The Hall of Preserving Harmony was colder than I expected. The austere stone walls absorbed the winter’s chill, despite the vast brazier burning to my left. This body—the body of Emperor Daoguang—felt fragile, unfamiliar. When I first woke here, surrounded by eunuchs and ministers prostrate at my feet, I thought it a fever dream. But no, this was my reality now. My mind was my own, but this body was the emperor’s, and with it came all his burdens.
The Qing Empire, I’d learned quickly, was a realm rotting from within. Corruption ran rampant, poverty gripped the countryside, and opium flowed through every artery of the state. My predecessor’s inaction—or worse, his complicity—allowed this poison to flourish. But now I was here. If fate had seen fit to place me in this position, I would seize the opportunity to drag this nation back from the brink.
I straightened on the Dragon Throne, feeling the weight of my elaborate robes settle on my shoulders. Before me, a semicircle of officials knelt in orderly ranks. The Grand Secretary, the Minister of Revenue, the Governor of Guangdong, and a host of other bureaucrats awaited my command. The room was silent but for the faint crackle of the brazier.
“It is time,” I began, my voice firm but calm. “Time to purge this empire of the poison that has weakened our people, drained our coffers, and made us the mockery of foreign merchants. Today, we begin an enterprise that will demand the utmost of us all.”
I looked to the Minister of Revenue, a thin, wiry man with a perpetually furrowed brow. “Minister Zhou, we must address the farmers who grow poppies. They do so not out of malice but necessity; opium brings them greater profits than rice or wheat. This must change. Issue an edict: for every mu of poppy fields converted to rice, tea, or mulberry cultivation, the farmers will receive five years of tax relief. The treasury will subsidize their transition. Distribute seeds, irrigation tools, and oxen where needed.”
Zhou hesitated. “Your Majesty, such subsidies will strain the treasury. Where will we find the silver?”
“By eliminating waste,” I replied sharply. “Your office will audit provincial tax collectors, starting with those in Guangdong and Fujian. I have no doubt you will find ample evidence of skimming and embezzlement. Reclaim what has been stolen. I authorize you to execute those who resist.”
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His head dipped low in acknowledgment, though his face betrayed anxiety. I could not fault him; this would be no easy task.
Turning to the Minister of Justice, I continued, “Minister Huang, corruption fuels this crisis. Officials who protect smugglers or accept bribes from merchants must face swift punishment. Begin in Guangdong, Zhejiang, and Fujian—coastal provinces where the opium trade thrives. Make examples of the worst offenders. However,” I added, my tone softening, “exercise caution. Replace the corrupt with competent, honest men. We cannot leave these posts vacant.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Huang said, his voice steady.
I shifted my gaze to Governor Wang of Guangdong, who looked particularly pale. “Governor Wang, your province is the epicenter of foreign trade—and of foreign opium. You will establish a licensing system immediately. All opium traders, domestic and foreign, must register with the local authorities. Those who fail to comply will have their goods confiscated and burned. Limit the sale of opium to medicinal purposes only and set quotas that decline each season.”
Wang stammered, “Your Majesty, the foreign merchants may resist. They may appeal to their governments—or worse, incite violence.”
“That is why I am giving you full military support,” I said. “I have ordered reinforcements to Canton. The Pearl River must be patrolled daily to intercept smugglers. Fortify your coastal defenses. And,” I added, fixing him with a stern gaze, “ensure your own officials are beyond reproach. If they undermine this campaign, they will share the smugglers’ fate.”
Finally, I addressed the Grand Secretary, the emperor’s chief administrator. “We must shape the hearts of our people as well as their actions. Confucian values of filial piety and moral discipline are our foundation. Issue proclamations denouncing opium as a betrayal of these principles. Encourage scholars to write essays condemning its use, and fund traveling lecturers to spread the message. If we make the people understand that opium is a poison to their families and their nation, we will reduce demand from within.”
The Grand Secretary bowed. “It will be done, Your Majesty.”
I leaned back, exhaling slowly. The officials remained kneeling, waiting for my final words. “This campaign will demand sacrifice from all of us. We are not merely fighting opium—we are fighting the decay that has taken root in our empire. Go now, and let your actions prove your loyalty to the throne and the people.”
The officials departed, their faces a mix of determination and dread. I sat alone for a moment, staring at the brazier’s flickering flames. This would be a long war, and I had only just fired the first shot.
