At this time, Ying Zheng was already ten years old.

Historically, Qin Shi Huang was known to be tall and imposing, but Ying Zheng, thanks to his far better nutrition than the historical emperor, stood out among his peers like a crane among chickens.

After arriving in Nanjun, life had been extremely busy, and their diet had also changed — beyond beef, mutton, pork, and poultry, they had added fish, shrimp, and an abundance of fresh vegetables. The more balanced and healthy meals had finally melted away the baby fat on his face that Zhu Xiang loved so much.

If it weren’t for the fact that Ying Zheng thought it was too hot to grow his hair long, he could easily pass for a boy of twelve or thirteen. If he put on a serious face, people might even believe he was fourteen or fifteen.

Having an uncle who raised him like a pampered little pig meant that Ying Zheng was quite a bit bigger than his noble peers from the Seven States.

Fortunately, with Lian Po, Bai Qi, and Li Mu watching over him and making sure he exercised plenty, Zhu Xiang’s feeding strategy hadn’t actually turned him into a real little piglet.

Zhu Xiang quietly studied his nephew, and in his eyes, it was as if the true appearance of the future Qin Shi Huang had already emerged. Historically, Qin Shi Huang ascended the throne at thirteen — his looks back then were probably just like Zheng’er’s now.

Ying Zheng: “Crunch crunch?”

He noticed Zhu Xiang staring at him and handed over a cloth bundle wrapped around raw garlic.

Zhu Xiang: “……”

No, the historical Qin Shi Huang definitely wouldn’t munch on raw garlic like this.

Ying Zheng: “Uncle’s not eating?”

Zhu Xiang: “I am.”

He peeled a garlic clove and popped it into his mouth. “One piece is enough. Too much will burn your stomach.”

Ying Zheng said, “I’m growing new teeth, and my gums hurt. Bian Que said eating garlic helps ease toothache.”

That elderly man in Wu Commandery who had inherited the name of Bian Que — after accompanying Zhu Xiang back to Xianyang to tend to the late King Zhaoxiang of Qin — had introduced his disciple to King Zhu, then returned to Wu to continue studying schistosomiasis and other parasitic diseases.

After Zhu Xiang and his family of three moved to Wu Commandery, this Bian Que naturally became their family doctor.

He was now old and rarely traveled, staying home to sort notes, write medical books, teach disciples, and conduct experiments — which was perfect for providing medical care to Zhu Xiang’s family.

“Raw garlic does indeed help alleviate toothache,” Zhu Xiang recalled.

Ying Zheng said, “Not only that. Whenever I feel a little unwell, I eat a few cloves of garlic, sweat it out, and I feel better right away.”

He sipped some light tea to wash away the pungency, and continued, “If I still feel unwell, I drink ginger water and eat scallions with dipping sauce.”

Zhu Xiang gave him a smile that Ying Zheng couldn’t understand. Who corrupted Zheng’er into treating raw garlic and scallions like fruit?

…Oh, it was me.

Back when they were heading to Shu Commandery, Zhu Xiang had worried about Ying Zheng getting sick, so he encouraged him to try raw garlic and scallions.

Unexpectedly, Ying Zheng quickly accepted — and even developed a taste for them. He soon got used to eating them regularly, and now, if he didn’t get a bite every few days, he felt uncomfortable.

Mixing minced garlic with soy sauce and dipping boiled eggs, meat, or blanched shrimp was one thing — but dipping scallions in it? Even Zhu Xiang was shocked. Scallions dipped in garlic paste? What kind of legendary eating style was that?!

Even though Ying Zheng always drank light or floral teas to freshen his breath, it was hard not to carry a strong odor for a while after eating.

Zhu Xiang and Xue Ji didn’t mind — as long as Zheng’er was healthy, that was enough.

But what about those court officials who’d have to meet him face-to-face in the future… Well, who would dare comment on the Qin King’s breath smelling like garlic and scallions?

Right now, leeks were the most important vegetable in the north. When the first harvest of the season came, the king and ministers all reeked of leeks anyway — they were used to it.

Some people didn’t even have the habit of brushing their teeth yet—having a bit of a smell in the mouth was perfectly normal. In that case, it seemed like Zheng’er had no real problem.
People from Shaanxi traditionally loved eating raw garlic, and Zheng’er was a pure, classic Shaanxi youth.

Zhu Xiang quickly adjusted his mindset from “Shocking! The future Emperor reeks of garlic!” to “This is totally normal for Zheng’er.” It’s fine—one day, he’ll lead a trend among the nobility of Xianyang to chew raw garlic. He’ll have the old Shaanxi folks hooked on it early, and there’ll be no issue at all.

“You must be thinking of something really strange,” Ying Zheng said after finishing the last clove of garlic. He took a sip of tea, then pulled out a pouch of dried little fish from his sleeve and began munching away with a rustling sound.

Zhu Xiang immediately reached out and took half of Xiaozheng’s dried fish. He only ate one clove of raw garlic, so he was going to eat more of the little fish to make up for it.

These dried fish were all sea fish, cleaned, gutted, drained of water, marinated with pepper and salt for an hour, and then sun-dried. When you wanted to eat them, you could either roast them dry in a pan or smoke them with cypress branches. Each method had its own unique flavor.

After Zhu Xiang improved the dried fish-making methods of the Eastern Ou fishermen, Li Mu quickly picked it up and even made dried shrimp and once caught an octopus to make dried octopus.

After Li Mu gave Ying Zheng some of this pepper-salted dried fish, Xiaozheng instantly fell in love with it. Now, all kinds of pepper-salted seafood snacks had become his go-to food when handling government affairs.

“Auntie even made me a bunch of dried vegetables, mushrooms, and candied fruit. Said I need a balanced diet,” Ying Zheng said while gnawing on the dried fish, a hopeless look on his face. “They taste awful.”

Zhu Xiang said, “Don’t be picky. If you don’t like dried vegetables, mushrooms, and fruit, then eat the fresh ones instead.”

Ying Zheng replied, “I already eat fresh vegetables in all three meals.”

Zhu Xiang said, “Then just bite into a piece of fruit while eating your fish. It’s not that hard.”

Ying Zheng said, “Fine, but Uncle, you need to talk to Auntie. I’d rather chew fruit.”

Zhu Xiang couldn’t help laughing. “Alright.” Just how bad did Xue Ji’s dried vegetables and mushrooms taste, to make Zheng’er complain like this?

When Zhu Xiang arrived at Meng Wu’s residence, Meng Wu was not home. He couldn’t sit still—seeing Li Mu and Wang Jian embroiled in intense fighting in Baiyue, Meng Wu had gone south himself under the pretext of “suppressing bandits.”

There weren’t many people in Baiyue, and who knew if he’d even find any mountain people after entering the hills. Even if he didn’t, early summer meant the mountains were full of lush vegetation and game. Taking Qin troops on a hunt wouldn’t be a loss—it could be considered military training.

Ying Zheng speculated maliciously, “I think Meng Wu just wanted to go hunting.”

Now, the top official in charge of a commandery held both civil and military power, with authority nearly equal to that of an enfeoffed lord. A commandery governor using the excuse of suppressing bandits to take troops hunting was fairly common.

Zhu Xiang said, “He wouldn’t dare if you were here. But Zheng’er, you’re not calling him ‘Uncle Meng Wu’ anymore?”

Ying Zheng replied, “It’s not that I won’t call him that—it’s that they no longer dare accept it. My teacher said I’m now a full ten years old and should no longer be treated as a child. These uncles will all become my ministers in the future, so they must start respecting me now.”

After a pause, Ying Zheng added, “But even after I become King of Qin, I can still call someone ‘teacher.’ I wonder if Uncle Lin will get mad about that.”

Zhu Xiang was torn between laughter and tears. “Why would he be mad? You call Li Mu your teacher and call him Lin Qing? You can call him ‘sir’ too.”

Ying Zheng grinned, “Nope. I’ll just keep calling him Lin Qing and let him be mad. Uncle Cai, on the other hand, would never get angry no matter what.”

“Uncle Cai has a good temper—treat him well,” Zhu Xiang said. “Among my close friends, he’s the most dependable.”

Ying Zheng muttered to himself, Uncle, you’re one to talk…

“My teacher said that when I become King of Qin, it’s best if I don’t call him ‘teacher’ anymore either. He can restrain himself, but other members of the Li clan might not be so farsighted,” said Ying Zheng. “I can’t believe he’s already teaching me the way of kingship.”

Zhu Xiang said, “Li Mu’s ability in domestic governance may not be any worse than his military skill.”

Ying Zheng asked, “Oh? Then can I have Uncle Cai and Teacher take turns as Chancellor?”

Zhu Xiang replied, “Add Lin Li into the mix, and the three of them can rotate between Chancellor and Prime Minister. That way they’ll check and balance each other. Their political ideologies differ, after all.”

Even close friends with differing political views and family backgrounds would check and balance each other in court.

Ying Zheng made a face, “No way. If Uncle Lin becomes Chancellor, I feel like it would bring shame to Qin.”

Zhu Xiang burst out laughing.

But despite how much Ying Zheng complained about Lin Zhi, besides Zhu Xiang and Xue Ji, the person he was now closest to was Lin Zhi. He practically considered Lin Zhi half a family member—possibly even held him in higher regard than Zichu.

As they chatted, they changed their clothes. Zhu Xiang had been feeling tired earlier, but after getting changed and washing up, he felt refreshed again.

He noticed a bamboo grove in a side courtyard of Meng Wu’s residence and eagerly went to dig for bamboo shoots.

Spring shoots were great, but early summer bamboo shoots were still plentiful and didn’t taste bad either.

However, once the rain came, they would shoot up quickly and be inedible. After that, one would have to wait quite a while before fresh shoots grew again.

Though the sky was overcast, it hadn’t rained in E Yi for half a month. The bamboo hadn’t sprouted yet—perfect time to harvest shoots.

After digging them up, Zhu Xiang built a fire from bamboo leaves and stalks. He roasted half the new shoots in their husks, and sliced the other half to cook with chuncai (water shield plant) into a thick soup.

He had learned this dish from a colleague while traveling together for work. That colleague had even shared two literary anecdotes with him: The roasted bamboo shoots were called Bang Lin Xian (“Fresh by the Forest”), and the soup of chuncai and bamboo shoots was called Yu Dai Geng (“Jade Belt Stew”)—both were “literati dishes” recorded in Mountain Home Delicacies. The first was somehow associated with Su Shi (Su Dongpo) and his cousin Wen Tong, famous for his “bamboo in the heart” paintings.

Food connected to Su Dongpo? Not surprising at all.

As Zhu Xiang prepared the bamboo shoots, he thought about telling Ying Zheng Su Dongpo’s story.

But after turning it over in his mind, even if he changed Su Dongpo into some minor Spring and Autumn-era noble, it was still hard to explain how Su ended up demoted to a remote and desolate land, promoting culture and searching for good food. If he just made him a wandering scholar, the story lost its charm. So he gave up.

Zhu Xiang felt a bit regretful—but fortunately, the bamboo shoots were delicious and made up for it.

After hearing Zhu Xiang’s elegant commentary on the bamboo shoot dish, Ying Zheng first praised, “Fresh!” and then added, “But I still think bamboo shoots are tastier cooked with meat.”

Zhu Xiang nearly choked on his bamboo shoot. Alright, now you’ve enraged Master Dongpo. Mixing bamboo shoots with meat? That’s corrupting the purity of a gentleman—heresy!

“Fine, what kind of meat dishes with bamboo shoots do you want?” Zhu Xiang asked.

Ying Zheng immediately started listing: “Braised chicken with bamboo shoots, braised beef with bamboo shoots, bamboo shoot stew with…”

Zhu Xiang cut him off: “Wait a second—braised beef with bamboo shoots? Isn’t it illegal in Qin to privately slaughter oxen used for plowing?”

Ying Zheng blinked his eyes. “The cows Teacher bought from Eastern Ou—what do they have to do with plow oxen?”

Zhu Xiang was speechless. “Zheng’er, this is Nanjun. How would Li Mu transport those cows all the way from Eastern Ou to E Yi? And since when is Eastern Ou known for cattle breeding?”

Eastern Ou hadn’t even begun using oxen for farming yet!

Ying Zheng blinked again. “There are wild oxen in the mountains too. Maybe Uncle Meng caught one.”

Zhu Xiang: “……”

Breaking the law and knowing it, little Ying Zheng—now you’re calling him “Uncle Meng” again?!