The Hall of Supreme Harmony was a stage, and Qin Shi Huang was its undisputed master. The grand throne room, with its towering vermilion columns and intricately carved ceiling, was designed to inspire awe and diminish all who entered it. Today, it was set for a performance of imperial theater, and the audience included not just the court, but the world.
The Korean envoy, a high-ranking minister named Pak Che-sun, prostrated himself at the foot of the dais, his forehead pressed so hard against the cold, polished floor that his elaborate hat tilted forward. His shoulders shook with what appeared to be profound, unrestrained grief. The scene was one of utter desperation, the supplicant pleading before the master of the world.
Arrayed behind him, in their designated places, were the highest officials of the Qing Empire: Prince Gong, his face a mask of solemn duty; Li Hongzhang, looking the part of the elder, wise statesman; and the rest of the Grand Council. Significantly, in a cordoned-off gallery to the side, stood a small, carefully chosen group of foreign observers: a junior attaché from the British Legation, a military observer from Germany, and a cultural attaché from France. They had been invited to observe the proceedings, an unusual gesture of "transparency" that had set the foreign quarter buzzing.
"Son of Heaven! August Lord of Ten Thousand Years!" the Korean envoy wailed, his voice echoing in the vast hall. His words were a torrent of ritualized despair. "The kingdom of Joseon, your most humble and loyal tributary, is beset by violent, godless rebels! Our lands burn, our people suffer under the heel of banditry! Our foolish king has squandered the mandate you have graciously allowed him to borrow! We beseech you, we throw ourselves upon the mercy of the Dragon Throne! Send your celestial soldiers, your righteous army, to restore order and save our dynasty from the abyss!"
He finished his plea and remained face down on the floor, a picture of pathetic fealty.
Qin Shi Huang, seated on the Dragon Throne, listened with a grave, somber expression. He let the envoy's words hang in the silent hall for a long moment, allowing the full weight of the plea to settle upon the audience. When he finally spoke, his young voice was filled with a carefully measured regal sorrow.
"We are troubled to hear of this strife in a brotherly nation," he said, his tone resonating with paternal concern. "The Great Qing has always valued peace and stability above all things. The use of soldiers is a grave matter, a last resort when all other avenues have been exhausted. It is not to be undertaken lightly."
He turned his gaze from the prostrate Korean and looked toward his ministers, drawing them into the performance. "Prince Gong, as head of our Grand Council, what are your thoughts on this delicate matter?"
Prince Gong stepped forward and bowed. "Your Majesty, our duty to a tributary state is clear and has been for centuries. An appeal for aid cannot be ignored. However, we must act with extreme caution, so as not to inflame the situation further. Our intervention must be seen as a stabilizing force, not an occupation."
QSH nodded slowly, as if weighing the words carefully. "Minister Li, you have vast experience in foreign affairs. What are the wider implications of such an action?"
Li Hongzhang, playing his part to perfection, stepped forward, stroking his long, thin beard. "Indeed, Majesty, Prince Gong speaks wisely. Any intervention must be strictly limited in scope and duration. Our sole aim should be to restore the rightful authority of the King of Joseon and withdraw as soon as order is re-established. We must demonstrate to the world that our intentions are pure."
The Emperor appeared to sink into deep contemplation, letting the silence stretch once more. The foreign attachés watched intently, scribbling notes. They were witnessing what they believed to be the inner workings of the Qing state—a young, serious Emperor carefully deliberating with his experienced ministers. They saw caution, duty, and a reluctance to engage in foreign adventures.
Finally, QSH raised his head, his decision made. He addressed the entire court, but his words were clearly aimed at the Western observers in the gallery.
"Very well," he declared, his voice firm but laced with a heavy sigh, as if accepting a burden he did not want. "We cannot stand by while our younger brother suffers and our shared border is threatened by chaos. The Great Qing will honor its obligations. We will dispatch a small force to assist the King of Joseon in his time of need. Let it be known, here and abroad, that this is not an act of conquest. It is not an act of aggression. It is an act of protection, undertaken only at the formal, written request of the legitimate Korean government."
He paused, then turned to a court scribe. "And, in accordance with the spirit of openness and the letter of our treaty obligations with the Empire of Japan, you will dispatch an immediate and formal notification to the government in Tokyo. Use the fastest courier ship. Inform them of the Korean King's desperate request and of our intention to send a limited constabulary force to restore peace. Be meticulous with the wording. Emphasize that our sole purpose is the stabilization of the peninsula, a goal which we are sure the esteemed Meiji government shares and will appreciate."
The performance was complete. The Qing Empire had presented itself as the responsible, reluctant, and righteous regional power, acting transparently and in accordance with its treaty obligations. The Westerners would report back to their legations that China, under its new Emperor, was behaving like a modern, civilized nation.
Later that evening, after the court was dismissed and the envoys had departed, the mask of the benevolent emperor was gone. In his private study, QSH stood before the map of the Yellow Sea, his expression as cold and sharp as a shard of ice. Li Hongzhang and Meng Tian stood before him.
"A masterful performance, Your Majesty," Li Hongzhang said, bowing low. The awe in his voice was genuine. "The Western observers will report to their governments that we acted with honor, reluctance, and complete transparency. It provides us with the perfect justification."
"Honor is the shield behind which we sharpen our sword," QSH replied, tapping the port of Incheon on the map. "The notification has been sent. It will be carried by our fastest dispatch vessel. The Japanese will receive it in three days' time. They will read of our 'small constabulary force' of two thousand men and see it not as an act of protection, but as a probe—a calculated first move by us to reassert dominance over the peninsula."
"And their pride will not allow it," Meng Tian added, his voice a low growl of anticipation. "They will feel compelled to send a much larger force to 'balance' our presence, to show that they are our equals."
"Precisely," QSH said. "And their military will demand to move immediately. They will not have the patience for the slow niceties of diplomacy. They will put their soldiers on ships before their own official notification has time to reach us. Their transgression will be a matter of public record." He turned to Li Hongzhang. "Minister Li, has the Beiyang Fleet completed its 'exercises' as commanded?"
"Yes, Your Majesty," Li Hongzhang confirmed. "The fleet is fully resupplied and awaiting your orders at our naval base in Weihaiwei, just across the sea. Admiral Ding Ruchang reports all ships are at peak readiness."
QSH nodded, a flicker of satisfaction in his eyes. "Good. The bait has been thrown into the water, and we have informed the shark exactly where it is." He looked from his general to his minister, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Now, we shall see if the shark is as hungry and as foolish as I believe it to be."