The Emperor's grand study in the Hall of Mental Cultivation had been transformed. The familiar scrolls of calligraphy and ancient landscape paintings had been taken down. In their place, huge, newly commissioned maps were hung upon the walls, their surfaces covered in crisp black ink and stark red annotations. One wall was dominated by a detailed map of Korea, the Liaodong Peninsula, and the Yellow Sea. Another displayed a map of East Asia, showing the Japanese archipelago and the Russian territories to the north. On the main wall behind the Emperor's desk was the largest map of all: the entire world, a dizzying projection of continents and oceans that served as a constant reminder of the ultimate prize.
The room, once a place of quiet contemplation, was now a war room.
Qin Shi Huang stood before the map of Korea, his small frame radiating an intensity that made the two powerful men with him seem like mere attendants. To his right stood Prince Gong, his face grim but resolute. He was the Emperor's political hammer, the man who would translate imperial will into government action. To his left was Li Hongzhang, the Viceroy of Zhili and head of the Beiyang Fleet. The elder statesman had rushed back from his headquarters in Tianjin the moment he received the summons, and his face was a mixture of awe at the Emperor's recovery and apprehension about the future.
"Your Majesty," Li Hongzhang began, bowing so low his clasped hands nearly touched the floor. "Your recovery is a miracle that will bless the Great Qing for ten thousand years. The ancestors have shown their favor. I came as soon as I heard you were holding council."
"There is no time for platitudes, Minister Li," QSH said, his voice cutting through the formal deference. He did not turn from the map. "The world does not pause for our ceremonies. The pieces are already in motion. Report. What is the chatter in the foreign legations in Tianjin?"
Li Hongzhang straightened, his demeanor shifting instantly to that of the shrewd diplomat. "Confusion, Your Majesty. Utter confusion. The foreign envoys are scrambling. They heard rumors of your grave illness, which they assumed would paralyze the government for months. Then, within hours, they hear of a swift and brutal purge of the court. The British envoy, in a private conversation, spoke of 'impressive, if startling, decisiveness.' The French ambassador whispers to his staff about 'palace savagery worthy of the Ottomans.' The Germans are quiet, merely observing. But the Japanese… they are the most interested. Their ambassador has made three formal inquiries in the last twenty-four hours, all under the guise of wishing you a speedy recovery, but all pressing for information on the stability of the court."
"They are not inquiring," QSH stated flatly, tapping a finger on the port of Incheon on the Korean map. "They are probing. Like a wolf circling a wounded deer, they are looking for weakness, for an opening. An opportunity." He finally turned, his dark eyes fixing first on Prince Gong, then on Li Hongzhang. "An opportunity I fully intend to give them."
Prince Gong's brow furrowed. "Your Majesty?"
"Prince Gong," the boy Emperor said, his voice taking on the tone of a master strategist instructing his pupils. "You remember our negotiations with Ito Hirobumi for the Treaty of Tianjin, several years ago?"
"I remember them vividly, Your Majesty," Prince Gong replied. "It was after the Gapsin Coup. We insisted on the mutual notification clause. That either nation, China or Japan, must provide written notification to the other before sending troops into Korea. At the time, I confess, I believed it was simply a tool to maintain the peace and preserve the status quo."
A cold, thin smile touched QSH's lips. "Peace is a tool of statecraft, not an ultimate goal. And that clause was never a shield, Prince Gong. It was a snare. The Japanese believe it grants them equal footing in Korea, a victory for their foreign policy. In truth, it gives them a rope. I have been waiting patiently for them to grow arrogant enough to use it to hang themselves."
Li Hongzhang, the architect of China's 'self-strengthening' movement, listened with rapt attention, his mind racing to keep up with the boy's breathtaking cynicism.
"The Japanese military has modernized with impressive speed," QSH continued, beginning to pace before the map. "But their national spirit is brittle, built on a newfound and untested arrogance. Their logistics are stretched thin, their industrial base still nascent compared to the West, or even to what ours is becoming. They will seek a quick, decisive war to cement their status as a regional power. We will deny it to them. Crucially, we will not be the aggressors. They will."
"But how, Your Majesty?" Li Hongzhang asked, the practical question at the forefront of his mind. "They have been cautious since the treaty was signed. They will not openly break it without extreme provocation."
"Then we shall manufacture the provocation," QSH said simply. "We will use the Koreans themselves. The court in Hanseong is a pit of vipers, with factions loyal to us, factions secretly loyal to Japan, and factions loyal only to their own ambitions. For the past year, my agents—men you know, Minister Li, from your own intelligence network—have been quietly cultivating a group of pro-Qing traditionalists, while simultaneously fanning the flames of discontent among the rural peasantry."
He pointed to the southern provinces of Korea. "The Donghak Peasant Rebellion is a fertile ground. It is a genuine popular movement, born of real grievances. All it requires is a push. A few weapons here, a few bags of rice there, and a local uprising becomes a national crisis. The Korean King, a man of profound weakness, will panic. And when he panics, he will turn to his traditional suzerain for aid. Under the careful advisement of our ambassador in his court, he will formally request Qing troops to help him quell the unrest."
He paused, letting the first part of his plan sink in. His gaze was hard as diamond.
"We will oblige him. We will send a small, token force—no more than two thousand men. And we will, in perfect accordance with the 1885 treaty, provide formal, written notification to the Japanese government of our actions."
He let the silence hang in the room for a moment before delivering the final, brilliant stroke.
"Japan, seeing us move troops into Korea and terrified of losing the influence they have spent a decade building, will feel they have no choice but to respond in kind. They will scramble to dispatch their own, much larger expeditionary force. And in their haste, in their arrogance, in their desperate need to appear strong and decisive, they will make a mistake. Perhaps they will fail to notify us with the proper diplomatic protocols. Perhaps their troops will land on Korean soil before their notification arrives in Beijing. It does not matter. The moment their boots touch the shore improperly, they will be the treaty-breakers. They will be the invaders. We will be the righteous defenders of a tributary state, acting in full accordance with international law. The Western powers, who care only for the sanctity of their own treaties, will have no grounds to intervene on Japan's behalf."
Prince Gong and Li Hongzhang stared at their Emperor. The boy—this four-year-old child in whom resided an ancient, terrifyingly brilliant mind—had just laid out a plan of such masterful, cold-blooded statecraft that it left them breathless. They were not just planning to win a war; they were planning to author it from its very inception.
"The board is set," QSH declared, his voice resonating with absolute power. "Now, we move the pieces."
He turned to Li Hongzhang. "Minister Li. Effective immediately, I want the Beiyang Fleet to begin extensive 'live-fire exercises' in the Bohai Sea and the northern Yellow Sea. I want them sailing close to the Shandong Peninsula, well within our own waters, but visible. I want Japanese patrols and fishing boats to see the smoke from our funnels. I want them to see our ironclad battleships, the Dingyuan and the Zhenyuan. Let them see our strength, but make it all look like routine, domestic training."
"It will be done, Your Majesty," Li Hongzhang said, his voice filled with a new, fervent energy.
QSH then turned to Prince Gong. "Your Highness. You will issue an executive order to double production quotas at the Tianjin and Hanyang Arsenals, effective immediately. I want a surplus of our new Hanyang 88 repeating rifles and our modern 75-millimeter artillery pieces. Send a direct, coded directive to Ronglu at the Tianjin Military Academy. He is to begin immediate, large-scale war games. The scenario will be the defense of the Liaodong Peninsula against a major amphibious invasion."
His eyes went back to the map, his small hand hovering over the islands of Japan. A flicker of something ancient and predatory crossed his face.
"They think we are a sick, sleeping old man, distracted by our own internal troubles. We will let them think it. We will encourage them to think it, right up until the moment the jaws of the trap spring shut. This war will not just be a victory. It will be the whetstone upon which I sharpen my new army and temper my new navy. And when the military of Meiji Japan breaks upon the shores of Korea, the Western powers will finally learn that the Dragon of the East has not only awakened—it has learned how to hunt again."