HCT – Chapter 103 Roasting the Chu Army Camp

Zhu Xiang suddenly noticed that the old King of Qin had a very complicated expression when looking at Ying Zheng. There was a bit of relief, a bit of pride, and also a bit of gnashing his teeth in exasperated anger.

That night, Zhu Xiang poked the little chubby boy he shared the bed with and whispered,  “Zheng’er, did you say something to provoke your great-grandfather?”

Ying Zheng replied smugly, “Great-grandfather asked me what I’d do if I encountered someone whose merit surpassed the ruler’s. I answered that no one’s merit would ever surpass mine.”

Upon hearing this, Zhu Xiang looked even prouder than Ying Zheng himself. “Of course. Zheng’er is truly the most formidable. Just look at the difference in mindset! No wonder he’s feeling so conflicted!”

The uncle and nephew huddled under the covers, giggling in secret, completely unconcerned about the powerful old King of Qin. Truly, their courage was greater than the heavens.

Ying Zheng entered his dreamscape room, resting his chin on his hands, gazing silently at the “Qin Shihuang” in front of him, who mirrored his posture.

After a long moment, he murmured, “Uncle is really something… No matter what I do, is it always right in his eyes? If it were any other child, they’d probably be spoiled rotten by now.”

The dream version of himself remained silent, offering no reply.

Now, when Ying Zheng entered the dreamscape, he no longer spent all his time studying. He used half of the time to reflect on and analyze what he had gained in reality.

Once he entered the dream room, his mind and thoughts matured to an adult’s level. Questions overlooked due to physical limitations in the real world became crystal clear here.

Rather than endlessly absorbing the thoughts of his other self, Ying Zheng had come to believe that this introspection was even more beneficial to him.

This shift in thinking stemmed from Zhu Xiang’s teachings. Zhu Xiang told him that he could gather wisdom from many sources, but never trust blindly.

It was like farming. Even seeds of the same kind could grow into different seedlings, and even on the same seedling, every leaf could be different. Even the thoughts and knowledge of his dream-self could only serve as nourishment—

The soil, the sunlight, the rain, and the fertilizer—

All of it would help him grow into a unique plant, to spread branches, bloom, and bear fruit.

“My views are already different from yours now,” Ying Zheng whispered to the dream Qin Shihuang.

“I really want to talk to you, to debate the differences in our perspectives. Maybe Uncle was right… I lack a peer, a friend of the same age. Just like how Uncle and Uncle Lin were to Father. I really envy him.”

Ying Zheng believed that it was nearly impossible for him to have such a friend in real life. If only the dream version of himself could speak, perhaps he could finally have a friend. But alas, it was merely a shell that carried knowledge and memory.

Ying Zheng left the dream regretfully, not knowing that the moment he left, the dream-self opened its eyes with a complicated expression.

Then, the dreamscape shattered.

After provoking the old King of Qin, the king sulked for quite some time before finally returning to his usual calm demeanor when the Chu army began to retreat.

The Qin-Chu war was rather dull, with not much worth recounting. Like many later dynasties that neglected their military after unifying the land, the Chu state had let its navy fall into disrepair after unifying the southern regions by conquering Wu and Yue. Naval forces were no longer deemed necessary in their struggles for dominance in the Central Plains.

Had that not been the case, Bai Qi’s hastily assembled fleet wouldn’t have caught the Chu state so completely off guard.

After the Chu state’s foreign relatives learned that the King of Qin was traveling incognito, Lord Chunshen strongly advocated for an attack on Jiangdong.

There was heated discussion among the powerful Chu nobles, but ultimately, they agreed with Lord Chunshen’s proposal. Though they usually tripped each other up over petty matters, they reluctantly united for this major campaign.

They’d heard that Crown Prince Zhu was a weak and soft man who treated Qin’s royals and in-laws with great leniency. If the old King of Qin died and Prince Zhu ascended the throne, Chu could enjoy decades of peace. Perhaps these nobles would live out their entire lives without ever facing war with Qin again. They could enjoy carefree luxury.

So, under Lord Chunshen’s leadership, nobles from various regions scraped together what they claimed to be a 200,000-strong army, stationed on the north bank of the Yangtze, preparing to cross the river and attack Jiangdong.

Wang Jian led the fleet in a show of formal command. Li Mu secretly returned to the camp and took real command, with Wang Jian as his deputy.

Meng Wu was in charge of support, guarding against a feint from Chu.

To hide his identity, Li Mu disguised himself as Wang Jian’s personal guard and attendant, sharing meals and lodging with him.

Wang Jian was under immense pressure.

After observing him for several days, Li Mu saw Wang Jian was overly anxious and finally offered reassurance: “Lord Wang, do you perhaps have some complaint against me?”

Wang Jian was so startled that he dropped his writing brush. What do you mean, “complaint”? Please don’t say such things, General Li!

“N-not at all!” Wang Jian denied immediately.

Li Mu said, “Is it because of what Zhu Xiang said, that you fear I’m jealous of you?”

Wang Jian: “…That’s impossible! Why would General Li ever be jealous of me!”

Watching Wang Jian’s panicked reaction, Li Mu thought to himself— No wonder Zhu Xiang and Lin Zhi both loved teasing him. He really was amusing.

But Li Mu was a good person. After probing once, he didn’t tease Wang Jian further.

“Since Zhu Xiang called you his friend,” Li Mu said, softening his tone, “then you and I should address each other by name as well. Zhu Xiang praising you benefits both of us. I bear no ill will.”

Seeing that Wang Jian was still confused, Li Mu explained further: “Qin shouldn’t have just one ‘Lord Wu’an’. If you become Qin’s second Lord Wu’an, I’ll be safer. Likewise, once you’re Lord Wu’an, having me as a competitor will make you safer too.”

Thinking of Lord Bai, who was now retired, Li Mu’s face showed a faint sneer. “Zhu Xiang once said, ‘Peace is forged by generals, yet they are not allowed to witness peace.’”

Wang Jian stared at Li Mu in shock. He had never expected Li Mu to speak so openly to a near stranger, and say such rebellious words.

Li Mu half-joked, “Understand this, and pursue achievements without worry. I’ll help you, Lord Wucheng.”

Wang Jian clenched his teeth, stepped forward, and cupped his fists in salute. “Why do you trust me so deeply? Aren’t you afraid I’ll leak this matter?”

Li Mu said, “You are Zhu Xiang’s friend. That’s why I trust you.”

Wang Jian asked, “That’s it?”

Li Mu nodded, “That’s it. If you knew Zhu Xiang better, you’d understand his ability to judge people.”

Wang Jian looked perplexed. “Hearing you say this, General Li, it sounds like—whenever Zhu Xiang makes a new friend, all his other friends also gain a new friend?”

Li Mu laughed. “When you put it that way, you’re not wrong.”

But Wang Jian still didn’t quite get it. “Zhu Xiang hasn’t known me long. How can you trust me so easily? How can he trust me so easily?”

Li Mu finally saw the “real” Wang Jian appear, and sighed with a smile: “Zhu Xiang can read people. He won’t admit it, but just by hearing someone’s name or seeing their face, he can pretty much guess their character and future achievements. And though this might be your first time meeting Zhu Xiang, it doesn’t mean it’s his first time noticing you. He’s been paying attention to you for quite a while. Didn’t you know he recommended you?”

Li Mu revealed a piece of information that the old King of Qin had never shared: “Zhu Xiang collected remarks made about military strategy between you and others, as well as your performance on the battlefield. He even discussed you with Lord Bai and Lord Fan. His trust in you wasn’t baseless.”

If Zhu Xiang were here, he could have explained this more clearly. Although he trusted Wang Jian because Wang Jian was a famous historical figure, who knew whether the renowned individuals of this parallel world all possessed real talent? He wouldn’t blindly trust someone based solely on historical records.

After all, historical books only depict one side of a person. It was entirely possible that beneath the pages of history, the person might be the complete opposite of what was recorded.

So, even though Zhu Xiang mumbled about “stamp collecting,” he had never actively approached anyone. Even when he encountered historical figures, he would first try to understand them before deciding how to engage with them.

For example, Li Bing only became Zhu Xiang’s friend after entering Shu. Lu Buwei still hadn’t become his friend to this day.

Zhu Xiang regarded Wang Jian as a friend because after Wang Jian learned it was Zhu Xiang who had recommended him, even though he didn’t show much outwardly, his affection for Zhu Xiang instantly rose by two and a half hearts.

It was precisely this kind of behavior—reserved on the surface but deeply grateful inside—that made Zhu Xiang believe Wang Jian was someone worth befriending.

Initially, Zhu Xiang was simply curious about Wang Jian. He gathered some of Wang Jian’s background and, once confirmed that Wang Jian was indeed talented, recommended him to the King of Qin. Their personal relationship only began now.

He never disclosed his standards for judging people, but his friends all trusted his insight into human character.

In his heart, Li Mu added, furthermore, they were all confident in themselves. Even if Zhu Xiang happened to misjudge someone and that new friend betrayed him, they would immediately tear that person to pieces—it would never affect Zhu Xiang.

“This really is…” Wang Jian straightened up and took a deep breath. “Now I finally understand, Lord Zhu Xiang’s friendship is truly valuable.”

Li Mu nodded. “Indeed.”

Wang Jian returned to his seat, smoothed the hair at his temples, and composed himself.

“Li Mu, your group has formed such a tight-knit circle around Lord Zhu Xiang. Have you considered that the King of Qin might grow wary of him?” Wang Jian said calmly. “No king would tolerate the existence of such a faction.”

Li Mu replied, “I know. Even if His Majesty knows Zhu Xiang has no ambitions, he might still find it hard to tolerate. But Zheng’er is Zhu Xiang’s only blood descendant. As long as Zheng’er remains outstanding, there’s nothing to fear.”

Wang Jian countered, “Maybe the current king isn’t wary of his great-grandson. But what about Crown Prince Zhu? What about Prince Zichu?”

Li Mu smiled. “Crown Prince Zhu is honest and kind. As for Prince Zichu… after you spend more time with Xia Tong, you’ll understand—he would never be wary of Zhu Xiang. Xia Tong may not be our friend, but he is definitely Zhu Xiang’s friend.”

Wang Jian fell silent for a long time, then said, “I am loyal to the State of Qin and to the King of Qin. I may make different choices than you.”

Li Mu said, “As long as the King of Qin is determined to unify the world, your choices won’t be different from Zhu Xiang’s, nor from us, Zhu Xiang’s friends. To pacify this chaotic world, Zhu Xiang is needed.”

Wang Jian again fell silent for a long while. Eventually, he sighed helplessly and said with a bitter smile, “That’s true.”

“You don’t have to decide immediately,” Li Mu said. “Just like I don’t yet see you as a friend. We still have plenty of time to interact.”

Wang Jian nodded. “That’s true.”

“But there’s one thing I must remind you of,” Li Mu said. “Don’t treat Zheng’er as just a child. If he gives you orders, you should regard him as your sovereign.”

Wang Jian was dumbfounded. “Zheng’er is just a few years old!”

Li Mu chuckled. “Spend more time with him and you’ll understand. Trust me—it won’t hurt.”

Wang Jian held his forehead. “Fine, I’ll trust you.” It seemed that to truly become friends with Lord Zhu Xiang, he needed to mentally prepare himself for quite a challenge.

“What will you do now that the Chu army has set up camp on the opposite shore?” Li Mu turned to serious matters.

Wang Jian said, “There’s no need for anything special. On the night of the new moon a few days from now, I’ll launch a surprise attack and burn their camp.”

Wang Jian spoke casually, and Li Mu responded just as casually, “All right. Once the camp catches fire, I’ll lead the navy to land.”

And just like that, they made their decision—without even using a single clever tactic.

To Wang Jian and Li Mu, no elaborate strategy was necessary. In this river-crossing battle, they already held the advantages of a navy and long-range weapons, putting them in an invincible position. From here, all they needed to do was identify the enemy’s weak points—like hunting a beast—and tear out their throat in one bite to win.

Of course, that required a lot of preparation.

They needed to understand the layout of the enemy camps; know which nobles and generals were stationed in which areas; find weather suitable for a night raid; and ensure the Chu army remained unaware of their plans…

All of this, Wang Jian and Li Mu had already prepared—so effortlessly, it was like breathing.

To their eyes, the Chu army’s formations were full of flaws. It was easy to spot several vulnerable points to attack.

And they also realized something else immediately: There wasn’t a single general in the Chu army who posed a threat to them.

Moreover, they noticed that the great nobles of Chu didn’t seem united. Their surface-level support for Lord Chunshen seemed more like a façade.

The King of Qin, feeling bored, pulled Zhu Xiang aside to talk about the Chu army.

Zhu Xiang noticed it too.

Even though he was a military novice, he could tell from the King’s summaries of the Chu army’s recent rotations and patrols that their command was in utter disarray. There was even infighting and brawling among the troops—it was truly ridiculous.

Chu was a vast land with divided authority, so conquering it would require enormous manpower, resources, and time.

But when Qin and Chu armies faced off in one place for a decisive battle—and with Qin holding the defensive advantage—Chu became completely vulnerable.

Currently, the King of Chu lacked authority and prestige. That left Chu with no power to take the initiative.

“This really shows how important centralized power is,” Zhu Xiang sighed deeply.

Surely, Chu had many talented generals—he’d heard Lord Chunshen was impressive. But the fact that even he, a layman, could immediately see how chaotic their formations were—was astonishing.

“I heard that back when Chu was still powerful, their Chancellor was attacking a small country. But that country’s ruler sent envoys to persuade him, saying he had already received all the titles he could, so even if he won, he’d get no more rewards. So the Chancellor withdrew,” Zhu Xiang said. “This time, Chu’s chaos probably stems from something similar.”

If the old King of Qin died and Crown Prince Zhu ascended the throne, Chu would be safe, and that would benefit the Chu nobles. So they sent troops.

But this operation was led by Lord Chunshen, backed by the King of Chu. If they really killed the King of Qin, Chunshen and the King would gain the most. So the nobles sent their troops but acted half-heartedly, even fighting among themselves at the front lines.

This contradictory behavior had rendered Chu’s 200,000-strong army weak and useless.

“I really want to destroy Chu in one blow,” muttered the old King of Qin, now feeling the urge again upon seeing Chu’s weakness.

Zhu Xiang said, “Why not give it a try?”

The old king asked, “Can we succeed?”

Zhu Xiang replied, “Nope.”

The King of Qin pulled a ruler from his sleeve and smacked Zhu Xiang on the head.

Zhu Xiang rubbed his head in surprise. “You actually brought your ruler, Ji Weng?!”

The old King said slowly, “I realized I can’t bear to punish you, so I might as well do it myself.”

Zhu Xiang: “…Thank you, Ji Weng.”

Ying Zheng covered his mouth and giggled.

His uncle got smacked and still had to thank the smacker—how funny!

The old King of Qin put away the ruler and said, “After this defeat, Chu will likely be docile for a while. We can ignore them for now. So, tell me—what country should I attack next?”

Zhu Xiang replied, “I have no idea.”

The old King gave him a sideways glance. “Afraid your achievements will outshine the ruler?”

Zhu Xiang replied, “Not at all. Who could outshine Your Majesty? I just really don’t understand any of this. Perhaps Ji Weng should ask me where I’d like to farm next.”

The old King asked, “Then where do you want to farm?”

Zhu Xiang said, “Stay here and return only after the southern region is fully developed.”

The old King of Qin sighed. “You… sigh. Fine, stay here for a few more years.”

Zhu Xiang cupped his hands respectfully. “Thank you, Ji Weng.”

The old King of Qin said, “Don’t forget to properly teach Zheng’er. If you delay his studies, a simple slap on the wrist won’t be enough. But your wife misses you very much—come back to Xianyang with me for a while, and then return here later.”

Zhu Xiang immediately responded, “Yes!” He knew it was time to return home and visit his family.

Zichu observed the old King of Qin’s expression from the side. He was deeply puzzled—the King’s attitude toward Zhu Xiang seemed to have improved, and his wariness had lessened. Why such a sudden change in a short period of time?

He looked toward Ying Zheng, who was gnawing on a flatbread.

Ying Zheng looked up at Zichu, then quickly shielded his flatbread with both hands.

Zichu: “…” I’m not going to steal your flatbread!

Before the new moon night, Wang Jian quietly sent Qin soldiers across the Yangtze River in batches before dawn, hiding them in the reed marshes and mountain forests.

When the new moon night arrived, Wang Jian personally led a naval unit across the Yangtze.

Li Mu raised his command flag, assembled his naval troops on the southern bank, lit torches, and assumed an attacking posture to attract the attention of the Chu army.

While the Chu army investigated the southern bank’s situation, Wang Jian secretly landed and began setting fires.

Such a simple strategy, yet the Chu army didn’t notice.

Because the location Wang Jian targeted was the military camp under Lord Chunshen, the other aristocrats turned a blind eye, calmly watching his camp be attacked.

Yes, even before the attack, Wang Jian deliberately leaked his plan to raid the camp, allowing scouts loyal to powerful nobles to intercept the message.

This strategy was like walking a tightrope—one misstep and Wang Jian could’ve been surrounded by the Chu army.

But Wang Jian succeeded.

As flames erupted from Lord Chunshen’s camp and chaos broke out, the Qin soldiers who had been sent ahead to hide emerged and set fire to the other camps. Soon, fire engulfed the Chu military encampment.

Li Mu swiftly led his fleet across the Yangtze in grand formation, shattering the standoff between Qin and Chu. The two armies engaged in immediate battle.

Wang Jian did not coordinate directly with Li Mu. After lighting the fires, he quietly withdrew.

Yet the Chu army believed that the Qin soldiers who set the fires were still present. While confronting Li Mu, they also split their forces to search for Wang Jian everywhere.

At this point, the weakness of the Chu army’s divided structure was revealed. Belonging to different feudal lords, many Chu troops didn’t recognize each other. Several internal clashes occurred, mistaking one another for Qin soldiers.

Back then, soldiers didn’t wear standardized uniforms; most wore their own clothes, so you couldn’t tell who was who based on clothing. Even though they flew Chu banners, the camps being burned were also under Chu flags. Add to that the spread of Qin’s military merit system—where soldiers earned rewards for beheading enemies—and the confusion escalated.

Wang Jian thus returned safely to the southern bank of the Yangtze.

The Chu army had advanced in full force toward Jiangdong with the intent to target the King of Qin. What was expected to be an earth-shaking battle ended in a hasty and anticlimactic retreat. Just as Li Mu’s fleet reached the northern bank, the Chu army fell into chaos and soon withdrew.

All seven states were watching this battle, waiting for a chance to exploit it.

No one expected it to end so abruptly and without spectacle. Their fear of Qin’s power only grew. Li Mu’s fame soared again, and Wang Jian’s name also entered the sights of several monarchs for the first time.

The King of Zhao fell ill again.

After all, Li Mu had once been a general of Zhao—it was he who personally handed this Zhao general over to Qin.

Zhu Xiang had long known Qin would win, but still, the opposing force had managed to rally 200,000 troops. Even if two-thirds were merely auxiliary laborers, he had expected the battle to last longer.

Wang Jian crossed the river so boldly and burned down their camp—and even informed the Chu army in advance. This, Zhu Xiang truly hadn’t anticipated.

“Wasn’t that too risky?” At the victory banquet, Zhu Xiang asked curiously, “Weren’t you afraid the Chu would ambush you after you leaked the news?”

Wang Jian said, “There was a thirty percent chance they would ambush me. But a seventy percent chance of ending the battle in one move—that’s good enough.”

Zhu Xiang, scratching his head and thinking of Wang Jian’s historical reputation for caution, said, “You acted so recklessly? I thought you’d be more cautious.”

Wang Jian looked puzzled. “I was cautious, not reckless. Isn’t seventy percent success rate high enough?”

Zhu Xiang replied, “I thought you wouldn’t act unless you had at least a ninety percent chance. And you must have had a backup plan in case it failed, right?”

Wang Jian said, “The scouts I planted in the Chu army would have delivered a message in time if they’d planned to surround me, allowing me to retreat safely. As for a backup plan—I am General Li’s backup. What more backups do we need beyond the backup?”

Zhu Xiang didn’t quite follow.

Li Mu explained, “Even if I directly led the fleet into battle, we would have won. Whether Wang Jian succeeded only determined how much I’d have to pay to win this fight.”

Zhu Xiang: “…Oh.” Right, Wang Jian wasn’t the main commander—Li Mu was. So Wang Jian didn’t need to overthink things.

The three continued drinking, while the old King of Qin and Zichu were already drunk and fast asleep. Ying Zheng curled up in his drunken father’s arms, sleeping soundly. Despite how loud Zhu Xiang, Li Mu, and Wang Jian were talking, they couldn’t wake him.

Originally, the celebration was hosted by the old King and Zichu in honor of Li Mu and Wang Jian. But in the end, the hosts were the first to pass out drunk—how strange!

“By the way, where’s Meng Wu?” Zhu Xiang asked. “Why isn’t he at the banquet?”

Li Mu replied, “The Chu are trying to save face—they’ve started harassing from other crossings. Meng Wu is tied up.”

Zhu Xiang couldn’t help laughing and crying. Meng Wu was still fighting, and here they were celebrating already—it felt a little unfair to him.

Thus, the grand Qin-Chu war ended this easily, as if it had never really happened.

Li Mu continued his slow, methodical deployment along the Yangtze.

Now that the entire southern bank was under his control, he set up mutually reinforcing strongholds from west to east. Any southern crossing attempt by the Chu would trigger a full-scale response, forming a unified defense line along the Yangtze.

Once this line was in place, Li Mu’s vision of using the river to divide territory between Qin and Chu would become a reality. Chu would lose all ability to cross south.

Li Mu had no plans to cross north, either. He decided to expand southward, especially toward the coastal regions.

In future Central Plains wars, he would need to turn his Yangtze fleet into a navy capable of maritime combat. He began building shipyards on the coast to produce sea vessels.

Once the warships were ready, he would expand southward along the coast, both enlarging Qin territory and training his navy.

Right now, the world still saw the south as a barren land, but Zhu Xiang had said the warmer and wetter the climate, the better crops would grow. So Li Mu only needed to conquer the land and let Zhu Xiang send people to farm it. Grain would be continuously produced, and the war would sustain itself without relying on Qin for support.

Li Mu was a very cautious man—he would never attempt something he wasn’t confident in accomplishing.

After hearing Li Mu’s plan, Wang Jian didn’t want to return to the north right away. He hoped to stay by Li Mu’s side and continue learning for a while before heading back. After all, the northern front didn’t offer such an interesting battlefield.

But although Li Mu had such ambitions—like reconstructing seafaring vessels, harvesting crops to supply military provisions, and encouraging migration to attract more people to cultivate the land—all of this would take time.

Under Zhu Xiang’s name, Li Mu set up several strongholds along the northern shore to receive Chu civilians who could no longer survive in their homeland and guide them south to develop new land.

When Zhu Xiang heard of this, he was speechless. He thought Li Mu truly resembled a human smuggler from modern times. A grand general—one of the Four Great Generals of the Warring States—had turned into a trafficker. Surely the water and soil of Qin must have corrupted him.

Naturally, the old King of Qin wasn’t going to sit around while Li Mu slowly built up provisions and troops. He planned to return to Xianyang. Zhu Xiang and Ying Zheng returned with him, while Zichu was left behind. The old king wanted Zichu to experience more of the customs and landscapes of the south.

Zhu Xiang was worried about Zichu’s health. Before departing, he nagged Zichu for a long time, reminding him to balance work and rest and not to run around aimlessly. He also repeatedly instructed Li Mu to keep a close watch on Zichu. Even after boarding the ship, Zhu Xiang stood at the shore and shouted to Zichu, reminding him once more to rest well.

Zichu looked incredibly embarrassed.

Wang Jian leaned over to Li Mu and whispered, “Now I understand what you meant when you said that Prince Zichu would be Zhu Xiang’s friend for life.”

Li Mu smiled but quickly hid it, afraid Zichu would see and get angry from embarrassment.

Zhu Xiang was still shouting when the old King of Qin smacked him with a ruler and said, “Stop embarrassing yourself!”

Zhu Xiang rubbed his head and muttered, “It’s Xia Tong who’s embarrassing, not me.”

Ying Zheng added, “Great-grandfather means: don’t let Father keep embarrassing himself. After all, Father is still a prince of Qin.”

Zhu Xiang replied, “Fine, I didn’t consider whether he’d feel embarrassed or not.”

Ying Zheng said, “But Uncle, you just said earlier that Father was quite embarrassing.”

Watching this back-and-forth between uncle and nephew, the old King of Qin sighed helplessly—but he was in a good mood. Even though he was wary of Zhu Xiang, being with Zhu Xiang and Ying Zheng always put him in such a good mood that he often felt like laughing.

After Ying Zheng’s shocking words the other day, the old king had been furious for a few days. But once the anger passed, he began to reflect. Had he been underestimating himself too much? Surely his fame and merits surpassed those of Bai Qi and Zhu Xiang. Perhaps there was no need to fear them at all? Maybe the more renowned they became, the more it elevated his own prestige?

The old king had ruled Qin for many years and wasn’t some rigid fool. He regularly reflected and adjusted his strategies. But with age, his thoughts weren’t as nimble as before, nor could he let go as easily. He had become a bit vain and stubborn.

He often looked at himself in the mirror and sighed at how old he had become. There were many things he could no longer do. For example, his time spent handling state affairs had decreased significantly.

He still longed to accomplish more great feats, but his energy could no longer support the intensity of such work, and that terrified him. Everyone fears death, and someone like the old King of Qin—who had gained so much—feared it even more. He could see himself inching closer to death, and that sense of helplessness often sparked wild thoughts in him.

Still, his rationality kept him restrained, and thus he remained a wise monarch.

On the way back to Qin with Zhu Xiang and Ying Zheng, the old king often stared blankly at Ying Zheng. The child’s intelligence and youth made the old king both proud and envious.

The sprouting of young saplings highlights the withering of old trees. He had great-grandsons now—and they were brilliant—which only confirmed that it was time for him to leave the stage and hand over Qin to others.

But he didn’t want to die. He had worked so hard to make Qin this powerful; he wanted to be the one who unified all under heaven.

Zhu Xiang could see this hidden worry but could do nothing about it. He couldn’t even find any words to comfort him. Birth, aging, illness, and death are the constants of human life. No one can change that. So this was something only the old king himself could come to terms with.

Would he be able to? Zhu Xiang didn’t know.

There is great terror between life and death—who can truly accept their passing? Even Qin Shi Huang could not.

Zhu Xiang never brought the topic up. But as the boat sailed upstream from the Yangtze into the Han River, the old King of Qin approached Zhu Xiang and asked,

“Zhu Xiang, do immortals really exist?”

Zhu Xiang replied, “I’ve never seen one. But even if they do, they likely wouldn’t interfere with worldly matters. If an immortal could meddle in mortal affairs at will, then he wouldn’t be an immortal—just another ruler.”

The old king then asked, “Do people have another life after this one?”

Zhu Xiang smiled, “I believe they absolutely do!”

The old king asked, “Why are you so certain?”

Zhu Xiang answered, “Belief doesn’t always need a reason. I just firmly believe that people will have a next life.”

The old king sighed. “What kind of life will I have in the next one?”

Zhu Xiang said, “That I don’t know. But I believe that if a person does things in this life that push the world forward in a positive way, then his next life will accumulate blessings.”

The old king nodded.

A few days later, he asked again, “You really haven’t seen an immortal?”

Zhu Xiang said, “Truly, I haven’t.”

The old king asked, “Have you seen a soul?”

Zhu Xiang replied, “Only my own.”

The old king fell silent for a few more days.

When the boat finally docked and they prepared to return to Xianyang by carriage, the old king asked one more question: “Zhu Xiang, are you afraid of death?”

Zhu Xiang nodded. “I am.”

The old king said, “But you don’t look afraid at all. When you are afraid of death, how do you calm your heart?”

Zhu Xiang replied, “I tell myself there must be another life. Maybe one moment I close my eyes, and the next I open them—I’ve become someone else. There wouldn’t even be any pain in between.”

But in his heart, Zhu Xiang thought: he remembered his past life. That’s why he feared the next one. He feared waking up in a completely foreign place with nothing but memories of this life.  He might not be as lucky in the next life—he could be born into a deeper, darker hell. Even if he held on to the beautiful memories of now, he’d be powerless against a terrible new reality—just like when he was in Handan back then.

He couldn’t change it. He could only accept it.

Zhu Xiang said aloud, “I hope I can lose all memory of my previous life. That way, whether I encounter happiness or suffering, I won’t compare it to this one, and I won’t suffer from longing for what came before.”

He placed a hand over his heart. “Longing is very painful.”

As long as his past life existed in memory, he could never fully integrate into this one. That pain ran too deep.

The old King of Qin quietly looked at Zhu Xiang. After a while, he said, “You’re right. Maybe having past life memories isn’t a blessing after all. What must be let go, must be let go.”

He asked no more after that.

They returned safely to Qin. But Zhu Xiang didn’t believe the old king had truly let go. He might keep struggling between logic and fear until the very moment of death.

But that was no longer Zhu Xiang’s concern. What he cared most about was seeing his loved ones again.

“Xue!”

“Aunt!”

Zhu Xiang ran forward, wanting to hug Xue.

But to his surprise, she rushed past him and scooped Ying Zheng up, spinning him in joyful circles.

Zhu Xiang: “…”

After putting Xiao Zheng down, Xue gave Zhu Xiang a quick hug. “Welcome home, my dear.”

Zhu Xiang: “…I’ve been ranked after Zheng’er, haven’t I.”

Ying Zheng burst into laughter. The others who had come to welcome Zhu Xiang also couldn’t help but chuckle.

Xue blushed. She was just too shy to hug Zhu Xiang too enthusiastically in front of so many people.

“Alright, alright, I don’t need to be first,” Zhu Xiang said, “I’m home now.”

He greeted the elders and handed out gifts.

He gave Xunzi a book written by disciples of the Confucian school he had encountered in what used to be southern Chu, now southern Qin.

Xunzi flipped through a few pages, then erupted in fury, loudly cursing the nonsense they had written.

“Don’t read this garbage!” Xunzi shouted. “Where did these lowly Confucians come from?!”

Zhu Xiang replied, “They’re disciples of Dantai Mieming. I brought them back. Would you like to teach them yourself?”

Xunzi sneered. “Very well.”

Zhu Xiang was delighted. He loved watching Xunzi scold people.

Though, Xunzi didn’t seem too angry. Perhaps he didn’t actually dislike Dantai Mieming’s disciples that much—it was just his reflex to start by yelling.

After successfully provoking Xunzi, Zhu Xiang went to find Lian Po.

“Lord Lian, Li Mu was truly glorious this time,” Zhu Xiang said. “Everyone’s saying, although Lord Lian is old, Li Mu is in his prime. As a general from Zhao, he might carve out a place for himself in Qin.”

Lian Po’s eyes widened. “Who’s old?!”

Zhu Xiang replied, “That’s not what I said. Don’t glare at me, Lord Lian. But you are older than Li Mu, and you can’t compare in that way.”

Lian Po knew Zhu Xiang was provoking him on purpose, yet he still chased after him in a fury.

This rascal went south and came back even more rude! Is this how he treats his elders?

Bai Qi let out a deep sigh and stopped the raging Lian Po.

“Lord Lian,” Bai Qi said, “Zhu Xiang just wants you to return to leading troops. He means no harm.”

Bai Qi felt that he himself was still capable of commanding armies—but he no longer dared.  Lian Po was different. Though both were seasoned veterans with great achievements, Lian Po had not yet earned merit in Qin. As long as he could still fight, he could lead. The King of Qin would be overjoyed if Lian Po returned to the battlefield.

Bai Qi sincerely admired him, and truly hoped that Lian Po could escape this “retirement home.”