HCT – Chapter 178 Warm Wine and Hotpot

Lord Changping and Crown Prince Zheng were once again preparing to leave Xianyang for Southern Qin.

Many scholars in Xianyang speculated that someone must have falsely accused Lord Changping of holding too much power. Though he harbored no treasonous intent, it was feared he might have the means to commit treason. Thus, King Zichu had supposedly condemned him for secretly colluding with the Six States and banished him from the capital. Saddened, Lord Changping was said to be leaving this sorrowful place.

When Lin Zhi returned from his tour and mentioned this matter, Zichu nearly choked on his wine.

Cai Ze sighed. “I thought they would at least say you were leaving to avoid suspicion.”

Lin Zhi waggled his brows. “Or isn’t it that, while our lord appears unafraid of Zhu Xiang, deep down he is still wary, and so told him to scram?”

Still coughing, Zichu retorted, “Why not say that he simply got tired of staying in Xianyang and couldn’t wait to return to Southern Qin to farm?”

Zhu Xiang sighed. “Once again my reputation suffers. Xia Tong, you’d better reflect on yourself.”

“Shut up!” Zichu scolded. “It’s my reputation that’s suffering!”

Little Zheng handed his father a cup of juice, dissatisfied. “So no one mentioned me?”

It wasn’t just Lord Changping leaving Xianyang—I was leaving too! Did he really have so little presence?!

Zichu accepted the juice from his filial son. “No.”

Cai Ze thought over the intelligence he had gathered. “No.”

Lin Zhi patted Zheng’s shoulder and chuckled. “No one mentioned you, Zheng’er. Your sense of presence is just too weak.”

Angry, Little Zheng grabbed a walnut from the table and crushed it in his hand.

Zhu Xiang nearly coughed with laughter. “Your trip to Southern Qin is perfectly normal. Southern Qin lies far from Xianyang. Without the Crown Prince stationed there, it would be very difficult for Qin to govern.”

At this time, rulers often had to personally travel to govern their lands.

From the Zhou kings touring the realm, to kings, crown princes, and chancellors touring the territories, they would see problems firsthand and resolve them directly.

Lords who managed their own fiefs would also tour their lands themselves or send envoys.

One could say that the territory a ruler could personally inspect was the territory he could directly govern.

Later, when Qin unified the realm, the emperor’s direct domain became vast beyond precedent. Managing it this way would clearly be outdated—but that is another story.

Lin Zhi had been away for some time precisely because, as Chancellor, he toured the territories on behalf of the Qin King, inspecting whether officials were enforcing the New Farmland Laws. Along the way, if brave folk came forward to file complaints, he could even help redress their grievances.

Before Zheng became Crown Prince, Lord Changping had also toured Southern Qin and Bashu on behalf of the King. Thus, though Zhu Xiang had no formal office back then, he wielded great power and could decide many matters on his own.

Now that Zheng had become Crown Prince, his journey to Southern Qin carried added political weight and conferred greater authority.

King Zichu had already issued a decree: during this trip, Crown Prince Zheng could exercise part of the king’s authority, almost as if he were a feudal lord. If Zheng suddenly slapped his thigh one day and declared war on Chu, he could order the three commanderies of Southern Qin to muster troops against Chu. If provisions were self-sufficient, he could even wage war first and report afterward.

Since the Warring States began, no Qin king had ever delegated such power to a crown prince—this was the only case.

And yet, Zichu remained the only Qin King who could still drink and joke casually with close friends, and even be addressed by name.

Zhu Xiang chatted with his friends about Xianyang’s trifles. Zheng was now fourteen years old. Though Zhu Xiang still regarded him as a child, in the eyes of others he was already “grown up.” This time, he didn’t need to be sent to bed early, and could stay up late to chat with the elders.

On spring nights the air was still a little chilly, so they placed a small brazier on the table to warm their wine.

After a while, Zhu Xiang heard Ying Zheng’s stomach growling. Amused at the boy’s embarrassed and angry expression, he teased him with a saying: “Half-grown children can eat their elders into poverty.” He had someone bring over a clay pot, and they began eating hotpot while chatting.

Dabianlu was essentially Cantonese-style hotpot. It was said that originally people ate it while standing. The version Zhu Xiang had eaten before wasn’t much different from the usual clear-broth hotpot, similar to northern-style lamb hotpot, except the ingredients leaned more toward seafood, though there was still chicken, duck, beef, lamb, and pork.

The soup base was nothing more than well water with ginger, garlic, and scallions thrown in. Fish and meat were sliced so thin you could see light through them, and vegetables were freshly picked from the fields. For dipping sauces, there was sesame paste, fermented black bean sauce, chili sauce, and more, each person mixing their own.

When the water came to a rolling boil, everyone wielded their long chopsticks, swishing vegetables and meat in the pot as they carried on their conversation.

There was no such rule as “do not speak at meals”; some even chewed while scolding the person next to them, and no one found it strange.

Fortunately, Xunzi was old and went to bed early. Otherwise, if he saw this scene, he would certainly raise his staff and give these highest-ranking men of Qin a sound beating on their backs.

Zichu had a weak stomach and ate very little, stopping after a few slices of fish, occasionally dipping some vegetables when tempted.

Ying Zheng, however, was truly hungry, and ate with his head down for a long while—the majority of the meat ended up in his belly.

Lin Zhi loved his wine; each slice of meat required downing a large cup of liquor, and before long he was singing.

Cai Ze and Zhu Xiang ate slowly, chatting as they did, looking the most contented of all.

After Ying Zheng had eaten his fill, he rubbed his round little belly, stretched with a huge yawn, and had the dishes cleared away. Warm wine and fruit were brought out, and he continued to snack on the fruit.

Zhu Xiang watched him, unable to stop sighing and shaking his head.

“Xiatong, just look how starved the child was!”

“Isn’t Zheng’er being raised by you? Zhu Xiang, look how starved you’ve let him get!”

“Junfu, how can you even say that?”

“True enough.”

Ying Zheng looked up at the laughing and teasing elders. Steam rose from the pot, casting a soft, hazy warmth over his vision, even making their laughter sound a little distant.

He shook his head, grabbed a date, and shoved it into the mouth of his uncle who was still laughing at him.

Zhu Xiang: “??”

Zichu: “Hahahahaha!”

Cai Ze: “Zheng’er, you—ah, Zhu Xiang, this is all your spoiling!”

Lin Zhi laughed, patting Zhu Xiang’s back while praising Zheng’er for doing well.

Only Zhu Xiang was left coughing.

Ying Zheng smiled sweetly at his uncle glaring daggers at him, his brows and eyes curved in a childish innocence reminiscent of his younger years.

Unfortunately, once cut open, the inside was dark.

The next day, Zhu Xiang departed with his friends seeing him off.

Before leaving, he gave special instructions to the new disciples of the Xianyang Academy who were to serve Xunzi, telling them to take good care of the old master and never let him be overworked.

When Zhu Xiang learned that one disciple was named Zhang Cang and another Meng Yi, he even left them assignments—asking them to compile into books the mathematics notes he had recorded in his spare time.

These included everything from elementary mathematics to high school material and even higher mathematics. He was still in the process of organizing geometry, functions, and algebra.

Mathematics, after all, was the foundation of natural science, and he hoped that these theoretical foundations could be passed down.

It occurred to him that the Zhang Cang known from history as familiar with The Nine Chapters on the Mathematical Arts would surely be able to accomplish this.

“You are Meng Yi?” Zhu Xiang looked at the extremely nervous and shy youth. He originally wanted to encourage him with a few words, but seeing Meng Yi so anxious that even his breathing was uneasy, he didn’t dare say too much. He only said, “Study diligently under Xunzi. Meng Wu has already joined General Li Mu’s army. Zheng’er is still short of a close attendant by his side.”

Meng Yi stammered, “Y-yes…”

Ying Zheng’s sharp, handsome face scrunched up into a twisted expression—something that would definitely become a meme in later generations.

He had seen Meng Yi in his dreams before. In those dreams, Meng Yi was one of Great Qin’s First Emperor Ying Zheng’s most beloved ministers, his speech and bearing unmatched under heaven.

But who was this stammering, awkward young man standing before him now? Could it really be as his uncle said—that boys change drastically as they grow, and that Meng Yi had actually been shy in his youth?

That couldn’t be right. He’d heard that Meng Yi was rather lively in the academies of Xianyang, with no reputation of being shy.

Originally, Ying Zheng had intended to test him a little, and if Meng Yi turned out to be promising, he would take him along. But now—pretending not to recognize Meng Yi, he oiled his heels and slipped away quickly, leaving his uncle no chance to “take care of a friend’s son” on his behalf.

It was the Emperor Ying Zheng who would one day favor Meng Yi. What did that have to do with Crown Prince Ying Zheng of Qin? Slip away, slip away.

Zhu Xiang had indeed wanted to introduce Meng Yi to Ying Zheng, to see if they could get along. But seeing how fast Ying Zheng ran off, how could Zhu Xiang not notice the boy’s disdain for Meng Yi’s shyness?

He couldn’t help but sigh. He had already given up on trying to find companions for Ying Zheng, and now only wanted to find him a few younger followers—at least some peers he could use.  But clearly, Ying Zheng’s standards were too high; he disdained everyone of his generation.

Or perhaps not everyone? As Zhu Xiang stepped into his carriage, he recalled the young Zhang Liang. That seemed to be the only “strange youth” to whom Ying Zheng had ever gifted something. Unfortunately…

While Zhu Xiang was recalling him, young Zhang Liang was still on his way home. He and his elder brother Zhang Sheng were returning to Xinzheng at a slow pace. Each day they traveled only half the distance; the rest of the time, young Zhang Liang would always, with the guards’ escort, wander into nearby villages to look around.

Zhang Sheng was puzzled.

Young Zhang Liang haughtily declared, “That Crown Prince Zheng always says I only know book learning, while he, from a young age, followed Lord Zhu Xiang through the fields and thus understands the people better than I. What’s so special about walking through fields? Anyone can do that!”

Zhang Sheng said helplessly, “You don’t need to imitate Lord Changping. You and he are different. He was born a commoner, so he sides with the common people; you are the son of a hereditary noble…”

“So should I side with the hereditary nobles then?” young Zhang Liang lifted his chin. “Would siding with the hereditary nobles make Han stronger?”

Zhang Sheng was at a loss for words.

Young Zhang Liang pressed further: “Brother, you promised Lord Zhu Xiang that once you returned to Xinzheng, you would fulfill the duty of a hereditary noble. Were you deceiving him?”

Zhang Sheng shook his head. “No.”

“Then do you regret it?”

Zhang Sheng’s face grew a little strained, but seeing the earnest expression on his younger brother’s face, he gritted his teeth and said, “Yes.”

Young Zhang Liang said, “Then, Brother, don’t do it. Let me do it.”

Zhang Sheng froze, then gave a wry smile. “Second Brother, you’re still young. You can’t take office yet.”

Young Zhang Liang said smugly, “Must one hold office to influence court affairs? I can become a tutor-companion to the Crown Prince, or persuade the elder statesmen close to me.”

Looking at his younger brother’s proud face, Zhang Sheng felt both sorrow and pity. But he didn’t want to crush him with words, so he only said, “Very well, try it.”

He thought to himself, even if he regretted it out of fear, he still had to uphold the promise he had made to Lord Zhu Xiang. For although his younger brother was clever, he was still far too naïve, and would surely end up battered and bruised by reality. He needed to protect him.

Moreover, if the Zhang family did not demonstrate some ability, even if they entered Qin and apprenticed under Prince Fei, they would find it hard to gain a foothold in Qin’s court.

As Zhang Sheng thought this, he still felt great resistance inside. If he wished to be a high official in Han’s court, then even with only mediocre talent, while their late father still held the post of Han Chancellor, he could have achieved it. But he truly disliked scheming—especially in the court of Han, a state already doomed to perish.

Would this single breath of resolve he had managed to summon… be enough to last?

Looking at his younger brother chattering away, sharing his observations of the people’s livelihood with him, Zhang Sheng showed the same calm smile as always.