foresight, had persuaded the Emperor to prepare and stamp before his illness became severe, an emergency measure granting broad powers.

"You carry the Emperor's direct mandate," Li Hongzhang said, handing the scroll to Meng Tian. "Your authority in all matters related to the plague is absolute. It supersedes all local command, including the Viceroy's. He will be ordered by imperial decree to provide you and your Corps with any and all resources you require, without question or delay. He will be the sword and shield for your work."

Meng Tian took the scroll. The paper felt heavy in his hands, heavy with the weight of his new, immense burden. He had been given a mission that required not just tactical skill, but a level of political acumen he had never before needed to exercise. He had to heal a dying land, win a war of perception against a powerful rival, and hunt for the spies who had unleashed this hell, all while navigating the certain fury of Yuan Shikai.

"It will be done," he said, his voice a low, firm vow. "The Emperor's will shall be carried out."

He bowed deeply to the council, turned, and strode from the hall, a man with a new, impossible mission. Li Hongzhang watched him go, a silent prayer on his lips. He was now playing the most dangerous game of his long career—ruling an empire in the name of a slumbering dragon, hoping he could hold it all together until the dragon recovered its strength.