HCT – Chapter 19 Ginger Shreds Stir-Fried with Pork Slivers

Lord Pingyuan’s fief was in Dongwu City, but as he was the Chancellor of Zhao, he resided in Handan. Zhao Bao soon arrived at Lord Pingyuan’s mansion.

Lord Pingyuan, Zhao Sheng, was the son of King Wuling of Zhao and the full younger brother of the late King Huiwen. He had been dearly loved by King Wuling and was trusted by both King Huiwen and the current Zhao king. His residence occupied an entire street in Handan. The pavilions and towers stood closely packed like fish scales. At night, beautiful palace lanterns hung under the eaves, their twinkling lights converging like a cloud of immortals.

Though Zhao Bao was also a full brother of the late King Huiwen, he was far less favored by the successive kings compared to Zhao Sheng. Naturally, his own residence was not nearly as grand. When he got off the carriage and saw his brother’s lavish estate, he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of envy.

But he quickly curbed this feeling. The more favored one was, the heavier the pressure and danger. Zhao Bao thought of his father, King Wuling, who had been besieged in the Sand Hill Palace for over three months and ultimately starved to death. He shivered involuntarily.

Zhao Bao once harbored lofty ambitions, but the gruesome image of his father’s death haunted him. His elder brother, King Huiwen, had cried hypocritically over their father’s corpse after letting him starve, leaving Zhao Bao deeply scarred. Every time Zhao Bao wanted to take action, those memories would surface to dissuade him.

“Lord, we’ve arrived,” the coachman reminded him when he noticed Zhao Bao dazing at the carriage door.

Zhao Bao pressed his brow, hesitation growing in his heart.

At that moment, the mansion gate opened, and Zhao Sheng personally came out to greet him.

“I heard from the guards you’ve been waiting outside for some time—why not come in?” he asked with some confusion.

Now that Zhao Sheng had come out himself, Zhao Bao had no excuse to retreat. He grasped his elder brother’s extended hand and jumped down from the carriage. As they walked in together, he asked, “Brother, are you aware that the Qin hostage is currently staying at the home of Zhu Xiang, a retainer of Lin Xiangru?”

Zhao Sheng was even better informed than Zhao Bao. “Yes. Zhu Xiang was once abandoned by his older sister and nearly starved to death before Lin Xiangru took him in. Who would’ve thought that woman became the consort of the Qin hostage and bore his child, only to abandon it as well?”

Zhao Bao hadn’t known the deeper backstory. He said, “Since Zhu Xiang is the Qin hostage’s maternal uncle, he can be considered a gentleman. I’ve seen that both Lin Xiangru and Lian Po are close with him—why not accept Lin Xiangru’s recommendation?”

Zhao Sheng stopped and looked at him in surprise. “Is this what you came to discuss today?”

Zhao Bao replied, “I passed by Lin Xiangru’s estate and saw him and Lian Po celebrating the Qin hostage’s birthday.”

Zhao Sheng frowned. “Why would they humble themselves to celebrate a Qin hostage’s birthday? They never even attended his banquets in the past.”

Zhao Bao answered, “It’s said that Zhu Xiang is ill and has no children. That Qin hostage may be his only living blood relative.”

Zhao Sheng’s brows drew tighter. “Are you implying that this commoner, Zhu Xiang, is treating the Qin hostage as his adopted heir? What audacity! Even an abandoned Qin royal cannot change his name and status to become the heir of a mere commoner. Such confusion of ranks will bring down divine punishment!”

Zhao Sheng placed heavy value on noble lineage. All his retainers were from well-known scholar families. This was also why, despite his good relationship with Lin Xiangru and Lian Po, he refused to recommend Zhu Xiang.

Zhao Bao had thought that Zhu Xiang’s status as the Qin hostage’s uncle would soften Zhao Sheng’s prejudice and prompt him to recommend Zhu Xiang to the king. Unexpectedly, his offhand comment about Zhu Xiang treating the Qin hostage as an adopted son only made his brother dislike Zhu Xiang even more.

Zhao Sheng’s strong aversion stemmed from his trauma over their father’s starvation death in the Sand Hill Palace. As the favored son of King Wuling, Zhao Sheng had never accepted this event. But he couldn’t blame their brother King Huiwen directly—he had been young, and the court was under the control of powerful ministers.

So Zhao Sheng redirected his resentment toward those ministers, especially Li Dui and Prince Cheng. Because Prince Cheng was royalty, Zhao Sheng despised Li Dui even more.

Though Prince Cheng died peacefully and Li Dui was eventually dismissed, Zhao Sheng could do nothing against them due to King Huiwen’s protection. But the hatred for those who dared starve their sovereign to death had rooted deeply in Zhao Sheng’s soul.

He had been tricked and imprisoned by Qin himself, so he bore no goodwill toward that kingdom. Yet even so, the Qin hostage was still a royal. To Zhao Sheng, it was intolerable that a mere commoner should presume to adopt him.

He believed someone as audacious as Zhu Xiang, if placed in power, would surely become a second Li Dui—a scourge on the Zhao state.

After hearing this, Zhao Bao began to waver as well. He had initially thought that anyone approved by Lin Xiangru and Lian Po couldn’t be like Li Dui. Besides, they only wanted to grant Zhu Xiang a nominal post to reassure these two elder statesmen who had been neglected by the court.

But now that his brother had transferred his hatred for Li Dui onto Zhu Xiang, Zhao Bao found himself at a loss for words to argue.

In fact, Zhao Bao could recommend Zhu Xiang himself. But he had always preferred self-preservation, doing things from behind his brother’s shadow. Since Zhao Sheng was unwilling to make the recommendation, he didn’t want to take the lead either.

Seeing Zhao Bao’s troubled expression, Zhao Sheng advised, “He’s not a blood relative. No matter how close Lin Xiangru and Lian Po are to him, it can’t compare to kin. If you wish to show favor to those two, wouldn’t it be better to reward their clan members? You’ve lost perspective.”

Zhao Bao thought carefully and said, “You’re right. Then shall we choose someone from their families to recommend?”

This time, Zhao Sheng readily agreed.

When spring returned and the winter wheat began to grow, Li Mu bid farewell to Zhu Xiang and set out northward.

He took with him a box of potatoes and Zhu Xiang’s guide to planting them. “I’ll write to you every month asking for farming advice,” he said. He was reluctant to leave Zhu Xiang and the young Zheng, who clung to his sleeve and called him teacher. Hugging the child, he said, “Zheng’er, eat well. Next time I return to Handan, I’ll teach you martial arts.”

With a solemn little face, Ying Zheng nodded. “I will train hard and become stronger than Uncle Zhu!”

Li Mu asked curiously, “Why suddenly mention your uncle?”

Ying Zheng sighed like a little old man. “Xunzi always says Uncle Zhu is hopeless with any weapon—like rotten wood that can’t be carved. I need to become strong and protect him.”

Li Mu laughed. “Zheng’er is truly a filial child.”

Zhu Xiang shrugged. He felt he’d already improved a lot—he just couldn’t bring himself to aim for fatal points with a weapon. What modern person could really fight to kill without hesitation?

What baffled him more was that Xunzi insisted on full combat training and told him not to hold back. Zhu Xiang was terrified—what if he hurt Xunzi or got hurt himself? How could he fight seriously like that?

No matter how he thought about it, Xunzi chasing him with a broadsword was just too extreme a teaching method!

“You should work harder too,” Li Mu teased now that they were close friends. “Being protected by Zheng’er—aren’t you embarrassed?”

Zhu Xiang shamelessly replied, “Not at all. I have such a powerful and filial kid protecting me—are you jealous? Ow!”

Lin Xiangru smacked Zhu Xiang on the head with a clenched fist. Everyone laughed.

Amid the laughter, Li Mu reluctantly left Handan.

Though they hadn’t known each other long, Li Mu already considered Zhu Xiang, Lin Zhi, and Cai Ze his close friends. Human relationships didn’t always rely on time. As he looked back at Handan from horseback, Li Mu’s heart was full of melancholy.

Zhu Xiang, seeing Li Mu glance back, lifted Ying Zheng onto his shoulders and waved goodbye with him.

Li Mu smiled at the sight, raised his hand in farewell again, then turned and galloped off without another look.

Not long after Li Mu left, the next to depart—surprisingly not Cai Ze, who planned to head to Qin—was Lin Zhi. He had been assigned an important position as a regional governor in the east.

He kept complaining: “I’m the only one left at home to care for my aging father. If I leave, who’ll take care of him?”

“Why complain when you’ve been promoted?” Zhu Xiang patted his chest. “Go do your job—I’ll look after your father. He’s like my own!”

Lin Zhi grumbled bitterly, “Trust? I trust you too much. I’m afraid when I return, he’ll only recognize you!”

Zhu Xiang replied, “Then isn’t that your fault? Reflect on it!”

Lin Zhi was so angry he chased Zhu Xiang around with a sword. Though Zhu Xiang couldn’t win a fight, no one could catch him in a chase. They ran circles around the carriage.

Lian Po turned to Lin Xiangru. “You’re just watching those two mess around? That’s not like you.”

Leaning on his cane, Lin Xiangru said calmly, “They’ve been close for five or six years—closer than brothers. This is their first real separation. Let them have their moment.”

Lian Po grinned. “I can see it—you’re reluctant too. If you really can’t bear it, tell the king not to send your youngest far away.”

Lin Xiangru replied, “I’m old. He has the ability and now the opportunity. It’s time for him to stand on his own.”

“Fine. Since you can let go, I won’t say more,” Lian Po said. “But, Lin Xiangru, do you truly just want him to be independent, or are you trying to keep him away from the coming storm?”

Lin Xiangru fell silent.

Lian Po scratched his head. “Alright, I won’t press. But remember—the current king isn’t the one who once favored you. Speak too boldly, and it may cost your life.”

Lin Xiangru rolled his eyes. “Do I need you to lecture me? Watch yourself first—I worry more about you!”

Lian Po laughed. “Fine.”

Before leaving, Lin Zhi still didn’t manage to land a hit on Zhu Xiang.

He left in a huff, but as soon as his carriage was out of sight, he couldn’t help wiping away a tear.

Peeking back from the window, he saw Zhu Xiang seated on a rock by the road, playing the huqin and singing “Xiaoya · Baiju” (Minor Odes · The White Colt).

A friend departs on a white steed, his virtue like jade and orchids; may he write often and never forget their bond.

This song was traditionally thought to express a king’s desire to retain a worthy subject, but it later became a popular farewell ode. Zhu Xiang sang it as a farewell.

Lin Zhi responded with teary eyes and sang back “Weifeng · Mugua” (A gift of a quince repaid with jade), a song of mutual affection and eternal friendship.

Their duet drew a crowd. Many were moved by the heartfelt goodbye.

Even Lin Xiangru grew choked with emotion.

Only Ying Zheng tugged Lian Po’s sleeve and whispered, “Grandpa Lian, is Uncle Lin going very far away?”

“Not far,” Lian Po said. “Just a day’s journey.”

“Then why are Uncle and my uncle crying like this?”

“They’re crazy,” Lian Po muttered.

Lin Xiangru slammed his cane on the ground. “Don’t corrupt Zheng’er! They’re just deeply bonded!”

Ying Zheng frowned. So… who was telling the truth, Grandpa Lian or Uncle Lin?

Two weeks later, when Lin Zhi returned home to visit and snatched up pastries meant for Ying Zheng, the boy understood: Grandpa Lian was right!

“Uncle Lin, aren’t you a governor now? Go back!”

“Not until you give me your pastries!”

“Take them all! Just go!”

Zhu Xiang muttered to Xue, “Why is Lin Li getting more childish? He’s almost the same age as Zheng’er now.”

Xue replied, “Aren’t you the same?”

Zhu Xiang coughed and refused to admit it. He was at least mentally older than Lin Zhi, surely?

After both Li Mu and Lin Zhi left—though Lin Zhi returned monthly to visit—Zhu Xiang’s days grew quieter.

He still took Ying Zheng to Xunzi’s lectures and wandered the fields to supervise winter wheat cultivation.

As the wheat entered a disease-prone stage, Zhu Xiang inspected fields daily, instructing farmers on weeding, removing infection sites, applying organic fertilizers to boost resistance, and improving drainage to prevent fungal growth.

Ying Zheng didn’t understand much—he simply held his uncle’s rough hand and walked the ridges, receiving praise from passing farmers and growing steadier on his feet.

Farmers were skilled with their hands. Whenever Zhu Xiang squatted to chat, they weaved little toys from wild grass and flowers. Ying Zheng collected new toys daily, though they wilted by the next day—only to be replaced with new ones again.

Sometimes, Zhu Xiang visited carpenters and blacksmiths to request improved tools. On those trips, Ying Zheng would receive wooden animals or rolling hoops.

When Zhu Xiang saw how steady Ying Zheng was on his feet, he asked Xiang He to make a small wheelbarrow for the boy—so he could push his toy friends around.

The wheelbarrow had been invented and improved during the Qin era and was common by the Western Han. Zhu Xiang merely sped up its development. Xiang He was delighted. Soon, what began as a toy became a staple tool among local farmers.

Seeing them use it to haul goods, Zhu Xiang slapped his forehead and chuckled.

His mind was a vast treasury—he had so many ideas that could improve lives here, though he often forgot them. But even a sudden flash of inspiration might make a real difference for common folk.

After praising his own brilliance, Zhu Xiang immediately told Xiang He to keep the wheelbarrow’s origin secret.

Xiang He was exasperated. “Sir Zhu, you don’t need to be so cautious. If you truly fear attracting attention, why not gain more fame and join a wise ruler? Surely some king would protect you.”

Zhu Xiang said, “I’m just a commoner. Where would I go? I’m content with my life now.”

Xiang He…

He was contemplating whether he should visit Lin Xiangru and persuade him to convince Zhu Xiang to leave.

Due to Lord Lin’s great kindness, Lord Zhu Xiang was unwilling to leave Zhao. But how could someone with Zhu Xiang’s rare talent for saving lives remain trapped in a country that could not fully utilize his abilities? Lord Lin ought to think for the sake of the world, not just for the sake of one state.

Having made up his mind, Xiang He went to visit Xun Kuang.

Though Mohists and Confucians were typically at odds, they were also kindred spirits in some ways—both believed in making the world a better place.

Moreover, both schools supported the unification of the realm, believing it the only way to truly end the people’s suffering. Therefore, Xiang He believed that when it came to Lord Zhu Xiang, Xun Kuang would stand with him.

After receiving Xiang He, Xun Kuang shook his head and said, “You Mohists are fixated on the word ‘righteousness’. That’s why your Juzi was willing to die defending a city after Lord Yangcheng abandoned him. We Confucians hold fast to the word ‘faith’. Zhu Xiang received kindness from Lin Xiangru and promised to stay in Zhao for him. How could we undermine his righteousness and his faith? If Zhu Xiang were someone who betrayed righteousness and broke promises, how could he possibly save so many lives?”

A former Mohist Juzi had once been both subordinate and friend to the Lord of Yangcheng in Chu. When Wu Qi’s reforms threatened the interests of Chu’s old nobility, they killed Wu Qi at the king’s funeral—so many arrows were fired that the king’s corpse was riddled like a porcupine.

After the new king ascended, more than seventy noble families were exterminated for their role in the incident, including the Lord of Yangcheng. Yet, though he executed these nobles, he also abolished Wu Qi’s reforms.

When the Lord of Yangcheng fled Chu, the Mohist Juzi chose to die with the city, saying, “If a Juzi does not uphold righteousness, who will believe the Mohists?” Along with him, more than 180 Mohist disciples followed him in death.

Later, the Mohists came to realize that such actions only depleted their ranks without advancing their political ideals. So the school began to evolve, leaning more toward the cause of unification.

Although the Chu Mohists had once sided with the old nobility that opposed Wu Qi, they had come to recognize the benefits of Wu Qi’s reforms. The Chu king, having eliminated Wu Qi’s enemies, still abandoned his policies—an act that deeply disappointed the Chu Mohists. They believed that if Chu continued in this way, the tragedy of Lord Yangcheng would repeat itself.

This was why the Chu Mohists gradually shifted toward aligning with the Qin Mohists.

To this day, even though the Chu Mohists knew the Lord of Yangcheng was guilty, they had still chosen to die with him to uphold the Mohist principle of righteousness. Xunzi pointed this out to Xiang He, telling him that trying to persuade Zhu Xiang to leave Zhao was impossible.

“Are we just going to watch Lord Zhu Xiang remain trapped in Zhao?” Xiang He sighed.

Xunzi replied, “There is still a chance—through Zheng’er. If Prince Zichu is made crown prince, Zhao will definitely send this Zhao-born hostage back to Qin to contest the throne. At that point, Zhu Xiang, who raised Zheng’er, will surely return to Qin with him. The powerful ruler you spoke of—the one who can put Zhu Xiang to use—is the King of Qin, isn’t he?”

Xiang He nodded. “The King of Qin is indeed a formidable sovereign. Of all the states, I see only Qin with the potential to unify the realm.”

Xunzi sighed. “But Qin values profit over virtue. If Qin unites the realm, will it truly benefit the people?”

Xiang He replied, “Perhaps Lord Zhu Xiang and Zheng’er can change Qin.”

Xunzi said, “You certainly have great faith in him. But I hope you’re right.”

Xiang He added, “The Mohists will remain by Lord Zhu Xiang’s side. I hope the Confucians will assist him as well.”

Xunzi nodded. “Of course. My disciples have already entered Zhao and become retainers of the royal clan. They will speak on Zhu Xiang’s behalf when the time comes.”

Xiang He bowed.

Xunzi returned the gesture.

The leaders of the Mohists and the Confucians had reached a temporary understanding and now stood united on the same front.

At this time, both Xunzi and Xiang He believed Zhu Xiang’s departure from Zhao was still a long way off, and that the situation in Zhao remained stable.

But events always take a sharp turn just when everyone thinks the waters are calm.

At the start of the year, after conquering Yewang, Qin had paused for half a year before advancing toward Shangdang, capturing Goushi and Lunshi in Han territory.

The King of Han sent envoys to Qin to plead for forgiveness and offered to cede Shangdang Commandery in exchange for a withdrawal.

The King of Qin agreed, thinking his strategic objectives had been achieved.

At the same time, the governor of Shangdang, Feng Ting, was unwilling to surrender to Qin. He sent emissaries to Zhao to lobby the court, proposing to gift Shangdang to Zhao in hopes of resisting Qin with Zhao’s help.

The King of Zhao was overjoyed and immediately summoned his ministers to discuss the matter.

Originally far removed from the throne, the current king had only become crown prince after the former heir died of plague. Upon succession, due to his youth, the court had allowed Queen Dowager Wei to act as regent. The king’s early success in repelling Qin had also been credited to Queen Dowager Wei, leaving the young king feeling overshadowed.

Now, with the governor of Shangdang voluntarily offering seventeen cities to him, the king was elated.

If someone was willingly offering territory, didn’t that prove his own virtue and renown? Seventeen cities—an achievement even his father and grandfather would have struggled to accomplish by force. And he was gaining them without a single soldier lost! Surely this meant he was greater than his predecessors?

The more he thought about it, the more excited he became. He couldn’t wait to accept.

Yet despite his incompetence, he was at least cautious. Qin was powerful, and he felt uneasy about the old Qin king who had been Zhao’s nemesis since his grandfather’s day. So, he went to consult his ministers one by one.

To his surprise, even Lin Xiangru—usually cautious—opposed accepting the cities. No one expected this; Lin Xiangru had grown timid in old age and was no longer the man who once boldly faced the Qin king. What shocked the court even more was that Lin’s uncle, Lord Pingyang Zhao Bao, who always followed the lead of Prime Minister Lord Pingyuan Zhao Sheng, now stood in direct opposition to him.

Zhao Bao tearfully pleaded, “Your Majesty! Qin has fought for years and is just about to claim Shangdang. We in Zhao have done nothing and now seek to reap unearned rewards? The sages say that unearned gains bring great disaster. This is Han’s scheme to bring calamity upon us—we must not accept!”

The King of Zhao was displeased. “How is this unearned? The governor and the people of Shangdang detest Qin’s tyranny and admire my virtuous rule. That’s why they’re turning to me!”

Zhao Bao tried to argue further, but the king dismissed him and accepted Lord Pingyuan’s advice instead.

Lord Pingyuan had said, “It’s seventeen cities! You’d be a fool not to take them!”

The king agreed: “My uncle is right.”

So he sent Lord Pingyuan to Shangdang to receive the surrender from Feng Ting and took control of the region.

The old King of Qin, who had accepted Han’s offer and thought he had secured Shangdang, was furious when he heard the news—he smashed his wine cup in rage.

“Zhao King, are you insane?! This means war!”

When Zhu Xiang received the news, his head buzzed. He went numb for a long moment.

Even though he wasn’t thoroughly versed in pre-Qin history, the name “Changping” made his heart sink. He knew the Battle of Changping was near.

Lord Pingyuan, though short-sighted and greedy, had better judgment of people than the king. He knew Qin would never tolerate Zhao’s occupation of Shangdang and thus nominated Lian Po to defend the region.

Lian Po donned his armor and, before departing, visited Zhu Xiang’s home to scare little Ying Zheng, declaring that he would crush Qin until Ying Zheng wept.

But Ying Zheng didn’t cry. Instead, he carved Lian Po’s name deeper into his heart with resentment.

After Zhao accepted Shangdang, Lin Xiangru fell gravely ill. When Lian Po departed for war, Lin Xiangru was still too weak and had to lean on Zhu Xiang just to leave the city gates and bid him farewell.

Lian Po tried to reassure Lin Xiangru: “In open field battles, I can’t match Bai Qi. But in fortress defense, even Bai Qi would gain no advantage over me. And Qin hasn’t even sent Bai Qi this time. Don’t worry.”

Lin Xiangru coughed and clutched Lian Po’s hands. “Be careful. Don’t be… reckless!”

Lian Po patted Lin’s hand. “You think I need you to teach me how to fight? Just focus on your recovery and wait in Handan for news of my victory.”

He mounted his horse and rode off in high spirits.

Lin Xiangru stood on tiptoe, watching his silhouette fade into the distance until even the dust kicked up by the hooves disappeared. Then, coughing violently, he said, “Let’s go back.”

Zhu Xiang crouched and said, “Lord Lin, I’ll carry you.”

Lin Xiangru didn’t refuse. He lay on Zhu Xiang’s back, coughing so hard it seemed to tear him apart.

Zhu Xiang didn’t take him home to the Lin household, but back to his own.

Lin Zhi, Lin Xiangru’s son, was still away serving as a governor, and there was no one young at home to care for Lin. Zhu Xiang worried for him and arranged for him to stay at his home and recuperate.

No matter what Zhu Xiang did, Lin Xiangru’s health continued to deteriorate.

Only when Lin Zhi rushed home and broke down crying in his arms did Lin Xiangru finally recover a little and start eating again.

Once he could eat, recovery was much easier. Zhu Xiang no longer hid his cooking skills—he had Xiang He make an iron wok, extracted oil from soybeans, and used modern techniques like stir-frying and pan-frying to prepare meals for Master Lin.

Though the sick needed bland food, the key was that he could eat. As long as he could eat, he could get nutrients, and his body would recover. Soybean oil, being lighter than animal fat, was easier on the stomach.

Lin Xiangru especially loved stir-fried pork with shredded ginger, mixing it with millet rice and eating two full bowls.

Once his appetite returned, his energy improved, and his coughing eased.

Lin Zhi cried with joy in front of Zhu Xiang for a long time.

After hearing of this, Lin Zhi’s brothers all wrote to Zhu Xiang, apologizing for their past snobbery and saying it was Lin Zhi’s fortune to have such a friend.

Cai Ze, who had originally planned to head west, stayed behind out of concern for Lin Xiangru’s health and the tense Zhao-Qin standoff, helping Zhu Xiang care for both Lin and Xunzi.

Li Mu, somehow learning of Lin’s illness, sent people with high-quality ginseng and lingzhi mushrooms, supposedly brought by merchants from Liaodong, Yan.

Yan bordered both the Xiongnu and Zhao’s Yanmen Commandery. Merchants from Yan often sold wares in Zhao.

Under everyone’s care, Lin Xiangru could finally walk outside with a cane. Zhu Xiang breathed a sigh of relief.

Having lost his parents young, Lin Xiangru was like a father to Zhu Xiang. Even though he knew ancient lifespans were short, watching Lin Xiangru’s health decline was painful and hard to accept.

Though Lin Xiangru’s health was improving, the Battle of Changping now hung over Zhu Xiang like a sword. He could no longer sleep or eat in peace.

Seeing Zhu Xiang downcast, Lin Xiangru tried to comfort him.

“A war between Qin and Zhao is inevitable. But you needn’t worry too much,” Lin Xiangru assumed Zhu Xiang feared for Ying Zheng’s safety. “Though the seven states often go to war, none has ever vented anger on a hostage child. Zheng’er is still young—even if Zhao wants revenge, he won’t be targeted. And besides, not many know his identity.”

Zhu Xiang forced a smile. “I’m not worried about that. I just worry this war will claim many lives.”

Lin Xiangru sighed. “No war is bloodless. But Lian Po, old as he is, is still excellent at defense. As long as Qin can’t breach Shangdang or Changping, fewer may die.”

But Zhao’s king didn’t want to defend—he wanted to attack, to defeat Qin! Zhu Xiang screamed inwardly, but couldn’t tell anyone.

He couldn’t speak of what he knew about the aftermath of Changping. He buried his dread deep inside and poured himself into farming.

One can only help what’s right in front of them. The historical significance of the battle didn’t matter to Zhu Xiang now. He just wanted to protect the people around him.

He guessed the battle might erupt next year. If he could raise more crops before then, maybe Lian Po could hold Qin back.

But soon Zhu Xiang realized just how powerless he was.

To prepare for war, the king issued a mass conscription order. Even able-bodied men from Lin Xiangru’s fief were drafted. Zhu Xiang couldn’t increase crop yields, let alone find people to work the fields.

With only the old, weak, women, and children left, neither intensive farming nor cultivating potatoes on wasteland was possible.

Organizing even the most basic fieldwork with such a workforce was already a miracle.

There were still able-bodied men in the state—but they were private soldiers and retainers of nobles. Zhu Xiang tried to have Lin Xiangru persuade the nobles to send them to the fields to ensure food supply.

But Lin Xiangru, whose words could sway the King of Qin, couldn’t persuade these nobles. At most, they would allow their people to farm their own lands, but never help commoners.

And land owned by nobles paid little tax; rewarded lands paid none. Meanwhile, taxed lands were understaffed, and winter wheat was about to rot in the fields.

Seeing this, Xunzi sighed and went to see Lord Pingyuan Zhao Sheng.

“Zhao is about to go to war with Qin. In wartime, grain is everything. Yet our harvest lies rotting. How will our soldiers eat? Please persuade the king to let nobles’ men help the commoners. If they demand compensation, let them take a share of the harvest. That’s better than losing everything.”

Though Zhao Sheng looked down on commoners, he respected the renowned. And Xunzi was renowned across all seven states.

He promptly accepted the advice, persuaded the king, and ordered his own retainers and soldiers to help with farming.

After engaging with the fields, Zhao Sheng finally realized Zhu Xiang’s true abilities.

Zhu Xiang was finally made an official—recommended by Zhao Sheng to the king. But due to lingering prejudice, he was only tasked with agricultural management near Handan.

Thanks to his efforts, winter wheat was finally harvested, and millet and yellow rice had been planted.

Lian Po even sent a letter praising Zhu Xiang, saying the army had ample food and full confidence in defeating Qin.

Two months later, Zichu, now back in Qin, learned that Zhu Xiang had become an agricultural officer in Zhao.