HCT – Chapter 189 Li Mu’s Countermeasure

Zhu Xiang helped Chen Qi up but did not answer.

He did not know how to answer.

Chen Qi only knelt and begged without pressing Zhu Xiang for a reply.

A gentleman might be deceived with proper words, but he dared not deceive Zhu Xiang—for Zhu Xiang was the only hope of Guangling.

Chen Qi’s beard and hair were already gray, not merely from age. He knew Zhu Xiang was easily swayed by upright words, but the Qin people watching fiercely behind him would not be.

If they went too far, those Qin bodyguards behind Zhu Xiang might very well knock him unconscious and carry him away.

A guard came to report: “Lord Zhu Xiang, Captain Li has come to visit.”

Captain Li was none other than Li Si.

Below a Qin commandery governor were the cheng (assistant in civil matters) and the duwei (assistant in security). In frontier commanderies, there were also officials who separately controlled military power.

The rank of duwei was slightly higher than that of cheng. But Ying Zheng appointing Li Si as duwei did not mean he valued him more than Han Fei—only that Li Si was simply more suitable.

Zhu Xiang let out a deep sigh. “Zheng’er has come to urge me.”

Fu Qiu, anxious, said: “The situation is very dangerous now, Lord Zhu Xiang. You truly should return to Wu Commandery.”

When Fu Qiu first learned of the relocation order inside Southern Chu, his heart was struck by rage and grief. When he brought people to see Zhu Xiang, he genuinely hoped Zhu Xiang could save those Chu people.

But when he calmed down later, he slapped himself across the face, scolding himself for adding trouble for Lord Zhu Xiang.

How could Lord Zhu Xiang control what the people of Chu did? Forcing him to do something impossible—wasn’t that just making things harder for him? What if Lord Zhu Xiang, out of stubbornness, chose to stay and risk his life?

Fu Qiu regretted his immaturity bitterly. After cooling down, he urged Zhu Xiang daily to hurry and leave.

Zhu Xiang shook his head. “Wait a little longer.”

Just as Li Si entered, he heard these words.

Always cautious and never showing the slightest disrespect before Zhu Xiang, Li Si could not help but grow impatient: “Lord Zhu Xiang! What are you still waiting for? If you don’t leave, His Highness the Crown Prince will come here himself!”

Zhu Xiang was so startled he jumped up from his chair. “What? Why didn’t you stop Zheng’er?!”

Li Si said, “We stopped him for now. But if Lord Zhu Xiang does not return, no one will be able to hold him back!”

Zhu Xiang wiped the cold sweat off his forehead. “Good, as long as he’s persuaded for now. I’ll have Xue Ji return quickly to keep Zheng’er under control.”

Li Si’s face turned pale with shock. “Just Lady Wu Commandery returning? And Lord Zhu Xiang?”

Zhu Xiang said, “I am waiting for Li Mu’s letter.”

Li Si was puzzled. “General Li’s letter?”

Zhu Xiang nodded. “Whether we can hold or not—I’m waiting for Li Mu’s answer.”

Fu Qiu’s voice turned shrill with fear. “Lord Zhu Xiang, you mean to defend the city?”

Zhu Xiang hesitated a moment. “I’ll see what Li Mu replies. If he tells me to leave, I’ll leave at once.”

Li Si said, “Lord Zhu Xiang, forgive me for speaking plainly—by the time your letter reaches General Li, and his reply comes back, Xiang Yan will already be here!”

Zhu Xiang shook his head. “I didn’t send a letter.”

Fu Qiu forgot all manners and gripped Zhu Xiang’s arm hard. “Lord Zhu Xiang, what do you mean by this? Are you just looking for an excuse to stay here?”

Zhu Xiang said, “It’s not an excuse. Li Mu would have learned of the relocation order no later than we did. He knows me well, so before Xiang Yan arrives, he will send me his answer—whether to stay or to leave.”

Everyone in the room looked at each other.

Li Si asked suspiciously, “Lord Zhu Xiang, is this true?”

Zhu Xiang said, “If no reply comes from Li Mu, once scouts report Xiang Yan’s troops approaching, I will leave immediately. The boat is at the ferry—I can board it at any time. Once I am on that boat, Xiang Yan can do nothing about me. Do not worry.”

Li Si pressed, “Until then, you truly refuse to leave?”

Zhu Xiang replied, “Yes.”

Fu Qiu released Zhu Xiang’s sleeve, his body swaying weakly. “It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have told Lord Zhu Xiang about the relocation order. If you are put in danger because of this…”

Zhu Xiang patted his shoulder, comforting him “Even if you hadn’t told me, I would have known. Knowing earlier gives us time to prepare. Don’t regret it—better to act than waste time.

Confucianism teaches benevolence and love for others…”

Zhu Xiang looked at Jiao Yun. “Mohism teaches universal love. Though they differ in the kind of love, both would not turn away from such suffering if they had the power. You two, as my Confucian and Mohist followers, don’t need my command—just do what you can. I trust you.”

Jiao Yun, who usually clutched his sword tightly, for once sheathed it at his waist. He sighed and cupped his fists. “Yes, Lord Zhu Xiang.”

Fu Qiu wiped his tears, gritted his teeth, and bowed deeply. “Yes, Lord Zhu Xiang!”

Zhu Xiang said, “Summon Meng Tian.”

Li Si took a few steps to go, then realized he had just arrived and didn’t know where Meng Tian was. He quickly turned back.

Zhu Xiang had not meant to send him anyway—Li Si just acted out of habit.

Li Si asked anxiously, “What should I do then?”

Zhu Xiang said, “Xue Ji is still at the weaving workshop. Take her back to Wu Commandery.”

Li Si said, “Lord Zhu Xiang, if you don’t go back, will Lady truly return?”

Zhu Xiang was silent for a while, then nodded without a word.

Li Si looked at him deeply, clenched his fists, and said, “Very well, I will take Lady back to Wu Commandery. Lord Zhu Xiang, if anything happens to you—even if you save Guangling City—given His Highness’s nature, no one can stop him from slaughtering this city to be buried with you.”

Zhu Xiang immediately said, “Zheng’er would never…”

He stopped halfway, pressed his forehead, and sighed. “All right, I don’t know if he would. But the Xiang family, the Southern Chu monarch, and the entire Chu royal clan will likely all be massacred by Zheng’er.

I will take care of myself. Even if I stay to defend the city, I won’t go to the battlefield—I know very well my own strength. And even if the city falls, if Xiang Yan captures me, he won’t dare kill me.”

Li Si drew a deep breath. “Lord Zhu Xiang, please take care.”

With that, he went to find Xue Ji as instructed.

When Xue Ji heard Zhu Xiang’s request, she immediately shed tears. But she uttered not a word of complaint. She quietly packed her things, preparing to leave.

Before departing, she did not go to see Zhu Xiang. She only sent word to him: since she had not bid him farewell, he must come back alive to see her.

After that, she boarded the small boat heading back.

In truth, Zhu Xiang was at the dock. He did not know whether Xue Ji saw him, but since she said she would not say goodbye, he did not show himself.

Zhu Xiang was indeed certain that even if the city fell, he would not die—at most, he would only suffer some hardship.

Even if Xiang Yan and the Lord of Southern Chu were given a hundred guts, unless they personally donned armor and fought in the melee, dying under a storm of arrows, as long as they stayed off the battlefield, Xiang Yan’s first order when the city fell would definitely be: do not harm Zhu Xiang.

The Duke of Changping could die, but absolutely not at Xiang Yan’s hands.

If he did, no matter how much merit Xiang Yan might earn, both the King of Chu and the Lord of Southern Chu would hand over his entire family to appease the wrath of the Qin King.

Though Xiang Yan was loyal to the King of Chu, he also had to care for his own clan, the Xiang family. As the head of a noble house, he would never do something that doomed his entire lineage for the sake of Chu.

As for the Lord of Southern Chu, he dared even less to let Zhu Xiang die on his territory. He had only just secured his Southern Chu kingdom; if Zhu Xiang were to die at the edge of his blade, the King of Chu would surely use it as an excuse to unite with Qin and erase him.

Qin, without hesitation, would avenge Zhu Xiang first and reckon with gains or losses later.

Even the other five states would take Zhu Xiang’s death as a pretext to send troops, pretending to avenge him, just to carve a slice out of Chu.

Zhu Xiang thought, he almost wanted to see what would happen if he rode straight into the Southern Chu army’s formation—would they dare kill him?

But, to avoid some reckless Chu soldier accidentally killing him by mistake, Zhu Xiang would not take such a risk. (Mainly because Zhu Xiang was too weak—charging in on horseback would only result in him being captured alive.)

Only after Xue Ji’s small boat had left the shore did Zhu Xiang step out from hiding. He drew out a bamboo flute and began to play.

Having spent many years on the frontier, Li Mu was not only proficient in the qin like most scholars, but also skilled at playing bone flutes and xiao.

Since Southern Qin was rich in bamboo, once he reached Wu Commandery, Li Mu switched to bamboo flutes and xiao. In his leisure, he taught young Ying Zheng to play, cultivating refinement. Zhu Xiang, following along, picked up a little.

The mournful notes of the xiao, carried by the murmuring waters, reached the small boat drifting away.

Xue Ji stood at the prow, her robes fluttering in the wind, lips pressed tight as she watched the figure of her beloved fade into the distance.

She thought, how many times had they parted like this? How many times had she watched him walk into danger?

Yet there was nothing she could do. She was his wife within the household, bound to protect their child, keep the home, and wait for his return.

Even if she did not wish it.

When Qin finally unified the realm, when there were no more dangerous places in this world, perhaps then she would no longer need to part with him.

Her ambitions were not lofty. Even though she now held a high status, bearing the title of “Lady of Changping,” with achievements far greater than most women under heaven, she still had little concept of what “unification” truly meant.

It was only because Zhu Xiang wished it, that she too wished it.

And now, for the first time, she sincerely hoped Qin would unify the realm soon.

As long as there was no more war, not only she and her beloved, but all couples under heaven would no longer face such bitter separations.

Xue Ji, with a naïve heart, wished and yearned.

When the sound of the flute was swallowed by the river’s murmur, and even on tiptoe she could no longer see her beloved’s figure, she turned back into the cabin.

She began sorting the documents she was to pass on to Zheng’er, already thinking of how to calm him once his temper inevitably flared—he was becoming ever more hot-headed, stubborn, and more like his beloved father.

She also had to help Zheng’er soothe the refugees arriving from Chu.

With Southern Chu issuing the relocation decree, there would certainly be more people crossing the river southward.

Xue Ji lightly patted her own cheeks, rousing herself from grief.

Her beloved had important matters to attend to, and so did she. As Lady of Changping, what she could do went far beyond calming Zheng’er and waiting for her husband’s return.

When Ying Zheng saw Xue Ji, he was struck with alarm, pulling his cloak over his head and rushing to the boat, intending to row out himself to fetch Zhu Xiang—only to be stopped by Xue Ji.

To make things worse, Ying Zheng also sent Li Si to Guangling City.

Ying Zheng’s words were as weighty as nine tripods—if his uncle did not return, then Li Si was not allowed to come back either.

Standing on the deck, Li Si felt a chill in his heart.

The Crown Prince’s words were clear: he was to shield the Duke of Changping from danger. Though Li Si was confident his martial skills were superior to Zhu Xiang’s, he still feared the battlefield.

Hopefully, the Duke of Changping had enough self-awareness not to step onto the battlefield.

Meanwhile, when Han Fei arrived at Li Mu’s warship, Li Mu had already dispatched letters, sent both by boat and by fast couriers on land, urgently to Guangling City.

Han Fei found Li Mu clutching a wine jar, sitting cross-legged on the deck, looking somewhat gloomy.

Because soldiers often rode horseback, wearing trousers with crotch seams, Li Mu’s posture was not improper. Still, given his usually strict and disciplined demeanor, such a casual manner was rare.

Han Fei sat kneeling before him, asking anxiously: “General, why are you troubled? Could it be that the Chu’s actions threaten Southern Qin?”

“You’ve already heard of the relocation decree?” Li Mu wiped the wine from his face and asked.

Han Fei looked puzzled.

Li Mu pulled a sealed letter from his breast, broke the wax, and tossed it to Han Fei.

After reading it, Han Fei frowned in thought.

Not being versed in military affairs, he struggled to grasp its meaning. Li Mu had not expected him to.

So he explained the function of the relocation decree.

Li Mu was certain—it had to be Xiang Yan’s proposal. In all of Chu, only Xiang Yan had such a purely military vision.

Since Zhu Xiang entered Qin, the state had abandoned its former domineering posture and instead pursued a policy of conciliation, waving the banner of righteous war, with results already showing.

After Li Mu had taken Southern Chu to form Southern Qin, he used the same strategy in dealing with Chu’s remaining heartland.

Allowing Zhu Xiang to go to Guangling and oversee farming was one such move, letting Zhu Xiang’s influence cross the Yangtze.

Xiang Yan’s tactic of “cutting off the tail to survive”—turning the fertile lands north of the Yangtze into scorched earth, building fortress after fortress to block Qin—was something even Li Mu had to admire.

“If Chu had not split off Southern Chu, Xiang Yan would never have dared use such a plan.” Li Mu, a little drunk, sneered. “But Southern Chu is weak, and its lord fears Qin’s armies. Even if he hates giving up that fertile land, he had no choice but to agree.”

Han Fei asked: “So this is what troubles the General?”

He too was impressed by Xiang Yan—someone who could make this legendary general, undefeated until now, feel uneasy!

“Not so.” Li Mu lifted the wine jar again and poured another mouthful into his throat.

He gulped down several swigs before exhaling the suffocating weight in his chest: “Zhu Xiang is going to take another risk. What’s worse is—if we want to break Xiang Yan’s move, Zhu Xiang must take that risk.”

It was nothing more than a scheme being broken.

The momentum of war has no constant shape; thrusts and counters are normal. Until the final move is played, no one can say who will win or lose.

Though startled by Xiang Yan’s ruthless counter, Li Mu was not disheartened. Compared to the years he had endured the raids of the northern Hu for the sake of a decisive opportunity, this was much lighter.

No enemy could shake his heart. What could shake him were only the people who stood at his side.

His sovereign, his colleagues, his kin, his friends.

Seeing Han Fei still puzzled, Li Mu offered no explanation. He merely wanted to find someone to pour out his pent-up frustrations; whether that person understood or not, it didn’t matter.

He had already sent word to Zhu Xiang. He knew Zhu Xiang would understand.

Just as he understood Zhu Xiang.

Even if Zhu Xiang hadn’t sent a letter, Li Mu was sure that once Zhu Xiang received the order of inland migration, he would be waiting for his letter, for his decision.

“I wonder if Zheng’er will hold this against me.” Li Mu tipped the last drop of wine from the jar into his mouth, then staggered to his feet. “That child is not exactly forgiving.”

Han Fei, though not understanding, still tried to defend the Crown Prince: “His Highness is deeply affectionate. How could he resent the General? From your words, since Lord Zhu Xiang is in tacit accord with you, even if the Crown Prince grows angry, he has no choice but to accept.”

Li Mu let out a laugh, drunkenness rising, his body swaying. “My fear is that Zhu Xiang himself will resent me.”

Han Fei turned pale with alarm. “General! What on earth are you going to do, that even Lord Zhu Xiang would resent you?”

Li Mu chuckled: “Fearsome? Not to me. That’s what it means to be a general, to lead armies. To command men, one cannot indulge in kindness.”

“Hold the city for ten days.”

Zhu Xiang opened the letter. His brows first relaxed, then furrowed tightly. “After ten days, Xiang Yan’s stratagem will collapse.”

Ten days… ten days.

Zhu Xiang did not believe that Li Mu meant he could only dispatch reinforcements after ten days.

His hands clenched the edge of the paper so hard that it nearly tore.

His eyes bore into every word, then closed slowly, unwilling to open again for a long time.

He understood Li Mu’s meaning.

The point was not merely to defend the city, but that Lord Changping, leading Chu people, would resist the Southern Chu army for ten full days.

Ten days would be enough for word to spread through every city of Chu, even to the ears of the rulers of the Six States.

The Yangtze Delta was not yet as vast as it would be two millennia later. Guangling lay close to the sea—south to the Yangtze, east to the ocean—perfect terrain for Qin’s navy to operate. If Li Mu intended to hold it, Chu could do nothing.

Once Guangling was secured, both sides of the Yangtze Delta would fall under Qin’s control, becoming a naval stronghold.

And as a nail on the northern bank of the Yangtze, Guangling would frustrate Xiang Yan’s plan to build a buffer zone there, even if every other city to the west were burned down.

Qin could not only station troops there but also attract Chu people unwilling to abandon their homeland.

Where Chu generals had destroyed their own cities along the northern bank, Qin preserved Guangling, making it the lone flourishing stronghold. Thus Xiang Yan’s attempt to erase Qin’s image as a “righteous army” and Zhu Xiang’s as a man of benevolence would fail.

To the Chu people along the northern bank, they would not have to risk fleeing south across the Yangtze—without boats, that was impossible, and Southern Chu would surely burn every vessel along the shore. They could instead flee eastward. Zhu Xiang’s wish to save the people would be fulfilled.

The letters he had written to Xiang Yan and the Southern Chu ruler were merely vents of grievance, futile cries. He knew they would burn every last boat.

Such was the order of inland migration.

Zhu Xiang opened his eyes.

The lie had already taken form in his heart. To complete the stratagem, he could not let the people of Guangling know that Qin deliberately had them withstand Southern Chu’s onslaught for ten days, suffering heavy casualties.

He had to cloak it in tragedy, make it so moving that the world would believe.

The King of Qin’s friend, the Crown Prince’s uncle, the man hailed as a statesman by all Seven States—Lord Changping Zhu Xiang—would stand with them on the walls. That alone needed no embellishment. Everyone would believe.

With a crack, the letter tore in his grip. The paper sliced his finger; blood seeped into Li Mu’s words.

Would even tearing paper cut flesh? Dazed, Zhu Xiang carried the letter to the candle flame. The fire consumed it, leaving ash that he swept outside, where the wind scattered it.

The cut was shallow, the bleeding already stopped. But the faint sting lingered, reminding him it was real.

He donned a cloak and told Jiao Yun outside: “Summon all Chu officials. And call Meng Tian as well.”

Jiao Yun stared at him, neither answering nor moving.

“I will defend the city—for ten days.”

Jiao Yun’s eyes flickered; he pressed his lips into a bitter smile. For the first time, Zhu Xiang saw such expression on him. Usually Jiao Yun’s face was like a mask, making Zhu Xiang wonder if his stiffness was an illness.

“My lord, you should go. I will defend it. Believe me, I can hold it.”

“This city must be defended by Lord Changping.”

Jiao Yun was silent for a while, then asked: “A stratagem of General Li’s?”

“No—it is one he and I devised together.”

Jiao Yun looked straight into Zhu Xiang’s eyes. Zhu Xiang’s gaze did not waver.

Jiao Yun sighed and left.

“Li Si, you’re still awake?”

From the corner of the wall, Li Si stepped out: “How could I dare sleep?”

“Send word to Zheng’er: I will hold the city for ten days. This is my plan. He and Li Mu must follow it, without change. Though he is Crown Prince, I bear the King’s edict—matters of Southern Qin follow my command. Prepare the ink.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Zhu Xiang had not written to Li Mu. How did Li Mu know Zhu Xiang’s plan? Perhaps they shared a tacit understanding, but it was clearly Li Mu’s design.

Yet if Zhu Xiang said it was his, then it must be so.

Li Si once again felt a pang of envy at the friendship between Zhu Xiang and Li Mu. He wondered if he would ever have such a friend.

Han Fei’s face flickered in his mind; he shook it away with disdain. His true friend could never be some sentimental stammerer who still pined after Han despite being betrayed a hundred times.

The cities of the Warring States lay in darkness at night.

But tonight, Guangling blazed with firelight. Torches wound like serpents through the streets, casting a crimson glow into the sky.

Every scholar and official in the city left his home and gathered at Zhu Xiang’s temporary residence.

By dawn, Guangling’s gates opened. Some departed northward by carriage. More went out into the fields to help farmers harvest unripe rice, spreading word of the inland migration to nearby villages.

The plains around Guangling offered no mountains or forests to hide in. The farmers had two choices: flee thirty li north of the Yangtze, or enter the city for refuge.

Most fled north, but many strong young men poured into the city instead—most carrying their own weapons, men once wandering swordsmen or impoverished scholars.

Though Zhu Xiang had not conscripted, the defending force more than doubled.

Ordinary townsfolk with nowhere to go brought their families to the walls, where Qin soldiers directed them to weave bamboo baskets, fill them with stones, and build low ramparts outside the original walls.

Zhu Xiang still had not discovered the recipe for cement, and time was too short to fire any. But dredging fishponds had yielded thick clay, irrigation works had left building materials, and craftsmen like Zheng Guo were at hand.

Following Li Bing’s method at Dujiangyan, they packed stones in bamboo cages, sealed them with clay, and in day and night raised new fortifications.

Heaven itself seemed to aid them. The weather was hot but overcast, sparing them scorching sun, and the clay dried swiftly.

Zhu Xiang looked up at the sky.

It was weather well-suited for the ripening of rice.

Had Xiang Yan not come, had the harvest not been forced early, Guangling’s fields would have yielded a fine crop this year.