HCT – Chapter 153 Tears on a Married Couple’s Shoulders

When King Zhu of Qin’s edict reached Southern Qin, Zhu Xiang welcomed the first group of commoners fleeing from Chu.

And leading those refugees was none other than Lin Zhi—his head wrapped in white cloth like a makeshift turban.

The white cloth symbolized the fall of the Chu state.

Zhu Xiang was speechless. Fortunately, Lord Lin was no longer alive; otherwise, he’d surely have broken Lin Zhi’s legs.

Who wraps white cloth on their head for no reason? How unlucky!

Lin Zhi pretended to be a Chu native, speaking refined speech in a thick Chu accent that left Zhu Xiang dazed for a long time.

Zhu Xiang’s dazed expression was “understood” by Lin Zhi as compassion for the Chu people. He dropped to his knees, hugging Zhu Xiang’s leg and howling in tears, wailing about how the Chu king and the nobles no longer cared about the commoners’ lives. Chu was falling, and he begged Lord Zhu Xiang to save the people of Chu.

Only Lord Zhu Xiang treated commoners as human. That’s why he’d taken the risk to lead the Chu people southward to seek salvation.

Zhu Xiang: “…Talk properly.” And stop wiping your snot on my robe! Don’t think I don’t know you’re doing it on purpose!

The traveling warriors who had accompanied Lin Zhi to escort the Chu refugees watched in amazement as he wiped his tears and snot on Zhu Xiang’s robe—and Zhu Xiang said nothing, only stood in silence, mourning the plight of the Chu people, without kicking the filthy man away.

They had seen many nobles before, but none who tolerated commoners like Lord Zhu Xiang did.

“Lord Zhu Xiang, please save the people of Chu!”

Seeing this moment alone was enough for the warriors to believe that Zhu Xiang truly intended to help the Chu people regardless of national boundaries.

Originally, they had only carried a sliver of hope—hope that couldn’t be worse than staying behind. But now they sincerely hoped Zhu Xiang would give them real hope.

“Alright. There’s plenty of unused land in Qianzhong Commandery, Nan Commandery, and Wu Commandery. I’ll lend them food and tools so they can open up the land. When they harvest next year, they can repay the government,” Zhu Xiang said, returning to his senses. “I’ll also immediately assign officials who can speak the Chu dialect to explain Qin laws to you. Qin’s laws are strict. If you want to live safely in Qin, you must obey them.”

The warriors knelt one after another, vowing not to cause trouble for Lord Zhu Xiang.

Zhu Xiang looked down and said, “Let’s have a proper talk.”

Lin Zhi responded with a sobbing voice, “Yes, Lord Zhu Xiang!~”

Listening to Lin Zhi’s crying and seeing his tear- and snot-covered face, Zhu Xiang nearly choked on the words stuck in his throat.

Lin Zhi, could you not act so hard?! I’m embarrassed, I might not be able to keep up with your performance!

Ying Zheng had seen enough of the show. Seeing his uncle frozen in place, he quickly stepped forward and helped Lin Zhi up. “Please rise. For the sake of the Chu people, you risked crossing the river to bring them to Qin for a chance at life. Such righteousness will not be forgotten.”

Lin Zhi gripped Ying Zheng’s hands, choking up: “Thank you, young lord! Thank you!”

Ying Zheng’s mouth twitched.

Uncle Lin, you’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you? Just say “lord,” what’s with the “young lord”? You know I can’t stand that word “young”! I’ve already grown up!

Ying Zheng stealthily pinched Lin Zhi’s arm to show his discontent.

Lin Zhi’s face contorted for a brief moment, then he burst into even louder sobs, crying out “King of Chu!” so sorrowfully that it made the Chu people around him weep and grieve.

Zhu Xiang barely held his stoic face through the whole performance.

Now he understood why Li Mu, who had personally gone to receive Lin Zhi, never showed up.

Couldn’t this guy have given a heads-up?! What if I couldn’t keep up with the act?!

Zhu Xiang had already prepared for the arrival of the Chu people. Once Lin Zhi brought the first batch, Southern Qin officials quickly and systematically began organizing their resettlement. Qianzhong and Nan Commanderies had ships ready to take them to open up new land.

Xue Ji also got busy, helping women—those alone or with children—find work at local workshops.

After a bath and change of clothes, Lin Zhi kept his full beard.

He then chased after Ying Zheng, trying to rub his beard on him.

Ying Zheng ran while shouting, “I’ve grown up! Don’t poke me with your beard!”

Li Mu stood in the corner of the courtyard, arms folded, watching the chaos with a blank expression.

Zhu Xiang stormed up and kicked Li Mu. “Couldn’t you have sent someone to warn me? Lin Zhi nearly scared the life out of me!”

Li Mu brushed off the footprint on his robe and said, “He startled me too. He said he wanted you to be startled as well.”

“You just went along with him?” Zhu Xiang snapped.

Li Mu nodded, “Mm-hmm.”

Zhu Xiang: “…Mm-hmm your head!”

“Zhu Xiang, how did I do?” Lin Zhi came over smiling. “Wasn’t I pretty convincing as a ‘White-Haired Old Man’?”

Zhu Xiang said, “Too dangerous.”

Lin Zhi chuckled. “Not at all. Right now, no one in Chu dares touch the white-haired old man. People are saying the Chu ‘White-Haired Old Man’ is really Lord Zhu Xiang from Zhao.”

Li Mu chimed in, “Judging by his tone and expressions, he’s clearly imitating you.”

Ying Zheng added, “I noticed that too.”

Thinking about Lin Zhi’s tearful, snot-covered face, Zhu Xiang shook his head hard. “Nonsense. He’s nothing like me.”

Lin Zhi grinned. “Well, it’s not up to you to decide. Anyway, I’ll rest a few days and then return to suffer in Chu. Since I’m Chu’s Lord Zhu Xiang, I can’t just save one batch of people. I have to die in Chu too.”

Zhu Xiang grabbed Lin Zhi’s arm and scolded, “Even if you want to stir chaos in Chu, you can’t put yourself in danger!”

Lin Zhi shook his head. “I told you—I won’t be in danger.”

He pulled his sleeve free and patted Zhu Xiang on the shoulder. “I have my goals. You go do what you’re supposed to.”

Zhu Xiang took a deep breath and turned his head away.

Lin Zhi laughed. “Zheng’er, look how childish your uncle is, throwing a tantrum with me.”

Ying Zheng replied with the maturity of an old soul, “You’re uncle’s elder brother. Him getting mad at you is perfectly normal. Uncle Lin, this time I’m siding with Uncle. Don’t bother with Chu. It’ll fall apart on its own. You shouldn’t risk yourself to accelerate the chaos. We can afford to wait.”

Lin Zhi replied, “True, but… ha, I just want to go. Li Mu, come here, let’s talk in secret.”

Li Mu nodded.

Zhu Xiang immediately turned back, “What are you two plotting?”

Lin Zhi said, “None of your business. Just focus on being the Governor of Wu Commandery.”

He gripped Li Mu’s shoulder and winked at Zhu Xiang. “I’m the Chancellor of Qin, he’s the Grand General of Qin—when we ministers are discussing matters of state, how could a mere Governor of Wu Commandery have the right to interrupt? Come, General!”

Li Mu gave Zhu Xiang a “stay calm” look and left with Lin Zhi.

Seeing Zhu Xiang being snubbed, Ying Zheng gleefully tried to follow, but Lin Zhi kicked him away repeatedly.

“You’re just the grandson of the King of Qin. You have no right to listen in on discussions between Qin’s Chancellor and Grand General,” Lin Zhi declared arrogantly.

Ying Zheng stomped his foot in frustration, swearing that once he became King of Qin, he’d send Lin Zhi to guard the frontier.

“Uncle! This Uncle Lin is way too cocky. We have to deal with him properly!” Ying Zheng fumed. “Should we exile him to Baiyue or send him to the Rong and Di tribes?”

Zhu Xiang replied slowly, “The Rong and Di, I think. They’re closer to Xianyang. That way, he can be exiled while still serving as your chancellor.”

Ying Zheng said, “Great idea!”

Zhu Xiang: “…” I was just joking—are you serious, Zheng’er?

“I wonder what they’re discussing?” Zhu Xiang asked anxiously.

Ying Zheng said, “It probably has something to do with you. If it didn’t, he wouldn’t be doing it behind your back.”

Zhu Xiang was silent for a long while before sighing, “I think I have an idea what Lin Zhi and Li Mu are planning.”

Ying Zheng looked up. “What is it?”

Zhu Xiang replied, “Not telling you.”

Ying Zheng’s face fell. “Uncle!”

Zhu Xiang patted his head. “Go ask Lin Li yourself. Come on—we still have a lot of work to do.”

“Hmph.” Ying Zheng followed Zhu Xiang, puffed up with frustration.

He would find out! What could possibly be hidden from Prince Zheng? The whole realm would be his one day!

Lin Zhi and Li Mu discussed things for half a day. The next day, Lin Zhi shut his doors, claiming illness, and had the famous physician Bian Que diagnose him.

The day after, he took the medicine Bian Que had given him, boarded the large boat he had arrived in, and brought over a hundred people back to Chu.

He said there were still Chu people suffering, and he had to go save more of them.

“If the King of Chu and the nobility don’t care whether the commoners live or die, then I’ll lead the Chu people—those who are no longer seen as human by their own state—to forge a path for themselves.”

“This world is vast. Chu is not the only place one can live.”

Lin Zhi had white cloth wrapped around his head and wore plain hemp clothes, as though he were in mourning. He stood at the bow of the boat like a grieving soul.

The Chu refugees he had brought to Southern Qin knelt and kowtowed to him repeatedly, praying to the heavens for the safety of this noble man, who refused to leave his name and only called himself “the White-Haired Elder.”

The scene was incredibly moving, but Zhu Xiang could not be moved.

Because it was all a lie—a scheme, a conspiracy against the common people of Chu.

The Chu refugees kneeling now could never guess that the ones responsible for Chu’s downfall and their own suffering… included both Zhu Xiang and this so-called “White-Haired Elder.”

Was that why Lin Zhi wouldn’t let him be involved in the details?

“Uncle, will Lin… will the White-Haired Elder be alright?” When Lin Zhi was around, Ying Zheng disliked him. Now that he was gone, he looked worried.

“I don’t know,” Zhu Xiang replied.

Ying Zheng muttered, “Why did he have to go himself? Even if it’s important, he could have sent someone else. Is Lu Buwei really that useless?”

Zhu Xiang said, “Lu Buwei is likely working hard behind the scenes as well. Without his arrangements, Lin Zhi couldn’t have brought so many people to Wu Commandery. In a few days, the other two commanderies of Southern Qin will probably also receive Chu refugees.”

He turned and walked away, not staying to watch Lin Zhi’s boat leave.

“A sudden influx of refugees will be a serious test for a commandery. Zheng’er, will you stay and hold Wu Commandery, or tour the rest of the commandery? Which do you feel confident in handling?” Zhu Xiang asked.

Ying Zheng thought for a moment and said, “I’ll stay in Wu Commandery.”

Though overseeing the entire commandery was a more prestigious role—and given his personality, he preferred the position with the most power—Zhu Xiang had taught him that sometimes, restraint was necessary.

He might be able to handle the larger role, but he was still only the grandson of the King of Qin. His reputation and authority didn’t yet match that of his uncle, Lord Changping. Only Lord Changping touring the commandery would be seen as legitimate and would allow for better coordination.

Even if all the commandery governors cooperated with him, Ying Zheng still had to consider the feelings of the King of Qin and the Crown Prince.

He was merely a prince’s grandson—he shouldn’t act too flamboyantly.

Zhu Xiang said, “Then I’ll leave Wu Commandery in your hands, Zheng’er.”

Ying Zheng replied, “Rest assured, Uncle.”

Zhu Xiang added, “Xueji will likely be busy at the commandery’s textile workshop. You’ll be handling Wu Commandery alone. You should start making use of Li Si, Han Fei, and Meng Tian. If there are promising scholars you favor, you can employ them too.”

Ying Zheng said, “No need to nag, Uncle—I know what to do.”

Seeing Ying Zheng getting annoyed with his advice again, Zhu Xiang couldn’t help sighing.

His nephew was growing up… and becoming less and less adorable.

After making arrangements, Zhu Xiang went to find Xueji, to ask if she wanted to travel with him.

Instead, he saw Xueji secretly crying.

Startled, Zhu Xiang asked, “Xue, what’s wrong?”

Xueji wiped her tears. Instead of sitting on a chair, she knelt on a floor cushion, like she used to do in Zhao.

Zhu Xiang silently took a cushion and knelt opposite her.

He could roughly guess why she was crying.

Xueji said, “My love, many desperate Chu people have come to Southern Qin. And they’re desperate… because of us, aren’t they?”

Zhu Xiang replied, “Yes.”

He knew Xueji was intelligent. He had already told her about the trade war and hadn’t kept her in the dark.

Tears streamed down Xueji’s face. “So this is the ‘trade war’ you spoke of? This too… is war and chaos?”

Zhu Xiang said, “Yes.”

Xue Ji wiped her tears with her sleeve and said, “I knew from the start this was a war, but I still held illusions. I thought a war without weapons might not cause too much harm.”

Zhu Xiang remained silent.

Xue Ji forced a smile. “But you did this, my love, surely to weaken Chu first, so that when Qin and Chu go to war, fewer people on both sides will die. The price now… is necessary. I’m just… not used to it yet. I’ll adjust quickly, don’t worry.”

Zhu Xiang was still silent.

He understood why Xue Ji was in such pain.

When they took in the people from Chu, they learned firsthand about the tragedies that had befallen them.

Yes, the people of Chu could head south to seek a way to survive, and it seemed there was a way out.

But how many could make it that far? How many could survive the whole journey?

It’s hard to leave one’s homeland. Unless they truly couldn’t go on living, who would want to abandon their native land? In this era, most people spent their entire lives in tiny villages, rarely even visiting a county seat.

How much courage did it take to cross that river and seek survival in Qin, the kingdom the people of Chu called most brutal?

Perhaps it wasn’t courage—perhaps they had simply reached utter desperation.

And if they had reached desperation, then they must have witnessed others—even their own kin—die, before they made the decision to leave.

On the road to survival, they must have seen corpses starved by the roadside, hellish scenes, forcing them to grit their teeth and keep moving forward.

So, those who reached Southern Qin were a lucky few. Far more people from Chu had perished in this man-made catastrophe.

The Chu king’s inaction, the greed of the Chu nobles—these were the causes of the disaster. But the Qin king and his agents, who exploited those weaknesses to manufacture this disaster, and Zhu Xiang himself—who first proposed the idea of a “trade war” and implemented it using modern economic principles—weren’t they also the culprits?

And Xue Ji—who invented the spinning and weaving machines, and led the textile workers to produce cotton cloth day and night—wasn’t she, the greatest contributor to this “trade war,” also responsible for the tragedy?

Perhaps the nobles of both kingdoms would not care much for such “costs.” But Xue Ji would. Because she was a commoner woman, once among the lowest ranks of society aside from slaves.

And what about Zhu Xiang himself?

Zhu Xiang, known for loving the people, beloved by the commoners of Zhao and Qin?

Zhu Xiang said, “Xue, yes. By doing this, the casualties in the war between Qin and Chu should be much fewer. Much fewer.”

Xue Ji forced a smile. “Then I’m relieved.”

Zhu Xiang shook his head. “But those who survive are not the ones who died.”

Xue Ji froze in shock.

Zhu Xiang said, “Yes, they were the price. But does being a price make it justified? I caused many deaths for my goal. To the dead, I am a sinner. Even if, in the future, this price allows more people to live, the living are not the same as the dead. Did anyone ever ask the dead if they were willing to be the price?”

“My love!” Xue Ji gripped his arm. “Don’t say more.”

Zhu Xiang shook his head. “Since I’ve dragged you into this, I should be honest about what I think.”

He patted her hand. “If I had another chance, I would still do the same. But I will never forget that to those who were the ‘price,’ I am guilty. What I did was wrong, was a sin. No one deserves to be sacrificed. But to achieve something greater, to let more people live, some people inevitably must be sacrificed.”

“Just like when Li Mu leads troops into battle, he might send a squad to lure the enemy into an ambush. That squad is certain to die. But do they deserve to die? Isn’t their life just as precious? Is their life less valuable than those who survive, or than the generals who gave the order?”

“No. It shouldn’t be that way.”

Zhu Xiang pointed to his chest.

“I know they’re just like me. I remember that I caused their deaths. I’m sorry, Xue Ji. I should be comforting you, but I can’t tell you that their deaths were just an acceptable price. I can’t say that.”

Xue Ji cried, “I understand. I understand, my love. We must remember those people—those people from Chu who starved to death because of us.”

“Yes. We must remember them, and carry it all on our backs, and move forward without hesitation.” Zhu Xiang held her in his arms, resting his head on her shoulder. “Whenever we make sacrifices, we must hold the sacrificed in our hearts. Never forget their weight. If we forget the weight of the ‘price,’ forget that they were people just like us, we will stray from the path. At that point, we will have lost our humanity—we will no longer be human.”

Xue Ji buried her face in Zhu Xiang’s shoulder and sobbed uncontrollably.

This was her first time facing something like this. But with her position and wisdom, as long as she remained Lord Changping’s wife, she would face such things again.

As a woman, she could have hidden in the inner court, like the other noble ladies, only concerning herself with household matters.

But she couldn’t bear to let Zhu Xiang shoulder everything alone. She wanted to do what she could. So she would face such decisions again.

And that was why Zhu Xiang had to tell her, now when she was first feeling lost, that all these “costs” were sins that the two of them had committed together. They must never, for the sake of greater benefit, ignore these “sins” or even see them as achievements.

That was something they absolutely must never do.

Zhu Xiang knew this was cruel. But if Xue Ji chose a different path from him, it would likely be even more cruel for both of them.

Since he was leading Xue Ji down a road different from most women of the time, he had to make sure she walked it in the right direction.

Even if it was covered in thorns.

That was his responsibility.

But he would walk at the front, clearing the thorns and paving the way. If there was pain and blood to shed, he would be the first.

Just like in this trade war—he was the mastermind. Xue Ji had only led the weaving, nothing more.

So the responsibility was his. The guilt was his to bear.

Zhu Xiang held the weeping Xue Ji until she cried herself to sleep.

Then he carried her to the bed and tucked her in.

He saw the dark circles under her eyes and knew she hadn’t rested properly in days. But she hadn’t said a word.

If he hadn’t come to see her, she probably would have kept hiding it.

Xue Ji had always been this way. She knew he carried many burdens and didn’t want to become one more.

And he was the same.

“Is Aunt doing better?” Ying Zheng brought over a basin of water with a towel on top.

“Mm. Crying helped.” Zhu Xiang wrung out the warm cloth and gently wiped the tear stains from Xue Ji’s face.

She didn’t wake—she was truly exhausted.

“What I told Xue, you must remember too.” Zhu Xiang looked at her sleeping face and said softly, “Zheng’er, remember the weight of the price, or you will stray from the path.”

His Zheng’er was full of ambition, just like the First Emperor in history. And beneath every emperor’s ambition lay mountains of civilian corpses.

He couldn’t stop this future emperor from pursuing his grand vision—but he could at least make Zheng’er glance at those corpses beneath his feet when he made decisions.

He didn’t even expect compassion—just one glance would be enough. Just enough for the horrors to enter the emperor’s sight.

“I understand,” Ying Zheng said now.

Zhu Xiang gave a faint smile. “Zheng’er is wise. Of course you understand.”

Right now, Zheng’er did seem to understand.

“Uncle,” he asked, “Uncle Lin had to take that risk because what he did was necessary to reduce the suffering of the people in Chu, right? He pretended to be a virtuous scholar who cared for the commoners, and though it showed the world how useless Chu had become, if he hadn’t acted, Chu might have fallen into worse chaos. He only risked his life to ease the suffering of Chu’s people, didn’t he?”

Ying Zheng had considered many complicated motives, but after what he witnessed today, he realized some things weren’t that complicated.

What Lin Zhi did was exactly what it seemed: to save people.

Whether that was for the sake of his conscience or to ease his uncle’s burden didn’t matter. What mattered was that he risked his life to save the people of Chu.

That made him a true scholar who cared for the commoners.

“Mm.” Zhu Xiang nodded. “But Lin Li wouldn’t do something that brought no benefit. He’s not like me. Saving people is part of it—but letting the people of Chu starve also benefits Qin more.”

A sarcastic smile curled Zhu Xiang’s lips. “Nowadays, scholars rule the world. Commoners are numb and easy to control. So loving the people doesn’t necessarily win you the world. It’s those with more talented men who grow strong. No matter how many commoners die in Chu, the scholars of the world won’t care much.”

“Just like when the Zhao soldiers were nearly buried alive at Changping, and the Zhao people almost starved—if not for me and Lord Lian, who would’ve cared?”

“There always has to be a righteous scholar who stands up before the lofty intellectuals even glance at the commoners who feed and clothe them—before they shed a few tears, feel a bit of sorrow and anger, and finally turn their disappointment toward the Chu king and his state.”

“So, to make Chu’s tragedy visible to the world, a sorrowful scholar is essential.”

“Because the scholars of the world only empathize with other scholars.”

Ying Zheng looked at Zhu Xiang’s face.

His uncle’s expression was calm, like a still lake.

But in his eyes, he saw deep sorrow—like the towering waves he once saw when watching the tides.

He remembered when the people of Chu fled south, how his uncle personally arranged their housing, asked about their lives, guided them to speak of their pain and cry, telling them that crying would ease their hearts and give them strength to live in a foreign land.

His uncle called it “psychological therapy.”

Most didn’t understand what that meant. But they saw that those who cried before Zhu Xiang really did look better, worked harder.

Now Ying Zheng wondered—did his uncle do that only to comfort frightened refugees?