HCT – Chapter 129 Eastern Pearls and Qin Cotton

Wei Wuji sat upright in the study all night, repeatedly reading Zhu Xiang’s letter.

His retainers, worried about his health, came several times to urge him to rest, but Wei Wuji only shook his head. He asked for nothing more than a pot of warm water, which he placed over a small stove, taking a sip whenever he felt sleepy.

The next morning, Lord Pingyang, Zhao Bao, rushed over in a flurry when he heard that Wei Wuji had stayed up all night.

He was still waiting for Wei Wuji to become Chancellor of Zhao. If something happened to Wei Wuji, what would he do?

Wei Wuji, holding Zhu Xiang’s letter in one hand, looked up at Zhao Bao as he entered.

When Zhao Bao saw the fire burning in Wei Wuji’s eyes, the words of concern caught in his throat.

What on earth had Zhu Xiang written to rekindle the fighting spirit in Lord Xinling overnight—as though the suspicion and humiliation he had endured under the Wei King had never happened?

“Zhu Xiang asked me to guard the border for Zhao,” Wei Wuji said, as if he had seen through Zhao Bao’s unspoken question. His expression was a mix of indignation and amusement.

Zhao Bao was dumbfounded. “What?!”

Wei Wuji lowered his gaze to the characters on the letter.

The wax candle had burned out, but dawn was already breaking, and the writing on the paper was still clearly visible.

“Zhu Xiang says that no matter who ends up ruling this world, someone must guard the border and resist the Hu people from invading the south. It’s not for the sake of any one state, but for all of Huaxia,” Wei Wuji murmured, head bowed. “He really dares to say such things.”

Zhao Bao stood in stunned silence for a long time before stammering, “T-this… Master Zhu really… Lord Xinling, don’t take it to heart!”

He laughed bitterly. Though he wasn’t involved, he somehow felt a secondhand awkwardness.

Asking Lord Wei to guard the Zhao border? Even a Zhao prince wouldn’t go to such a bitterly cold place.

Wei Wuji didn’t lift his head. He spoke as if to himself, or perhaps to Zhao Bao: “Here in Handan, I at least live in comfort, a nobleman with enough wealth to support three thousand retainers. But if I go to the Three Northern Commanderies of Zhao, I fear most of them will leave me.”

The retainers standing near Zhao Bao remained calm and said nothing.

“That Zhu Xiang, born of common stock—he really didn’t consider any of this,” Wei Wuji sighed and carefully folded the letter, returning it to its envelope. “Don’t you think so, Lord Pingyang?”

Zhao Bao let out a long sigh and didn’t reply.

Though he agreed with Wei Wuji, Zhu Xiang was now a revered sage across the realm—a man nearly executed by the King of Zhao and forced into exile. Speaking ill of him, even in private, was too risky.

Wei Wuji stood up, straightened his ceremonial headdress, and smoothed the folds in his robe. “Prepare the carriage. I’m going to the palace.”

Zhao Bao’s eyes lit up. Was Lord Xinling finally agreeing to be Chancellor of Zhao?

Wei Wuji’s retainers, acting in place of servants, personally prepared and drove the carriage.

In the courtyard, Wei Wuji’s guests and followers—some silent, some decadent like their host—were suddenly roused, as if awakened from hibernation.

The seventy-something elder Hou Ying, a most honored guest of Lord Xinling, tucked his hands into his sleeves and shook his head with a smile.

“Master Hou, do you think the lord intends to become Chancellor or go to the northern frontier?” asked Zhu Hai, the warrior whom Hou Ying had recommended to Wei Wuji. He cradled a long sword in his arms, curious.

Hou Ying had joined Lord Xinling’s household after being moved by his virtue, and had introduced the butcher Zhu Hai to him. But Zhu Hai had never responded to Lord Xinling’s invitations—until the five-state coalition formed to resist Qin. When Lord Xinling became commander-in-chief of the allied forces, Zhu Hai finally repaid his patron’s trust by joining him on the battlefield and earning significant military merit.

Though now old, Hou Ying continued to serve as Lord Xinling’s advisor.

When Lord Xinling lost his military command and was forced to flee to Zhao, the two had come to Zhao together.

“That depends on how highly Lord Zhu ranks in our master’s heart,” Hou Ying said slowly. “Do you want to stay in Handan, or go to the border?”

Zhu Hai replied, “All I have is my martial strength, which I can use to repay the lord. If he remains in Handan, I’ll be of no use. If he goes to the border, that’s where I can help. But your health may not withstand the bitter cold in the north.”

Hou Ying shot him a look. “We’d live in the commandery city even in the north. Are there no long-lived elders in Yanmen Commandery?”

Zhu Hai raised an eyebrow. It seemed Master Hou was inclined to go north.

Still, many of Lord Xinling’s followers were drawn by wealth and prestige. If he really went to guard the frontier, how many would follow?

Zhu Hai thought about it but eventually gave up. He would go regardless.

He’d heard Yanmen Commandery had many cattle and sheep—he might even get to show off his old butcher skills.

Meanwhile, Zhu Xiang and Li Mu had traveled to the southern border of Wu Commandery, where they happened upon a merchant caravan under attack by mountain bandits.

Li Mu loosed arrows with deadly precision, while Zhu Xiang cheered him on from behind.

Li Mu nearly misfired and hit the leg of the horse Zhu Xiang was riding.

After the bandits fled, Li Mu scolded him with a laugh: “If you’re not going to help, at least don’t distract me!”

Zhu Xiang grinned. “I was cheering you on—how is that a distraction?”

The merchant leader stepped forward, cupping his hands in thanks to both men.

Zhu Xiang was disguised as a merchant, with a turban wrapped around his striking hair, making him look like a foreigner. Li Mu posed as a wandering knight. Being a Zhao native, he’d seen many such knights, and with his casual bearing, not even the Qin army would suspect him.

Among the men Li Mu had brought, half were Qin soldiers and half were veteran Zhao troops. Even the Qin soldiers had been thoroughly “corrupted” by the Zhao veterans and acted the part convincingly.

A clever ruse often required acting. As Li Mu’s personal guards, they had to have some theatrical talent.

As for Xiang He and Xu Ming, they were just playing themselves.

Their acting was so convincing that the merchant leader didn’t suspect a thing, though he glanced curiously at Zhu Xiang’s odd turban, wondering if such a peculiar head covering might sell well.

The merchant was a Yue man, trading between the lands of Yue and Chu. He spoke Chu dialect, though with a heavy accent.

Zhu Xiang also knew the Chu dialect, but found it difficult to understand.

Still, he was used to this sort of thing. He gestured and pointed as he spoke with the merchant, happily striking up a conversation.

The merchant traded eastern pearls from Yue for lacquerware from Chu, then brought the lacquerware back to sell to Yue nobles.

The aristocrats of both Chu and Yue loved luxury. The sea pearls from Yue and the lacquerware of Chu were highly sought after by the other side’s nobility.

The moment Zhu Xiang heard what goods the merchant dealt in, he knew this man had noble backing.

Most fine Chu lacquerware came from official kilns; pearls, with no large-scale farming operations in existence yet, were labor-intensive and dangerous to harvest—undoubtedly monopolized by nobles.

Back when Lu Buwei had speculated in luxury goods, even he could only act as a middleman. This merchant, however, was doing first-hand trade. Zhu Xiang immediately saw the power behind him.

With a flash of insight, Zhu Xiang dismounted and smiled. “What a coincidence. I came south this time to survey the market in the Yue regions. I’m also looking to get into the eastern pearl business.”

The merchant, seeing the skilled warriors accompanying Zhu Xiang, instantly realized that his new acquaintance also had powerful backing. Without hesitation, he revealed a small hint of his own connections.

He saw that Zhu Xiang understood immediately, and knew he had tested correctly.

The man laughed and said, “My name is Genmao. May I ask my benefactor’s name? You are my savior, I can share some Eastern pearls with you.”

Zhu Xiang clasped his hands and said, “I am called Xia Li.”

Li Mu, who was just receiving an arrow pulled from a bandit’s corpse by a subordinate, cleaning it before returning it to the quiver, trembled slightly and gave Zhu Xiang a speechless look.

“You may call me Xia Li,” Zhu Xiang said enthusiastically. “This is my elder brother, Xia Ze.”

Li Mu: “…” Wasn’t that different from the aliases they had agreed upon? Oh well, perhaps Zhu Xiang had forgotten, and just borrowed a friend’s name at the last minute.

Li Mu saluted the merchant, then lowered his head again to quietly clean the arrow shafts. He wasn’t sure what Zhu Xiang had forgotten, but the less said, the better—better to improvise as needed.

Zhu Xiang said, “Forgive my boldness, Genmao. Have you heard of a new type of fabric from Qin called cotton?”

Genmao’s eyes lit up, and he quickly said, “No need for such formality, benefactor. Just call me Genmao. This cotton… could it be that you’re from Qin?”

Zhu Xiang replied mysteriously, “I am from Chu, but when it comes to business, I can be from Qin.”

Genmao immediately understood. Rumor had it that members of the Chu royal family wielded significant power in Qin’s court—this person might be one of them, perhaps even related to the Qin king by marriage.

“I traveled south this time to see if any noble buyers in the southern regions might be interested in Qin cotton,” Zhu Xiang said with a troubled look. “The Eastern pearls are good, but I didn’t bring enough cotton to offer as gifts.”

Genmao said at once, “The nobles of Yue are all descendants of the Yue king—how could they not afford Qin cotton? But I don’t know whether they’d like it.”

Zhu Xiang smiled. “Since you often deal with the nobles of Yue, I imagine you have a sense of their preferences? I’ll give you a bolt…”

Genmao quickly stopped him: “Benefactor, please don’t say that. You saved my life—how could I accept a gift for merely giving you some advice? If you’re willing, I can trade some Eastern pearls for your cotton fabric.”

Zhu Xiang said, “Let’s not talk about trading yet. Take a look first.”

With a wave of his hand, Zhu Xiang had someone open a compartment on the carriage and take out a bolt of pure white cotton fabric.

He hadn’t dyed it at all, so the fabric appeared in its natural color and texture.

Upon seeing the seemingly ordinary bolt, Genmao’s face immediately revealed amazement.  Even before touching it, he could already sense the softness of the fabric just by looking—it seemed like it was woven from fine wool.

In later generations, woolen fabrics were excavated from Spring and Autumn and Warring States tombs in the south. The ancients didn’t only use animal hides—they also spun thread from animal hair. However, because animals weren’t raised in large numbers, such clothing was extremely rare and expensive.

Genmao had heard that cotton grew from the ground, similar to hemp. But a fabric made from something grown in the soil could actually appear as soft as something woven from precious animal hair?

Genmao asked incredulously, “May I touch it?”

Zhu Xiang said, “Of course.”

Genmao washed his hands, dried them with silk, and gently stroked the cotton fabric.

The soft texture made him reluctant to let go.

“It truly feels like fabric made from the down of a sheep’s belly,” Genmao marveled.

Zhu Xiang chuckled. “You flatter me.”

Cotton certainly fell short of cashmere, but it was still quite comfortable. Even in later times, with many synthetic high-end textiles available, people still preferred cotton for undergarments.

The rough cotton woven by the looms of the present era might not match later standards, but even so, in this time, it was captivating enough.

Silk was nice, but too light and thin—uncomfortable in cold weather. Besides, the Yue region produced silk in abundance. The nobles were likely tired of it.

“Genmao, do you think the nobles of Yue would like this fabric?” Zhu Xiang asked with a confident smile.

A glint of greed flickered in Genmao’s eyes. “Like it? Of course they would.”

Zhu Xiang said, “Right now, only the Qin people can grow and weave cotton.”

Genmao asked, “Do you think it can grow in Yue? I’d trade a whole chest of Eastern pearls—one as heavy as a man—for cotton seeds.”

Zhu Xiang smiled and shook his head. “I’m no farmer, just a merchant. How would I know if it can grow? Even if it can, I’m too lazy to sell the seeds. Just go to Qin and give some silver to a few farmers—they’ll sell them to you.”

He stroked the cotton fabric. “Cotton, like silk, has different grades. I only sell cotton for nobles to wear.”

Li Mu glanced up at Zhu Xiang again, then lowered his head to wipe down his blade.

After using a sword on the battlefield, Li Mu always turned to a knife when force was needed—he never went back to the sword.

Genmao, seeing Zhu Xiang’s confidence, reined in his greedy expression and smiled. “That makes sense. Sigh, and yet benefactor doesn’t even care for a whole chest of Eastern pearls.”

“If the business takes off, why stop at just one chest?” Zhu Xiang shook his head. “That’s why I don’t do what farmers do. You understand, Genmao. We merchants must follow principles, just like officials—we’re not like common traders.”

Genmao’s smile faded, and he gave Zhu Xiang a deep look.

Li Mu immediately stepped forward and pulled Zhu Xiang behind him, frowning at Genmao.

His guards behind him tensed, ready to draw their swords.

Genmao hurriedly cupped his hands. “Please don’t worry, benefactor. I mean no harm.”

Li Mu said coolly, “You’d better not.”

Zhu Xiang peeked out from behind Li Mu and said with a grin, “Everyone says the Yue people are fierce—my elder brother is a bit overly cautious. Since we’re your saviors, you wouldn’t harbor any evil thoughts over a few bolts of cloth, would you?”

Genmao quickly said, “Of course not. It’s just that the Yue people are very wary of Qin right now. If you’re working for Qin, I’m afraid…”

Zhu Xiang said, “Precisely because the Yue are wary of Qin, I think the nobles of Yue would prefer to do business with me.”

He smiled. “Don’t believe me? Send someone back to check. I’ll also send for more cotton in different colors. I’ll take the Eastern pearls you’ve sold.”

Genmao pondered for a long time and finally asked, “Xia Li—is that a false name?”

Zhu Xiang asked curiously, “Why do you say that?”

Genmao replied, “Are you Lu Buwei?”

Li Mu had been tense, but upon hearing that, he shot Genmao a disdainful look.

Zhu Xiang couldn’t help laughing. “I’m not Lord Lu. But I do have some connections with him—my goods come from him. Even if Lu Buwei has been demoted, he’s still tied to the Crown Prince of Qin. Do you think he’d be here chatting so calmly with you?”

Li Mu: “Heh.”

Seeing Li Mu’s mocking expression, Genmao felt a bit awkward.

He had forgotten—though Lu Buwei was known as a merchant, he’d long since become a major official in Qin, and a retainer of the Crown Prince. He probably saw himself as a noble now, far above engaging in commerce personally.

Genmao was filled with envy. Who wouldn’t want to be the next Lu Buwei? All these merchants who served the nobility dreamed of being rewarded with an official post and rising from merchant to gentleman.

Though Genmao had gained valuable information, he didn’t immediately agree. Instead, he invited Zhu Xiang to rest in the next town—they could discuss business further there.

Zhu Xiang, utterly fearless, stepped into the territory of Yue.

Li Mu originally wanted to tie him up and take him back, but seeing that Zhu Xiang seemed to have legitimate business, he chose to believe him and entered the Eastern Yue city together. He only sent someone ahead to inform Wang Jian, in case they needed to be rescued.

Xu Ming and Xiang He looked like they wanted to speak but held back.

The Lord of Changping and the Grand General of Qin had entered enemy territory with only a handful of men? Lord Zhu Xiang’s courage was still as bold as when he ventured to Changping.

But… was this really necessary?

Li Mu wanted to ask the same question.

Zhu Xiang looked surprised. “Dangerous? How could it be dangerous?”

Li Mu said helplessly, “You’re in enemy territory—how could it not be dangerous?”

After the death of the King of Yue, no heir had been named, causing the Yue lands to fracture into independent factions, each refusing to submit to the others, devolving into a tribal system.

Two major factions claiming descent from the former Yue royal family had gradually grown stronger, establishing the kingdoms of Dong’ou and Minyue. They built cities along the coast and encouraged agriculture. The city they were in now belonged to Dong’ou.

The conflict Li Mu hoped to provoke was precisely between Dong’ou and Minyue.

When they first arrived here, the Qin people—including Li Mu—only thought of Yue as a land of “barbarians,” imagining its people as mere savages.

It was only after taking over Wu Commandery that Li Mu began to untangle the complexities of the Yue region.

The Yue Kingdom, descended from the legendary Yu the Great, had once been a proper vassal state of the Zhou Dynasty. Although it had been shattered by wars with Chu and had since merged with the local populace, it couldn’t truly be called barbaric… Then again, even the state of Chu was considered barbaric, so the Yue people certainly counted as such too.

Li Mu had dispatched many scouts to gather intelligence on the region, especially to map out the tangled relationships among the Yue tribal aristocracy.

Though Li Mu had entered Qin half-willingly, he had been tricked by a scheme of discord.

Moreover, with a friend like Cai Ze—a master of such schemes—Li Mu himself had grown interested in political intrigue rooted in court manipulation.

At present, Qin had no bandwidth to conquer the Yue lands, but in the future, Li Mu’s ambitious disciple would undoubtedly lead an army south to sweep through the region and claim it for Qin. Hence, he employed a stratagem of sowing discord among the Yue factions.

But the Yue lands remained relatively isolated, and although Li Mu had a basic strategy, his understanding of them was still shallow.

Given that, he naturally viewed the region as dangerous.

“Even if it’s not dangerous,” Li Mu said, “why are you here? Weren’t you teaching people to farm? When did that turn into doing business?”

Zhu Xiang said, “Yue has a lot of arable land too.”

Li Mu gave him a side glance, saying nothing.

Zhu Xiang raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, I’m just going with the flow. While teaching farming in Wu Commandery, I met many people from Dong’ou. Their culture is quite similar to Wu’s, especially the scholars—they yearn for Central Plains civilization and long for a return to the days when Yue was a vassal state.”

Li Mu crossed his arms. “Don’t tell me you’re trying to persuade the King of Dong’ou to surrender to Qin?”

Zhu Xiang replied, “Not to surrender, exactly. I just want to establish friendly relations so they recognize Qin’s strength. And help them with farming along the way.”

Li Mu was exasperated. “You’re running off to help the enemy farm?”

Zhu Xiang replied, “Only farming can make them settle down. Once they settle, they build cities. That means their armies will stay near those cities. If they keep relying on fishing and hunting, the Qin army would pay a heavy price to fight them when we head south.”

He paused, then sighed and added, “If the common people don’t settle down, they won’t interact with outsiders and will never know what life in Qin is like. But if they become farmers like those in the Central Plains, tied to the land, Qin can conquer them just as it has conquered other vassal states—each stretch of land taken is a stretch secured. Maybe… maybe fewer people will die on both sides.”

If the Yue people continued their hunting lifestyle, facing an enemy whose customs were completely foreign, they’d simply vanish into the forests and mountains, endlessly skirmishing as guerrilla warriors.

But once they had property, they’d become cautious. When the Qin army arrived, they might just surrender.

After listening to Zhu Xiang, Li Mu subconsciously replaced the Yue people with the Hu nomads in his mind.

Fair enough—if the Hu had lived in walled cities, he’d have wiped them out long ago. They weren’t necessarily strong—just too good at running away.

“You…” Li Mu thought for a long time but didn’t know what to say.

But if he didn’t say anything, it would gnaw at him inside.

Zhu Xiang laughed. “Still, it does pain me to see such fertile land left uncultivated.”

Li Mu rubbed his forehead.

Zhu Xiang spread his hands. “You know me—that’s just how I am.”

The heart of Dong’ou lay in what would later become Zhejiang province.

This place was traditionally known as a land of abundance—fish and rice country. Even in the Neolithic age, sizable city ruins had already been found here.

Back in the day, the Yue Kingdom had even been considered a contender for one of the Five Hegemons of the Spring and Autumn period. And now they had regressed to living off fishing and hunting like barbarians—was this something to be proud of?

Zhu Xiang thought: If modern-day people from Zhejiang could see this, they’d definitely flip them the bird.

At least regress a few hundred years and return to being the old Yue Kingdom—why devolve into a tribal mess?

Dong’ou and Minyue inherited the civilization of Yue and considered themselves the true heirs, claiming their status as Zhou vassals and seeing themselves as no different from the Seven Warring States.

That’s why Zhu Xiang thought his trip here might just yield some pleasant surprises.

He genuinely didn’t believe he was in danger.

Dong’ou was currently engaged in lively trade with the Qin army. According to Li Mu, the self-proclaimed King of Dong’ou even believed himself to have formed an alliance with Qin.

Even if Zhu Xiang was merely a “government-affiliated merchant” from Qin, once word reached Dong’ou’s king, he would be treated with utmost respect.

If he removed his headscarf and revealed that he was Zhu Xiang, the King of Dong’ou would probably drop to his knees and beg him to take the seat of honor.

Zhu Xiang knew very well how people of this era revered great sages—especially those who had once been Central Plains vassals and now saw themselves as fallen barbarians. They were even more desperate to be taken seriously, terrified of being looked down upon by Chinese civilization.

Even Qin used to be like that—nervous and deferential.

But Zhu Xiang’s understanding of how Dong’ou would receive him didn’t come from being in Qin, but from his previous life.

When he went abroad to teach farming, the way foreign officials treated “Huaguo experts” was exactly like this.

According to the old professors, China had once treated foreign experts in the same way too.

On his way south, Zhu Xiang had passed through fertile Zhejiang, seeing land so rich, yet only sparsely planted with mulberry trees and rice. The rest was left to waste. He could barely keep his fists from clenching.

Screw your fishing! Screw your hunting! Go plant some damn crops!

Minyue was mountainous—fine, they had an excuse. But Dong’ou had no such reason!

There wouldn’t be any danger anyway. At worst, revealing his identity would just mean the opposing monarch kneeling humbly at his feet and addressing him as “Lord Zhu Xiang.” Of course Zhu Xiang had to seize this opportunity to get them to start farming.

If they planted enough, it would be much easier for Li Mu to support his army. The grain of Dong’ou was Li Mu’s grain too.

After Zhu Xiang finished explaining his plan, Li Mu couldn’t take his hand off his forehead.

He smiled bitterly. “When I traveled south with you, Wang Jian suspected I was planning something big. I told him I wasn’t. What do you think I should say now if he asks again?”

Zhu Xiang patted Li Mu’s shoulder. “I’m just helping the state of Dong’ou with some farming, and maybe negotiating with them to trade our cotton cloth for their silk, Eastern pearls, and grain. How is that a big move?”

Dong’ou had always been part of Zhu Xiang’s plan for a “trade war.”

Once the textile workshops were established, they would lure the state of Chu into planting cotton. After Chu could supply cotton in large quantities, the looms would run at full capacity.

At this point, cloth was hard currency—a universally accepted medium of exchange. Cotton cloth was of higher quality and value than linen.

People of this time had no concept of economics. They didn’t know what it meant for a currency to be overissued, leading to inflation. So Qin could use cotton cloth to absorb the resources of its enemies.

Dong’ou was unfortunate—miserable even—because it was too close to Qin. Zhu Xiang’s plan to buy supplies with cloth began there.

Southern goods were exotic treasures in the Central Plains. Once Dong’ou was harvested, Li Mu’s ships could monopolize southern specialties, draining the nobles of the Central Plains of their money and grain.

At least, this “trade war” wasn’t too bloody. After all, cotton cloth could be made into clothes—unlike money, which couldn’t be eaten or worn.

As long as Zhu Xiang brought in some agricultural innovations, the impact on commoners wouldn’t be too severe.

But after strolling through Dong’ou, Zhu Xiang sighed.

He was overthinking.

Dong’ou didn’t really have commoners—it was still a thoroughly slave-based society. Even if he brought in endless cloth and increased agricultural output, the people destined to starve would still starve.

Thankfully, it was hard to freeze to death in the south.

After wandering around one of the more prosperous cities of Dong’ou, Zhu Xiang’s confusion cleared.

At the very least, he needed to push for some kind of feudal system. With hands behind his back, he looked at the luxurious carriage of a slaveowner and sighed deeply.

The slaveowner’s whip was raised high. Pulling the carriage weren’t horses, but slaves with blank expressions.

Yet those slaves, dressed in relatively well-fitting clothes, still looked better off than the “commoners” kneeling on the ground.

The marketplace looked bustling and prosperous, but once the slaveowners arrived, they took whatever they wanted, and no one dared stop them.

To be fair, they only took from local stalls.

Merchants in foreign attire were also kneeling, but they looked up with cold, disdainful eyes.

Even merchants found these slaveowners’ barbarity hard to stomach.

Even in the capitals of the Seven States, when nobles came to the market, they still paid for their purchases.

When Zhu Xiang returned to the inn where they were temporarily staying, Li Mu told him the King of Dong’ou had invited him.

That man, Gen Mao, turned out to be a “royal merchant” directly under the King of Dong’ou.

“No wonder he could deal directly in Eastern pearls,” Zhu Xiang said. “Li Mu, should I meet him as Zhu Xiang, or as one of Lu Buwei’s subordinates?”

Li Mu’s mouth twitched. “Please, spare me some stress.”

Zhu Xiang laughed heartily.

The next day, Zhu Xiang changed into a different outfit, got into a carriage, and headed to the royal city of Dong’ou.

Wang Jian was waiting at the city gate.

Standing beside him, the King of Dong’ou looked lost and at a complete loss.

Wang Jian, face dark, cupped his hands. “Lord Changping, please be careful. If anything happens to you, how could I face His Majesty?”

Zhu Xiang turned to Li Mu and said, “See? It’s not that I’m trying to stress you out—it’s Wang Jian who exposed me.”

Li Mu: “Heh.”

He had arranged for Wang Jian to come on purpose.

The King of Dong’ou stared at Zhu Xiang’s wrapped head, stammering for a long time but unable to utter a word.

Finally, he bowed deeply and declared in accented formal speech, “I—I greet Lord Zhu Xiang!”

Though not recognized by the Zhou royal court, the King of Dong’ou’s self-declared status was practically equivalent to that of a Qin feudal lord.

Zhu Xiang returned the salute and gave a wry smile. “I didn’t mean to make fun—I just didn’t want to reveal my identity. Sigh, your fields are lying fallow here. It pains me to see it.”

The King of Dong’ou straightened up, his face filled with astonishment.

Zhu Xiang cupped his hands. “If you don’t mind, may I offer a suggestion and temporarily take over agricultural matters?”

The King of Dong’ou: “…”

The people behind him: “…”

Zhu Xiang said earnestly, “I really can’t bear to see fertile land left uncultivated.”

Li Mu’s shoulder twitched slightly—he was trying hard not to laugh.

Wang Jian hesitated as if to speak, gave his general an indescribable look, then let out a deep sigh.

The King of Dong’ou stammered again, “You—Lord Zhu Xiang, you disguised yourself as a merchant just to tell me this?”

Zhu Xiang replied solemnly, “Yue was once one of the Zhou dynasty’s most powerful vassal states, known for its flourishing civilization, even in the Central Plains. But now, I see its lands lying wasted. It truly saddens me. If I’ve offended you, I hope the Lord of Dong’ou will forgive me.”

Zhu Xiang didn’t call him “King of Dong’ou.” That title was self-bestowed. As a feudal lord of Qin, Zhu Xiang couldn’t acknowledge it.

Calling him “Lord of Dong’ou” was already generous, treating him as the rightful ruler of this region in legal terms.

It was like when the King of Chu claimed the royal title, but other states still referred to him using a lower, embarrassing noble rank in their records.

At least the King of Dong’ou was a descendant of the King of Yue, so he didn’t object.

After hearing Zhu Xiang’s words, he didn’t dare agree, nor did he dare refuse.

The pressure from Zhu Xiang was far greater than that from the famous warrior Li Mu.

With Li Mu, he could at least fight back if he didn’t submit.

But with Zhu Xiang, he feared a single wrong word would be spread to the Central Plains, where people would say Yue had truly fallen, its royal descendants were now just savages, lacking all sense of propriety—and had dared slight a renowned sage.

Even in this far southern corner, he’d heard that the King of Zhao nearly lost his state for offending Lord Zhu Xiang. His Dong’ou couldn’t compare to Zhao.

Now the King of Dong’ou had a splitting headache.

Why would such a great sage disguise himself as a merchant just to see him? Was it really because the fields here were fallow?

Did that make sense?!

After respectfully inviting Zhu Xiang into a luxurious carriage, the King of Dong’ou sat inside nervously and whispered complaints to his top minister.

But the minister was trembling with excitement. “Why not? This is who Lord Zhu Xiang is!”

The King of Dong’ou: “?”

The previously silent minister now spoke with a shaking voice, “It’s well-known in the Central Plains—wherever Lord Zhu Xiang farms, the land’s yield doubles, saving countless lives! Didn’t you hear? In his eyes, we in Dong’ou are the heirs of Yue. He couldn’t bear to see our fields abandoned—that’s why he came!”

The King of Dong’ou: “Uh… but why secretly?”

The minister thumped his chest in frustration. “That just shows Lord Zhu Xiang’s virtue! He wanted to quietly meet Your Majesty and offer strategies in secret! After all, as Lord Changping, how could he openly serve a foreign land? But the Qin generals wouldn’t allow it—they exposed him!”

The King of Dong’ou grew even more confused. “The Qin generals? But they didn’t look like they were stopping him…”

The minister said, “That’s because when the Qin general came to take him away, Lord Zhu Xiang openly declared he would help Yue farm! As Lord Changping, he outranks Qin’s generals. The King of Qin is far away in Xianyang—Lord Zhu Xiang can decide for himself. But now he’s created tension with Qin’s military.”

Tears welled up in the minister’s eyes. “No wonder the King of Zhao wanted to kill Lord Zhu Xiang. He isn’t doing this for any single country or monarch—he truly cares for the world.”

The King of Dong’ou: “…” Why are we back to talking about the King of Zhao?

He wanted to scratch his head, but his hand touched his hair bun and awkwardly lowered again.

He had dressed in full traditional Yue regalia just to meet Lord Zhu Xiang. Now he wanted to undo it and let his hair down.

The bun was too tight. His scalp itched.

“So… Lord Zhu Xiang really just came to farm?” the King of Dong’ou murmured. “And for that, he clashed with Qin’s generals?”

Was there truly someone like that?

In another carriage, Zhu Xiang said to Wang Jian, “Don’t look so grim—how about a smile?”

Wang Jian: “Heh.”

Zhu Xiang: “…” Doomed. He wouldn’t be cheering him up anytime soon.