HCT – Chapter 170 Presenting Facts and Evidence

Zhu Xiang’s persistence was something none of his friends could understand.

Previously, when Qin King Zichu kept Chunhua around, it wasn’t just out of concern for Zhu Xiang’s feelings—it was also to further secure Ying Zheng’s position as Crown Prince.

During the Spring and Autumn period, the Qin state didn’t follow the Zhou dynasty’s etiquette of the eldest legitimate son inheriting the throne. Instead, merit took precedence. But as Qin gradually embraced the culture and values of the Central Plains, by the Warring States period, it had tacitly accepted the system of primogeniture.

For example, when Qin King Zichu returned to fight for the throne, it was through Lu Buwei’s persuasion and bribery that he was adopted by the legitimate queen, Lady Huayang, thereby becoming the eldest legitimate son. Instantly, he outshone all his brothers who had long been cultivating power in Qin.

Now that Chunhua had become the Queen of Qin, all her value had been completely used up. Qin King Zichu could order her death at any time under the pretense of illness. As for whether outsiders might suspect Chunhua was murdered—Qin King Zichu and everyone else simply didn’t care.

Qin King Zichu killing Chunhua was not the same as Ying Zheng killing his own birth mother.

Ying Zheng’s injury had caused the world to stop holding him to such a high standard regarding filial piety, and it had made Zhu Xiang finally abandon any hope he had for Chunhua.

Once even Zhu Xiang gave up on her, Chunhua’s life had reached its end. Whether Ying Zheng still felt pity for his birth mother or not, Qin King Zichu would never allow this woman—who had been under house arrest for ten years yet still dared to act so arrogantly—to continue living and bring unnecessary trouble to Qin.

To them, Chunhua was already a dead person. Quietly letting her weaken and die would be best. It would even allow Ying Zheng and Zhu Xiang to vent some of their anger. So why was Zhu Xiang making such a big fuss? It wouldn’t benefit him or Ying Zheng.

Ying Zheng also tried to persuade him: “Uncle, you don’t need to worry about me. I won’t let her hurt me again.”

Zhu Xiang gently rubbed Ying Zheng’s head and said, “I’m not doing this just for you. Zheng’er, one of you—either you or Qin King Zichu—is going to become the first true ruler of the world.”

“If Chunhua’s title as queen isn’t abolished, she’ll become the first Empress of a unified empire—or the first Grand Empress Dowager.” A mocking smile appeared on Zhu Xiang’s face.

“The first woman to hold such a title in the history of the world.”

Everyone in the carriage twitched at the corners of their eyes.

Empress of the First Emperor, Grand Empress Dowager…

“That title would sound far more impressive than ‘Lord Changping,’” Lin Zhi understood what Zhu Xiang was thinking.

“You had hoped that if Chunhua repented, she might deserve that title—as the woman who gave birth to Zheng’er, the first among all women, admired by history. But now, you don’t want that anymore.”

Zhu Xiang said calmly, “I’ve said it before—this is injustice.”

Seeing Zhu Xiang’s expression, Lin Zhi gave up trying to persuade him: “Fine. Do as you please. You always get stubborn about things none of us understand, and I can’t stop you. But you promised: if the court officials don’t agree with you, you’ll back off.”

Cai Ze frowned, “If you accuse Chunhua of being cruel and Zheng’er is still young, he may not be implicated. But your flawless reputation will definitely suffer.”

Zhu Xiang replied, “When have I ever cared about my reputation? I’ve never claimed to be perfect.”

Hearing this, Cai Ze gave up too: “Alright, since you put it that way.”

Qin King Zichu had originally counted on Lin Zhi and Cai Ze to talk Zhu Xiang out of it, but to his surprise, they gave up so cleanly. He was stunned.

“You two aren’t going to try harder?” Qin King Zichu asked urgently.

“This whole thing is outrageous. Even Xunzi might beat him up in court!”

Lin Zhi finally burst out laughing: “If he gets beaten, he’ll deserve it. Affairs of the inner palace should be kept within the palace. Handle them quietly. If he insists on dragging his own reputation into it, let him. At worst, people will just curse him. It’s not life-threatening.”

Cai Ze nodded in agreement: “The only thing at risk is Zhu Xiang’s reputation. If he doesn’t care, then let him vent. Once he’s had his say, he’ll feel better.”

Ying Zheng tugged on Zhu Xiang’s sleeve: “Uncle! What’s the point of doing this? She’ll die anyway. Once she’s dead, she won’t be able to hurt us anymore!”

Qin King Zichu covered his forehead.

Zhu Xiang had actually forced the always composed Ying Zheng to say something that essentially amounted to matricide. Truly formidable.

Yet, Zhu Xiang wasn’t angry at all after hearing those words.

He just rubbed Ying Zheng’s head again and said gently, “I’ve done many things that people of this era think are meaningless. One more won’t matter. I just firmly believe: all the rites and rules of this world should lead people toward goodness.”

After a pause, he added, “She abused you, abandoned you, hurt you—and yet she wants to use you to become the woman most admired by all others. That’s injustice. With me here, I won’t allow Zheng’er to suffer such injustice. Don’t worry. You don’t need to deal with Chunhua anymore. Leave it to your uncle, and the rest of your elders.”

“You should’ve discussed this with us first. You’re not even of age yet. Matters like these are for your elders to worry about, not for you to hurt yourself over.”

Zhu Xiang lightly tapped the uninjured side of Ying Zheng’s forehead. “There is nothing in this world worth hurting yourself to obtain. Understand?”

Ying Zheng held his forehead and bowed his head so low that no one could see his expression. His voice carried a nasal tone: “Yes.”

“Listen to your uncle,” Qin King Zichu added, now persuaded by Zhu Xiang. He would rather give up the Queen title entirely than let Chunhua become Queen.

“I can’t believe I’m actually being convinced by you,” Lin Zhi said with a teasing smile.

“If Chunhua dies while still being Queen, she’ll be buried with the King. The King probably won’t sleep well in the afterlife.”

Qin King Zichu’s face stiffened.

Cai Ze solemnly added, “That’s true.”

Qin King Zichu: “…” You think I can’t see you smirking just because you’re keeping a straight face?

“Pfft…” Ying Zheng quickly covered his mouth, shaking his head hard. “I didn’t laugh!”

But he remembered that in his dream, Zhao Ji was buried with his royal father—ha ha ha!

Qin King Zichu rolled his eyes and growled through gritted teeth, “I don’t care! Do I look like someone who worries about funeral arrangements?!”

“HAHAHAHA!” Everyone burst into laughter, including Zhu Xiang, who laughed so hard he doubled over.

Finally, the mood inside the carriage lightened—except for Qin King Zichu.

Back in Xianyang Palace, the King of Qin was furious upon learning that the Crown Prince had been injured. He immediately ordered the Queen to be taken into custody.

The court officials rushed to petition him, pleading with the King to release the Queen for the sake of the Crown Prince’s dignity. Though the Queen had gone mad, she was still his birth mother and deserved gratitude for giving him life.

The King was initially moved—until someone who never appeared in court suddenly showed up: Lord Changping.

The ministers couldn’t help but rub their eyes in disbelief, staring at that signature head of pure white hair. His hair really was white! It really was Lord Changping!

Only then did they remember—the Queen was Lord Changping’s blood sister.

So he had come to beg for forgiveness?

Some officials couldn’t help but feel a flicker of joy. Had they finally found a crack in Lord Changping’s perfect image? Could they finally expose some flaw in this “flawless gentleman”?

These thoughts weren’t necessarily born from hatred. Many just couldn’t accept the idea of a man being so perfect.

Just like people of later generations would say—how could a truly perfect gentleman exist in this world? If he’d always been this kind and noble, then he must’ve been faking it—he must be a hypocrite.

Even if Zhu Xiang lived his whole life as a gentleman, people would still claim he’d only pretended all his life. Even if challenged, they would smugly reply, “We judge by actions, not motives. Even if Zhu Xiang pretended, he still lived as a gentleman.”

Never mind the fact that Zhu Xiang’s entire life had shown no sign of hypocrisy. Never mind that they had no evidence of what he was supposedly pretending.

Now, all those who harbored such thoughts watched Lord Changping with excitement. Their barely concealed ugliness made Qin King Zichu, sitting on the royal throne, grip the armrest tightly.

He sneered inwardly—this was why his grandfather, his father, and he himself, three generations of Qin kings, had all silently allowed Zhu Xiang to stay away from court.

“I, Lord Changping Zhu Xiang, request Your Majesty to uphold justice for me and my nephew,” Zhu Xiang stepped away from his seat and bowed deeply.

“If a woman repeatedly attempts to kill her own younger brother’s child, why must that child continue to serve her just because of blood ties? If we repay evil with virtue, how should we repay virtue? If the role model for all women is such a venomous woman, won’t that lead people toward evil?”

Zhu Xiang raised his head. “I ask Your Majesty to see clearly!”

The entire court was shocked!

Qin King Zichu looked at their expressions and couldn’t help but smile.

The moment he appeared, the world was shaken. This was his friend—the peerless statesman, Lord Changping Zhu Xiang.

With a steady face, Qin King Zichu asked, “Lord Changping, do you realize what you’re saying? The ministers have pleaded with me not to imprison the Queen, saying that she gave birth to the Crown Prince and should be pardoned for his sake.”

Zhu Xiang took a deep breath, then dropped to his knees and pressed his forehead to the floor.

Qin King Zichu was so startled he pushed down on the armrests and nearly rose from the throne before forcing himself to sit back down.

His eyes turned deep and shadowed, his grip on the throne tightening again.

“The world says that to give life to a child is a great act of parental kindness. But life itself is full of suffering. When parents give birth, do they ever ask the child if they wanted to come into this world?!”

“You bring children into this world solely on your own accord—how can you shamelessly claim they owe you a great debt?!”

“If parents raise their children properly, guiding them into becoming people who find joy in the world, then naturally they’ve bestowed great kindness upon their children.”

“But those who give birth and do not nurture them—those who even go so far as to treat their children like livestock—what kindness have they ever shown? On what grounds should those children be expected to be filial?!”

“If birth is enough, even when followed by abuse, to demand filial piety—then does this so-called ‘filial piety’ lead people to goodness, or to evil?!”

Zhu Xiang’s heretical words shook the court like a thunderclap. Ministers swayed and stumbled as if struck physically. Some trembled violently, their faces red with rage, as though they were moments away from rushing forward to fight Zhu Xiang on the spot.

One would expect Xunzi, the great Confucian scholar most sensitive to the concept of “filial piety,” to react most strongly—but he merely drooped his eyelids, appearing old and feeble, as though he’d fallen asleep from exhaustion.

With his forehead pressed to the floor, Zhu Xiang heard the cacophony in the court, yet his heart was as calm as still water.

He had known it would come to this.

In ancient times, parents held the legal right to kill their children.

According to excavated Tang and Song dynasty legal texts, if parents or elders killed their children, the punishment was merely four to five years of imprisonment. If the parents claimed the child had been unfilial, the authorities would not investigate further and would immediately acquit them.

Similarly, if parents accused their children of defiance, the authorities would again not verify the claim but would directly find the child guilty. As such, it was common for parents to seize their favored son’s inheritance by accusing the others of disobedience.

The Qin legal code was the harshest—treating all commoners like blades of chives under the king’s scythe. Every individual’s freedom belonged to the Qin king and could not be disposed of privately. Yet even then, the punishment for parents killing their children was merely “tattooing and forced labor,” a very light sentence.

This was why, after interrogating the palace maids, Cai Ze executed them on the spot without waiting for Qin King Zichu’s return.

As long as Ying Zheng had first slapped Chunhua, even if Chunhua had killed him afterward, it would have been justified in the eyes of the moral code of the time.

The palace maids, having seen Ying Zheng strike Chunhua, remained kneeling in silence—because they knew the consequences.

The Crown Prince of Qin could not be unfilial. Therefore, they were doomed to die.

Later, when Ying Zheng was attacked by Chunhua and no one came to his defense, it was not just because they were paralyzed by fear of impending death. Deep down, they probably also resented the prince who had dragged them into this tragedy.

As Chunhua’s younger brother, Zhu Xiang had the standing to accuse her of being unfraternal and endangering his life.

But he could not accuse Chunhua of being unkind as a mother on Ying Zheng’s behalf—because parents were allowed to be unkind. Even if parents were cruel, children still had to be filial!

“I humbly request that Your Majesty allow me to bring forth witnesses to testify to this matter,” Zhu Xiang pleaded, choking with emotion. “I know the world favors blind filial piety. That as long as parents give their children life, they can decide whether they live or die. What I say may hold no weight. But even if it is useless, I must debate this openly with the ministers, to make them understand the Crown Prince’s suffering.”

Qin King Zichu took several deep breaths to suppress the turmoil in his heart.

Just as he was about to speak, Xunzi opened his eyes and spoke first: “Your Majesty, let Lord Changping bring his witnesses forward. Let the ministers hear what has passed between him, the Crown Prince, and the Queen. Otherwise, they may think he is bullying a helpless woman at home.”

“Master Xunzi is right,” Qin King Zichu immediately agreed. “Lord Changping, please rise… Zheng’er, help your uncle up!”

With bandages wrapped around his head and hands, Ying Zheng unclenched his fists. “Yes, Father.”

He helped Zhu Xiang up and wiped away his tears, unable to hide the blood seeping from the reopened wounds on his own hands.

Zhu Xiang, distressed, gripped his hand. “The imperial physician—”

“I’m fine. I’ll go after court is dismissed,” Ying Zheng said firmly. “I want to see this through with you.”

Zhu Xiang clenched his jaw. “Alright.”

He turned and signaled for the prepared witnesses to be brought in.

There were three groups of witnesses.

When the first group entered, Lin Zhi dusted off his sleeve and stood from the Prime Minister’s seat.

“These witnesses are elders from my household,” Lin Zhi said with a lazy smile to his colleagues. “Everyone knows that when Lord Changping was young, he was chronically ill and in a desperate state. He threw himself in front of my father’s carriage and displayed his talent, which led my father to take him in as a retainer—that story’s practically folklore by now.”

“My father treated Zhu Xiang like his own son and naturally investigated his background. These are testimonies from Zhu Xiang’s old neighbors. My father and I compiled them long ago, fearing his sister might one day falsely accuse him. Never thought they’d actually be needed.”

He swept his gaze over the other officials, his smile tinged with sarcasm.

He wasn’t lying.

Zhu Xiang had gathered this evidence long ago—it was not fabricated.

When Zhu Xiang first joined Lin Xiangru, he was still largely illiterate, but already shrewd and cautious. He had personally asked Lin Xiangru to send people to his hometown to collect proof of how he had been abandoned. The case was formally recorded by the Zhao government, listing Chunhua’s crime of taking the family property and abandoning her younger brother.

“One must always be wary,” Zhu Xiang had said, justifying his effort to guard against a woman who had once sold herself into slavery.

Lin Zhi added, “If the ministers are willing to wait a few days, I can send someone to retrieve Zhao government officials. The case files should still exist.”

Qin King Zichu ordered the evidence to be presented.

At the time, paper was not yet widely used. Zhu Xiang had submitted two copies of the complaint—one stamped by the government, carved into a wooden tablet, which remained in Zhu Xiang’s possession.

Qin King Zichu, familiar with the events of the past, saw the brief accusations carved into the tablet and felt a wave of fury rise within him.

He regretted it.

He had thought Zhu Xiang, with his stoic personality, had long since let go of the past. So he had sought to maximize political gain by giving Chunhua ten years of luxury.

But the wooden tablet detailed more than just the abandonment—it described how Chunhua once ordered men in the marketplace to kidnap Xue Ji and sell her into slavery, only for someone else to rescue her.

According to the charges, Chunhua deserved death.

So it wasn’t that Zhu Xiang didn’t want Chunhua dead. He had simply held back after hearing Qin King Zichu’s political plan.

Was it for Qin King Zichu’s sake? Or for Ying Zheng?

Probably both.

Qin King Zichu motioned Ying Zheng forward.

Ying Zheng’s eyes trembled as he read the content of the report.

“My aunt and I thought we had hidden this from Uncle,” he said, voice hoarse with suppressed emotion. “But it turns out he was the one who kept it from us.”

Uncle knew everything—even their attempt to conceal the matter from him.

Ying Zheng suddenly understood: if it weren’t for him, if Chunhua weren’t his birth mother, Uncle would have long since made her pay.

With his kindness, Uncle might have offered one last incense stick before her grave, to conclude the bond—but he was not someone who repaid evil with good.

Qin King Zichu handed the wooden tablet to an attendant. “Pass it around for all to see.”

Cai Ze waved his hand—he didn’t need to see it.

He’d read it long ago.

Xunzi read it again, scoffing as he went.

Lin Zhi said, “The chivalrous men who saved my sister were found by my father and later recommended to Lord Lian for military service. One of them now serves as an official in Zhao. If the ministers doubt this, they may send word to confirm.”

The court officials shook their heads, stating they had no doubts.

The aged wooden tablet clearly dated back a decade or more. Besides, Lin Zhi had named living witnesses who could be contacted. If they investigated, they would surely receive confirmation—so there was no chance of forgery.

In truth, the fact that Lord Changping and the Queen had been like strangers for ten years had already made them suspect some deep grudge. They just hadn’t expected it to be this deep.

Seeing no objections, Lin Zhi returned to his seat.

Then the second group of witnesses stepped forward. Lu Buwei, now back in Qin and appointed as a Senior Minister, rose.

The ministers’ eyelids twitched.

They remembered that the Qin Queen had originally been gifted to Qin King Zichu by Lu Buwei.

Lu Buwei bowed. “The wealthy merchant to whom the Queen fled with her valuables—was my household. When I gifted her to His Majesty, I personally prepared her deed of sale to confirm her clean background. She claimed to be her family’s only child, and that she sold herself after her parents’ deaths. These statements alone prove that her claim of selling herself to save her younger brother was a lie.”

When Zhu Xiang had come to Lu Buwei, Lu Buwei had been terrified.

His greatest fear now was someone uncovering the truth—that the Queen had once been his courtesan.

When he heard that the Queen had injured the Crown Prince, Lu Buwei had nearly started composing his last will. He had spent time with Ying Zheng and knew the Crown Prince disliked him. If his birth mother went mad and couldn’t be held accountable, the Crown Prince might well take it out on him.

Only after Zhu Xiang promised his protection did Lu Buwei grit his teeth and agree.

Though this matter was dangerous, if handled properly, it might allow him to completely extricate himself from the situation.

The evidence in Lu Buwei’s hands was indeed real.

He wanted to offer a woman to the Qin prince in exchange for future wealth and prosperity—how could he not investigate Zhao Ji’s identity thoroughly? All of this information had been prepared for Qin King Zichu. He even collected evidence showing how well he treated Zhao Ji, in case she rose to power and turned her back on him. Now, these very same materials could also serve as evidence of Zhao Ji’s maliciousness.

The origins Lu Buwei traced for Zhao Ji began after she sold herself. Once he confirmed that she was the daughter of a commoner, he no longer cared about the rest.

Zhao Ji was adept at pleasing others, with charming looks and a voice like a songbird. She amassed many rewards and household wealth through flattery and beauty. She kept all the money for herself and never sent any back to her family.

Besides the proof that Zhao Ji lived a good life after selling herself and never once thought of her younger brother Zhu Xiang, Lu Buwei had gathered much more damning evidence—particularly regarding how Zhao Ji mistreated Ying Zheng.

The people who served Zhao Ji in those years had all been planted by Lu Buwei. Although she eloped with one of his subordinates who betrayed him, it wasn’t difficult for Lu Buwei to locate those people again.

This group became the second wave of witnesses.

Lu Buwei had kept them all along, hoping to give them to Crown Prince Zheng for his revenge. But Crown Prince Zheng had declined, telling Lu Buwei to keep them for now—they might prove useful in the future.

Had Crown Prince Zheng foreseen this day all along? Cold sweat soaked Lu Buwei’s back.

After hearing Lu Buwei’s testimony and the accounts from the servants who once waited on the young Crown Prince, the court officials were visibly moved.

Standing on the high platform, Ying Zheng looked at the overly calm faces below, and a sentence he once heard in a dream suddenly came back to him.

He shouldn’t have experienced such things, but when that line resurfaced in his heart, it felt as if he had truly lived it.

“His Majesty tore apart his false father—driven by jealousy; struck down his two brothers—lacking in kindness; relocated his mother to Xu Yang Palace—an act of unfilial conduct.”

His mother’s male favorite was called his “false father.” When his mother and her lover plotted treason, he killed both the lover and his son, but only relocated his mother—yet he was accused of being jealous, unkind, and unfilial. If he refused to forgive his mother, he would be likened to tyrants like Jie and Zhou, and the world would spit on him.

Zhu Xiang swept a cold gaze across the utterly indifferent nobles and summoned the third wave of witnesses.

They were the imperial physicians.

The physicians brought two sets of medical records: one from when Ying Zheng first arrived at Zhu Xiang’s residence, during a health checkup conducted by a physician affiliated with the Lin family; and the second was a diagnosis of the recent injuries Ying Zheng had sustained.

Zhu Xiang had once wanted to file a case against Chunhua for abandoning Ying Zheng, fearing she might come back to claim him. But Lin Xiangru knocked him on the head—Ying Zheng was a Qin hostage prince, and this matter couldn’t be pursued legally. So Zhu Xiang had to drop it.

However, he still prepared the evidence, in case Chunhua ever tried to force Ying Zheng to show her filial piety—he could present this evidence to refute her.

In the end, he never needed to use the evidence, because Xue Ji had scolded Chunhua directly and fiercely, never giving her the chance to argue.

Upon seeing the medical records, the previously indifferent nobles finally showed a trace of emotion. They began to discuss Chunhua’s cruelty.

If the medical records from back then were real, then Lord Changping had truly gone to great lengths to save Ying Zheng. In any other household, the child would likely have died young.

Qin King Zichu reviewed the old medical records and tossed them to Ying Zheng.

“This is a kindness from Lord Lin.”

To restore Ying Zheng’s health, the records listed many rare herbs and expensive foods. Zhu Xiang had racked his brains to turn them into medicinal meals to suit Ying Zheng’s picky tastes.

With Zhu Xiang’s financial state back then, he couldn’t possibly afford all of it. It had to be Lin Xiangru who scraped together the supplies from his personal stores for Ying Zheng’s sake.

Recalling the voice and face of Elder Lin, Ying Zheng solemnly said: “Zheng’er understands.”

He had always thought his memory was excellent, but just because he remembered things well didn’t mean he knew everything that happened in his childhood. Many things, after all, were done for him without his knowledge. For instance, that he was in such poor health as a child that he needed rare herbs and ingredients—he had no idea.

He only knew his health gradually improved and that he almost never got sick. He even thought he was just naturally strong.

Perhaps… he really was hard to kill.

After presenting the third wave of witnesses, Zhu Xiang was ready to conclude the matter. But just then, a palace maid arrived with a report:

Empress Dowager Huayang had requested an audience.

Qin King Zichu immediately stood up.

Empress Dowager Huayang? She never meddled in political affairs—why had she come today?

“Quickly, invite the Empress Dowager in,” Qin King Zichu said as he stepped down the platform to personally receive her.

“No need, Your Majesty,” said the Empress Dowager. “I’m only here to testify once and will leave after presenting the evidence.”

She came up the steps, leading Prince Chengjiao by the hand.

Little Prince Chengjiao looked confused—he didn’t know why Grandmother had brought him here.

When Empress Dowager Huayang let go of Chengjiao’s hand, he glanced around uncertainly, then suddenly ran with his short legs toward Zhu Xiang, hugging his legs and burying his face in them.

So many strangers—Uncle will protect me!

Seeing Chengjiao’s action, several officials felt a sinking sensation in their hearts.

Why was Prince Chengjiao so close to Lord Changping as well?!

Ying Zheng first bowed to Empress Dowager Huayang, then approached Chengjiao.

“Come to your elder brother’s side.”

Chengjiao looked up, hesitated a moment, and when he saw that Ying Zheng’s face had gone stern, he quickly released Zhu Xiang’s leg and grabbed his elder brother’s sleeve.

“Brother is hurt, no holding hands.” Chengjiao flashed a smile, trying to please his strict older brother like a student buttering up his teacher.

“It’s fine,” Ying Zheng replied.

He used his less-injured left hand to hold Chengjiao’s hand, nodded respectfully to Zhu Xiang, then led the boy toward the king’s seat.

Thanks to Zhu Xiang’s repeated nagging, Ying Zheng had finally learned to match his steps with Chengjiao’s short legs instead of walking too fast and forcing the boy to scurry after him.

The sight of the two brothers walking hand-in-hand once again pierced the hearts of many in the court.

They had assumed Crown Prince Zheng’s position was unstable due to the scandal with his mother. But from the looks of things… everything was still perfectly in order.

“I’ve brought the ledgers detailing Zhao Ji’s expenditures over the past ten years,” Empress Dowager Huayang said coldly.

“Let the ministers see for themselves how extravagant this woman was. Neither the king nor the Crown Prince ever mistreated her. Because she was so wasteful, the Crown Prince gave up his own stipends after her arrival in Qin—he gave all of it to her. I would like to know: who dares to accuse the Crown Prince of being unfilial?!”

Zhu Xiang was startled. What? Zheng’er had stipends?

Ying Zheng furrowed his brows. Huh? I had stipends?

Even his biological father, Qin King Zichu, was surprised. Right! Zheng’er was raised by Zhu Xiang, so what happened to his allowances? Even when he was just a royal great-grandson, King Zhaoxiang had given him a stipend nearly equal to a crown prince’s. He’d always assumed Zhu Xiang had saved it up for him.

After his initial confusion, Zhu Xiang recalled something from many years ago, a conversation with Xue Ji that he had completely forgotten because of how long ago it was.

Xue Ji had said: since they were raising Zheng’er themselves, they could just give Qin King’s gifts to Chunhua—as if Zheng’er was paying filial dues to her.

“It’s true,” Zhu Xiang confirmed.

“This was decided when the Crown Prince was very young.”

Ying Zheng thought hard. Was that really the case?

Though he had excellent memory, he’d always ignored things he didn’t think were worth remembering. Maybe his uncle and aunt had mentioned it at the time, but he’d been too busy playing or eating to pay attention.

Why was I so stupid as a child?! I just agreed to whatever Uncle and Aunt said!

Ying Zheng beat his chest in regret. So much money—if he’d saved it all, he could’ve done countless things! Even if he didn’t need it, giving it to Uncle and Aunt would’ve been better!

Prince Chengjiao blinked his big round eyes.

“Big Brother never got his stipends?”

Ying Zheng nodded with a complicated expression. Why did Chengjiao know about stipends at such a young age?

After hesitating for a long while, Chengjiao fished out a small scented pouch from his robes. He poured out half of the unevenly shaped golden beads inside, then reluctantly handed them to Ying Zheng.

“Big Brother, I’ll share half with you.”

Ying Zheng was stunned.

Chengjiao stretched his little hands forward.

“I don’t need much money. You can have it.”

Bribing big brother—maybe big brother will give me fewer assignments! Chengjiao, who had seen others in the Empress Dowager’s palace give bribes, understood what “bribery” meant and looked up hopefully at his terrifyingly strict older brother.

Ying Zheng’s surprise softened. With his bandaged hand, he gently closed it into a fist, then slowly opened it.

He took the little gold nuggets from Chengjiao.

“Alright.”

“Right now you’ve given me half of the golden orb. As long as you don’t commit treason in the future, I will ensure your life is filled with wealth, peace, and prosperity.” Ying Zheng thought to himself.

Prince Chengjiao, seeing his crown prince elder brother accepting a bribe, grinned so widely that his eyes curved into crescents.

Being young, he believed that once a bribe was accepted, the recipient would definitely fulfill the promise.

But he forgot—he hadn’t made any request. So, his elder brother did keep his promise—just not the promise Chengjiao had in mind.

The little exchanges between the two brothers were closely watched by the attending ministers and officials, leaving them with mixed feelings.

How could the royal house of Qin still have brotherly love and harmony? Well, now that they thought about it, didn’t King Renwen of Qin and Crown Prince Dao also once have such a fraternal bond?

After unexpectedly becoming a key witness, Grand Empress Dowager Huayang did not leave the court.

For the first time, she sat beside the King of Qin in her capacity as the Grand Empress Dowager, her phoenix eyes glaring over the gathered officials.

In the eyes of the ministers, the Empress Dowager Huayang had always been just a beautiful but inept woman who only knew how to flatter the former king, devoid of wisdom or depth.

Now that she revealed the bearing of a true Qin matriarch, the ministers found it hard to adjust.

Seeing how Qin King Zichu treated her with the utmost respect, they couldn’t tell whether it was an act or sincere. But one thing was clear—at this moment, the Empress Dowager was siding with the Crown Prince.

Could it be that she was seizing this opportunity to wrest control of the harem from the Queen of Qin? The ministers couldn’t help but indulge in conspiracy theories.

Empress Dowager Huayang had summoned all her courage to step onto the court for the first time.

The moment she sat down, the aura she had forced up drained away, leaving her limbs weak and trembling.

But she still forced herself to remain composed and told Ying Zheng, “Don’t be afraid, child. Grandmother will protect you in place of Lady Xue.”

Seeing Ying Zheng bloodied and battered, Huayang could hardly rest at ease. She kept weeping, apologizing repeatedly to her only true friend.

Upon learning what was going to happen today, she had tossed and turned for hours before finally gritting her teeth and deciding to come and support him.

“Thank you, Grandmother,” said Ying Zheng. “With you here, I’m not afraid.”

Huayang forced a smile and then said calmly to the court, “Please continue the discussions. No need to mind me.”

Seeing that the young Prince Chengjiao was too small to stand for long, Qin King Zichu had someone bring a chair up for Ying Zheng, and let him hold Chengjiao while seated.

Chengjiao leaned carefully into Ying Zheng’s arms and asked, “Will I press on your wound?”

Ying Zheng kept a stern face. “No.”

Chengjiao adjusted his little bottom, leaned against his brother’s chest, and quickly got used to sharing the chair with him.

All the evidence and witnesses that Zhu Xiang had prepared were now presented.

He had originally intended to stand and wait while the court debated, as a show of humility. But before Qin King Zichu could speak, Empress Dowager Huayang urged him to sit: “Why are you still standing? Help Lord Changping take a seat!”

Qin King Zichu quickly echoed, “Lord Changping, please sit.”

Zhu Xiang bowed to both the Empress Dowager and the King and returned to his seat.

Though he held no official post, his seat was second only to the Chancellor.

The court seating was arranged in two rows, led by Cai Ze and Xunzi. Lin Zhi followed Cai Ze, and Zhu Xiang sat behind Xunzi.

As Zhu Xiang sat down, Xunzi leaned close and asked in a low voice, “Satisfied now?”

Zhu Xiang replied, “Yes.”

Xunzi sighed and said no more.

He knew that Zhu Xiang’s goal was bound to fail.

Why was filial piety defined as obeying one’s parents, regardless of right or wrong? Because under Heaven, the pillars of society were ruler, parent, and teacher—and the virtue paired with filial piety was loyalty.

For the sake of social order, not just Confucians but all schools of thought imposed strict hierarchies. Each person had their place, and none were to overstep.

Did they not know this was unjust?

Of course they knew.

But the sages and philosophers had bumped up against the walls of this world so many times, they could only write the world they hoped for into their books—like Confucianism’s Great Unity—while designing unjust rules for the world as it stood.

The Queen of Qin might be deposed or even executed, but the reason for that could never officially be her lack of kindness to the Crown Prince.

“I understand that Your Majesty has his difficulties,” Zhu Xiang said. “And I understand that this world has its rules. I don’t expect to succeed. I only want to bring this matter into the open, so that everyone knows such a thing happened.”

“If today’s debate can spread, be recorded in history, and discussed by future generations—that’s enough.”

Zhu Xiang knew that even without him, past sages had discussed unfilial children and unkind parents, and called for the mutuality of “filial piety” and “parental compassion.”

Though such calls were often just that—calls.

But were those voices meaningless? Not at all.

The world progresses. Thought evolves. One day, blind loyalty will no longer be necessary for stability, and blind filial piety will also be discarded.

When that day comes, those future rulemakers will have something to guide them—better than starting from nothing.

Every era-defining thought of the sages was meant for the moment when future readers, flipping through history books, suddenly understand.

After Zhu Xiang explained his reasoning, Xunzi finally accepted his “reckless” actions.

On the court, the most traditional Confucian officials—those who supposedly valued filial piety the most—were surprisingly silent.

This confused the other ministers who had expected the Confucians to be the first to rush forward and attack Zhu Xiang.

But instead, these Confucians folded their hands calmly, some closing their eyes to rest, others watching the debate expressionlessly, and still others whispering to one another.

Their occasional glances at Zhu Xiang were filled with admiration—not hostility.

Only then did the other ministers realize: just now, the ones who pretended to faint or tried to beat Zhu Xiang—none of them were Confucians.

They all knew Xunzi was Zhu Xiang’s teacher. Could it be that Xunzi had now become the second “Confucius” in the hearts of all Confucians?

But weren’t the Lu Confucians hostile toward Xunzi? Why weren’t they objecting either?

Zhu Xiang was also surprised. Not a single Confucian came to spit in his face?

What he didn’t know was that, back when King Zhu had the Lu Confucians compile books, he had told them it was Zhu Xiang’s idea.

Later, in southern Qin, Zhu Xiang led the Lu Confucians in real scholarly work, civilizing the barbarians and spreading the importance of unity. When refugees from Chu came, he also led the scholars to calm them.

There are many Confucians who can speak or write. But few like Zhu Xiang who embody “benevolence” through action. It’s not that most Confucians lacked the heart—but the opportunity.

To the Lu Confucians, who revered Mencius, Zhu Xiang’s repeated self-sacrifices for righteousness made him a true heir of Mencius—unlike Xunzi.

Moreover, the original teachings of Confucius, Mencius, and Xunzi never promoted blind loyalty or filial piety. That came later, when Confucianism became “Confucian orthodoxy.”

Confucius said: “If a son merely follows his father, what makes him filial? If a subject merely obeys the ruler, what makes him loyal? True filial piety and loyalty come from understanding what one follows.”

Mencius said: “If a ruler treats his subjects like dogs and horses, the subject may treat him like a stranger; if the ruler treats them like dirt, the subject may see him as an enemy.”

Xunzi said: “Follow the Way, not the ruler; follow righteousness, not the father. That is the great conduct of a person.”

Even though filial piety in their time was mainly toward the father, ignoring the mother, none of the three ever promoted blind obedience.

In other words—even if Chunhua was Ying Zheng’s mother, even if it had been Qin King Zichu himself who did this to him—the Confucians would still say the Crown Prince was not obligated to be filial!

By the end of the Warring States period, only Confucianism and Legalism remained politically relevant. And the rulers’ distrust of Confucians had its reasons.

They were rebels ahead of their time.

Even though Xunzi had cloaked rebellious Confucianism in a veneer of compliance, enabling it to compete with Legalism for influence, it didn’t change its core defiance.

At least, not yet.

So not only did the Confucians not oppose Zhu Xiang—they actively spread his ideas.

Even if the Queen of Qin was ultimately not deposed for unkindness, they wanted the world to know: that was the real reason—no matter what official excuse was given.

Zhu Xiang would only understand this later, realizing he had unfairly judged the present-day Confucians through the lens of later generations.

A single court debate couldn’t settle everything. But soon, the arguments spilled into the Xianyang Imperial Academy, and from there, deliberately spread by Confucian scholars, the discussions reached every regional academy in Qin.

Once the academies across Qin were debating the issue, the scholars of the other six states naturally heard of it too.

They were stunned—Lord Changping’s first appearance in the Qin court had not been marked by fiery words, but by a meticulous presentation of witnesses and evidence. He didn’t argue; he just laid out the facts—more rigorously than local magistrates.

Weren’t court debates among nobles just mouth-to-mouth arguments?

Lord Changping’s approach was… extremely unusual.

Present facts. Reason through them. Zhu Xiang gave them a small but powerful shock of pragmatic reasoning from a future age.

• Wei Wuji, upon hearing of it at the frontier, laughed and downed a whole jar of wine.
• Zhao Bao, in a brief moment of lucidity, hastily sent envoys with any evidence Zhu Xiang might need to Qin, then promptly fell back into confusion.
• Lord Chunshen, worn out from domestic and foreign crises, was in the middle of a council with the newly crowned Crown Prince Xiong Qi. When he heard the news, he actually smiled for once.

Many people Zhu Xiang knew smiled knowingly at this event.

As for the central figure, Queen Zhao of Qin, she quietly died in the palace, supposedly from overwhelming fear.

After her death, Qin King Zichu stripped her of her title, citing “improper conduct,” demoting her to commoner status, and issued a decree forbidding future generations from reversing this decision.

But by that time, few cared about her fate. The debate between “parental kindness” and “filial piety” sparked by Zhu Xiang still raged on, with scholars from across all the states joining in.

Then someone brought up the old Confucian idea: “If the ruler is unkind, the subject is not bound to be loyal.” This led to accusations that Confucianism breeds rebellion.

Many rulers disliked this idea and began expelling Confucian scholars from their courts.

Qin was no exception—such rhetoric was starting to take hold.

Ying Zheng’s eyelid twitched. This all felt far too familiar.

Zhu Xiang smacked his forehead. This had gotten out of hand.

He knew it would cause a stir, but not like this. He himself was fine—so why had he dragged down Xunzi and the entire Confucian community?

Zhu Xiang immediately apologized to Xunzi.

Xunzi, calm and slow, replied, “It’s fine. I’ve long gotten used to it.”

Zhu Xiang: “……”

Xunzi pointed at his shoulder, and Zhu Xiang obediently began massaging it.

“Thanks to this, we’ve finally settled the matter of women’s noble titles,” Xunzi said. “Women’s titles will follow Rites of Zhou—Lady of the State, Lady of the Commandery, County Lady, Madam, and Lady.”

From the Book of Rites:

“The wife of the Son of Heaven is called the Queen, the wife of a feudal lord is called a Lady, of a great officer a County Lady, of a scholar a Madam, and of a commoner a Wife.”

Titles like “Lady of the State,” “Lady of the Commandery,” and “County Lady” are special honors granted before the standard Madam/Lady titles, using the name of the region to signify merit. These were awarded based not on the husband’s rank, but the woman’s own virtue or achievements, and carried extra stipends.

Xunzi’s system for female titles was far simpler than the twenty-rank system for men. But even this modest reform had cost him years of arguments.

Only now—thanks to Zhu Xiang’s lawsuit exposing the deposed Queen’s lack of compassion, and the public focus on women’s conduct—was he finally able to push the reform through.

Zhu Xiang didn’t know what to say.

He had sworn to promote rebellious new ideas, yet it was Xunzi who bore the real burden.

Even now—he had prepared himself for intellectual battles, yet the Confucians had stepped up first, shouldering the brunt, willing to be banished by rulers if necessary. Meanwhile, he was left behind, waving frantically, trying to make his presence felt—but no one paid him any mind.

“Hmph. Feeling guilty?” Xunzi side-eyed him.

Zhu Xiang nodded. “Yeah. This was supposed to be my job.”

Xunzi snorted again. “You? You only know how to recklessly charge forward. What would you accomplish?”

Zhu Xiang’s face grew even more ashamed.

“But,” Xunzi said, softening, “if you hadn’t recklessly led the way, I wouldn’t have followed it either.”

He sighed.

“Let’s hope, as you said, that everything we do now will serve as a beacon for future generations.”

Whether a hundred years later, a thousand, or ten thousand—as long as civilization endures, the tiny sparks lit by the ancients will guide those who come after.

Xunzi believed this. And so did the Confucians who followed Zhu Xiang.

That’s why they moved forward without hesitation—even if it meant sacrificing their lives for justice.

“If you’re truly guilty,” Xunzi said, “then stay at the Xianyang Academy for a while. Zheng’er needs time to heal anyway. Don’t go back to southern Qin in February. If you remain in Qin, the King won’t dare expel the Confucians.”

Zhu Xiang replied, “Yes, Master Xunzi.”

“And one more thing,” Xunzi said. “Don’t go soft and erect a monument for Chunhua! Bury her far, far away. Don’t let Zheng’er know where!”

Zhu Xiang, who had originally thought to respect the dead and build a small memorial for Chunhua, awkwardly said, “…Yes, Master Xunzi.”

“Hmph.” Xunzi closed his eyes again, relaxing and enjoying the massage.

Soon, he fell asleep.

Zhu Xiang lightened his touch, eyes filled with concern.

Xunzi had been sleeping more and more lately.