HCT – Chapter 218 The Bugle That Will Annihilate the Six States

The seventh day after Lord Xinling’s death passed quickly.

The ripples caused by his suicide had already faded; only a handful of people continued to mourn him silently. No matter how large a stone one throws into a deep pool, no matter how big the splash, the surface inevitably returns to calm.

As long as it is a pool of stagnant water, ripples will only ever be ripples—they can’t stir up much.

Even in Wei, there was no one who mentioned Lord Xinling anymore.

When Lord Xinling was forced out by the King of Wei, no one had stood up to remonstrate to death. On the last night of the seven-day mourning, Zhu Xiang drank again with the tombstone and laughed at the Confucian pedants of later generations—for all their stick-beating ceremonies, they were still better than the people of this era.

The scholar-officials of Song, Ming, and Qing might have been pedantic, but they truly dared to grab an emperor by the sleeve and scold him to his face, and would even smash their heads against palace pillars for the sake of righteousness.

But most high ministers and nobles of this era’s Six States colluded with their rulers, caring only about their own little plots of power. In stark contrast stood the passionate heroes of this age—those who died singing in righteous grief.

“These contradictions are probably part of this era’s charm,” Zhu Xiang said to the tombstone. “But this kind of charm can only be felt by those who are not involved in the story. Those living inside the story would rather do without such charm.”

He poured the rest of the wine before the tombstone, rose, flicked his sleeve, and left.

Without looking back.

…

A new year arrived, and spring plowing began again.

Ying Zheng had already become skilled at managing the affairs of one commandery. Prince Chuxiang of Qin sent someone to increase his responsibilities, appointing him overseer of all three commanderies in Southern Qin—coordinating grain transport, troop stationing, and tax collection.

Originally, these were Zhu Xiang’s responsibilities.

Though Zhu Xiang joked that he was only “in charge of farming,” and didn’t handle much governance, the authority he held over the three Southern Qin commanderies was comparable to that of a prince ruling an independent fief.

It was only because he reported to Xianyang too frequently that this “independent prince” didn’t appear so conspicuous.

Now, Qin King Zichu of Qin handed this authority over to Ying Zheng.

It was common to find someone capable of governing a county; rare to find someone who could govern a commandery; but someone who could govern a whole state—one might not stumble upon even one among millions.

Ying Zheng was already capable of governing a commandery, so Qin King Zichu was effectively letting him govern a “state”—the land of Southern Qin, after all, was larger than Wei and Han combined. If he could manage three commanderies well, he would truly have the talent to rule a nation.

Qin King Zichu originally intended to let Ying Zheng also oversee all regions along the Han River basin, but Xunzi stopped him.

A crown prince with too much power was dangerous for the court. Once such a precedent was set, the relationship between king and crown prince would become hard to manage in the future.

For now, the nominal overseer of the three commanderies remained Lord Changping, Zhu Xiang. This was considered a temporary measure because Southern Qin was too far from Xianyang.

But the Han River basin connected directly to Guanzhong’s heartland—it was the core of Qin’s power and had to remain under the king’s control. It could not be handed to others, not even to the crown prince.

Qin King Zichu accepted Xunzi’s advice, and instead secretly sent an edict to Wang Jian.

Having studied Li Mu’s methods, Wang Jian now guarded the three passes of Dabieshan and was farming in the Jianghan Plains. With forty thousand elite troops stationed there, mostly self-sufficient, he rarely needed support from Xianyang—thus he could be moved freely.

Qin King Zichu’s secret order stated that if Ying Zheng required it, Wang Jian did not need to request instructions from Xianyang and could obey Ying Zheng directly.

He also wrote to Ying Zheng, telling him to monitor the Southern Chu Kingdom closely. Once an opportunity arose, the three Southern Qin commanderies and Wang Jian’s forces would move at Ying Zheng’s command.

Generals and troops were secondary—the hardest part was logistics.

If Ying Zheng wanted to go to war, he would need to manage all logistics in Southern Qin himself.

With no host of Qin ministers by his side, he almost had to make every decision alone. It was a massive test of his abilities.

Ying Zheng glanced at Li Si, then Han Fei, then Meng Tian, and finally at his newly appointed subordinate, Fuqiu.

Then he withdrew his gaze from all of them and sighed to the heavens.

None of these four seemed to be administrative or logistical talents. Not reliable at all. Was he really going to act as both king and prime minister himself?

Ah, no—there was one more person!

“Uncle!” Ying Zheng called.

Zhu Xiang was chewing on a piece of sweet dried sweet potato. “Hm?”

Ying Zheng immediately forgot what he had meant to say. “I called you here for a meeting, and you’re snacking?!”

Little Chengjiao, sitting on Zhu Xiang’s lap, swallowed hard and licked the sugar powder off his lips. “I wasn’t snacking!”

Ying Zheng: “…”

He walked over to Chengjiao, took the dried sweet potato from his hand and took a bite, then—under his little brother’s resentful gaze—said:

“Uncle, if we’re going to attack Southern Chu, you’ll be in charge of logistics.”

Zhu Xiang wiped the corner of his mouth. “Alright. When are we fighting?”

Ying Zheng said, “I think we can start any time. What do you think?”

Zhu Xiang thought and replied, “Attack during the gap between old and new harvests.”

Although the idiom “between the green and the yellow” didn’t exist yet, the metaphor itself already existed. Later generations would simply treat his words as the origin of the idiom.

Ying Zheng understood instantly. “In April? But that’s soon! Will we be ready?!”

Zhu Xiang sighed helplessly. “Of course we won’t make it by this April. Zheng’er, anyone who hears ‘between the green and the yellow’ would naturally assume next April, right?”

Ying Zheng frowned. “Next year? Isn’t that too late?”

Zhu Xiang said, “It’s not. If you’re really itching to start, you can first work with Wang Jian to finish rebuilding the cities along the north bank of the Yangtze.”

The Yangtze was currently called the Jiang River. After Zhu Xiang slipped up a few times and called it the Yangtze, others started calling it that too. Since everyone was already following him, he didn’t bother correcting himself.

Ying Zheng said, “Alright, this year let’s first finish building the cities along the northern bank of the Yangtze River, and then secure one good harvest!”

After thinking for a moment, he raised two fingers. “No—let’s strive for two good harvests!”

Zhu Xiang looked at Ying Zheng’s excitement and sighed with a smile. “Looks like we’re going to be busy.”

Ying Zheng complained, “It’s just a few more cities. How busy could it be? Uncle, you’re just too lazy.”

“Ah yes yes yes,” Zhu Xiang grumbled inwardly. Who could possibly compare in diligence with you, the future First Emperor who will read bamboo slips and wooden memorials so obsessively your arms practically fall off? Other people are ‘kings of overwork’—you’re the emperor of overwork.

Seeing Zhu Xiang’s perfunctory response, Ying Zheng felt stifled but helpless.

What could he do? His uncle was his elder—he couldn’t scold him the way he scolded subordinates.

Couldn’t his uncle work a little harder?

Zhu Xiang felt he was already working very hard. But his habit of sleeping four hours every night plus a noontime nap was absolutely non-negotiable. Not only did he refuse to change, he even forced Ying Zheng to nap with him.

Ying Zheng despised this to his core. Unfortunately, with both his uncle and aunt ganging up on him, he could only submit—sleep early, wake early, and even take naps.

Naps were an evil path! Once he became emperor, he would issue a decree forbidding the entire empire from napping! A complete waste of life!

The newly founded Southern Chu State had been unstable from the start, and after the disastrous defeat at Guangling City and several famines, internal chaos surged one after another.

The scholars in the country had always considered themselves Chu people and were unwilling to acknowledge the new Southern Chu regime. After Southern Chu implemented the relocation edict and offended a large number of scholars, discontent simmered like a buried volcano, ready to erupt at any time.

Back when the Six States sowed discord between Lord Chunshen and the King of Chu, they had dragged Southern Chu out as a scapegoat, saying that if the King of Chu had listened to Lord Chunshen, Chu would never have had a civil war.

Many people believed that Lord Chunshen’s death involved the Jing and Zhao clans of Southern Chu, deepening resentment against the Southern Chu leadership.

And indeed, the Jing-Zhao clans had taken certain actions.

Southern Chu’s ultimate goal was to become the true Chu State. One weakening, the other strengthening—the weaker the main Chu royal line, the stronger Southern Chu would grow. Lord Chunshen was the king’s right-hand man, so naturally Southern Chu wanted to sever that arm by any means necessary.

As for whether weakening Chu would invite Qin aggression… Later generations lump the “Six States” together as if they were one country, forgetting that each of the Six States considered the others as foreign powers.

Qin was the enemy—but the other states were also each other’s enemies. They might unite temporarily, but each harbored ambitions of annexing the others. Qin was only one enemy among many.

Once you understand this, the situation of the Six States becomes clear—and you also understand why every time they united to attack Qin, they always retreated at Hangu Pass.

Attacking Hangu Pass required tremendous manpower and resources; yet the ones who would benefit most from conquering Qin were the states that contributed the least—Wei, Han, and the powerful Chu.

Thus, once the coalition pushed Qin back to Hangu Pass, their interests diverged, and the alliance naturally dissolved.

Southern Chu now thought the same way.

Qin was too strong; Southern Chu could never seize large territories from them. So they set their sights on the lands held by the main Chu royal clan.

They were all of the Mi surname—why couldn’t the Jing-Zhao clans produce a King of Chu?

Chu might have had some sense of mutual preservation and might have sent aid to Southern Chu.

But the current King of Chu was obsessed with cultivating immortality, and when the elder of the Qu clan—who had succeeded Lord Chunshen as Lingyin—persuaded him too many times, he stripped the elder of his position.

Now the Lingyin of Chu was Li Yuan, who did nothing but accompany the king in eating, drinking, and amusement.

Qin only needed to send Li Yuan a few gifts, and he would probably fold his arms and watch, or even join Qin in attacking Southern Chu.

Ying Zheng clenched his fists.

Qin had recuperated for more than ten years—it was time to resume the march toward unifying the world!

“This time, I want to be commander-in-chief! I’ll lead the army myself!”

“Don’t even think about it. You’re coming with me to handle logistics. Besides, the prefects will also dispatch troops. Who would run the commandery affairs if you leave? Do you want me to die of overwork, you unfilial child?”

“Ao…”

The little future First Emperor deflated.

While Ying Zheng was passionately shouting about personally leading an expedition, King Zichu of Qin was also contemplating leading a campaign in person.

Of course, he immediately had that notion beaten out of him by Cai Ze.

Cai Ze said, “Your Majesty, if you can defeat me, then you may go.”

Xunzi added sarcastically, “Though this old body is failing, I can still compete with Your Majesty.”

Lin Zhi said, “I won’t even bother competing. Even if I let you use both hands, you still couldn’t beat me.”

King Zichu flushed with shame. “I’m only going by carriage to boost morale, not personally charging at the front!”

Lin Zhi said, “Ah, if you said that earlier—when we besiege the capital of Han, you can go shout from the front lines, ‘King Zichu of Qin is here! King of Han, stretch out your neck for execution.’”

King Zichu hesitated. “Are you being serious, or mocking me?”

Lin Zhi said, “If Your Majesty wishes to go, then I’m serious. So long as there’s no danger and you don’t interfere with the generals’ command, you are the King of Qin—do whatever you wish.”

King Zichu was immediately satisfied. “Good, let’s do that!”

Xunzi glared at Lin Zhi. “Flatterer!”

Cai Ze’s expression didn’t change. “Future generations will look to Lin Zhi as the model of a treacherous minister.”

Lin Zhi bowed. “Thank you, thank you for the praise.”

Xunzi rolled up his sleeves—ready to hit someone.

King Zichu hurriedly tried to placate him. “Master Xun, don’t be angry. He’s just like that—don’t take him seriously, you’ll harm your health.”

Xunzi turned his glare toward King Zichu. “He is like that—but what about you, Your Majesty?”

King Zichu nearly blurted out I’m like that too, but thankfully held back, avoiding giving Xunzi another fit.

Xunzi had exhausted himself pushing for reforms at the Xianyang Academy and had already fallen ill several times. Zichu did not dare anger him again.

He quickly changed the subject, and with the Chancellor, two Vice Chancellors, and the Grand Commandant Meng Ao—who was sitting nearby with his eyes half-closed pretending to be a statue—they discussed which state to destroy first.

King Zichu said, “With Zheng’er’s impatience, he’ll attack Southern Chu at the latest next year. Should I attack Chu to coordinate with him? Or attack Wei, who pushed Lord Xinling to his death and is now unstable? Or should we strike the weakest—Han?”

Meng Ao considered. “Your Majesty, I recommend attacking Han first.”

He explained why attacking Chu or Wei had disadvantages.

Lord Xinling was dead, and the scholars of Wei despised the Wei king. If Qin attacked Wei now, it would only allow the Wei king to redirect popular anger onto Qin.

A grieving army fights fiercely—Wei was such an army now.

Qin could win, but the cost would be high.

As for Chu—Chu was still too large, and Xiang Yan was indeed a formidable commander. Better to wait until Crown Prince Zheng subdued Southern Chu, then proceed steadily.

Thus, the renewed war horn for the destruction of the Six States should sound from Han.

“Qin has stored up strength for long enough. Now is the moment to sweep the world in one decisive push. Like splitting bamboo—the first strike must be fierce, and every segment after will split easily!” Meng Ao said. “I am willing to be the vanguard!”

King Zichu nodded. “Meng Qing speaks rightly. Lord Xinping has long stationed troops at the Han border. I’ll issue the decree—he may begin the offensive immediately.”

Meng Ao’s battle-ready expression instantly collapsed.

He had forgotten that Lord Xinping Lian Po had already gone to the borders of the Three Jin states to station troops. There was no place for him to lead.

With young generals like Li Mu, Wang Jian, and Zhu Xiang—and legendary veterans like Lord Xinping Lian Po still alive—was there any chance left for an old general like him?

Qin’s generals were too hardworking. Meng Ao sighed.