HCT – Chapter 198 The Travels of the Young First Emperor

After Ying Zheng and Xue Ji left, Zhu Xiang didn’t even have time to miss them before he was buried under a crushing mountain of work.

He looked at the stack of documents piled high like a mountain, staring in disbelief. “This… this is the workload Zheng’er usually handles?”

Han Fei nodded. “Yes!”

Li Si sighed. “Lord Zhu Xiang, if you don’t start working, you won’t get any sleep tonight.”

Zhu Xiang stood up and started walking out, only for Han Fei to grab his sleeve. “Lord Zhu Xiang, where are you going?” Han Fei asked, puzzled.

Expressionless, Zhu Xiang said, “To fetch Zheng’er back.”

Li Si almost burst out laughing. Covering his mouth, he said, “Lord Zhu Xiang, I doubt you can catch up with the crown prince’s ship. Best get to the paperwork.”

Han Fei glanced at Li Si, surprised that he could so casually joke with Zhu Xiang. Normally, Li Si carried himself with solemn dignity and showed great respect to Zhu Xiang. Why had his demeanor suddenly changed?

Han Fei guessed it must have been during the days they defended the city together — shared hardship had forged camaraderie.

Damn it, I want to go to the battlefield too!

In this era where military merit was valued above all, what noble son didn’t dream of wielding weapons in glory? For the first time, Han Fei felt a twinge of envy toward Li Si.

Zhu Xiang, of course, knew he couldn’t drag Ying Zheng back just to deal with state affairs. His protest was nothing but futile struggle.

“Where’s Li Mu?” Zhu Xiang started looking for reinforcements.

Li Si replied, “Lord Wu Chengjun is in the military camp.”

Zhu Xiang slammed the table. “Call him back! Why should I be the only one working myself to death?”

Suppressing a laugh, Li Si went to summon Li Mu back to assist.

Zhu Xiang flipped open the mountain of documents. After only a few glances, his head began to ache.

At present, a single commandery (jun) was equivalent to a province in later times, and a county (xian) was akin to a city. But there were only two administrative levels: commanderies and counties. There weren’t true “counties” as later defined, and village-town structures were basically nonexistent.

Originally, Qin’s commanderies hadn’t been this vast, but as territory expanded, so too did the size of each administrative unit.

No wonder after the Qin dynasty was established, it essentially lost control of local regions. How could it not?

Zhu Xiang thought of how the First Emperor was once assassinated in Xianyang itself, yet the culprit was never caught, and he sighed deeply.

At that point, not to mention distant territories, even the capital under the emperor’s feet was beyond his control.

Back before Qin’s unification, if a minister of the caliber of Shang Yang or Bai Qi committed murder, as long as they were within Qin borders, there was no escape.

When the King of Chu was assassinated in his own capital and the killer went unpunished, it was seen as a symbol that the king had lost control over nobles and the state. Was the First Emperor’s case not the same?

His mind wandering, Zhu Xiang sighed again and went back to the maddening paperwork.

Farming, taxation, catching thieves, adjudicating lawsuits, infrastructure, border defenses — every matter, large or small, fell solely to the junshou (commandery governor). Whether it was preparing for a Chu invasion or settling a dispute between neighbors over a courtyard wall, everything came across his desk. Rubbing hard at his temples, Zhu Xiang grimaced at the endless stack of documents.

“This system of local officials doesn’t suit the reality anymore… When I have time, I’ll write to Xia Tong to discuss it.”

Or perhaps, once Zheng’er returned, he’d just hand Wu Commandery back to him and return to Xianyang to speak directly with Xia Tong, Lin Zhi, and Cai Ze.

Li Mu, upon learning of Zhu Xiang’s plea for help, shed his military armor and dressed once more as a scholar to come assist in the governor’s office.

The first thing he heard was Zhu Xiang’s long string of complaints.

Li Mu said, “Indeed, the commanderies and counties are far too large. Above them, there used to be feudal lords holding power. Now that Qin has abolished their authority, we should instead appoint centrally dispatched officials, and even add another tier above the commanderies and counties.”

“Centrally dispatched officials” meant exactly that — officials appointed directly by the central government, not tied to local power.

Zhu Xiang nodded in agreement. “Yes, the commanderies should be reduced in size, and above them, we could add a new level — perhaps call it a ‘zhou’ (province). Once the realm is stabilized, civil and military powers may also need to be divided.”

Li Mu chuckled. “If civil and military are separated, the monarch will surely elevate civil officials to suppress the generals. Don’t propose such ideas lightly — you might get assassinated.”

Zhu Xiang rubbed his nose. “I’m not stupid.”

Li Mu smirked. “I think you’re very stupid.”

Zhu Xiang gave Li Mu a punch, then sighed. “Let’s leave future reforms for later. For now, let’s just finish these documents… I don’t see why every matter must be reviewed by the commandery governor. What are the other officials here for? I mean you two — Li Si, Han Fei!”

Li Si helplessly said, “The crown prince ordered that everything must be decided by him personally.”

Han Fei nodded vigorously. Not our fault! That was the crown prince’s rule!

“Zheng’er is Zheng’er, and I’m me!” Zhu Xiang said firmly. “Come over here. We’ll split the duties — the matters that should be yours, don’t bother me with them anymore.”

Li Si hesitated. “But when the crown prince returns…”

Zhu Xiang cut him off. “When Zheng’er comes back, you can go back to following his rules.”

Han Fei frowned. “But changing orders back and forth — that’s bad governance!”

Zhu Xiang countered, “Then I’ll persuade him. He can’t possibly micromanage everything. If running a single commandery leaves him this swamped, then when he governs an entire kingdom, won’t he have no time even to sleep? Even if Zheng’er is exceptionally capable, he can’t expect every future Qin ruler to have his same energy and talent.”

Li Mu said, “This should wait until Zheng’er’s return. For now, let’s finish these documents. Many must be dealt with today.”

Zhu Xiang let out a tragic wail and smashed his face into the desk.

Li Mu, unable to hold back his laughter, patted him on the shoulder in comfort. “Endure it a bit. Things will be fine once Zheng’er returns.”

Han Fei reminded, “Lord Zhu Xiang, these matters were originally your duty. The Crown Prince merely handled what you should have done.”

Li Si gave a dry cough and said, “Of course Lord Zhu Xiang knows these matters should be handled by him. But Lord Zhu Xiang wanted to temper the Crown Prince, so he entrusted all state affairs to him and only concerned himself with spring planting and autumn harvests. This is Lord Zhu Xiang’s kindness toward the Prince.”

Han Fei replied, “Oh, kindness.”

Zhu Xiang lifted his head. “The two of you echoing each other like this—do you find it amusing?”

Han Fei and Li Si answered with matching looks: Not amusing, but Lord Zhu Xiang, are you really not going to start working?

Li Mu patted Zhu Xiang’s shoulder again. “If you don’t begin now, you won’t finish today.”

Zhu Xiang struggled twice in lazy resistance, then silently opened another document, beginning his battle with dull government affairs.

He would rather squat on a ridge in the fields until his legs went numb than read through these convoluted memorials. Things that should be easy to resolve were always written in a roundabout way, leaving the reader utterly confused as to what they were trying to say.

Wu Commandery had indeed reclaimed farmland, absorbed many refugees, and weakened the power of the local gentry. Yet the local gentry still controlled most of the region’s economic lifelines. As outsiders, governors sent down from the court had to navigate these tangled relationships. Without sharp intuition and ample sources of information, they would easily be sidelined by the powerful families.

In fact, most appointed officials during the feudal era were sidelined by local aristocrats. Only those who managed to coordinate relations well could achieve something; otherwise, they would be squeezed out.

Zhu Xiang again thought of writing to the King of Qin.

Xiatong, have you considered—when you one day unify the realm, the aristocracy of the six kingdoms will remain deeply rooted locally. If you parachute in an outsider official, won’t they most likely be sidelined too?

He remembered when Liu Bang rose in rebellion: the county magistrate shut himself inside the city, refusing to come out. Liu Bang merely shot one arrow to inform the townsfolk, and the locals promptly killed the magistrate themselves and opened the gates to welcome him.

This showed that at least at the county level, Qin officials were mostly suppressed by local powers.

While processing the paperwork, Zhu Xiang sighed to Li Mu. “I’m so troubled right now. I just want Xiatong to feel troubled too.”

Li Mu couldn’t be bothered to answer.

What intrigued him instead was the way the King of Qin and Zhu Xiang had interacted in their youth. Li Mu’s bond with Zhu Xiang was indeed deep and genuine, but among Zhu Xiang’s closest friends, he had met him the latest.

By the time the King of Qin left, Cai Ze was already serving as Zhu Xiang’s bookkeeper, so Li Mu had never witnessed the days when the king was still “Xiatong.”

Seeing how the King of Qin not only joked around with Zhu Xiang as if they were ordinary friends but also indulged Lin Zhi so much, Li Mu could tell that the three of them must have once been very close.

Xiatong was about Zhu Xiang’s age—so when they first met, wasn’t he about the same age as young Zheng is now? That truly was a friendship of youth.

Li Mu suddenly felt a pang of envy. Had he met Zhu Xiang and Lin Zhi earlier, in their younger days, life would surely have been far more delightful.

Zhu Xiang, as though reading his thoughts, said, “Li Mu, if you had met me and Lin Zhi in your youth, you probably wouldn’t have become that young general of Yanmen so soon.”

His expression turned serious. “You would have turned into a spoiled dandy parading on horseback in the streets, getting chased and scolded by your elders every day.”

Li Mu laughed. “Then it’s better that I met you later in life.”

Meanwhile, Li Si and Han Fei pricked up their ears, listening as Li Mu and Zhu Xiang worked through the documents while reminiscing about Zhao.

Back then, Zhu Xiang had been a despised commoner, Lìn family’s guest who was good for nothing but farming. Li Mu, though the son of a military family, became his friend out of pure affinity. Together with Cai Ze and Lin Zhi, they drank, feasted, and talked about everything under the sun—what carefree days those had been.

Han Fei thought: Li Mu regretted not knowing Zhu Xiang earlier, missing out on youthful friendship. Would the King of Qin also regret not being by his closest friend’s side during his hardest times?

Such friendships were truly enviable.

He glanced at Li Si.

Li Si: “?”

What are you staring at me for?

Han Fei withdrew his gaze. Never mind, I have close friends too!

Li Si sneezed, nearly ruining the document in his hand. He rubbed his nose, frowning in doubt, certain someone was speaking ill of him.

——

For the first time, Ying Zheng went on a “trip” alone with his aunt, overjoyed like a little dog let out of its cage. At every port they stopped, he would drag his aunt ashore to play.

Back to Xianyang? Aren’t we already on the way back? Father didn’t say when we had to return, did he?

Xue Ji indulged him with gentle affection, letting him play as he wished—so long as he didn’t stray too far from the docks.

This time, Meng Tian was also accompanying Ying Zheng back to Xianyang, taking the chance to visit his family.

Meng Wu, still serving as governor of Nanjun, had been waiting at the pier long in advance. He invited Xue Ji and Ying Zheng to stay for half a day.

Meng Wu no longer dared to call him “Zheng-er.” Toward Ying Zheng, his manner was now one of utmost respect.

Ying Zheng, however, gave Meng Wu no face. Turning to Xue Ji, he said: “Aunt, the very first time I met Uncle Meng, he was just like this—quiet, taciturn, calm and capable, looking ever so steady. But not long after, Uncle Meng revealed his true nature.”

Meng Wu: “……”

Meng Tian perked up his ears. Let me hear this—what exactly is Father’s true nature?!

Xue Ji laughed: “What true nature? Once Governor Meng got familiar with your uncle, of course he wouldn’t treat him the same way as an outsider.”

Ying Zheng replied: “Then isn’t that revealing his true nature?”

Meng Tian strained his ears even harder. Crown Prince, don’t stop at just saying ‘true nature,’ tell us what kind of true nature it is!

Noticing his son’s eagerness, Meng Wu gave him a firm smack on the forehead and said:  “Crown Prince, please don’t make fun of me.”

Ying Zheng said: “I’m not making fun, just chatting. Uncle, your son Meng Tian really did well—he even dared to chop down Xiang Yan’s battle flag. You should praise him quickly.”

Meng Wu turned to Meng Tian: “Is that true?”

Meng Tian, embarrassed, said: “Actually, it wasn’t as grand as that.”

Thinking back, Meng Tian felt a little afraid. He knew his own martial skill was far inferior to Xiang Yan’s. If not for the chaos of the Chu lord’s chariot blocking Xiang Yan’s charge, he might well have been cut down under Xiang Yan’s horse.

And it wasn’t really a direct confrontation—mostly, he had relied on sharp taunts to throw the Chu soldiers off their rhythm. It was hardly an honorable victory.

Too embarrassed to speak of his so-called “glorious feat,” Meng Tian was mercilessly exposed by Ying Zheng.

Though he would never admit to having friends, Meng Tian, Li Si, and Han Fei all held a special place in Ying Zheng’s heart. Without realizing it, he treated them almost as friends.

So when he saw Meng Tian, he couldn’t resist speaking well of him.

Although he hadn’t witnessed it personally, once he arrived in Guangling City, he immediately inquired about the details of the defense battle—perhaps he even knew more about it than Meng Tian himself.

Ying Zheng chattered on, vividly describing Meng Tian’s bravery and cunning at the time. The way he told it, his expressions were lively, just like Zhu Xiang’s when he told stories, practically fit to be a professional storyteller—sure to win applause from any audience.

Xue Ji watched him “tell stories” with a smile, as if seeing a younger version of her beloved.

Nephew taking after uncle… Zheng-er truly is becoming more like him as he grows.

Meng Tian, hearing the Crown Prince “narrate,” was so embarrassed that his toes wanted to dig holes through his shoe soles.

Meng Wu, on the other hand, listened in wide-eyed amazement, glancing from time to time at his son.

He remembered his eldest son as being as honest and straightforward as himself—so how did he pull all these tricks on the battlefield?

That provocative maneuver—who could he have learned it from? Li Mu and Wang Jian never used such methods. Could it be his son figured it out on his own?

Behind his honest face, could there be a completely different heart?

Truly not a son like his father…

As he lamented that his son was unlike himself, he also felt tremendous pride.

Patting Meng Tian’s shoulder, he said: “You’ve found your own style of leading troops—that’s good. I’ve heard that only with your own style can you become a general, perhaps even a grand commander. Your future will surely surpass your father’s.”

Meng Tian was just about to say some humble words, moved by his father’s praise.

But Ying Zheng interrupted in puzzlement: “Meng Tian’s style of leading troops? You mean leading soldiers while spouting trash talk to provoke enemy generals until they get so angry they pop a vein?”

He added: “‘Trash talk’ and ‘pop a vein’—that’s my uncle’s wording, literally.”

Meng Tian’s moved feelings vanished instantly; once again he wanted to dig holes in his shoe soles.

But Meng Wu burst out laughing: “Isn’t that also quite good?”

Meng Tian slumped his shoulders like a drenched chick doused with cold water.

After praising Meng Tian in front of his father, Ying Zheng pressed on.

The elderly Zhang Ruo was waiting at the dock as well, and met the Crown Prince.

Since he had the fortune of once having ties with the Qin heir, of course he wanted to nurture that bond—for the sake of his descendants.

When Ying Zheng saw Zhang Ruo, he complained that his great-grandfather, grandfather, and father were all too harsh and unfeeling—keeping Governor Zhang from ever returning home. “Do they mean to keep him guarding Qianzhong Commandery for life?”

Patting his chest, he vowed that once back in Xianyang, he would surely persuade his father.

Zhang Ruo chuckled: “No need. Most of my lifetime’s merit has been in Qianzhong. Moving my whole family here to guard it on behalf of the Qin king for life—that’s not a bad thing.”

Ying Zheng praised Zhang Ruo’s lofty virtue, but once on the boat he turned to Xue Ji: “We can’t let Elder Zhang settle his family in Qianzhong. If he moves his clan here, then the Zhangs become the lords of Qianzhong.”

Xue Ji smiled and shook her head: “You… This is your decision to make. Your aunt doesn’t understand such things.”

Ying Zheng said playfully: “Aunt definitely understands, you’re just too lazy to think about it. Aunt, once I become King of Qin, I’ll make you Lady of Wu!”

Xue Ji said: “Being able to stay by your side and your uncle’s side is enough for me. Empty titles don’t matter. As long as you are both safe and well, that’s all that matters.”

She straightened his robe: “The river wind is strong—wear your clothes properly.”

Ying Zheng tugged at his thin gauze garment: “I’ve gotten used to going bare-chested in Wu Commandery. Now back in Xianyang, being all tightly dressed feels suffocating.”

Xue Ji couldn’t help but laugh again.

Their ship soon arrived at the dock under Wang Jian’s control, where he had prepared a whole boatload of gifts for Ying Zheng.

Seeing Wang Jian, Ying Zheng grew lively again, clamoring to follow him to see the newly built passes.

Xue Ji hesitated for a long time. But seeing Ying Zheng plead again and again, she could only sigh and agree.

Wang Jian chuckled: “If Zhu Xiang were here, he would never allow it.”

Ying Zheng declared proudly: “Aunt would never be as heartless as Uncle. Come on, come on! I want to see the invincible armored cavalry of Old General Wang Jian!”

Old general? Wang Jian showed a baffled expression.

Xue Ji flicked Ying Zheng’s forehead: “General Wang Jian is not old.”

Ying Zheng put his hands on his hips: “Older than me!”

Wang Jian smiled helplessly: “Compared to the Crown Prince, I am indeed old… ah, slow down a little.”

Ying Zheng pulled Wang Jian along, eager to ride the spirited warhorse he had spotted.

Xue Ji, helpless, thought: How is Zheng-er still like a child? I really don’t know what to do—can he truly bear the heavy burden of the heir to the throne?

But seeing how close Ying Zheng was with Wang Jian, more so than with Zhang Ruo, she quietly took note of it. She resolved to tell Zhu Xiang about it once they reunited.

Ying Zheng stayed with Wang Jian for two full days. Only when the Qin King’s letter arrived, urging him to return, did he reluctantly leave.

The messenger, coincidentally, was Meng Tian’s younger brother, Meng Yi.

Ying Zheng eyed him with some displeasure—the very man he had seen in dreams as his favored minister. “So you’re Meng Tian’s younger brother?”

Meng Yi bowed respectfully: “Yes, Crown Prince. I am Meng Yi, a student.”

Ying Zheng asked: “Why call yourself a student?”

Meng Yi, blushing, answered: “I am a scholar at the Xianyang Academy, currently studying under Master Xunzi.”

In truth, he wanted to say he was a student of Lord Zhu Xiang, but he didn’t dare.

Ying Zheng nodded: “Then what books are you studying now?”

Meng Yi rattled off a list of titles.

The Crown Prince recalled them all instantly, then began quizzing him on their details.

At first, Meng Yi answered smoothly. But as Ying Zheng pressed deeper, citing texts and demanding precise explanations, sweat began to bead on his forehead, and his pauses grew longer.

Meng Tian’s lips twitched upward—then he forced them down.

I mustn’t laugh. This is my beloved younger brother. How could I laugh at him being tested by the Crown Prince?

Ahem—wrong, wrong. How can I say the Crown Prince is bullying him? The Crown Prince is only examining his knowledge, showing that he values his performance.

Though Meng Tian managed to stop his lips from curling, the gleam of schadenfreude in his eyes could not be hidden.