HCT – Chapter 147 Draining the Moon in the Cup

After spacing out for a while, Zhu Xiang had someone bring over a jar of wine.

The servants assumed he was admiring the moon, so they brought him extra clothing to keep him from catching a chill, and some dishes to go with the wine.

The eaves of the roof were wide enough that even if Zhu Xiang fell asleep up there, he wouldn’t roll off.

Still, to prevent injury, the servants kept watch below and laid straw in the spots where he might fall.

Zhu Xiang picked up his chopsticks, took a few bites of the dishes, then poured himself some wine and drank a little.

By the time he had finished eating, only a small portion of the wine jar had been emptied.

The wine from the Ba Commandery Governor’s Residence wasn’t as fine as the brew he made himself, but once filtered, it was clear, sweet, and mild in strength.

With his head bowed, Zhu Xiang gazed into his wine cup, where the round moon was reflected. He gently swirled the cup, shattering the moon into a swirl of frost-like shimmer.

“Before my bed, the moonlight glows,
I suspect it’s frost upon the ground.
I raise my head to gaze at the moon,
Then lower it, thinking of my hometown.”

“They say my arrival brings change, but in truth, nothing will change,” Zhu Xiang murmured at last, after a long silence.

“Emperor Qin Shi Huang, in his later years, campaigned north against the Xiongnu, south against Baiyue, built the Great Wall, highways, palaces, and his mausoleum—achievements unmatched in history, and wonders of the world.”

“But a single unmatched achievement, a single world wonder, could consume the entire foundation of a dynasty—something an emperor might struggle his whole life to achieve.”

“Qin Shi Huang accomplished it. Does that mean he was truly powerful?”

“Yes, he was formidable. But it wasn’t him who died on the battlefield during the northern and southern campaigns. It wasn’t him who starved or collapsed from exhaustion building the Great Wall, highways, palaces, or tombs.”

“One-fifth of the Qin population ceased their livelihoods. Nearly all the young and able-bodied were conscripted. Only the elderly, the sick, the disabled, and children remained, crawling over the land to support this colossal empire, to feed the ambition of a so-called emperor of the ages.”

Zhu Xiang raised his head and downed the cup of frost-like wine in one gulp.

“When I was still a man of later generations, I too revered Qin Shi Huang. I too lamented the fall of the Qin.”

He flung his wine cup aside. The golden cup rolled and clinked crisply against the ground.

Clutching his chopsticks and hugging the wine jar, he began tapping it rhythmically with the chopsticks, singing softly—a voice only he could hear.

“In the wild roam dogs, in the forest cry birds.
Hungry dogs wail as they eat, birds refuse to flee yet are chased away…”

“By the roadside in villages north and south, a wife calls in vain to her dying husband, a child supports a father drawing his last breath…”

“Birds peck out eyes, dogs drag away beards, no intact skin is left on the body!”

Zhu Xiang’s head swayed, the drunkenness surging. His drumming against the wine jar grew more forceful.

“Passerby, do not sigh. Listener, do not cry!
Have you not seen in a forsaken shrine, among thorn and weed,
scattered flesh whose kin no one knows?
Oh heavens, oh heavens, you do not heed my cry—
better to envy those who freeze and starve by the roadside!”

“Hah! Better to envy those who freeze and starve by the roadside!”

With a loud crack, Zhu Xiang struck so hard that the chopsticks shattered the wine jar. Wine splashed out with a rushing sound.

The shards fell like chimes, drawing the gaze of the servants below.

Zhu Xiang stood up and began dancing atop the broad rooftop, staggering and swaying.

The servants couldn’t help but smile, whispering among themselves how their Lord Zhu was just like Chancellor Lin—enjoying the moon, drinking wine, then suddenly bursting into joyous dance. Just watching him made their hearts feel lighter.

After a while, Zhu Xiang lay flat on his back atop the eaves.

The moon was at its zenith.

Its silvery glow bathed his face, the wine stains on his robe, the right hand gashed by a shard of pottery still gripping the chopsticks, and the left hand clutching his collar tightly.

His white hair spilled around him like moonlight.

Zhu Xiang once again stared blankly at the moon.

He murmured softly:

“This world is truly loathsome.”

“To see suffering—better to die.”

Even with family, even with friends, Zhu Xiang often found himself entertaining the thought of disappearing forever.

And the higher his rank, the deeper such thoughts would burrow into his soul.

Back when he was still a commoner, Zhu Xiang could comfort himself with the thought, “I just can’t do it.”

At that time, although there were many things he couldn’t accomplish and many people he couldn’t save, he was happier than he is now. 

Now, he can accomplish more. He can save more people. But he suffers more too.

Not only does he no longer have the excuse of self-consolation, he also realizes that every time he accomplishes something, countless commoners suffer for it.

Because in a feudal state, every major undertaking requires a massive amount of manpower—manpower that is forcibly conscripted, with no regard for the people’s lives or deaths. That’s why, in times of recovery, governing a great nation should be like cooking a small fish—minimal interference is better. The more one stirs, the more the people suffer.

“To benefit generations to come”—that is a convenient excuse. But he cannot use it. Because he is not someone from a later age. He is a person of this very era.

Those from future generations, unable to witness the suffering of the common folk, can nod and say, “To accomplish such a grand achievement, even if some people starve or die from exhaustion, it’s a price worth paying. Surely they died without regrets.”

But he has seen death with his own eyes. He cannot say such things.

“So I must not die,” Zhu Xiang said again.

“There are some things that must be done. The world must be unified. The people’s labor must be spent.”

“There will inevitably be people who fall and die with eyes wide open, unable to rest in peace.”

“Reducing the number of people who fall—that isn’t something only I can do, but something only I will do.”

“We must unify the realm as soon as possible.”

“We must restrain the King of Qin from advancing too many policies at once.”

“Don’t fight on two fronts during war. Don’t launch grand construction projects at the same time. Don’t rush to build your magnificent palaces and tombs.”

“Live one lifetime. Do one era’s work.”

Scenes from after entering Qin flashed through his mind—

The commoners toiling in the fields east of the Pass.

The commoners trapped in the floods of Shu Prefecture.

The commoners building dikes.

The commoners reclaiming wetlands.

And the Qin soldiers he had personally led into battle.

“Xue… I miss you.”

“Zheng’er… I miss you so much.”

Zhu Xiang slowly and awkwardly climbed down from the rooftop.

“Only when I see you both… can I feel that this world has truly changed.”

“Only then do I have the courage to keep on living.”

I was just an ordinary person with no great ambitions. How did I stumble all the way here, crashing through wall after wall, never turning back?

Zhu Xiang couldn’t understand it. But he was a little drunk, and the night air had chilled him. He needed to get off the roof immediately.

He needed to change his clothes, drink ginger soup, soak in a hot bath, sweat it all out—

Only then would he avoid catching a cold.

Then he needed to get a good night’s sleep. Rest the entire next day. Let his spirit and body recover to their best state.

Only then could he be healthy.

Only then could he live a long life.

Only then could he keep on living.

He must live.

Keep living.

Live a long, long time.

The next day, Zhu Xiang rested.

The servants all laughed, saying Zhu Xiang had been so delighted by the moon while on the roof that he got carried away and almost passed out from drinking.

The story eventually reached Zichu and the others. They laughed and shook their heads, saying even when Zhu Xiang admired the moon alone, he was somehow able to enjoy it that much.

Zichu wrote him a letter. Zhu Xiang replied that he was happy precisely because all his troublesome friends weren’t there. If Zichu and the rest had been there, he wouldn’t have been happy at all. Zichu was so angry he nearly jumped to his feet.

Later, the governor of Ba Prefecture returned just in time to handle the execution.

He had almost forgotten about the matter and had rushed back after the crown prince urged him.

You actually made Zhu Xiang oversee the execution? Were you trying to cause trouble?

The governor of Ba Prefecture was nearly scared witless. How could he have thought to make Lord Zhu help oversee an execution? If word got out, wouldn’t it seem like he had deliberately smeared Lord Zhu’s name?

Zhu Xiang didn’t attend the final moments of the rebel leaders. When he could avoid things, he would. That way, he could live longer.

He visited several powerful clans willing to relocate, spread out the map, and asked them what kind of place they wanted to move to. He even helped them plan their lives after the relocation.

Farming? Weaving? Business? All were viable.

Although commerce was strictly regulated in the heartlands of Qin, the lands of Baiyue were difficult to cultivate. To ensure sufficient tax revenue, Qin would inevitably relax commercial restrictions in the Baiyue region in the future.

Moreover, the seas were rich in treasures. Once Li Mu’s navy finished conquering the world, it would surely open up maritime trade routes to bring wealth to the Qin king.

“Starting from scratch in the east may be hard now, but in the future, your wealth will be a hundred times what it is today,” Zhu Xiang said. “You’ll be glad you made this choice.”

The clan leaders nodded repeatedly in agreement.

Zhu Xiang noticed someone among them whom he had seen before. During the Sichuan floods, when Li Bing had gone to Ba Commandery for aid, the local aristocrats had sent someone to Chengdu. Among the trade delegation was a female merchant with considerable influence, named Qing.

She was still not widowed, and now co-managed the household with her husband. This time, it was she who singlehandedly persuaded her family to abandon their deeply rooted legacy and move eastward as a whole.

She had been very anxious, but when Zhu Xiang personally received them, she finally breathed a sigh of relief. No matter what, Lord Zhu Xiang would never harm people.

After they departed, they heard that within ten days, General Wang Jian had massacred the entire family of a clan who had refused to surrender and held a city in defiance. This left them trembling in fear, and they were utterly relieved by their own choice.

Wang Jian acted as was customary for Qin generals—ruthlessly. When the city fell, blood flowed like a river. Regardless of age or gender, all were slaughtered by Qin soldiers to earn military merit.

The Banshumen, once known for their martial prowess, had thought that though they were small in number, they were just as fierce as the Qin army. But by the time Wang Jian sheathed his sword ten days later, the people of Ba trembled at the mere mention of his name. No Ba chieftain dared boast of bravery anymore.

When Wang Jian came to recruit soldiers from Ba, before he could even offer terms, some young Ba chieftains bared their chests and came forward willingly to enlist. The tribes revered warriors and respected strength. When Wang Jian demonstrated overwhelming might, they willingly followed him.

After drinking with the Ba chieftains, Wang Jian inexplicably became the “chief” of the Ba alliance. He was dumbfounded.

“I’m a noble of Qin—how can I become the chief of barbarians?!”

“You already are. If you can command a strong army easily, what’s there to complain about?” Zhu Xiang clapped him on the shoulder. “By the way, I’ve come up with a new military formation.”

Zichu and Li Bing were both puzzled. “You know about warfare?”

Zhu Xiang replied, “Have you forgotten? Back in Handan, I bested Zhao Kuo in a debate on military tactics!”

Zichu and Li Bing: “……” They began to doubt Zhu Xiang’s actual level.

But Wang Jian had seen Zhu Xiang train troops and had heard that the new naval forces were also his idea. He trusted Zhu Xiang’s strategic thinking, if not his battlefield command. So he listened carefully.

“You’re recruiting and training troops in Ba, but eventually, you’ll be stationed on the plains at the confluence of the Han and Yangtze rivers, where you’ll join forces with the troops from Qianzhong and Nanjun.” Zhu Xiang pointed to the area that would one day be Tianmen and Xiaogan.

“Once your troops are ready, you’ll cross the Dabie Mountains to attack Chu. At the intersection of the Dabie and Tongbai mountains is a narrow pass, heavily guarded by Chu. But when Li Mu crosses the river to raid Chu territory, they’ll likely pull some troops away.”

“Wang Jian, you’ll probably seize that moment to strike. You plan to charge their formations with war chariots, don’t you?” Wang Jian nodded. “Yes—chariots for the main charge, cavalry to harass, and infantry with crossbows interspersed.”

Zhu Xiang said, “Have you tried fully armoring your warhorses and letting them charge directly? You’ve seen Li Mu’s saddles and horseshoes. With those, you can quickly train a cavalry unit with greater mobility and impact.”

Wang Jian frowned in thought, then hesitantly said, “It seems… feasible?”

Zhu Xiang added, “Chariots struggle in mountainous terrain. Transforming chariots into armored cavalry might be better for breaking enemy lines.”

Wang Jian tapped his palm with a curled finger and relaxed his brows. “Feasible!”

Zhu Xiang continued, “Ba is rich in iron and wood. Smelting iron is easier than bronze. Do you use a saber?”

Wang Jian raised an eyebrow. “Are you looking down on me?”

Zhu Xiang laughed. “How could I? Sabers are easier to forge than swords. On the battlefield—especially on horseback—iron sabers are more practical than bronze swords. A combination of bows, sabers, and heavy armor makes an unstoppable elite force. And this kind of heavy cavalry suits your direct, face-to-face combat style.”

Excitement sparkled in Wang Jian’s eyes. He grabbed Zhu Xiang’s hand and said, “Tell me more!”

Zichu and Li Bing exchanged glances.

Li Bing whispered, “So Zhu Xiang really does understand warfare?”

Zichu thought for a moment and recalled how years ago, a drunken Zhu Xiang had rambled about military maneuvers and drills. “He may not command troops, but he does understand military theory.”

Zhao Kuo was said to be the best in Zhao at military theory, even old generals couldn’t out-debate him.

Zhu Xiang was even better than Zhao Kuo—that made him truly the best in Zhao. He might not lead troops, but by sharing his ideas with those who could, wouldn’t that unite theory and action—and create a true number one?

Zichu grew excited too and dragged Li Bing over to brainstorm battle tactics. But their chatter interrupted Wang Jian and Zhu Xiang’s discussion, so Zhu Xiang kicked them out. With a loud slam, he shut the door, nearly hitting Zichu’s nose.

During the Warring States period, China’s iron-smelting technology was already quite advanced, including the invention of malleable cast iron.

In contrast, Europe didn’t develop white-heart malleable cast iron until the 18th century, and the U.S. only began melting black-heart malleable cast iron in the 19th. This proves that China’s metallurgy was already well-developed enough to produce large quantities of iron weapons and heavy armor for its armies.

They had also begun carburizing—the process of casting steel onto iron surfaces. Though Zhu Xiang didn’t know how to smelt steel, he understood the principles and passed them on to the Mohists, who were now leading the craftsmen in developing steel-forging technology.

Though mass production was still impossible, the technique of folding and hammering steel to make blades was already mature. Output was low, but saving up enough for an elite unit wasn’t out of the question.

Qin’s weapons industry was about to explode. While the main army hadn’t yet received these advancements, the Mohists following Zhu Xiang gave Wang Jian and Li Mu early access.

Wang Jian once again felt how effortless it was to fight alongside Zhu Xiang. “Your heavy cavalry force can only be about a thousand strong, so train them well. They might be the most expensive troops in Qin,” Zhu Xiang reminded him. “I’ve spent years stockpiling a thousand suits of heavy armor—each one lost is gone for good.”

Wang Jian asked nervously, “You’re not giving them to Li Mu?”

Though he was Zhu Xiang’s friend too, he knew Zhu Xiang was closer to Li Mu. Receiving what Li Mu didn’t had him feeling both honored and anxious.

Zhu Xiang said, “Li Mu excels at mobile warfare—light cavalry suits him better. Once I return to Wu Commandery, I’ll help him build the perfect light cavalry force.”

He had drained that cup of moonlight—he would hesitate no longer.

It was time for him to step fully onto the stage of the Warring States.