HCT – Chapter 16 Bonfire and Roasted Whole Lamb

Another month passed, and the potatoes were ready for harvest.

Xue had already made winter clothes for Ying Zheng. The wrinkled old garments, wrapped with thick wool by her skillful hands, became warm and comfortable to wear.

Zhu Xiang had originally wanted to spin the wool into yarn. But he was a farmer, not a herder, and no matter how much he pondered, he couldn’t figure out how to spin wool into yarn.

He’d heard that trade caravans from west of Qin sold felt products, and perhaps someone among them knew how to spin yarn, but he had never had the chance to meet such people. So for now, Zhu Xiang could only abandon the idea and instead taught Xue to stitch the wool into small quilted squares, resembling the cotton-padded or down jackets of later generations.

Over two months, Ying Zheng’s once thin and sunken cheeks had filled out a little, hinting at the fine features he’d inherited from his parents.

With his thick winter clothes and a fluffy hat, Ying Zheng finally looked like a chubby little lucky doll.

Watching him roll around the edge of the potato field, Zhu Xiang waited anxiously for Lin Xiangru and Lin Zhi to arrive so they could dig up the potatoes together. He couldn’t help but pinch his chin in thought.

“What kind of mischief are you plotting again?” Xun Kuang asked.

Xun Kuang had been away for over a month, having traveled to Qi to retrieve books he had left with a friend. He’d missed the craze that Zhu Xiang and Lin Xiangru had sparked over potato blossom ornaments.

Upon his return and hearing about it, Xun Kuang grumbled for a long time: “This is trivial nonsense,” and, “King Zhao is foolish.”

Zhu Xiang always suspected that Xunzi was simply sulking because he hadn’t gotten to join in on the fun.

“No mischief. I just want to gather some pelts to make a fluffy fur coat for Zheng’er,” Zhu Xiang replied. “Maybe a little dog, little bear, or little tiger outfit. He’d be adorable.”

Xun Kuang instantly lost interest in the conversation.

“Why hasn’t Elder Lin arrived yet?” Ying Zheng, who had circled the potato field twice, pounced toward Zhu Xiang.

Zhu Xiang caught him and rubbed his chubby cheeks, which had become even more satisfying to squish.

“They are running a bit late. Is Handan city caught in a traffic jam?” Zhu Xiang almost joked about “license plate restrictions,” but remembered no one would get the joke in this era and changed it to a traffic jam instead.

“Don’t tell me General Lian Po is once again deliberately blocking Elder Lin’s way?” Cai Ze joked.

Studying under Xun Kuang and being constantly criticized had mellowed Cai Ze’s personality.

Just as Zhu Xiang was about to retort, “How could that be,” a loud voice interrupted, energetic yet laced with coughing: “You old bastard, Lian! Are you deliberately picking a fight again today?!”

Zhu Xiang and Cai Ze exchanged looks—could it really be that General Lian was once again provoking Elder Lin on purpose?

Carrying Ying Zheng, Zhu Xiang went to meet them. Lin Xiangru, supported by Lin Zhi, was walking along, repeatedly jabbing his cane at Lian Po in front of him.

“Elder Lin, General Lian, what happened?” Zhu Xiang greeted them and immediately asked for the gossip.

Lin Xiangru huffed a few times but didn’t answer.

Lian Po grumbled, “I just suddenly felt like joining you to dig potatoes. What are you mad about?”

Lin Zhi whispered, “Uncle, you had your carriage block our way on purpose. That’s not ‘joining’ us.”

Zhu Xiang, deeply curious, asked, “Why block the road on purpose?”

A young general behind Lian Po blushed and said, “It was all my fault. I asked the Grand Marshal about the old days…”

“The old days?” Zhu Xiang was puzzled.

Lian Po clapped the young general on the shoulder and said, “He asked how I got to know Lin Xiangru, so I gave him a demonstration.”

Zhu Xiang thought about it for a long while and finally understood.

Lian Po had mentioned the old story of “apologizing with a switch on his back” and, on a whim, reenacted the part where he blocked Lin Xiangru’s carriage.

…General Lian, are you out of your mind?

Realizing he might have gone too far, Lian Po obediently apologized to Lin Xiangru and even pushed Zhu Xiang forward to help him smooth things over.

Zhu Xiang lifted Ying Zheng, who gave Lian Po a couple of soft punches on behalf of Lin Xiangru.

Lin Xiangru was finally amused and gave Lian Po a glare before forgiving him again for his antics.

“Can we dig up the potatoes now?” Ying Zheng asked.

Lin Xiangru’s expression softened. “Yes, yes. Cough, cough.”

Zhu Xiang set Ying Zheng down and helped soothe Lin Xiangru’s back. “Elder Lin, your cold hasn’t gotten better yet?”

Lin Xiangru calmly replied, “Getting old. I’m always like this near winter. I’m used to it—don’t worry. Didn’t you say we’re digging up potatoes? Zheng’er is spinning in place with excitement.”

“I am not!” Ying Zheng stopped twirling.

Lin Xiangru chuckled. “Come, let’s see how the harvest turned out.”

“Okay!” Ying Zheng immediately dashed off to grab his little shovel.

Zhu Xiang looked toward the young general standing awkwardly nearby and asked, “And this general is?”

“Huh? Oh, this is Li Mu. A fine young man,” Lian Po finally remembered the introduction. “He’s heading to garrison Yanmen County next spring. When I mentioned potatoes, he wanted to see if they could be grown in the north to replace some military rations.”

Yanmen County, mentioned by Lian Po, was a critical stronghold at the foot of the Zhao Great Wall defending against the Xiongnu—a harsh northern border region of Zhao.

“Li Mu?” Zhu Xiang suppressed his excitement and calmly said, “General Li, potatoes are not cold-resistant. They stop growing once the ground freezes. If you want to grow them on the border, try intercropping in poor soil beyond the good fields during spring and summer for the best results.”

Unlike the arrogant young scholars Zhu Xiang had seen, Li Mu responded gently, “Understood, I—”

Before he could finish, Lian Po slapped him hard on the shoulder. “Let’s dig up this potato thing and try it first before saying more.”

“Right,” Zhu Xiang laughed. “Zheng’er has already started. Let’s join in.”

Ying Zheng was already covered in mud, looking like a little mud monkey.

Xue furrowed her brows at the sight of him ruining his new clothes, turned around, and left—out of sight, out of mind.

Having been spoiled by his uncle and aunt for over two months, Ying Zheng had completely lost his initial caution. Ignoring his aunt’s dangerous expression, he stuck his butt in the air and kept digging enthusiastically.

“Oh my precious Zheng’er, you’re going to ruin the potatoes like that,” Zhu Xiang helped Lin Xiangru to a seat under the shed with Xun Kuang, then rushed over to stop the overly enthusiastic digging.

Under Zhu Xiang’s guidance, the young people picked up shovels and began digging. Even the newly arrived Li Mu looked confused but joined in.

Lian Po, reclining with his legs crossed, stroked the armrest of his chair and remarked, “I knew Li Mu would get along well with Zhu Xiang. By the way, what is this chair? Quite interesting.”

Xun Kuang answered, “A whim of the Mohists.”

Lin Xiangru sipped warm water from the nearby table, clearly more comfortable. “It’s called a Hu-style table and chair. Zhu Xiang didn’t want people to know it was his invention, so he credited it to the Hu people.”

Lian Po curiously asked, “It’s quite comfortable. But Xun Qing, I thought you hated things that break with propriety. Isn’t this furniture against ritual?”

Xun Kuang replied, “Ritual is not unchanging.”

Lin Xiangru continued drinking.

Xun Kuang had debated with the carpenter who made the furniture and eventually accepted it. Zhu Xiang was quite curious—what kind of carpenter could debate with Xun Kuang?

But regardless of that carpenter’s identity, he probably wouldn’t be able to gain the king’s favor.

Lian Po, still curious, kept fiddling with the chair and loudly accused Zhu Xiang of being selfish for not gifting him such a good thing.

As a general, he often wore tall boots and found it hard to sit on the floor. Plus, an old injury made kneeling painful. This chair was perfect for him.

Zhu Xiang was stingy!

Lin Xiangru lazily said, “I told him not to.”

“Why?” Lian Po asked.

“Because I don’t like you,” Lin Xiangru said.

Lian Po: “…”

Xun Kuang scooted away with a look of disdain, making it clear he didn’t want to deal with these two old men who always ended up bickering.

Zhu Xiang hadn’t planted many potatoes, only about thirty plants. The young people quickly dug them all up.

Though potatoes are tubers, Zhu Xiang simply called them “grass roots” when explaining to others—it was easier for them to understand and avoided the need to explain why underground “roots” were actually stems.

“Nice harvest,” Lin Zhi exclaimed happily. “Only two months and we got this much. Potatoes are really productive!”

Zhu Xiang doused his enthusiasm a bit. “Potatoes deplete soil heavily, are hard to sprout, prone to disease, and can fail completely. They’re only suitable as supplementary or famine relief food.”

Lin Zhi immediately said, “Yes, yes, you’ve said that so many times my ears have grown calluses.”

Cai Ze added, “Since you know he’s naggy, you shouldn’t give him a chance to repeat it.”

Lin Zhi brushed it off again. “Yes, yes.”

Li Mu watched all this with interest.

A common farmer, an ugly scholar, and a minister’s son—yet they joked and teased each other with ease.

“Today, I’ll make a big potato feast,” Zhu Xiang, seeing that the system had already provided detailed information on high-quality potato strains, happily said, “Tell me your favorite dishes, and I’ll write the recipes for you.”

“Then we shall gladly accept,” Lin Zhi replied with a grin.

Li Mu looked a bit shy.

Lin Zhi added, “Here at Zhu Xiang’s, don’t be polite—eat more, take more, that’s the way.”

“You’re a bandit,” Zhu Xiang scolded. “Don’t lead General Li astray.”

Lin Zhi replied righteously, “I’m not leading him astray, just trying to help him relax a little.”

Cai Ze commented, “With you talking like that, General Li will be even more nervous.”

Lin Zhi looked at Li Mu and saw that his face had indeed turned slightly red. He couldn’t help but laugh, “How can a man who leads troops be so thin-skinned?”

Zhu Xiang smoothed things over. “Alright, go wash the dirt off your hands. It’s time for a feast.”

“Okay. Ah, Zheng’er, what are you doing?” Lin Zhi asked curiously.

Ying Zheng replied, “I’m picking the best-looking potato to keep as a birthday gift.”

Everyone couldn’t help but laugh and joined in to help Ying Zheng pick the most beautiful potato.

Even Li Mu, dragged in by the overly friendly Lin Zhi, ended up playing house with the child, looking even more confused and sincere.

Zhu Xiang first weighed the harvested potatoes and joyfully reported the good news to Lin Xiangru, Lian Po, and Xun Kuang before heading to the kitchen.

Claiming to save seeds for next year, Zhu Xiang didn’t share the potatoes with others. Instead, he used all of them to make this one meal so everyone could try the new crop.

The potato dishes were simple but delicious. Using the cooking methods of this era—stewed potatoes with meat, potato rice, egg and potato pancakes, and other potato-based meals—were more than enough to satisfy.

Zhu Xiang even seasoned the potatoes with cumin powder and other spices, stuffing them into a chicken to make roast chicken stuffing.

Lian Po alone ate two whole chickens. Li Mu accidentally finished one himself. The two of them truly lived up to their status as fierce generals.

Thanks to Lin Zhi’s easygoing nature, Zhu Xiang also brought out some rice wine to accompany the meal. After drinking their fill, Li Mu became more talkative.

During the Wei and Jin periods, aristocratic clans were all the rage. Powerful families everywhere were busy inventing ancestors over a thousand years old, and they connected with people of the same surname to fabricate kinship, showcasing the supposed strength of their lineage.

This is how the Li clans of Longxi and Zhao Commandery became “one family” (Longxi being in Qin territory, and Zhao Commandery in what is now Handan, the Zhao capital).

There are no official records of Li Mu’s background in historical texts; the Li family themselves had made up a genealogy.

In that genealogy, not to mention tracing their ancestry to Laozi (Li Er), the recent lineage claimed Li Mu’s father, Li Ji, was the Grand Tutor of Qin, his grandfather Li Tan was the Censor-in-Chief of Qin, and their sixth-generation ancestor was the powerful Zhao statesman Li Dui.

Zhu Xiang knew of the Li family’s genealogy from a work trip with colleagues, where someone brought it out as a joke during a conversation about noble lineages.

Li Dui was a minister during the reign of King Huiwen of Zhao—who happened to be the current King of Zhao’s father. King Huiwen only lived into his forties, and Li Dui had been dismissed just thirty years ago. He was at most a generation or two older than Li Mu—there’s no way Li Mu could be his eighth-generation descendant.

Furthermore, the title “Censor-in-Chief” only existed after the Qin Empire was founded by Emperor Shi Huang. Was Li Mu’s grandfather a Qin man?

Li Mu was also said to have an uncle who was the founder of the Longxi Li clan, granted the title “Duke of Nanzheng.” But Qin didn’t even have a “duke” title.

How such a carelessly fabricated genealogy became ironclad proof of noble heritage—no wonder people said “emperors come and go, but noble families last forever.”

Now that he had met the person in question, Zhu Xiang couldn’t resist gossiping a little.

Li Mu was shocked when he heard that rumors claimed his eighth-generation ancestor was Prime Minister Li Dui of the previous dynasty and that his father and grandfather were Qin officials.

Lian Po and Lin Xiangru, who had served in the same era as Li Dui, were even more shocked.

“Where did this bizarre rumor come from? Li Mu’s family has been stationed at Yanmen Pass for generations, always serving as generals of Zhao,” Lian Po laughed so hard he spit on Zhu Xiang’s face.

Zhu Xiang wiped his face and said, “Of course it’s nonsense made up by traveling merchants. I just asked casually.”

According to Records of the Grand Historian, when Li Mu was guarding Yanmen Commandery, he had already established his own military office and was in charge of local taxes and official appointments—a classic example of a general’s power in feudal times. He clearly had deep roots in Yanmen. Later, he even became the Prime Minister of Zhao after the Battle of Changping, proving that his background had nothing to do with Qin.

Zhu Xiang felt a little melancholic. He actually kind of hoped that the genealogies of the Longxi and Zhao Li clans weren’t complete nonsense—though they really were.

If Li Mu’s grandfather and father had truly been important officials in Qin, Li Mu might’ve had a path into Qin, and wouldn’t have been killed by their scheme of sowing discord.

Zhu Xiang looked over at the future enemy of Li Mu—the little emperor of Qin.

The muddy little monkey had been cleaned up with snow, changed into clean clothes, and was now wrestling with a potato pancake.

The First Emperor and the Zhao general Li Mu sitting at the same table eating potatoes—it was a surreal sight.

Zhu Xiang reined in his thoughts and casually changed the subject, asking about Yanmen Commandery.

Although Li Mu had not yet officially taken charge of Yanmen, he was very familiar with it. Once he began talking about Yanmen and the Xiongnu, he became animated, speaking eloquently and passionately, listing detailed facts about northern affairs.

Ying Zheng finished the last bite of his potato pancake, tilted his head up, and listened intently to Li Mu’s talk about the Xiongnu.

In his small, not-so-bright head, he vaguely remembered that the Xiongnu would be a major future threat. So he was especially interested in what Li Mu had to say about them.

Seeing this, Zhu Xiang wickedly picked up Ying Zheng and stuffed him into Li Mu’s arms.

Li Mu: “Huh?”

Zhu Xiang said, “My Zheng’er really hates the Xiongnu. Just hearing the word makes him shake his little fists. General Li, talk to him more about the Xiongnu. Zheng’er wants to fight them one day.”

Ying Zheng nodded. “Yes, I want to fight the Xiongnu!”

The good-natured Li Mu said, “Alright. I’ll teach him.”

Lian Po picked his teeth. “Ah? Are you taking him as a disciple? Do we get to eat again? These potatoes are tasty. Give me some seeds next year; I’ll have someone grow them too.”

Li Mu replied shyly, “I’m not worthy of being a teacher.”

Lin Zhi coaxed, “Anyone with knowledge is a teacher. Among us, you’re the best at fighting the Xiongnu. If Zheng’er wants to fight them, he can only learn from you. Zheng’er, quick, grab his arm and don’t let go—call him ‘Teacher’!”

Ying Zheng looked at Zhu Xiang, and seeing his uncle nod, he obediently hugged Li Mu’s arm and called him “Teacher.”

Li Mu, even though he knew it was just a joke, was still overwhelmed with embarrassment. “I’ll teach, I’ll teach. No need to call me teacher…”

Lin Zhi laughed so hard at Li Mu’s bashfulness that he almost couldn’t stand up straight.

Cai Ze shook his head. He thought: with Lin the Social Butterfly around, a new friendship has definitely been born. Lin Zhi would never let go of a little general as fun to tease as Li Mu.

And so it was.

After that, Li Mu became a frequent guest at Zhu Xiang’s home, pulled in by Lin Zhi.

Li Mu had long been stationed at Yanmen. He had only recently returned to study and to reestablish family connections in Handan, in preparation for taking over Yanmen—since to a military family, a garrison was practically a fief.

He didn’t care much about social rank, was pragmatic, and was happy to associate with talented commoners. As a result, he became the second noble youth Zhu Xiang befriended, after Lin Zhi.

Li Mu wasn’t just well-read in military texts; he also had extensive knowledge of civilian life and taxation, and had the talent to govern a region.

Through interacting with him, Zhu Xiang understood why Li Mu had been so easily eliminated through a scheme of discord.

With his capabilities, he had likely made Yanmen prosperous and unshakably loyal. No wonder the corrupt last king and his ministers were jealous and fearful.

Li Mu’s whole family lived in Yanmen. When Zhu Xiang learned that Li Mu would be spending the New Year alone, he invited him to celebrate at his place.

His home already had Xunzi and Cai Ze. One more set of chopsticks didn’t matter.

“Teacher, stay for New Year!” Ying Zheng also clung to Li Mu’s sleeve, refusing to let go.

Having visited the dream room again, Ying Zheng already knew Li Mu was a great talent. Though his little brain grew fuzzy after leaving, the thought “hold on to Li Mu” remained. So he did so literally—by holding his sleeve.

“Alright.” Li Mu thought for a moment and agreed. He wanted to learn more farming knowledge from Zhu Xiang anyway.

For an army stationed outside, military rations were crucial. Yanmen’s soldiers had to provide for themselves, which is why generals were given tax and appointment powers locally.

Yanmen’s land was poor, its climate cold, and its farming results mediocre. They survived mostly by secretly trading livestock with nomads to supplement supplies. Li Mu hoped Zhu Xiang’s knowledge could help improve crop yields through garrison farming.

“Do you want to come to Yanmen?” Li Mu invited. “There aren’t as many rules as in Handan. If you come, I can give you an official position!”

Honestly, Zhu Xiang was tempted.

In this era, having an official post was still safer. Yanmen was remote—freer than Handan.

But… Zhu Xiang glanced at Ying Zheng still clinging to Li Mu’s sleeve, sighed, and declined with the excuse of not wanting to leave home. “General Li, when you’re in Yanmen, could you help me look out for any unique Xiongnu grains or wool-weaving craftsmen?”

Li Mu said, “We’re already friends. Just call me by name. If you need anything, write me, and I’ll help keep an eye out.”

Zhu Xiang cupped his hands in salute. “Then I’ll take you up on that.”

Ying Zheng tugged Li Mu’s sleeve again. “Teacher, are you leaving? Can you not go?”

Li Mu was very gentle toward the clingy little one calling him “teacher.” He patted Ying Zheng’s hat and said, “I have to go fight the Xiongnu, so I can’t stay. But I won’t leave until spring.”

Ying Zheng tilted his head and thought. Fighting Xiongnu wasn’t fighting Qin—so it was okay?

He said, “Then come back quickly after you finish fighting.”

Li Mu smiled. “Alright. When I come back, I’ll bring you a pony. Didn’t you want to learn to ride?”

Ying Zheng beamed. “Thank you, teacher!”

Zhu Xiang felt a tiny pang of jealousy watching Ying Zheng circle around Li Mu.

Lin Zhi had only joked about calling him “teacher,” but Li Mu was so kind that he truly treated Zheng’er like a disciple.

What he hadn’t expected was that Zheng’er took to Li Mu at first sight—more than to his own uncle—and clung to his sleeve every day, extremely attached.

Thinking of the future conflict between them, Zhu Xiang felt a headache coming on.

He could only hope that with this bond, once Li Mu was gone, Zheng’er would treat and use his descendants kindly.

He vaguely remembered that Li Mu’s grandson—what was his name again?—was also quite impressive and had even been consulted by Han Xin.

In a blink, the last day of the 53rd year of King Nan of Zhou, 262 BCE, arrived.

Zhu Xiang decorated the house festively and had the liveliest New Year since his parents passed away.

That night, they roasted a whole lamb over a bonfire in the courtyard.

Cai Ze and Li Mu hung up the prepared lanterns; Snow took Ying Zheng to paste spring couplets; and Xunzi wrote the couplets.

At this time, spring couplets weren’t a tradition yet. After Zhu Xiang suggested it, Xunzi found it an amusing “New Year game” and took charge of writing them.

There were no firecrackers or fireworks—only the aroma of roast lamb and the red glow of lanterns and couplets—but the New Year spirit was in full swing.

Ying Zheng received lucky money from his uncle and aunt and smiled until his eyes turned into crescents.

“Is this his birthday gift?” Xun Kuang asked. “I thought his birthday was on the second day of the new year?”

“No, this is lucky money, meant to ward off evil spirits,” Zhu Xiang explained.

“There’s such a custom?” Xun Kuang thought for a moment and also pulled out a few coins, tucking them into the red pouch around Ying Zheng’s neck. “Here, lucky money.”

Cai Ze also added a few coins to the pouch, while Li Mu pulled a small dagger from his sleeve.

“This works better to ward off evil,” Li Mu said. “It’s seen blood—evil spirits will fear it.”

Zhu Xiang was full of question marks. A dagger that’s killed people… as a child’s lucky charm?! Li Mu, are you serious?!