HCT – Chapter 177 Pickled Cabbage and Radish

In the end, Zichu still got to eat roast duck.

The filial Ying Zheng personally wrapped a piece for him—duck meat with slivers of scallion dipped in sweet bean paste. Zichu ate with great delight.

At the same time, Zhu Xiang was wrapping roast duck for Xunzi, quietly chuckling to himself.

In front of Xunzi, even Ying Zheng could only act the part of a dutiful and obedient crown prince.  Let’s see you be rebellious now—you wouldn’t dare in front of Xunzi, would you?

After finishing the roast duck, Zichu and Zhu Xiang admired the moon for a while, vented some curses about the uselessness of the court, and only then retired for the night.

Early the next morning, Zichu brought Ying Zheng back to the palace, resuming his official duties.

Zhu Xiang stood at the door to see them off, even sending Zichu away with two plump ducks and two fat chickens.

Zichu had just come out of the mourning period and needed to properly nourish his body. Zhu Xiang had already written down the recipes for crispy-skinned roast chicken and roast duck for the imperial kitchen, so that Zichu and Zheng’er could enjoy them to their fill.

Not long after sending Zichu and Ying Zheng off, the Zhang brothers, Zhang Sheng and Zhang Liang, came to pay a visit.

Both brothers had bloodshot eyes, clearly from a sleepless night.

Zhu Xiang still felt a little embarrassed when seeing them again. Though he knew Zichu had only been joking yesterday when teasing him about bullying the younger generation, the thought lingered.

He put on a stern face and invited the Zhang brothers—who obviously hadn’t eaten properly that morning—to have breakfast. Millet porridge and baskets of steamed soup dumplings were served, along with a small plate of pickled cabbage with a touch of chili paste, and another plate of pickled radish dressed with sesame oil.

Zhu Xiang said: “If you can’t handle spice, then don’t dip it in chili paste. The dumplings can be eaten with vinegar instead.”

At first, Zhang Sheng and Zhang Liang thought they had no appetite, but before they knew it, they had each downed a large bowl of porridge and devoured five baskets of soup dumplings.

Zhu Xiang kept signaling the servants to bring more dumplings, and the brothers never even realized how much they had eaten.

Once they finished, Zhu Xiang had pale green tea brewed to wash away the heaviness.

As they drank the tea, warmth and laziness seeped into their bodies—they were uneasy, yet they couldn’t help relaxing.

Once Zhu Xiang saw that they had eased up, he led them to the quarters where Han Fei used to live.

That place would still be Han Fei’s residence whenever he returned to Xianyang, so he had left behind a number of manuscripts, with servants keeping the place in order.

The brothers saw that Han Fei had been away from Xianyang for several years, yet Zhu Xiang had preserved his courtyard as it was. Not even dust had gathered on the cabinets, proof that people were regularly sent to clean. From this alone, it was clear just how close Zhu Xiang was to Han Fei.

The two felt somewhat ashamed. No wonder, when Lord Changping had guessed their late father’s intentions yesterday, he had grown so angry.

Just because a gentleman can be deceived with propriety does not mean he will not be angered by such deceit—much less that his friends and kin would simply swallow their resentment.

Zhu Xiang said: “These are drafts he wrote during his time at the Xianyang Academy. When he returns from Southern Qin, half of these might be revised or discarded. But even from these drafts alone, his talent is plain to see. Look through these few first. You can read them in the courtyard pavilion—it’s brighter there than inside.”

Zhu Xiang picked out a few books and led the Zhang brothers to the courtyard. In the pavilion, tables and chairs were already set up, along with a small brazier to keep water warm for tea.

Zhang Liang noticed a small footstool placed beneath one of the chairs, and immediately realized it was Lord Changping’s thoughtful gesture for his sake. His heart welled with mixed feelings.

When they then saw Zhu Xiang also bring over soft cotton cushions for them, both of their faces flushed red.

Especially Zhang Sheng—realizing that Zhu Xiang truly regarded them as juniors, he couldn’t help feeling awkward.

After all, he was nearly the same age as Lord Changping!

Thinking of how Zhu Xiang had already become famous across the world just after coming of age, while he himself was past thirty and still had no real achievements, Zhang Sheng swallowed back the words of rejection. Seniority was not measured by age. That he could be considered a junior before Lord Changping was already a blessing on his part.

After a brief period of interaction, Zhang Sheng had come to realize that Lord Changping’s reputation was well-deserved. It was the Han court that had underestimated him. His initial fear gradually turned into respect.

Han Fei’s core political philosophy was “concentration of authority in the monarch.” He advocated that “affairs across the land must be decided at the center, with the sage ruler holding the reins while the four corners obey.” What he detested most were hereditary noble clans that “bend the law for private gain, deplete the state for their family’s benefit.” He proposed: “dissolve their factions, absorb their followers, close their gates, and strip them of their aides.”

This political vision, even when set against Zhu Xiang’s era, was essentially no different from his past life. The difference in this lifetime’s Han Fei was that he seemed a little more grounded—his eyes could see the common people, he blended Legalism and Confucianism more seamlessly, and his words were not as extreme.

Still, in the eyes of the hereditary Zhang clan, these views were already highly offensive. His words were but a step away from pointing at Prime Minister Zhang’s nose and cursing him outright.

Though pampered and arrogant, young Zhang Liang was no fool. After just flipping through a few pages of Han Fei’s writings, his eyes dimmed.

If yesterday, after being scolded by Zhu Xiang, he still harbored some wishful thinking—convincing himself that Lord Changping was biased against Prime Minister Zhang only because he was a Qin man—then after reading Han Fei’s works, he immediately understood. Just as Lord Changping and his brother had said, even with the Zhang family’s support, the King of Han would never employ Han Fei.

Young Zhang Liang said with dismay: “If these books were to spread, Lord Han Fei would surely be praised as a virtuous talent throughout the world.”

Zhu Xiang replied: “He already is.”

Seeing Zhang Liang’s dejected look, Zhu Xiang’s heart softened despite himself.

He was helpless against well-behaved children. Even though Zhang Liang had acted like a brat yesterday, today he was courteous and proper.

Zhu Xiang comforted him: “Perhaps with the disaster of national destruction pressing near, the King of Han and his ministers may rally themselves. You needn’t be too discouraged.”

Zhang Liang asked curiously: “Rally themselves?”

Zhu Xiang picked up the chopsticks he’d been using to grab pastries and stood them upright:  “Rally.”

“Pfft…” Zhang Liang couldn’t help but burst out laughing, quickly covering his mouth.

Zhu Xiang chuckled and placed a piece of osmanthus cake on his plate: “At your age, you get hungry quickly. Though you’ve already had breakfast, your stomach must be rumbling a little. Have some osmanthus cake to fill up.”

Since it was something given by an elder, Zhang Liang dared not refuse. After wiping his hands with a handkerchief, he received it with both hands, carefully nibbled a small bite—and his eyes lit up.

Seeing his younger brother’s gloom vanish, Zhang Sheng let out a breath of relief.

He praised: “The chef in Lord Changping’s residence is truly extraordinary. I have never eaten such delicacies in Han.”

Zhu Xiang lifted his teacup, hiding a smile behind it: “This chef is me. I’ll accept the praise.”

Zhang Liang nearly bit his tongue in shock.

Zhu Xiang said: “No need to be surprised. Cooking is my hobby. But I wasn’t cooking especially for you two—yesterday the Crown Prince stayed at my home, and I prepared his breakfast and pastries, just with some extra portions.”

Only then did the Zhang brothers breathe a sigh of relief.

To be scolded yesterday, and today discover that Lord Changping himself had cooked for them—that would have been enough to scare them half to death.

But Zhu Xiang’s kindness also let them realize that, though he held grievances against the Zhang family, once his temper cooled he had no intention of quarreling with the juniors. That was another relief.

Still, being called “junior” made Zhang Sheng feel a bit awkward inside.

At the mention of the Qin Crown Prince, Zhang Liang thought of the terrifying figure he’d seen yesterday, and involuntarily shrank his shoulders.

Seeing Zhang Liang’s fear of Ying Zheng, Zhu Xiang couldn’t help but laugh inwardly.

He wondered whether in this lifetime Zhang Liang would still attempt to assassinate Zheng after Han’s downfall. Hopefully not. For in this lifetime, Zheng’s control over the world would surely be even stronger, and Zhang Liang might not escape so easily.

“Whatever you don’t understand, feel free to ask me,” Zhu Xiang said. “I’m not going out to the fields today, so I’m quite free.”

Young Zhang Liang was surprised. “Out to the fields? Not court?”

As soon as the words left his mouth, he quickly covered it with his hand. Why can’t I keep my mouth shut!

Zhu Xiang spoke gently: “My skill lies in farming. As for the great affairs of state, the ministers of the court are there to handle them. I don’t have much talent in governance, so there’s no need for me to embarrass myself. During your month of study in Xianyang Academy, you may also go down to the fields with the students. Agriculture and sericulture are the foundation of the nation. If one does not understand them, one does not understand how to benefit the people. And if one does not know how to benefit the people, one cannot know how to enrich the country.”

How did Zhang Liang become a famous prime minister, his very character transformed? It was not because of the assassination of Qin, nor the revival of Zhao, but because he witnessed the suffering and devastation at the end of Qin. From initially following Liu Bang merely as a “temporary” advisor—his heart still tied to the fallen Han—to later stopping Liu Bang from enfeoffing lords and instead adopting Qin’s centralized system, Zhang Liang’s transformation was nearly earth-shaking. His focus in life shifted from the Han royal family to the common people of the world.

Huang Shigong only taught him military strategy. Zhang Liang’s ideals and philosophy of governance were his own.

Young Zhang Liang was also Zhang Liang. Zhu Xiang’s harsh words had awakened him early; perhaps he would become a virtuous minister like the “Marquis of Liu” sooner than in history.

Willing to give guidance, Zhu Xiang’s instruction was eagerly sought by the Zhang brothers.

Looking at the burning curiosity in young Zhang Liang’s eyes, Zhu Xiang could not help but sigh inwardly.

If he became that virtuous minister earlier, then surely he would suffer many years of pain earlier as well. The carefree, fiery-tempered aristocratic youth recorded in history might never appear. For young Zhang Liang, perhaps that was not a blessing.

Awakening always comes with pain.

And unlike the Zhang Liang of history, who had Liu Bang, this Zhang Liang might not serve the enemy who destroyed Han. He might instead spend his entire life in torment.

History altered: when some who once despaired rise upward, others who once flourished may fall into dust.

Sighing to himself, Zhu Xiang gathered his thoughts and devoted himself to carefully teaching the Zhang brothers.

Without thinking about the future, simply instructing bright children—Zhu Xiang still found joy in it.

Young Zhang Liang remained in Xianyang Palace as a book boy.

Xunzi had originally looked down on Zhang Ping, but after glancing through young Zhang Liang’s work a few times, he brought the boy to his side as his attendant.

Zhu Xiang had intended to keep young Zhang Liang with him. It had been a long time since he’d met such a gifted student. But since Xunzi had claimed him, there was nothing he could do.

When Ying Zheng heard Zhu Xiang praise him, he was scornful. He even left the palace on purpose to test young Zhang Liang.

The boy was bold. Despite having once been thrown in prison by Ying Zheng, within a few days he had lost all fear, and even dared to argue with him over bookish matters.

Ying Zheng, who had not encountered anyone to debate with in a long time, was stirred with youthful competitiveness. Leaving government matters to Zichu, he insisted on competing against young Zhang Liang.

Zhu Xiang was helpless.

So now his Zheng’er, after his rebellious phase, had not only turned into a pufferfish—bristling with spines at anyone he met—but also into a fighting cock, is that it. Rebellious children are really hard to raise.

Zichu was even more helpless: “Since the Crown Prince wants to be lazy, then may I invite the Crown Prince’s uncle to enter the palace and handle affairs of state in his stead?”

Zhu Xiang spoke earnestly: “Xiatong, you are already a mature King of Qin. You must learn to handle matters yourself. Once Zheng’er and I are gone, what will you do then—ah! Don’t pull my hair!”

The King of Qin, Zichu, tugged on the tall white ponytail of the Qin’s carefree Lord of Changping, and under Xunzi’s furious glare, dragged him away from the manor.

The book boy Zhang Liang’s eyes nearly popped out of his head.

He thought: luckily my elder brother is eating, living, and studying at Xianyang Academy. With his timid nature, if he saw this scene, he would surely be scared half to death.

Ying Zheng folded his arms and sneered: “With my father and uncle behaving so improperly, and they still expect me to respect them?!”

Young Zhang Liang silently covered his ears.

Such treasonous words from the Qin Crown Prince—he did not wish to hear them, lest he be buried in Qin.

And so, a month passed. After crushing the unenhanced Zhang Liang again and again until he was utterly defeated, Ying Zheng smugly gifted him a sword, telling him to keep it by his side as a reminder to feel shame and strive forward.

Already so exasperated by the Qin Crown Prince that he had lost all reverence, young Zhang Liang was furious enough to want to snap the sword in half.

He shouted, “When you become King of Qin in the future, you’ll definitely be a tyrant!”

Ying Zheng folded his arms and said, “That’s right, I’ll be a tyrant.”

Little Zhang Liang was so furious that he ground loose a baby tooth and spat it out, blood-stained.

Ying Zheng tugged on Zhu Xiang’s sleeve, laughing so hard tears came out: “Hahahaha, Uncle, I made him so angry he spat blood!”

Zhu Xiang forced an awkward smile. And he had thought only little Zhang Liang was a brat? His own rebellious boy was the brattiest of all.

How would the history books record this?!

No matter what the records might say, he would definitely jot it down in his own child-rearing diary. Once Zheng’er grew out of his rebellious phase, he would bring it up to him again, hoping Zheng’er would bravely admit that this was his dark history, instead of denying it ever happened.

Little Zhang Liang, truly having “coughed up blood from anger,” left with his older brother, who was trying to hold back laughter.

Ying Zheng wiped away the tears from laughing: “I thought he’d stay in Xianyang to study for a few more years before going back.”

Zhu Xiang said, “He’s very confident. He thinks he can master things just from books. And besides, he doesn’t have the time to take it slowly.”

Ying Zheng’s smile faded. He gave a cold snort: “A mere child, capable of saving Han?”

Zhu Xiang said, “Even if he weren’t a child, he couldn’t save Han.”

It wasn’t only that the King and officials of Han were incompetent; now the territory of Han was reduced to just a few small towns around the capital. The material foundation no longer supported any possibility of revival.

If Qin were to attack Han now, Han would probably only be able to defend its capital with a handful of soldiers, abandoning everything else.

That was why Zichu wasn’t planning to attack Han anymore.

Until Qin was ready to swallow the world in one gulp, it was best that the Seven States remained Seven States—or even more than seven. Only then would they keep fighting amongst themselves endlessly, unable to unite.

And precisely because Han was weak yet liked to make noise, it was all the more reason to let it live.

Ying Zheng recalled Qin’s current strategy. In his dreams, he himself had risen from weakness to strength, conquering the world through sheer might. His elder, the current King of Qin, however, weakened first by splitting apart the world, and then slowly took it piece by piece.

The difference was that his elder, the King of Qin, held back from the desire to seize achievements for himself, and instead focused on the long-term stability after unification—leaving the future of Qin to him.

Ying Zheng felt a heavy weight on his shoulders.

In his dream, when he unified the realm, he could say it was by his own merit, not relying much on his predecessors. Because in that dream, when King Zheng of Qin ascended the throne, Qin had already been beaten back to Hangu Pass, and much of the territories it had seized from the Three Jins had been lost.

But here and now, he was advancing step by step on the very shoulders his predecessors had carried the burden with.

Perhaps his accomplishments would be fewer, but the weight was heavier.

When he succeeded to the throne, the empire would not belong to him alone, but to four generations—his great-grandfather, grandfather, father, and himself—all together.

“Uncle, if Zhang Liang stands against Qin, I will kill him.”

“Oh.”

“Hm? Uncle, what kind of attitude is that? Didn’t you hear me? I said I will kill him!”

“Zichu is already a mature King of Qin. Shouldn’t we start preparing to head back to Southern Qin? Your aunt must be missing us very much.”

“Good! Uh… Uncle, why are you changing the subject?”

Zhu Xiang sighed helplessly: “I didn’t change the subject. All enemies of Qin’s unification will be wiped away. Isn’t that obvious?”

Ying Zheng folded his arms: “Exactly! Come, let’s return to the palace and tell Father we want to go back to Southern Qin!”

At that moment, King Zichu of Qin sneezed loudly in Xianyang Palace.

He turned to the ministers in session: “Zhu Xiang must be talking about me. Definitely nothing good!”

The ministers: “…”

Every little stir and His Majesty blames Lord Changping—who can tell whether their relationship is bad, or simply too close?

Thinking of those families who had just been executed for “secretly colluding with the Six States,” the ministers sighed inwardly. Of course it was the latter—they were too close.

Could it be that Lord Changping would really remain favored by four successive Kings of Qin? That would be terrifying. What of his descendants in the future…

Uh, but didn’t Lord Changping only have one blood relative? That was the Crown Prince of Qin?

The ministers’ hearts skipped a beat, and at last, they understood.

Unless the King intended to depose the Crown Prince, how could he ever believe slander against Lord Changping?

If Lord Changping ever rebelled, would they make the Qin Crown Prince… the Crown Prince again?

Those families who were executed truly died of stupidity.