HCT – Chapter 10 Steamed Eggs with Lard

Though Xun Kuang was already past fifty, he was still in excellent spirits and physical condition. Early in the morning, he was practicing swordplay in the courtyard.

Even though the weather in this era was warmer than in later generations, by mid-autumn one would usually don an outer robe. But Xun Kuang bared his upper body, brandishing a heavy iron sword with great vigor, his movements fierce and powerful, stirring gusts of wind as he swung.

Zhu Xiang, passing through the front courtyard while yawning, was nearly startled into choking by the cold air when he saw Old Master Xun’s muscular, knotted body.

The elderly don’t sleep much. Lin Xiangru emerged from his bedroom a bit later than Xun Kuang, holding a book as he walked to the central courtyard and began reading aloud in a clear voice.

Inspired, Old Master Xun intensified his sword movements, his body glistening with sweat. Lin Xiangru held the book with one hand, the other hand tucked behind his back, reading with rhythmic cadence that seemed to harmonize with the whooshing of Xun Kuang’s sword.

To Zhu Xiang, it looked like he was watching a dance drama.

He thought for a moment, then went inside and brought out an erhu (a two-stringed bowed instrument), and began playing with a theatrical “aa-woo, aa-woo” sound.

In his era, young people were often forced by parents to learn a musical skill. Zhu Xiang had learned to play the erhu.

Later, when he worked in the fields, many old farmers were skilled at the huqin, and during the off-season they would prepare for community plays. Zhu Xiang would sometimes perform onstage as a supporting musician. Not only was his erhu playing proficient, but he had also learned to make erhus himself from the old farmers.

Though there were no metal strings here, any string suitable for ancient instruments could be used on the erhu. Zhu Xiang made his own erhu for personal enjoyment and emotional cultivation.

So, while Xun Kuang practiced his sword and Lin Xiangru recited aloud, Zhu Xiang sat cross-legged on the ground, swaying his head as he played “Moon Reflected in Erquan Spring.”

Lin Xiangru’s recitation wavered in tone, and Xun Kuang’s sword nearly landed on his own foot.

They stopped their morning routines and turned to see Zhu Xiang, still completely engrossed in playing his Erquan, utterly unaware of their stares.

Last night, Ying Zheng had impressively not wet the bed while sleeping with his uncle and aunt.

But as soon as Zhu Xiang got up, Ying Zheng woke up as well and couldn’t fall back asleep.

With a sigh, Xue carried the dressed little Ying Zheng to look for Zhu Xiang—only to witness the two old men clenching their fists.

Ying Zheng, mid-yawn and rubbing his eyes with tiny fists, asked in confusion, “What is Uncle doing?”

Xue replied, “Your uncle is being deliberately mischievous. Zheng’er, don’t follow his example.”

Ying Zheng looked even more puzzled. “Huh? What mischief?”

Xue didn’t answer. The two old men—one wielding a large sword, the other holding a scroll—had already started charging at Zhu Xiang.

Zhu Xiang jumped up and fled in a panic.

“Elder Lin! Master Xun! Why so angry? Let’s talk this out! No need for violence!”

“Hmph! Yuan Rang once sat rudely, and the First Master struck his shins with a staff! Today, I shall follow in the footsteps of my Master!”

“Zhu Xiang, halt and face your doom!”

Zhu Xiang dashed in circles around the front courtyard, yelling, “I’m wearing pants! Sitting cross-legged doesn’t count as rude! Besides, this instrument is meant to be played sitting like this…”

He was thoroughly speechless. While it had been a prank, he never imagined these two elderly gentlemen would have such explosive tempers.

Especially Master Xun! That chunk of iron you’re swinging—if that hits someone, they’ll die, won’t they?!

Isn’t this a bit much?!

Xue covered little Ying Zheng’s curious eyes and headed into the kitchen to find him something to eat.

Now that Zheng’er had seen his loved ones, with a full stomach he should be able to sleep a little longer. Children need plenty of food and sleep to grow strong.

Ying Zheng squirmed, trying to wriggle free of his aunt’s arms, but didn’t dare. “Will Uncle be alright?”

Xue replied coldly, “He deserves it for disrespecting his elders.”

Ying Zheng’s mouth twitched up and down, uncertain whether to disagree or laugh at his uncle’s misfortune.

Once Xue left with the child, Zhu Xiang—now relieved of the pressure of saving face—knelt down with his erhu in hand. “Please, no more chasing. I admit my fault and accept punishment! Just go easy on me!”

Lin Xiangru smashed his book down on Zhu Xiang’s back with such force that he almost toppled over.

Xun Kuang raised his heavy sword high, then slammed it down in front of Zhu Xiang, kicking up a cloud of dust that coated his face.

Zhu Xiang coughed and muttered, “I was just playing a song. Is that so bad?”

Lin Xiangru raised his book again, and Zhu Xiang quickly apologized again.

Xun Kuang, however, laughed. “Alright, stop acting wronged. That instrument of yours is interesting. You said it’s a huqin—is it from the Hu people?”

Zhu Xiang answered, “I’m not sure. My father taught it to me. He called it a huqin.”

Xun Kuang pointed at the erhu in Zhu Xiang’s arms. “Then why not call it a Zhao-qin instead?”

Lin Xiangru frowned. “That name sounds unlucky.”

Zhu Xiang sheepishly said, “I chose an inauspicious tune on purpose. It can actually sound quite uplifting.”

Still sweating, Xun Kuang threw on a coat and straightened his clothes, curious. “Oh? Lord Lin has never heard it before?”

Zhu Xiang replied awkwardly, “Never had the chance.”

Lin Xiangru’s fingers itched again.

Zhu Xiang quickly followed up with two pieces: Galloping Horses and Birdsong in Empty Mountains.

After listening quietly, Lin Xiangru and Xun Kuang looked a little more pleased.

Xun Kuang commented, “It has a rustic charm, and the tones are peculiar. It does seem like an instrument passed down from the Hu people. But Zhu Xiang, you still need to study proper musical principles. These are minor arts, insufficient to regulate behavior.”

This was because in Confucianism, rites and music are inseparable—music is a form of ritual. While Xun Kuang didn’t look down on other instruments, he still advised Zhu Xiang to learn proper musical traditions.

Zhu Xiang quickly replied, “Yes, I am already learning the qin.”

Lin Xiangru muttered, “He’s not learning the qin—he’s butchering it.”

Zhu Xiang: “…” All I did was play Twinkle Twinkle Little Star on a guqin!

After venting his distaste, Lin Xiangru said, “Go tidy yourself up. The first thing in the morning is to present yourself properly, not to go around disheveled. Don’t follow someone’s example.”

“Someone” glanced at Lin Xiangru from the corner of his eye.

Before things could escalate, Zhu Xiang fled under the excuse of freshening up.

He genuinely didn’t understand why the two elders were so irritable in the morning. Morning grumpiness, perhaps?

Once groomed, Zhu Xiang entered the kitchen to hurry breakfast and found Ying Zheng in Xue’s arms, sneakily eating from a small bowl.

Zhu Xiang teased, “Aha! Look what I’ve caught—little Zheng’er stealing food in the kitchen!”

Ying Zheng nearly dropped the bowl.

Xue shot him a glare. “Don’t scare Zheng’er! He could choke. Are you done being scolded?”

Zhu Xiang sighed. “It was just a joke. Who knew they’d take it so seriously?”

Xue frowned. “How can a junior joke with his elders? Thankfully, Lord Lin and Master Xun are generous and didn’t hold it against you. But, my dear, you really should drop that bad habit.”

Zhu Xiang argued, “I’ve studied the texts on rites. I knew this little joke didn’t break any rules or taboos, which is why I did it—ah, okay, okay! Xue, don’t hit me. Zheng’er’s right here! I have my pride! I’ll change, I swear!”

Xue lowered her hand, which had been poised to pinch his arm.

“Let’s hope you can last at least a few months this time.” After scolding Zhu Xiang, she turned to little Ying Zheng, his mouth covered in egg flowers. “When you know you’re wrong, you should correct it. Don’t follow your uncle’s example.”

Ying Zheng looked up in confusion, cheeks full and face messy.

Even if you say that, Auntie… I still don’t understand. What did Uncle do, exactly?

Zhu Xiang chuckled and wiped his face. “Hurry up and finish eating, then we can have breakfast together. Still hungry?”

Ying Zheng patted his tummy and nodded. He could eat—he could eat a lot!

Ever since he came to Uncle’s house, he’d been full every day. Ying Zheng was overjoyed.

Zhu Xiang smiled, “That’s good. Eat more to grow big and strong.”

After quickly polishing off the bowl of steamed eggs with lard, Ying Zheng followed Zhu Xiang into the main hall. Zhu Xiang carried over vegetable millet porridge, a small bowl of steamed eggs, and several side dishes.

Xun Kuang and Lin Xiangru were deep in discussion, sleeves rolled up to their shoulders.

When they saw Zhu Xiang bringing food, they quickly toned down their fierce expressions and returned to being benevolent old gentlemen.

“We had quite a heavy meal yesterday. Something lighter this morning will be good.” Zhu Xiang divided the dishes.

Xun Kuang eyed the steamed eggs curiously. “This dish looks quite delicate. Is it some kind of pastry?”

Zhu Xiang replied, “Not a pastry—it’s steamed eggs. Just beat the eggs evenly and steam them with lard and salt. Steamed eggs are easier to digest than boiled ones, making them ideal for children and the elderly.”

Once Xue brought Zheng’er over, Lin Xiangru and Xun Kuang picked up their chopsticks first, and only then did Zhu Xiang and Xue begin their meal.

As for little Ying Zheng, he nestled beside Zhu Xiang, obediently waiting to be fed by him.

Although Ying Zheng wasn’t heavy, Xue’s health was poor, and after holding him for so long, her arms were tired. So now Zhu Xiang took over the task of caring for the child.

Originally, Ying Zheng could have used several cushions under his knees to kneel on and eat by himself from a high platform.

But Xue firmly believed that such a way of eating was disrespectful to Mr. Xun, who had just come to stay with them. So Zhu Xiang took over feeding Ying Zheng.

Zhu Xiang quickly finished his own breakfast and began feeding Ying Zheng.

When he saw that Ying Zheng’s belly was starting to bulge, he stopped him from asking for more. “Too much is as bad as too little. You must know moderation. If you eat too much and get a stomachache, you’ll be stuck drinking medicine and porridge for days and won’t get to enjoy tasty meals.”

Ying Zheng immediately pulled back his outstretched hands that had been reaching for more food. “Zheng’er understands.”

Right in front of Ying Zheng, Zhu Xiang ate up all the leftovers from his bowl.

Ying Zheng watched his uncle eating his food with big, pitiful eyes.

Lin Xiangru and Xun Kuang had been smiling as they watched Zhu Xiang teach Ying Zheng the lesson of moderation. But when Zhu Xiang exaggeratedly gobbled up the child’s leftovers while sneaking glances at his sad little face, their expressions darkened.

Xun Kuang shot Lin Xiangru a look: This is the result of your years of tutoring?

Lin Xiangru shot back: He grew up crooked on his own! Don’t blame me!

As a veteran teacher and headmaster, Xun Kuang immediately began thinking about how to assign Zhu Xiang homework to correct these “harmless but unbecoming” little flaws.

They might be harmless, but Xun Kuang was a perfectionist.

Zhu Xiang, unaware that he was about to be buried under a mountain of homework, was still joyfully admiring the aggrieved little pout of the future First Emperor—who now dared not speak, dared not resist.

If he didn’t bully the First Emperor while he was still a little brat, what kind of time-traveling uncle was he?!

Ah, Zheng’er looks so wronged, so cute. Just one more look.

He really wanted to sketch that expression—hahaha.

Zhu Xiang decided to add a glorious entry to his “Diary of Raising Little Shi Huang”.

Zhu Xiang: What kind of normal person keeps a diary?

Zhu Xiang: Anyone raising the First Emperor can’t be normal!

But happiness was fleeting. Zhu Xiang soon finished off all of Ying Zheng’s leftovers.

He wiped his mouth clean and patted the boy’s round little belly. “Do you want to go out with Uncle, or stay home and keep Mr. Xun company?”

Ying Zheng was caught in an internal battle.

Xun Kuang frowned. “No going out. Stay until I finish the lesson!”

“Ah—yes, sir.” Zhu Xiang didn’t know why Master Xun wanted to teach him, but of course he had to listen.

He was already studying daily with Cai Ze. Now that one of the greats had volunteered to teach him at home, he could toss Cai Ze aside.

Just as he was about to start his lesson, Cai Ze—his previous teacher who had been cruelly abandoned—showed up at the door with a pile of scrolls.

Teaching one student or two was all the same to Xun Kuang. He didn’t turn anyone away.

Lin Xiangru sat at the door for a long time until his son Lin Zhi finally came with the carriage to take him back to the city. The moment Lin Zhi arrived, Lin Xiangru raised a ruler in one hand and a scroll in the other and gave his oversleeping, unfilial son a proper scolding.

Zhu Xiang quickly shut the door, not wanting to witness his good buddy getting “family disciplined.”

Anyway, old Lin always favored his youngest son. It might have looked dramatic, but Lin Zhi probably wouldn’t even get a real spanking.

After seeing off the Lin family, Zhu Xiang brought out paper, brush, and inkstone, and sat down properly to begin copying texts.

Xun Kuang looked at the sheets of paper and asked, “Is this the paper Lin Shangqing spoke of—the one that can replace bamboo and wooden slips?”

Zhu Xiang nodded. “Yes.”

Xun Kuang didn’t ask how it was made. He touched the yellowish sheet and said, “Write a few characters for me.”

Zhu Xiang demonstrated the use of paper with his handwriting, which was neat but otherwise unremarkable.

Although Lin Xiangru had instructed Zhu Xiang not to reveal the paper, he was allowed to use it at home.

The paper was “acquired” by Lin Xiangru. Even if the King of Zhao didn’t use it, it made sense for Lin Xiangru to use it himself or give it to close retainers.

However, the paper he gave others was of poor quality, presented as a novelty that could sometimes replace handkerchiefs.

The paper Zhu Xiang used was improved and only for his own use.

In front of outsiders, he kept it hidden. But since Lin Xiangru had allowed Xun Kuang to live in Zhu Xiang’s house, it was clear he didn’t mind Zhu Xiang revealing it to him.

Bamboo and wooden slips were expensive and hard to carry. At this time, books were luxury items. Zhu Xiang used his extraordinary memory to record books. If he had to transcribe them onto bamboo or wood, it would be hard to take them with him should he need to flee.

So he used paper when studying and bound the pages into books himself.

For this, he even learned some basic sewing from Xue.

Xun Kuang saw the practicality of paper and also realized the deeper significance behind Zhu Xiang recording books this way.

Zhu Xiang had also realized that if Lin Xiangru died, he probably wouldn’t be able to stay in Zhao anymore.

So was he really planning to go to Qin?

That Qin royal hostage being abandoned at Zhu Xiang’s door—what a coincidence.

A prince cast aside in Zhao, returning to Qin… Even if rumors credit Lu Buwei, could Prince Zi Chu really be just a puppet?

Impossible.

If this was all deliberate on Zi Chu’s part, Zhu Xiang needed to be careful.

Beware of speaking too deeply with those you know too little. Xun Kuang kept his thoughts to himself, choosing not to warn Zhu Xiang just yet.

He also guessed that Lin Xiangru had already sensed something and that was why he was shielding Zhu Xiang so closely.

Xun Kuang sighed inwardly. The King of Zhao discarded this man like trash, while Qin’s Prince sought him out before his own fate was even clear. Such is the strength of Qin—not luck, but destiny.

If only Qin had a ruler who valued virtue… with strong laws and moral governance both, what a world it could be. Xun Kuang looked at Ying Zheng, who had toppled sideways against Zhu Xiang while kneeling, and fell into deep thought.

…

“So it’s true—Xia Tong is the same person as Yiren.” Back home, Lin Zhi reported to his father.

Zhu Xiang had few friends, most of whom overlapped with Lin Zhi’s circle. Once suspicions arose that Yiren had made contact with Zhu Xiang before entrusting his son to him, Lin Zhi quickly identified him.

Clenching his teeth, Lin Zhi said, “I heard his mother’s surname was Xia. It must be him!”

Yiren’s disguise had been sloppy, but everyone knew that even fallen princes maintained noble dignity. Yiren had lived meekly in Zhao as a discarded son, rarely seen in public, and was thus dismissed as a mediocrity.

So even though his cover was weak, neither Lin Zhi nor Lin Xiangru suspected that the sickly bookkeeper crashing at Zhu Xiang’s house was actually the Qin royal hostage.

Yiren had made friends with Zhu Xiang, so of course his relationship with Lin Zhi wasn’t bad either.

Now Lin Zhi was filled with fury and guilt. He had vowed to protect Zhu Xiang, but failed—leaving him in such danger!

Qin was at war. At the start of the Zhao king’s reign, the two states had already clashed once. More was surely to come.

How could the uncle of Qin’s hostage prince not be in danger?

“Yiren humbled himself, built a bond with Zhu Xiang, even entrusted his child to him. When Zhu Xiang learns of the ‘scheme,’ he might not even be angry—he might feel honored by the trust.” Lin Xiangru was long past the age of getting mad over such things.

He saw much more—things he had foreseen but hadn’t wanted to come true.

The King of Zhao was foolish, but young.

The King of Qin was old, but his heir was wise.

Qin had produced a series of strong rulers; Zhao once had as well.

When the previous Qin king died suddenly, all thought the state would fall back into chaos. But the dowager queen, the outer clans, and a hostage prince never trained in Qin governance—somehow they all had remarkable skill. Qin became even stronger.

Zhao’s king died a normal death. The crown prince succeeded without issue. But after the prince died of plague, the late king’s hand-raised heir still required the queen to co-rule.

Is Heaven favoring Qin and abandoning Zhao?

Lin Xiangru could only sigh in his heart.

Seeing his father’s sorrowful expression, Lin Zhi dared not speak, dared not ask. He bowed his head. Father and son stood in silence.

…

Xun Kuang was a great headmaster and teacher.

Even though he berated Cai Ze daily—“All talk, no use! Fussing without results! Misleading the foolish!”—he still helped Cai Ze with his questions.

Cai Ze bore no grudge. In fact, he was deeply grateful. In a world where philosophical disputes could lead to literal warfare, the fact that Xun Kuang didn’t reject him for being of a different school, and still explained things patiently, meant a lot.

Of course, if Xun Kuang didn’t say “Learn from Zhu Xiang!” every time he finished scolding him, Cai Ze would’ve been even more grateful.

Cai Ze looked at Zhu Xiang with bitter eyes.

He asked privately, “Didn’t you say you only know how to farm? Why can you respond to everything Xun Qing says?”

Zhu Xiang replied proudly, hands behind his back: “I have a photographic memory! I read every day without fail!”

Cai Ze wanted to punch him.

Zhu Xiang coughed and said, “Just kidding. I talk a lot with farmers and wandering swordsmen. Every school of thought ultimately wants to end the chaos and let commoners live well. That’s sage rule. I’ve seen the people’s needs up close, so I can always chime in. I’m really just a jack-of-all-trades. Master Xun overpraises me.”

Now that was the joke—what he’d said earlier about photographic memory was true.

Cai Ze looked at Zhu Xiang, unsure what to believe.

In the end, he waved his sleeve and left. Whatever. It’s not like believing or not will stop Xun Kuang from saying “Learn from Zhu Xiang!”

Zhu Xiang chuckled.

Little Ying Zheng, hugging his cloth tiger, absentmindedly tugged its ear as he looked up at his laughing uncle.

He didn’t know what his uncle was laughing about, but seeing him happy made him smile, too.

“Zheng’er, let’s go out and play!” Zhu Xiang lifted him onto his shoulders. “Uncle has to get to work!”

“Okay.” Ying Zheng grabbed the tiger’s leg with one hand and held onto his uncle’s head with the other.

Today was the tenth day since he had arrived at his uncle’s home.