Chapter 1: Electric Shock and the Dragon Throne Awakens
Zhong Wuyou suddenly coughed up a mouthful of iron-tasting blood, the searing pain in his chest blurring his vision. The air was filled with the clang of metal and hoarse shouts: "Protect the sir! Keep him from the stray arrows!"
He struggled to open his eyes, greeted by a hazy sky streaked with smoke. Beneath him, the cold, uneven Qingbanshi road dug into his back. Around him, soldiers in tattered armor waged battle with ragged rebels, their rusted spears flashing in the dim light.
"Damn it... where am I? A movie set? The props are too real!" Zhong Wuyou tried to rise, but his limp left arm betrayed a broken bone. He had been repairing a late-Ming rosewood desk in a museum when a sudden electric shock from a gilded paperweight sent him reeling—only to wake up here.
"Sir, hold on! We must return to the mansion. Minister Zhou is waiting for you!" A bloodied soldier scooped him up and ran.
"Sir... Minister Zhou... grain supplies?" Zhong Wuyou's mind reeled as fragments of another life flooded in—memories of a failed scholar, summoned to count grain stores, caught in a riot, and killed by an arrow.
But this was...
Chongzhen 17th year (1644)—three months before Beijing fell!
"No way... I got thrown into the late Ming? And during Chongzhen's reign? This is hell mode!" He knew the history: Li Zicheng's siege, Chongzhen's suicide, the Qing invasion—decades of chaos ahead.
The soldier carried him into a siheyuan courtyard, where Minister Zhou Yanru, in a frayed green robe, greeted him anxiously. "Wuyou! What about the grain?"
"Only three-tenths remain... and much is rotten," Zhong Wuyou lied, scrambling to piece together the original man's knowledge. "The ledgers were lost in the riot."
Zhou's face darkened. "Three-tenths? How will we supply the Liaodong troops or feed the starving masses?"
Horse hooves clattered outside. A eunuch's voice cut through: "Minister Zhou! The Emperor summons you to court at once!"
Zhong Wuyou's heart pounded. Chongzhen... the doomed emperor.
On the way to the palace, he pieced together the catastrophe: Li Zicheng sweeping north, the Qing army at the pass, a bankrupt court, and a starving populace. "I can't just wait," he gritted his teeth. Modern knowledge might buy time.
The Qianqing Palace
Chongzhen sat wearily on the throne, his gaunt face shadowed by exhaustion. "Li Zicheng has taken Taiyuan. The Liaodong troops demand pay. The people starve. What say you?"
Officials shuffled. Some proposed taxes, others peace with the Qing, but none dared mention the empty treasury.
Then Zhong Wuyou spoke. "Taxes will spark more rebellions. Peace will demoralize the troops. What we need is grain from the nobles' estates..."
The court erupted. "A lowly advisor dares to challenge the nobles? Blasphemy!"
But Chongzhen's eyes brightened. "Go on."
"Promise rewards for donations, punish refusals with corruption charges. Open the granaries to the starving."
The nobles' allies howled protests, but Chongzhen leaned forward, intrigued. "And what else do you know?"
"I also... understand