HCT – Chapter 130 Showing Goodwill to Dong’ou

Li Mu and Wang Jian had reached a consensus on letting Zhu Xiang get beaten up.

Zhu Xiang was already on his way to the Dong’ou royal palace—there was nothing they could do now even if they were anxious. All they could do was comfort themselves by imagining what Zhu Xiang would look like after getting beaten.

Wang Jian looked at Li Mu with a hint of grievance in his eyes. He thought to himself, From now on, I probably won’t be able to respectfully call Li Mu “General Li” anymore.

Whenever Li Mu was involved in anything related to Zhu Xiang, he acted absurdly.

Any normal person, faced with this kind of situation, would at least carry Zhu Xiang away by force. But Li Mu just went along with Zhu Xiang’s will?

Li Mu met Wang Jian’s gaze squarely, calm and composed.

Wang Jian silently averted his eyes. Clearly Li Mu is the one in the wrong—so why am I the one feeling awkward?

Sensing the awkward atmosphere, Zhu Xiang quickly changed the subject and guided the conversation toward the history of the state of Yue.

During the Spring and Autumn period, Yue’s core territory was in the Jiangsu-Zhejiang region.

As Jin and Chu vied for dominance, Jin supported Wu, while Chu supported Yue. With this support, both Wu and Yue grew stronger. Under King Goujian, Yue entered its most prosperous era. One version of the historical “Five Hegemons of the Spring and Autumn Period” even includes King Goujian of Yue among them.

Even in the early Warring States period, after Yue experienced the upheaval of “the Yue people assassinating three of their kings,” it remained strong. At that time, even the state of Qi feared Yue. When King Wujiang of Yue attacked Qi, Qi sent envoys to persuade him to attack the weaker Chu instead.

King Wujiang actually believed them. He turned his army to attack Chu and was subsequently crushed by King Wei of Chu. King Wujiang was killed, and Qi took the opportunity to attack and routed Yue’s troops in Xuzhou.

Yue collapsed from that point on. Once bordering Qi, its territory shrank into southern Zhejiang, and it was eventually driven even farther to the Min region, merging with local indigenous peoples.

Whenever it came to warfare, Li Mu and Wang Jian had a lot to say.

Li Mu couldn’t understand: “War isn’t child’s play. Once an army is dispatched, there are only two outcomes: advance or retreat. How can the target change mid-campaign?”

War wasn’t just about generals leading soldiers—logistics and intelligence gathering were equally vital. Terrain, climate, enemy generals and troop strength, the possibility of reinforcements… any small detail could determine the outcome of a battle.

Sure, there were cases where people accidentally wiped out a state after getting lost—but that only happened with overwhelming power. Did Yue really think it could crush Chu? Chu under King Wei was at its peak!

Wang Jian also couldn’t understand: “Even if they wanted to attack Chu, they should have concentrated their forces. Why did King Wujiang divide his troops in Xuzhou?”

When King Wujiang attacked Chu, he left a detachment in Qi’s territory, and that force was quickly crushed. Chu’s military might was immense—even mobilizing the entire nation wouldn’t be enough for Yue to win. Wang Jian racked his brain but couldn’t figure out why King Wujiang would split his army.

Zhu Xiang said, “I don’t understand warfare, but I just can’t wrap my head around this: he already had several adult sons, so why would he go on such a dangerous campaign himself and not establish a crown prince? That’s why there was no clear successor, and the state fell apart. He must have been overconfident.”

As Zhu Xiang said this, he suddenly thought of how Emperor Qin Shi Huang, at his age (forty-nine, which wasn’t considered young in ancient times), still went touring the realm and didn’t think he might die on the road—leaving no successor behind. Maybe overconfidence was a common ailment among kings.

Back in Wucheng, Zheng’er let out a huge sneeze. Xue hurried to help him put on more clothes. Ying Zheng, feeling too warm, refused and took off running, with the two chasing each other around the courtyard.

The three men mocked King Wujiang’s antics and sighed over his baffling decisions.

Truth was stranger than fiction—even novelists wouldn’t write about such a foolish king.

Such a vast state as Yue, once one of the most prominent states among the various Chinese powers, had fallen overnight to the status of “southern barbarians” all because of one king’s absurd choices. It was truly lamentable.

Back in the day, both Wu and Yue were recognized as part of the Nine Provinces (the traditional core of China). The ancient text Yu Gong even included Yangzhou among the Nine Provinces.

“Ancestors had it good”—a painful truth for descendants to face.

Zhu Xiang, Li Mu, and Wang Jian had all been criticizing the foolishness of King Wujiang on the carriage ride. But when they reached the palace, Zhu Xiang would speak only of Yue’s past glory, never its disgrace.

He was here to build friendly ties with Dong’ou, not create enemies.

The King of Dong’ou welcomed Zhu Xiang with humility, repeatedly urging him to take the seat of honor. Zhu Xiang repeatedly declined.

Eventually, although the king didn’t force the issue, he arranged for Zhu Xiang to sit close to him, showing that he regarded him as an equal.

Wang Jian had only known the carefree side of Zhu Xiang. Seeing him now so precise in ritual and decorum, he was momentarily fooled into thinking he was a great Confucian scholar and was secretly shocked.

He glanced at Li Mu’s expression. Li Mu remained unmoved, as if he was used to this side of Zhu Xiang.

Wang Jian thought to himself, Seems I don’t know Zhu Xiang well enough yet.

Zhu Xiang, after all, had been personally tutored by Master Xunzi with a teaching ruler in hand. While not all of Xunzi’s students turned out to be great scholars, none of them could be faulted on ritual propriety.

To leave a good impression on the Dong’ou king, Zhu Xiang was giving it his all.

But he may have gone a little too all-out, making the King of Dong’ou feel rather uncomfortable. The high ministers around him looked like they were being bitten by fleas—tense and uneasy.

Only a few officials had eyes shining with fervent admiration—the kind of wild-eyed zeal that even someone as thick-skinned as Zhu Xiang found unsettling enough to look away.

A little scary.

Zhu Xiang first used meticulous Central Plains etiquette to establish a sense of distance between himself and the Dong’ou court. Then he pivoted to praising Yue’s past glory and the wisdom of its former kings—slowly narrowing that distance again.

Hearing such praise for his ancestors from a great sage, the young King of Dong’ou—who had only recently ascended the throne—couldn’t help but feel giddy. His formal posture slipped, and his speech became more casual.

As the king started behaving a little “improperly,” Li Mu and Wang Jian hadn’t yet reacted, but the Dong’ou ministers’ faces changed dramatically. They kept trying to signal him with their eyes.

Zhu Xiang gave the ministers a quick glance and smiled, saying, “We’re about the same age—no need to be so stiff. I know Dong’ou’s etiquette differs greatly from the Central Plains now. Your Majesty may act more freely.”

The King of Dong’ou could no longer maintain his upright posture. Hearing this from Zhu Xiang, he didn’t care whether it was politeness or not—his straight-backed form immediately collapsed.

“Thank you, sir. I really… ah, it’s too hot,” the King said, loosening his collar to reveal his tattooed chest and adjusting his headpiece.

Li Mu and Wang Jian’s eyes twitched slightly as they repressed their disdain.

Even among Qin people, there was a faint sense of superiority when seeing tattooed Yue people.

Zhu Xiang, however, didn’t feel any disdain. He even found it… rather attractive.

The King of Dong’ou had been quietly observing Zhu Xiang’s reaction. Seeing no sign of contempt—maybe even a trace of appreciation—he was stunned.

Are my eyes playing tricks on me? the King thought in disbelief. A great sage from the Central Plains… shouldn’t he despise my tattoos?

The King hurriedly pulled his collar closed again, suddenly feeling embarrassed for some reason.

Zhu Xiang didn’t notice the king’s little gestures and moved on to official matters.

He asked the king to bring paper and brush. The King of Dong’ou brought out a calligraphy brush and fine silk cloth.

Zhu Xiang glanced at the smooth, white silk—he could tell the king was showing off his wealth.

He chuckled inwardly and then began sketching a rough map of Dong’ou’s current geography on the silk.

The Current Territory of the Kingdom of Dong’ou roughly corresponds to the modern-day cities of Lishui, Taizhou, and Wenzhou in Zhejiang province, with its royal palace located in Wenzhou.

The geographical conditions of Zhejiang are not particularly favorable for agricultural cultivation. A later saying goes that Zhejiang has “seven parts mountains, one part water, and two parts farmland,” meaning that only about one-fifth of the province consists of plains suitable for large-scale farming; the rest is predominantly hilly and mountainous terrain.

The main grain-producing regions in Zhejiang are three major plains: the Hangjiahu Plain near Hangzhou and Taihu, the Ning-Shao Plain around Ningbo and Shaoxing, and the coastal plains of Taizhou and Wenzhou. Although Zhejiang’s arable land is not vast, it benefits from favorable water and heat conditions. In ancient times, even without chemical fertilizers and pesticides, the Jiangnan region (including Jiangsu and Zhejiang) maintained the highest grain output in the country from the Southern Song dynasty onwards.

The saying “When Su and Hu are ripe, the whole country is fed” refers to the grain output of the Hangjiahu and Ning-Shao Plains.

After the state of Yue was conquered by Chu, the Hangjiahu and Ning-Shao Plains became part of Chu, and now fall under Qin’s Wu Commandery. The mountains between the Ning-Shao Plain and Taizhou acted as a natural boundary between the Chu army and the Baiyue people. That was how the descendants of the King of Yue were able to establish the Kingdom of Dong’ou in Taizhou, Lishui, and Wenzhou.

Fearing Chu, the Kingdom of Dong’ou made its capital at Wenzhou, located at the southernmost tip of its territory. Surrounded by mountains on three sides, Wenzhou was nearly impossible to attack in that era: an invading army would have to cross several mountain ranges to reach Taizhou and then even more to reach Wenzhou. The king of Dong’ou thus felt secure and complacent.

Who would have thought that the Qin army would arrive by sea?

Upon seeing the simplified terrain map drawn by Zhu Xiang, the King of Dong’ou grew anxious. When he saw Zhu Xiang draw a line showing Qin troops arriving unhindered by sea to trade directly at Wenzhou, his heart sank even further.

Wang Jian nearly burst out laughing—was Zhu Xiang trying to intimidate the King of Dong’ou?

But after closely observing Zhu Xiang’s expression, he concluded that Zhu Xiang wasn’t trying to threaten the king at all. He was merely explaining how much land in Wenzhou and Taizhou was arable and how trade with Qin could be mutually beneficial.

“Though the coastal plains are not as fertile as those in Wu Commandery, they can still yield a large amount of grain,” Zhu Xiang said with a touch of sorrow in his eyes.

While the coastal plains in Taizhou and Wenzhou suffer slightly more from soil salinization than the Ning-Shao and Hangjiahu Plains, they have always been highly productive.

Even in later times, after the Ning-Shao and Hangjiahu Plains became more developed, Wenzhou still had at least three counties ranked among the top twenty grain-producing counties in Zhejiang. Particularly Leqing, which has consistently stayed in the top fifteen, often acting as the “gatekeeper” of the top ten.

The coastal plains of Wenzhou, when broken down, include the Leqing Plain, Yongjia Plain, Wenrui Plain, Taoshan Plain, Beigang Plain, and Nangang Plain. Though some of these alluvial plains have not reached the size they would attain in later centuries, even scattered as they are, the total arable area already exceeds 1,000 square kilometers.

If properly utilized, these lands could make Wenzhou self-sufficient in grain, regardless of its mountainous terrain.

Zhu Xiang said, “In King Goujian’s time, he reformed land cultivation, replaced the bird-field system with the well-field system, developed irrigation, and improved farming tools. But on my way here, I saw that the Dong’ou plains have reverted to the bird-field system—it’s truly heartbreaking.”

Bird-fields, also known as “bird tilling,” appear in Confucian classics as a symbol of virtuous governance. Legend says that during Great Yu’s time, birds helped till the fields, hence the name.

In reality, bird-fields were a primitive form of slash-and-burn farming. The Baiyue people had many birds; farmers would lure birds into the fields to peck at weeds and insects, thereby loosening the soil before sowing. The bird droppings also served as fertilizer.

To strengthen the state, King Goujian adopted the well-field system from the Central Plains, making a significant leap toward a mature slave-based society.

But after Yue fell apart, most Dong’ou people reverted to fishing and hunting, eating fish, clams, and snakes. The well-field system regressed into “come, birds, help me till the land.”

Zhu Xiang wanted to ask the King of Dong’ou, a descendant of King Yue: “Aren’t you heartbroken to see this?”

“I, an outsider, am heartbroken enough as it is.”

He sighed and said, “I hear the Yue people here don’t fully obey your rule. To the west of Dong’ou lies a tribal alliance that calls itself Xi’ou, and its leader stands equal with the King of Dong’ou. How did the Yue state fall to such a state? If Great Yu were to see his descendants unable even to farm, would he not weep on Mount Kuaiji?”

Though the Kingdom of Dong’ou claimed dominion over Taizhou, Lishui, and Wenzhou, in truth it controlled only the coastal plains and nearby islands. The vast mountainous areas to the west were inhabited by countless tribes who elected a chieftain to represent their collective interests externally.

People from the Central Plains referred to this tribal alliance as the Xi’ou tribes.

This was a sore point for the King of Dong’ou. He didn’t want to be called the King of Dong’ou—he wanted to be called the King of Ou.

Just as the King of Minyue didn’t want to be “King of Minyue” but simply “King of Yue.”

Now that Zhu Xiang had brought this matter up, the King of Dong’ou felt both humiliated and angry—but he didn’t dare to lash out.

Even though Zhu Xiang had essentially scolded him for letting his descendants go astray and make their ancestors weep, he also praised Great Yu and King Goujian so highly, and affirmed that the Yue people were not mere barbarians, that the king didn’t know how to respond with anger.

He couldn’t exactly say, “My ancestors would be thrilled that our people can’t farm anymore,” could he?

After thinking for a while, the King of Dong’ou finally squeezed out a response: “I still eat rice.”

Zhu Xiang: “…”

Li Mu and Wang Jian: “…”

Ministers of Dong’ou: Your Majesty! If you don’t know how to respond, you don’t have to respond at all!

Zhu Xiang sighed and said, “Precisely because I see that you and your learned officials are no different from those of the Central Plains, I feel such sorrow. After Yue declined, many of its virtuous and talented people left for the Central Plains in search of livelihood. People in the Central Plains often say that the strength of Qi and Chu stems from their heavy use of talent from Wu and Yue.”

The King of Dong’ou and his ministers were once again unsure how to react.

They felt both pride and melancholy.

When the State of Yue flourished, it welcomed talent from the Central Plains. But once Chu severed the connection between Baiyue and the Central Plains, no more Central Plains talent came to Baiyue. Meanwhile, Baiyue’s own scholars could still travel to Chu and beyond.

Many Yue intellectuals, unwilling to return to primitive ways, migrated to the Central Plains, making it even harder for those who stayed behind to preserve Yue’s civilization.

Civilization is fragile to begin with—bamboo slips and bronze vessels are not easy to carry. It’s understandable that the Yue fell back into tribalism.

After all, farming knowledge was passed down orally, and books on agriculture were kept by the state. When Yue’s nobility fled south, they probably took only gold and jewels, not those “burdensome” bamboo books.

After expressing his sorrow over the Yue people’s decline and the waste of fertile plains in Dong’ou, Zhu Xiang did not press the King of Dong’ou for an immediate response. Citing fatigue from travel, he took his leave.

The King had originally prepared a feast in Zhu Xiang’s honor, but upon hearing he was tired—and feeling emotionally drained himself after Zhu Xiang’s words—he canceled it. Instead, he sent beauties with fine food to serve Zhu Xiang.

Unsurprisingly, this great scholar was not one for carnal pleasures. After eating, he dismissed the beauties.

The beauties kept looking back as they left, heartbroken.

Zhu Xiang hadn’t expected that, upon his arrival at the Dong’ou palace, he would become the object of affection for so many of the palace women.

After Zhu Xiang left, the King of Dong’ou, knowing that the formidable Li Mu and Wang Jian were in his palace, couldn’t sleep despite his weariness.

He summoned his ministers to discuss the day’s events.

The court was split into two factions.

One believed that Qin had always had a terrible reputation and could not be trusted. These envoys must have come with ill intentions, and should be sent away as soon as possible.

The other faction angrily countered that Qin’s reputation had nothing to do with Lord Zhu Xiang. He had come with sincerity, devoted to improving Dong’ou’s farming, and never once asked for anything in return. How dare anyone doubt his motives? They’d risk their lives to defend his honor!

Now able to let down his hair and loosen his robe, the King of Dong’ou leapt up in fear and rushed to stop the fight.

There were already few literate and scholarly ministers in Dong’ou. If any of them got hurt, who would write his official documents?

He couldn’t very well emulate the Xi’ou savages and just shout orders, could he?

“Calm down, calm down,” said the King of Dong’ou. “How could I possibly suspect Lord Zhu Xiang? The ones I’m wary of are Li Mu and Wang Jian. While Lord Zhu Xiang may genuinely wish to help us, Li Mu and Wang Jian are a different matter altogether.”

That senior official said angrily, “If Li Mu and Wang Jian really wanted to do something to us, would they need to resort to tricks? Did you see their huge ships? They snatch things from Minyue, and the Minyue people don’t even dare to fart!”

King of Dong’ou: “……”

The official smoothed his sleeves and snorted coldly, “Everyone who’s been to the south says Qin has the ambition to conquer all under heaven. Even Chu’s ancestral tombs were burned down by them. If Qin truly wanted our land, their army would march straight in. Why would they need any schemes or tricks? They didn’t bother with such things when it came to Chu.”

King of Dong’ou: “……” Why does this sound so unpleasant?

The official continued, “If Your Majesty wants to resist Qin, then you should immediately reach out to Xi’ou and Minyue. Only if all the Yue people unite will we have any chance of keeping the Qin at bay.”

The King of Dong’ou sighed, “If the Qin army were already pressing at our borders, we might be able to unite. But right now, the Qin army shows no signs of movement, and I’m afraid they won’t agree.”

Especially the Xi’ou tribes—they consider themselves protected by the surrounding mountains. Even if Dong’ou and Minyue were wiped out, they wouldn’t think it had anything to do with them. Getting them to act would be extremely difficult.

Once a single Yue kingdom, now broken into the many Baiyue—no wonder Lord Zhu Xiang sighed so deeply.

The official said, “Since the Baiyue cannot unite for now, what can we do but put on a false show of cooperation with Qin? We should make use of Lord Zhu Xiang’s goodwill to help Dong’ou produce abundant harvests and strengthen our nation. That way, we’ll be better prepared to resist Qin in the future.”

The King of Dong’ou sighed again, “But I dare not believe that the Qin would really help me farm.”

And so the conversation looped back to the same point.

The two factions of officials began arguing again, and the King of Dong’ou kept trying to mediate.

Meanwhile, Zhu Xiang made an early exit, insisting on sharing a bed with Li Mu and Wang Jian, just so he could unload his excess need for conversation.

The three of them spread straw, wooden planks, and brocade on the ground and let Zhu Xiang lie in the middle and babble on.

Zhu Xiang: “They must be arguing like mad right now!”

Li Mu: “Mm.”

Wang Jian: “What are they arguing about? You’re helping them out of goodwill, and they’re still unhappy?”

Zhu Xiang: “They think I’m a weasel paying respects to a hen—clearly up to no good!”

Li Mu: “Mm.”

Wang Jian: “What? A weasel pays respects to a hen?”

Zhu Xiang: “I really didn’t have any bad intentions. I never considered that once Dong’ou’s harvests improve, the grain-starved Minyue and Xi’ou might try to rob them.”

Li Mu: “Hoo… hoo…” (falling asleep)

Wang Jian: “Then I’ll just go rob Minyue!”

Zhu Xiang and Wang Jian chatted until dawn. Li Mu slept dreamlessly through the noise all night.

The next morning, Zhu Xiang and Wang Jian both looked a bit worn out, while Li Mu was bright-eyed and full of energy.

Zhu Xiang looked at Li Mu with eyes full of resentment. We agreed to have a late-night chat, and you secretly went to sleep?! If I’d known, I would’ve kicked you a few times to wake you up.

Li Mu said, “If you two are still tired, you can sleep a bit more.”

Wang Jian shook his head, “I’ll just wash my face and I’ll be fine.”

He went to take a cold-water bath, and sure enough, returned looking completely refreshed.

Generals probably all have that ability to wake up instantly—otherwise, they’d never manage a night raid.

Only Zhu Xiang still looked out of sorts.

The King of Dong’ou also looked out of sorts. Seeing Zhu Xiang in the same state, he asked, “Did Lord Zhu Xiang not sleep well? Were our attendants lacking?”

Zhu Xiang forced a smile, “No. I just kept thinking about how we might miss the planting season, and couldn’t sleep.”

The officials behind the King of Dong’ou lit up again.

This is Lord Zhu Xiang indeed!

The King of Dong’ou braced himself and said, “I deeply admire Lord Zhu Xiang’s goodwill. It’s just… just… sigh, some of my ministers don’t really trust Qin.”

Zhu Xiang said, “I understand Your Majesty’s concern. You may assign someone to watch over me.”

Seeing the King still hesitant, Zhu Xiang added, “Aside from helping Dong’ou farm, I won’t ask for any benefits. Qin won’t ask for anything either.”

The King of Dong’ou was stunned: “Can Lord Zhu Xiang truly decide this?”

Zhu Xiang replied, “Let’s limit it to this year and next. A year and a half is enough time for your people to learn the methods I teach. I promise there will be no military conflict between Qin and Dong’ou before next autumn’s harvest.”

He smiled, “After all, I’m the Lord of Changping, and the Prefect of Wu Commandery. I do have the authority to make this decision.”

The King was stunned again: “Lord Zhu Xiang is the Prefect of Wu? Wasn’t it General Li Mu?”

Zhu Xiang’s expression turned odd: “I came to Wu Commandery to assume that position—it’s been a few months already.”

What?! Is Dong’ou really that isolated? They didn’t even know Wu changed prefects?

Then again, the Dong’ou capital is separated from Wu by two mountain ranges. Maybe they really are that out of the loop. Sigh—this is why we need to develop maritime transport.

The King of Dong’ou exclaimed, “Then where is General Li Mu being reassigned?”

Seeing the King’s eager expression, Zhu Xiang couldn’t help feeling a moment of sympathy for him.

“General Li Mu is the commander of the entire southern Qin frontier. He never should’ve held the position of Prefect to begin with,” Zhu Xiang explained. “He’s still stationed in Wu, guarding against a possible southern invasion by Chu.”

King of Dong’ou: “……” Are you sure he’s guarding against Chu’s southern advance, and not making constant southern raids?

He was starting to suspect that Li Mu might be a nomad—why does he always snatch things and run off? He’d heard only the northern barbarians did that. Even the Xi’ou tribes weren’t this shameless.

Although they hadn’t stolen from Dong’ou directly—and Dong’ou had actually gained a lot by trading with the Qin—the King still felt uneasy.

“Are you reassured now?” Zhu Xiang asked. “If you’re truly unwilling, I won’t force you. Sigh, it’s just a pity about all that farmland.”

Seeing how Zhu Xiang’s only concern was the potential farmland, the King of Dong’ou found himself leaning more and more toward agreeing.

Zhu Xiang added, “If you agree, I can have the Qin army help build irrigation works.”

The King was so shocked his jaw dropped: “T-That’s really possible?”

Zhu Xiang said, “Qin and Dong’ou are neighbors. Now that Qin and Chu are at odds and can’t trade, Qin can only trade with Dong’ou. A prosperous Dong’ou means a prosperous Wu.”

Zhu Xiang sighed again and said, “I brought Qin cotton this time, hoping to trade with the Kingdom of Dong’ou. Eastern pearls are nice, but what Qin really wants is military grain—do you understand? Qin does not wish to wage war on Dong’ou. If we attack Dong’ou, the Chu people will immediately move south. We only want to do business with you.”

He paused and added helplessly, “But right now, Dong’ou doesn’t have much to offer us in exchange. That’s why the King of Qin agreed to let me proceed this way.”

Although Zhu Xiang didn’t inform his friends of this plan, he had indeed informed King Zhu of Qin. Before leaving Xianyang, he had discussed all the details of this trade strategy with the King of Qin, including the idea of helping Dong’ou with farming—this too was part of the plan.

At the time, King Zhu hadn’t understood. If Dong’ou grew stronger, wouldn’t that make it harder for Qin to conquer the Baiyue region?

But Zhu Xiang argued that once Dong’ou developed an agricultural society, many commoners would settle in the coastal plains, which would make it easier for the Qin army to land.

Dong’ou wasn’t subordinate to other Baiyue tribes—if it had grain, the other tribes would try to plunder it, stirring internal strife.

Stronger economic ties between Dong’ou and Qin would make future annexation easier for Qin.  And if Dong’ou’s king was blinded by short-term gains and agreed to let Qin’s army help with irrigation and farming…

“Then the commoners of Dong’ou will start to favor the Qin army,” Zhu Xiang said. “Dong’ou doesn’t treat its farmers as civilians, but as slaves. They’re used to this lifestyle, so if the Qin army invades, they’ll obey the nobles and fight.”

“But what if we show them another way of life? Tell them that as Qin citizens, they won’t have to hand over all their grain, leaving only scraps or even none for themselves?”

“Even the poorest commoners in Qin and the Central Plains live better than the agricultural slaves of Dong’ou.”

“I believe in the power of the people.”

After listening to Zhu Xiang’s suggestions, King Zhu was silent for a long time, then nodded in agreement. “I trust you. Go ahead.”

So if Li Mu and Wang Jian complained, Zhu Xiang was confident that King Zhu wouldn’t hit him over the head with a ruler—he had already reported everything!

Zhu Xiang had offered enormous benefits—providing grain seeds and technical assistance to Dong’ou, even sending Qin troops to help.

Even if the King of Dong’ou suspected there were hidden motives behind these benefits, he couldn’t help being tempted.

The king still retained some reason, but after Li Mu’s men spread news of Zhu Xiang’s talks with the king, the king could no longer suppress the nobles’ demands.

Slavery-based states were typically ruled jointly by many nobles, and royal power was greatly dispersed.

Just as the Central Plains had vassal lords, the King of Dong’ou had great slaveholders who commanded armies and territories. While they nominally followed the king’s orders, he could not fully control them.

If Zhu Xiang came with Qin troops to help them farm, and if business and cooperation with Qin deepened, they would gain tremendous benefits.

They longed for treasures from the Central Plains. But the state of Chu had cut off their route to the Central Plains, making such goods hard to obtain.

If they befriended Qin, they could rely on Qin’s warships for protection and sail to the Central Plains to trade for treasures. The thought alone delighted the nobles.

Moreover, most of the coastal plains had already been divided among the nobles. Increased production would only further strengthen their power. They didn’t care about Qin’s ambitions—benefits in hand came first.

At this point, the King of Dong’ou’s hesitation was meaningless. If he refused Zhu Xiang’s proposal, someone else might soon sit on the throne.

In the face of such enormous profits, most of the nobles in Dong’ou couldn’t resist the temptation.

Wang Jian watched the King of Dong’ou, pressured by the situation, hand over the responsibility of instructing in agriculture to Zhu Xiang, even granting him substantial authority and precious gifts. A chill crept into his heart.

He scrutinized Zhu Xiang again.

Had Zhu Xiang anticipated all of this? Was this an accidental outcome, or part of his plan?

Had he predicted from the beginning that he would succeed—not only succeed but even sow discord between the king and his officials?

Even though Zhu Xiang was his friend, this development left Wang Jian slightly shaken.

Zhu Xiang had gained far more than he originally aimed for.

The King of Dong’ou had not only agreed to let Qin soldiers assist in teaching coastal farmers, but had also granted Zhu Xiang direct authority over the locals.

Zhu Xiang now held the same powers as the Dong’ou minister in charge of agriculture—without missing a beat.

With protection from both Qin soldiers and local troops assigned by the king, Zhu Xiang essentially had military authority as well—more than Dong’ou’s actual agriculture minister.

The Governor of Wu Commandery from Qin was now walking freely across Dong’ou’s coastal plains. The Qin troops whispered among themselves, all full of admiration for Lord Changping.

“As expected of our Lord Changping from Qin!”

Still, the King of Dong’ou imposed restrictions—Zhu Xiang was only allowed to operate in the coastal plains, not in the hills or mountains. Since the coastal plains made up only a small part of Dong’ou’s territory, the king felt reassured.

Zhu Xiang simply shook his head at this.

The Qin navy was growing stronger. They needed only a foothold to land and then transport large forces inland. If the coastal plains were secured quickly, the Baiyue region could be gradually devoured.

That one area could fully supply the Qin army, allowing them to grind down Baiyue bit by bit.

The First Emperor of Qin had paid a great price to conquer Baiyue. But had they first secured the grain-producing coastal plains as a base, the conquest would’ve been much easier. From there, they could spread out, and subduing Baiyue would be simple.

Zhu Xiang returned by ship to Wu Commandery and reported to Ying Zheng.

Ying Zheng was so startled he nearly yanked out some of his little topknot hair.

He jumped on Zhu Xiang’s back and pounded on his head. “Uncle! How many lives do you think you have? How many? How could you do something so dangerous?!”

“I already told you—it wasn’t dangerous, really.” Zhu Xiang hunched over, letting Ying Zheng yank on his hair. “See? It all turned out just as I expected…”

Ying Zheng immediately covered his mouth. “Not listening! Not listening! Shut up, Uncle!”

Xue’s face also turned pale.

But after hearing Zhu Xiang’s reasoning, though she was still worried, she trusted that he had planned everything carefully. She even tried to calm Ying Zheng down.

Ying Zheng rolled his eyes in frustration.

“Aunt, you trust Uncle too much! That’s why he keeps taking risks!”

“Dong’ou isn’t even that important,” Ying Zheng said. “After we unify the Central Plains, we can take our time dealing with them. Why rush now?”

Zhu Xiang said, “If it’s certain that Baiyue will be attacked in the future, then as Governor of Wu, I should prepare for that future now.”

Ying Zheng ground his teeth. “I’m the Governor of Wu.”

Zhu Xiang chuckled and patted his head. “Then you should prepare for the future too.”

Ying Zheng snorted, “It’s just a barbarian land. Not worth thinking too much about.”

Zhu Xiang replied, “If you want that land, you have to think about how to use it. Would you spend lives and money conquering a place, only to find it yields less than it cost? That kind of war just weakens the nation and alienates the people.”

Ying Zheng, thinking of the great wars waged by the future Ying Zheng in his dream, asked uncertainly, “Really? It would make the country weaker?”

Zhu Xiang said, “Isn’t it obvious?”

“But… Qin has only grown stronger through conquest.”

“That’s because the territories Qin has taken are immediately useful. But imagine if I gave you land the size of all Qin, and it was just sand—no water, no grass, not even animals. What good would that land be?”

Ying Zheng shook his head.

Zhu Xiang patted his head again. “What does it mean to be vainglorious? Fighting fruitless wars is vanity. It drains the country and breeds decline. Look at the northern nomads—they raid the south every year, but they don’t suffer from war-weariness. Why? Because there are always spoils.”

“Zheng’er, you’ll surely be a great ruler who expands the empire. But you need to calculate which lands are profitable, and how to govern them efficiently to recoup the costs of war. That’s the duty of a king.”

“Only by doing that—making the country richer through war—can you be called a great ruler.”

“Otherwise, it’s just reckless warfare, exhausting national strength and speeding the dynasty’s fall.”

Ying Zheng pondered this and nodded solemnly. “Uncle, teach me!”

Zhu Xiang smiled. “Aren’t I already doing that?”

Ying Zheng said, “I’ll fully support you on the Dong’ou matter. Don’t worry.”

Zhu Xiang said, “Good. But make sure to rest too. I heard you’re still skipping naps and hiding documents in your bed…”

Ying Zheng covered his ears.

Uncle is so annoying!

Why do people have to nap? Sleeping in broad daylight is lazy! It should be banned!

When I become emperor, I’ll issue an edict: no naps allowed in Qin!

Xue listened to Zhu Xiang scolding Ying Zheng and nodded repeatedly.

Yes, he should be lectured properly.

Ying Zheng was too grown up now for her to spank his bottom.

She had considered using a ruler, but Zhu Xiang had advised her that at Ying Zheng’s age, it’s best not to use corporal punishment—it would just make him rebellious. Better to lecture him.

Xue had always followed Zhu Xiang’s parenting advice.

But when she saw Ying Zheng secretly hiding under the covers to mark documents, she couldn’t hold back her anger—and gave his palms a good slap.

No ruler. But a hand was fine, right?