HCT – Chapter 188 The Order to Migrate Inland Along the River

When Zhu Xiang received the news, the scholars of Guangling City had also heard of it through various channels. Some were excited, others bewildered.

The Chu army was coming to retake Guangling, yet they themselves had now become officials of a despised rebel vassal state. A Southern Chu Kingdom? How could that possibly work!

Zhu Xiang, however, felt a great weight lift from his heart.

Now that Xiang Yan was already engaged in battle with Zhang Ruo, he was likely trying to press eastward from the west to put pressure on the Qin forces.

Xiang Yan was no reckless brute. He knew Qin’s navy was stationed near the Yangtze Delta, where its strength was the greatest. If he attacked Guangling directly, the losses would be disastrous. So instead, he gave the Qin troops in the east ample time to retreat.

As long as he could seize several cities on the northern bank of the Yangtze to the west, the Qin army, seeing Chu’s momentum as unstoppable, would withdraw of their own accord.

The boats were already moored at Guangling’s ferry crossing. Zhu Xiang could leave whenever he wished—he only had to wait for news that Xiang Yan had struck camp and was heading toward Guangling, and there would still be time to depart. So, he was in no hurry.

While arranging for the evacuation of Qin officials’ families, he also steadily organized the summer harvest and planting, and at the same time selected a group of local Chu scholars to carry out the handover with courtesy.

Chen Qi was elected by the scholars of Guangling as the new county magistrate, and Zhu Xiang kept him at his side, personally teaching him how to continue the work already begun in Guangling: farming, irrigation, repairs to city walls, tax collection…

“Regarding taxes, the Southern Chu kingdom may have its own ideas. But I hope Elder Chen can persuade the Southern Chu ruler not to drastically change policies this year—restoring production is more important,” Zhu Xiang said. “The Zheng engineers have almost finished preparing recommendations for the next phase of the irrigation channels. You may not trust Qin men, so let the Southern Chu ruler send craftsmen to review and build them—but it would be best not to let the work go to waste.”

Chen Qi bowed respectfully. “Yes, Lord Changping.”

Zhu Xiang continued: “If Southern Chu sends no one, then pool together funds and repair the red-marked channels. With those in good condition, the surrounding farmland’s basic irrigation will be secure.”

Chen Qi replied, “Rest assured, Lord Changping, this old man will persuade the townsfolk.”

Zhu Xiang smiled. “Then I’m at ease. Though the next time we meet, we’ll be enemies… well, perhaps not. I don’t fight wars—I only help rebuild once cities have fallen.”

Chen Qi couldn’t help but chuckle. “I’m already old. I fear I may not live to see the day I meet Lord Changping again.”

Zhu Xiang nodded. “That would be for the best.”

He lowered his head and went over the prepared handover documents with Chen Qi one by one, repeating his instructions carefully.

Chen Qi and the newly chosen Chu officials by his side were filled with conflicting emotions.

They held deep resentment toward Qin in their hearts, and their attitude toward Lord Changping was far from warm.

Yet Lord Changping had never cared how they treated him. As long as they carried out his orders, he praised and rewarded them.

Now that Lord Changping was leaving Guangling, he was acting as though he were just another magistrate stepping down from office—diligently arranging unfinished affairs, ensuring everything was properly in place so his successor could take over immediately.

By common practice, when Qin abandoned a city, they created as many problems as possible for the next regime.

Seizing or burning the grain stores was routine; some would even destroy city walls and buildings before retreating.

If Lord Changping had simply left without wrecking anything, he would already be a rare gentleman for this age. And yet, he actually hoped Guangling would prosper after his departure?

Looking at him, they felt as if the character “Fool” were stamped upon his forehead.

Too foolish—far too foolish.

After finishing his instructions to the Chu officials, one hot-tempered burly officer could no longer hold his tongue and blurted out: “Lord Zhu Xiang, you are Qin’s Lord Changping—by doing all this for Guangling, aren’t you aiding the enemy?”

Chen Qi coughed harshly, trying to silence the reckless man.

What nonsense was that! Take the benefits Lord Changping gives to Guangling—why ruin it by exposing them aloud!

Zhu Xiang gave a helpless smile. “It isn’t aiding the enemy. You’ve seen it yourselves: Qin has the momentum to unify the world. In time, Chu people will also be Qin people. If the foundation is well laid now, things will be easier for me when I return.”

The Chu officials present all went pale.

Zhu Xiang sighed softly. “Guangling is far from the Central Plains—you may not clearly grasp the larger tides of the realm.”

Facing west, he cupped his hands and said: “Since the reign of King Zhaoxiang of Qin, the state has already had the power to engulf the world. Today, Qin’s advance has slowed, not because it fights merely to seize cities, but because it fights to unify under heaven. Every territory taken must first win the hearts of its people—only then does Qin move on to the next.”

He swept his gaze across the Chu officials. “You may not fully understand the Central Plains, but Southern Qin’s three commanderies are separated from you by only one river. This used to be Wu-Yue land, later seized by Chu, and now belongs to Qin. Such is the cycle of the world.”

Jiao Yun, holding his sword, glanced coldly at the few Chu officials who seemed ready to argue. They fell silent at once.

For while Lord Changping was a gentleman, the Qin army was not.

When Li Mu seized Guangling, countless lives were lost.

The burly official stammered, “But if you send grain to General Xiang, isn’t that aiding the enemy?”

Chen Qi quickly grabbed the man’s arm and apologized: “Lord Changping, forgive him—he’s a crude fellow, pay no heed to his nonsense!”

Zhu Xiang waved his hand. “What’s the harm in a single county’s grain? It won’t last them long. But you should still try to keep some for yourselves. Guangling’s granaries are already empty, waiting only for the rice harvest. If Chu’s army takes everything, you’ll be the ones to suffer.”

With that, Zhu Xiang dismissed them without letting them speak further.

After Jiao Yun escorted Chen Qi and the others to the gate, he returned and asked, “Will you really send the grain to them?”

Zhu Xiang calmly replied, “People’s hearts are flesh—they know who treats them well. Qin gave the commoners land and taught them to farm. Just as the harvest nears, if Chu soldiers seize their food, tell me—will their loyalty turn to Chu?”

Jiao Yun said, “Lord Zhu Xiang, what you see is the hearts of the commoners, not of the scholars.”

Zhu Xiang shook his head. “The scholars’ hearts are flesh too. Even if they ignore the commoners, when they see prosperity turned into ruin before their eyes, they too will feel the pain. Besides, Qin has not yet distributed land around Guangling—the most fertile fields are owned by the scholars. If grain is plundered, they will suffer the worst losses.”

Jiao Yun asked, “Are you certain Xiang Yan will plunder?”

Zhu Xiang said evenly, “Which army does not loot after a siege? Not just Chu—the Qin army as well. When soldiers march, it’s like a comb raking the land.”

Looting after conquest was the customary way to raise morale and reward troops. Very few generals could restrain their men, and even if they wished to, they would have to provide enough alternative rewards. Otherwise, forbidding looting risked mutiny.

Even Li Shimin, later famed as a benevolent ruler, requisitioned grain from wherever he campaigned.

In the chaotic early Tang, logistics were a mess. At the Battle of Wulong Slope—barely a hundred li from the capital—his army starved, “the whole army pale with hunger,” and the famously tearful Li Shimin wept bitterly from rage and exhaustion.

With such logistics, even Tang generals at the start of the dynasty couldn’t fight without foraging locally.

The early Tang wasn’t truly chaotic—the governance achievements of Emperor Wen of Sui still remained, and in Emperor Taizong’s time, the granaries established under the Sui were still full. Yet even under those conditions, armies still had to plunder in order to sustain themselves. As for the Warring States, with that level of agricultural productivity and transport capacity, there was no way to expect military discipline.

The only reason Li Mu’s army refrained from plunder now was because they disdained such meager spoils. It was a deliberate show of lofty bearing, simply to reduce Chu resistance.

Therefore, Zhu Xiang had no expectations at all for the Chu army led by Xiang Yan.

Just look at Xiang Yu himself, and you’d know what sort of men the old aristocracy of Chu produced.

Jiao Yun said, “Even without these benefits, Lord Zhu Xiang would never destroy the fields.”

Zhu Xiang cast him a glance. “You talk too much. But I’ll arrange things properly—I won’t aid the enemy.”

Inwardly, Jiao Yun thought, it seems Lord Zhu Xiang still hasn’t gotten over that Chu man accusing him of ‘aiding the enemy.’

Having followed Zhu Xiang for so long, often serving where Zhu Xiang stayed, in the kitchens, he knew his master well. Just from Zhu Xiang’s expression, he could tell he was being mocked in Jiao Yun’s mind.

Though Jiao Yun usually looked expressionless, his inner thoughts were anything but inactive.

Zhu Xiang shifted the subject: “Fu Qiu went with Meng Tian to scout out news of Xiang Yan. Why hasn’t he returned yet? And why follow Meng Tian of all people?”

Jiao Yun replied, “He knows many Wu and Yue dialects. Compared to Meng Tian, he’ll find it easier to gather information.”

Zhu Xiang sighed. “A perfectly good scholar, instead of staying by my side to handle documents, he insists on running around.”

Jiao Yun thought to himself, there’s no inherent link between being a scholar and handling paperwork. Besides, disciples of both Mencius and Xunzi were all fond of wandering about.

After grumbling a bit, Zhu Xiang summoned another group of Chu scholars to continue transferring responsibilities.

The next day, Fu Qiu returned, face dark as thunder. With him were several ragged men—yet their headgear was still worn properly.

Fu Qiu wasted no time: “Lord Zhu Xiang, Xiang Yan has massacred a city.”

Zhu Xiang’s hand jerked. “What?!”

The men Fu Qiu brought with him knelt and wept as they recounted the events.

At first Xiang Yan had met resistance. After entering the city, he declared the people had aided Qin and betrayed Chu. He permitted the entire army to plunder and slaughter for a day as a warning to others, then set the city aflame.

In the wake of such conduct, panic immediately spread through cities occupied by Qin. The residents had never truly accepted Qin rule; fearing Xiang Yan’s massacres, they sought to expel the Qin before he arrived.

The Qin army, perhaps already under Li Mu’s orders, behaved with restraint.

They quickly withdrew, taking half the grain with them, then opened the granaries and released the other half, before retreating to the south bank of the Yangtze.

The Chu people thought the Qin had left, that they would be safe. But when Xiang Yan entered, he still allowed plunder.

“If it were only plunder, so be it. But he ordered us to move our entire families thirty li inland!” one Chu scholar sobbed. “If we refused, he said we were guilty of collusion with Qin—punished by execution, or enslaved! Lord Zhu Xiang, thirty li inland, how can we live? We can’t survive like that!”

Within his sleeve, Zhu Xiang’s hands clenched tight.

A relocation order!

He had never expected Xiang Yan to enact something so cruel.

No—this couldn’t have been Xiang Yan’s decision alone. It must have been made jointly by the Chu king and the Southern Chu ruler, with the consensus of the high officials.

A relocation order… Zhu Xiang closed his eyes.

From a strategic standpoint, Xiang Yan’s move was sound.

The most famous such order was the coastal relocation under the Shunzhi reign.

At that time, the Qing had no navy. To prevent Zheng Chenggong in Taiwan from colluding with coastal subjects, and to leave strategic depth for Qing forces, Shunzhi decreed that people in Shandong, Jiangsu, Fujian, Zhejiang, Guangdong, and other coastal provinces must move thirty to fifty li inland: “Not a single sail may go to sea; violators will be dealt with by severe punishment.”

The Southern Chu order was similar.

They had seen firsthand the power of Qin’s navy. They knew that Qin’s withdrawal was only temporary—a matter of weighing costs and benefits, not because Qin lacked the means to win.

Against Qin’s fleet along the river, Chu had little chance. Rather than leave the cities north of the Yangtze for Qin to eventually seize and turn into sources of supplies, better to destroy them and force relocation. On land, they could enforce scorched-earth policies and set up layer after layer of defenses.

If Qin wished to strike at Southern Chu, they would have to land first, then march long distances inland. Their movements would be exposed to every fortress’s watchtowers, they’d find no supplies along the way, and their supply lines would be stretched thin.

Chu would only need to hold advantageous terrain and wait in leisure.

Strategically, there was no flaw—no flaw at all.

In the Warring States, nations often used scorched-earth tactics, driving out commoners between contested cities, burning fields and villages, forbidding farming, all to strain the enemy’s supplies.

The Southern Chu relocation order was merely a stronger version of that policy.

“Take them to rest first. And notify Chen Qi and the others of this in advance.” Zhu Xiang drew a deep breath, regaining composure.

Fu Qiu’s face was sorrowful. “Yes, Lord Zhu Xiang.”

The Chu scholars weeping on the floor did not beg Zhu Xiang for anything. They only cried as they followed Fu Qiu away.

What could they ask of Zhu Xiang? To beg him to bring them across the river to safety?

When they were gone, Zhu Xiang—who had sprung up in shock—collapsed back into his chair, pressing his forehead with one hand.

Jiao Yun sighed. “As expected of Xiang Yan—this move is truly ruthless.”

General Li Mu’s strategy of annexing Chu was never about seizing a single city or region, but about relying on South Qin’s gradually recovering economy and Lord Zhu Xiang’s reputation, spreading influence north of the Yangtze.

As Sunzi said: “The highest form of warfare is to attack the enemy’s plans, next is to attack their alliances, then their armies, and the lowest is to attack cities.” General Li Mu’s method was exactly “attacking plans.”

Though Xiang Yan’s move seemed crude, it was the best way to counter Li Mu’s “attack on plans.”

By burning down the towns and ports along the Yangtze’s northern bank and relocating the Chu people thirty li inland, he severed South Qin’s influence in Chu. All of Li Mu’s careful arrangements up to this point were instantly undone.

For the Chu people, forced relocation meant untold disaster. But after this battle, Xiang Yan would return to the Chu king’s side. The Southern Chu ruler would not be able to push him out to face the fury of the displaced people. Xiang Yan himself would remain safe.

That anger would certainly be redirected toward Qin. Precisely because Qin was a looming threat, the Chu people would have no choice but to accept the relocation. They dared not hate the Southern Chu ruler, who held the power to slaughter them, nor could they hate Xiang Yan, who would already have left. Their hatred could only double toward Qin.

Qin’s painstaking psychological campaign—through trade war, Li Mu’s relief grain, and Zhu Xiang’s prestige—was all wiped away.

Cruel. Truly cruel.

Not only did this policy bring suffering to countless Chu civilians, but it also struck Qin’s strategy at its very core, dealing a heavy blow to their plan to destroy Chu.

“I need to be alone,” Zhu Xiang said, pressing his forehead.

Jiao Yun nodded and left.

As he stepped through the doorway, he glanced back.

Zhu Xiang’s body trembled slightly, as though he was forcing himself to endure something.

Jiao Yun looked up at the sky.

The Chu along the Yangtze were to be driven thirty li inland. Their homes and farmlands burned—what would they eat, where would they live?

And the land thirty li inland was not unclaimed.

Even if the Chu people did not resist and obediently followed the Southern Chu army’s relocation, how many would survive?

History, more than a thousand years later, during the Shunzhi reign’s “Coastal Evacuation Order,” could already give Jiao Yun an answer.

That evacuation decree was only abolished after Kangxi’s conquest of Taiwan. Comparing the population records of Taiping County from the Ming Jiajing Gazetteer with the Qing Jiaqing Gazetteer, even after the evacuation had ended for over a century, spanning the stable reigns of Kangxi, Yongzheng, and Qianlong, the population was still only half of what it had been during Jiajing’s time. Such was the devastation caused by forced relocation.

During that period, many Qing officials wrote poems lamenting the suffering of the people, painting tragic pictures of displaced coastal families.

For ordinary folk, their only means of survival were houses, land, and grain. Landlords might take some silver and valuables, but for the common people, there was little to carry.

When their homes and fields were destroyed, embarking on relocation was no different from exile. The elderly and weak would die in droves along the way.

In fact, the Shunzhi era was better than Southern Chu.

The Qing then already controlled the Central Plains, with vast territory. Relocated coastal people were resettled in designated areas. If they survived the journey, they might be given land, and if they could endure until harvest, at least there was a chance at life.

But Southern Chu had only so much land. Where could its relocated people go?

Zhu Xiang dropped his hand from his brow, spread out paper, ground ink, and began writing a letter.

It was not to Ying Zheng, nor to Li Mu, but to Xiang Yan and the Southern Chu ruler.

In it, he asked: after the relocation, what measures would be taken for the people? Had they arranged a way for them to survive?

If not… If not, then he begged Xiang Yan and the Southern Chu ruler to let the Chu people go south to seek life!

Zhu Xiang’s brush pressed heavily, the strokes piercing the paper.

Li Mu had not yet returned from the south.

With news traveling poorly, by the time he received word that Yan had mobilized, Xiang Yan had already acted.

Though Li Mu had predicted Chu would surely march and immediately set out back, it still took time.

Meanwhile, Ying Zheng paced daily at the river crossing, hands clasped behind his back. Whenever Qin officials returned, he would rush forward, asking, “Are Uncle and Aunt well?”

When he heard that his uncle and aunt insisted on finishing matters in Guangling before returning, Ying Zheng grew so angry he wanted to row across the river himself and drag them back.

Li Si and Han Fei, one on each side, restrained him firmly.

“A gentleman does not stand under a dangerous wall. If something happened, and Chu seized Lord Zhu Xiang and Lay, what would we do?”

Han Fei remarked bluntly, “Lord Zhu Xiang’s reputation is great. Even if captured, the Chu would treat him with respect.”

Li Si snapped, “Han Fei, shut your mouth!”

Han Fei frowned. “I’m not wrong.”

Li Si barked again, “Shut up!”

Seeing Ying Zheng’s eyes bloodshot with rage, Han Fei finally realized, and obediently closed his mouth, though inwardly aggrieved.

He wasn’t wrong—at worst, Zhu Xiang would be taken to Chu as an honored guest. He only meant to reassure the prince.

Ying Zheng shoved Li Si and Han Fei aside. “Go ask my teacher where he is! Tell him to personally drag Uncle back!”

Han Fei hesitated. “Truly drag him?”

“Drag Uncle back! Invite Aunt back! Only drag Uncle!” Ying Zheng roared.

Han Fei gathered his robes and ran, deciding to find General Li Mu himself—better not risk misreporting the prince’s words.

Ying Zheng slumped angrily into a chair, pounding the table with his fist.

Li Si hurried to calm him. “Your Highness, Lady is with Lord Zhu Xiang in Guangling. Even if Lord Zhu Xiang were reckless, he would first ensure Lady’s safety. As long as she has not returned alone, it proves Guangling is not in danger, and that Lord Zhu Xiang does not mean to act rashly.”

Ying Zheng growled, “I only hope Uncle knows his limits. What can he do staying in Guangling? Guard the city? He couldn’t even defeat my father!”

Li Si: “…” This was not something he could respond to, so he pretended he hadn’t heard.

But Ying Zheng knew Li Si was right.

His uncle cherished his aunt dearly. Even if he foolishly wanted to take risks, he would first send her away. And even if she saw through him, she would pretend to be deceived—because she knew his chances of success were greatest alone. However unwilling, she would not drag him down.

She always listened to him, waiting safely until his return.

Ying Zheng rubbed his fist, regaining calm. “Send a message to Guangling. Ask Uncle what exactly he plans to do!”

Li Si bowed. “Yes! I will deliver it myself!”

Ying Zheng muttered darkly, “If Uncle and Aunt don’t come back, you needn’t return either.”

Li Si gave a bitter smile. “Yes, Your Highness.”

He had expected as much.

Lord Zhu Xiang, please, don’t do anything reckless.

But Zhu Xiang had no intention of being reckless.

Even if he did, what could he do?

On the other side stood Xiang Yan—did he really think Guangling’s garrison could repel him? Impossible. He could do nothing.

All he could do was write futile letters begging Xiang Yan and the Southern Chu ruler to spare the people, to let them flee south—and inform Guangling’s residents so they could prepare.

Chen Qi clutched Zhu Xiang’s sleeve, eyes vacant. “Lord Changping… is it true? How could it be true? How could General Xiang Yan treat us like this?”

Zhu Xiang answered calmly. “There’s no time for panic. Hurry and harvest the grain—even unripe rice can be eaten. Better than nothing. Those who wish to head south, follow the garrison south—there are still fields to cultivate there. It will be harsh, but at least it’s life. Those with ties in the north, prepare your belongings early. When Xiang Yan arrives, open the gates and go north obediently.”

Chen Qi wept, still refusing to believe. “It can’t be true… it can’t be…”

Some Chu scholars, unable to bear the news, lashed out in rage: “It’s all because of you! Because you Qin people came, we suffer this calamity!”

Zhu Xiang’s guards frowned and drew their swords.

But Zhu Xiang raised his hand, coldly. “Do you want to keep wallowing in self-pity, or act now to find a path of survival for yourself and your kin? Or will you drive me away with curses, reject all Qin aid, and face Chu blades alone?”

Chen Qi wiped his tears, turned, and slapped the cursing scholar hard. “Enough! When the Qin army occupied Guangling, they didn’t kill us. Now Chu returns and wants to slaughter us! In this struggle for the world, how many cities have changed hands? But who ever heard of retaking one’s own city by butchering one’s own people and destroying one’s own homes? The Chu never saw us Wu-Yue folk as their own!”

His aged hands shook violently. Then he turned, fell heavily to his knees, and banged his head on the floor before Zhu Xiang.

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