HCT – Chapter 219 Little Seafood from the Salt Fields

In 246 BCE, the first year of King Zheng of Qin in Zhu Xiang’s previous life.

In this life, Ying Zheng had been born four years earlier; he was already a handsome seventeen-year-old young man and still serving as the Crown Prince of Qin.

At his age, he should technically already have a few people by his bedside to warm his bed.

But Zhu Xiang always felt their Zheng’er was still young, and since Zichu should be the one considering the matter of the Crown Prince’s bed companions, he couldn’t overstep. So he never brought it up.

Xue Ji had mentioned to Zhu Xiang that Ying Zheng should start his own household, but Zhu Xiang persuaded her otherwise.

Although Ying Zheng was raised by them, he was still the Crown Prince. His rear courtyard and his heirs were major state matters of Qin, filled with complicated political interests — it wasn’t simply about finding someone who cared for him.

As Ying Zheng’s foster parents, Zhu Xiang and Xue Ji already influenced him deeply enough; they could not interfere further in matters of his harem.

Xue Ji sighed, feeling somewhat distressed.

As a mother, once a child grows up, she naturally longs to see him marry and have children. But now she could only wait helplessly, not knowing when Xianyang would come to a conclusion.

She grew increasingly anxious and wanted Zhu Xiang to urge things forward, yet she worried about what Zhu Xiang said — that “the court believes we influence the Crown Prince too much and hinder his growth.” So she had no choice but to endure it.

Feeling irritated, she left Zhu Xiang and Ying Zheng behind and buried herself in work.

Ying Zheng had no idea what his uncle and aunt were worrying about.

Although he was at the age of budding desire, whether because he was too busy or simply preferred to devote whatever free time he had to food, Ying Zheng — though attended by maidservants — had never thought of taking anyone to his bed.

His thoughts were similar to Zhu Xiang’s: his bed companions would inevitably involve political interests, and his father would certainly already be considering it.

Qin had long existed somewhat apart from Central Plains culture. In early Spring and Autumn times, they didn’t even follow hereditary succession by the eldest son, but rather chose by “virtue” — though the “virtue” involved was usually unrelated.

The abolition and installation of Qin rulers had long been manipulated by the great aristocratic clans.

Before King Huiwen of Qin, the highest office in Qin was called the Shuzhang, who often forced rulers they disliked to death or removed them, installing young sons or exiled royal sons in their place. So in those times, few Qin kings had official wives.

After Duke Xian of Qin’s political reforms and Duke Xiao’s Shang Yang reforms, Qin monarchs truly gained control of state power. Political marriages grew frequent, and records of official queens increased.

But Qin rulers still did not always have official queens — usually only when political needs required it.

Sometimes the king or royal princes would go many years without naming a primary wife, later elevating a favored woman from the harem or the mother of the future heir as queen.

The former case was like Lady Huayang; the latter like Zhao Ji, Ying Zheng’s biological mother.

In his dream memories, the Great Ying Zheng ascended the throne too early, and when the time came to establish a queen, he no longer needed political marriages, so the position was left vacant.

But Ying Zheng roughly guessed who his queen would be in this life.

It was probably the woman who died too young — the clan-relative of Lady Huayang, a woman of the Mi clan.

Originally, Great Ying Zheng should have made a Mi-clan woman his queen, which is why nobles of the Chu royal bloodline — Lords Changping and Changwen — later assisted him wholeheartedly in quelling the Lao Ai rebellion.

But after giving birth to Fusu, she fell ill and lingered in bed. Ying Zheng said he would bring up the matter when she recovered, but she died before he could.

Because of the incident with Queen Dowager Zhao, Ying Zheng came to deeply resent the interference of the harem and maternal clans. And with the coming conquest of the Six States, there was no need for foreign marriages. So he happily stopped considering the matter altogether.

When Ying Zheng watched Old Ying Zheng’s memories in his dream, only the deeply impressed memories were clear. The shallow ones were blurry, so he barely remembered the consorts and children.

Since he would later take in many noblewomen from the Six States to appease the old aristocracy, his harem would never lack women. For now, he didn’t feel like thinking about it.

He just wondered whether, after giving his uncle and aunt many grandchildren to raise, his uncle would scold him in fury.

Ying Zheng knew he would eventually have many children and would not lack heirs. Although Ying Zheng had difficulty choosing an heir, he had his uncle and aunt to help raise the children, so he wasn’t worried at all about marriage and offspring.

Compared to wives or children, Ying Zheng only wanted to conquer Southern Chu as soon as possible.

He wanted to sneak off and personally lead the campaign!

Just because his uncle said he couldn’t go, he shouldn’t go? He knew his uncle was right — a gentleman should not stand under a dangerous wall — but if his uncle couldn’t follow his own advice, why should he?

Both Zhu Xiang and Ying Zheng assumed that King Zichu was contemplating the matter of the Crown Prince’s marriage.

King Zichu was indeed considering whom Ying Zheng should marry and already had several candidates in mind.

But the marriage of a Crown Prince must occur after his coming-of-age ceremony, so Zichu was not in a rush.

As for the pre-marriage education in “intimate matters” and the bed-warming maids that every noble heir received, he assumed Zhu Xiang and Xue Ji had long since arranged everything for Ying Zheng, so he never concerned himself nor asked.

People from Wu County had no right to send girls to the Crown Prince, and Xianyang was too far. Queen Dowagers Huayang and Xia were also unable to help. Thus, in this mutual misunderstanding between Zichu and Zhu Xiang, Ying Zheng remained single.

But the Great Ying Zheng had his first son at nineteen. Among noble princes, some fathered children at eleven or twelve, while others remained unmarried well past thirty. Ying Zheng being single wasn’t shocking at all.

Ying Zheng poured all his youthful energy into endless work, frightening Zhu Xiang into immediately dragging Xue Ji along to “seize power” and force him to take a few days of rest.

Ying Zheng stomped in anger: “I’m not tired!”

Zhu Xiang grabbed him by the sleeve and pulled him onto the boat. “Your hands are practically ruined — how are you ‘not tired’?!”

Xiao Chengjiao waved from the bow: “Big brother, come quick! We’re fishing!”

Ying Zheng, puffed up like an angry cat, was forced into vacation. He snatched a fishing rod and whipped it across the water, as if trying to beat the fish out of the river, making Bai Qi shake his head.

The Crown Prince was extremely mature when handling state affairs, yet as soon as he returned home he became a child. Bai Qi wondered how Zhu Xiang even raised him.

This time, Bai Qi fully supported Zhu Xiang’s “seizure of power.”

Though papermaking had been implemented in Qin’s major cities, at the county and village levels, bamboo slips and wooden tablets were still the primary administrative materials.

For smaller regions, bamboo was abundant and more economical than paper. To reduce administrative costs, bamboo and paper would likely coexist for many years.

Even after Cai Lun created more cost-effective paper in the Eastern Han, bamboo slips and wooden tablets remained widely used. The latest bamboo and wooden documents — excluding Qing palace Manchu wooden slips — come from the Ming Jiajing period.

If Ying Zheng were already King of Qin, most documents he handled would be written on paper. But since he was a local official, his documents were primarily the local specialty — bamboo slips.

When Zhu Xiang finished inspecting the spring plowing in the Three Southern Qin Counties and met Ying Zheng again, he found the young man who managed all three counties’ affairs with his arm in a sling and his wrist swollen.

For the first time in his life, Zhu Xiang was so furious he actually wanted to beat Ying Zheng. Xue Ji barely held him back.

“Husband! If you must scold Zheng’er, at least wait until he recovers!” Xue Ji urged.

Zhu Xiang snapped, “By the time he recovers, I won’t be angry anymore!”

Xue Ji: “…”

Zheng’er turning out like this is entirely your fault, dear!

In the end, Xue Ji still managed to calm Zhu Xiang down.

Zhu Xiang couldn’t bear to hit him afterward — she would do it instead. If this child wasn’t watched constantly, he would give his parents a heart attack at least once a day.

Li Si, Han Fei, and Fuqiu stood on the shore, respectfully sending Crown Prince Zheng off on his seaside vacation. Meng Tian stood beside them, sighing endlessly.

He also wanted to go on vacation.

Once the boat left the shore, Li Si, Han Fei, and Fuqiu began whispering among themselves.

“Finally, he’s gone!”

“My hands—I really thought they were going to break.”

“The Crown Prince works too hard. He should cherish his health. One’s body is a gift from one’s parents; neglecting it is unfilial.”

Han Fei and Li Si nodded in strong agreement.

Fuqiu was right!

Meng Tian rolled his eyes from the side.

The Crown Prince’s body wasn’t given to him by Lord Changping and Lady Wu County anyway.

Li Si, Han Fei, and Fuqiu all turned their gazes toward Meng Tian. “You disagree?”

Meng Tian: “…”

“…I agree,” Meng Tian said in a heavy tone.

The three colleagues, all older than Meng Tian, nodded in satisfaction.

Meng Tian screamed inwardly—Lord Wucheng! Please take me away!

Unfortunately, Li Mu had gone south for military training and couldn’t hear Meng Tian’s silent cries.

This time, to prevent Ying Zheng from secretly working during his vacation, Zhu Xiang specially brought him to the seaside.

The Yangtze River Delta wasn’t very large yet, and development was still incomplete, so Zhu Xiang built a coastal courtyard on slightly higher ground—isolating Ying Zheng completely from official business.

When Ying Zheng arrived at the seaside courtyard with its vegetable garden, he said speechlessly, “Uncle, are you exiling me?”

Zhu Xiang replied, “That’s right. And I’ll accompany you during the exile. Come here, let me change your bandages.”

Ying Zheng drooped his head and sat opposite Zhu Xiang, letting him undo the bindings and reapply the medicine.

Applying the medicine required massage techniques to reduce the swelling in his wrists and forearms.

Every time Zhu Xiang pressed a bit harder, Ying Zheng howled in pain.

Zhu Xiang scolded him with heartache, “Now you know it hurts?”

Xue Ji had taken little Chengjiao to the vegetable garden to pick some greens. She also got some fresh small sea fish from the fishermen guarding the estate, and came to ask Zhu Xiang and Ying Zheng what they wanted for dinner.

Hearing Zhu Xiang scolding, Xue Ji said, “Isn’t he just learning from you?”

Zhu Xiang: “?”

Ying Zheng, face contorted with pain, still made sure to mock his uncle.

Xue Ji tapped Ying Zheng on the forehead. “Your uncle is already troublesome enough. You’re troublesome too. Can’t you let your aunt relax a little? Look at little Chengjiao—so well-behaved, never causing trouble.”

Little Chengjiao puffed out his chest and lifted his chin proudly, giving Ying Zheng a smug look.

Ying Zheng’s mouth twitched.

Chengjiao’s whole life consisted of eating, sleeping, and playing—of course he was easy to handle. How could that be the same? When he was Chengjiao’s age…

Uh… when he was Chengjiao’s age, he had already traveled all over with his uncle, serving as an acting county governor.

Ying Zheng fell into deep thought. Was my childhood… a little too busy?

“Ow ow ow—Uncle, lighter!”

“Endure it.”

“Ow!”

“Serves you right.”

Xue Ji left with little Chengjiao, laughing.

Tonight they’d have fish stew with flatbread. While her cooking wasn’t as good as her husband’s, she could handle simple dishes like this.

Ying Zheng went through two days of “work withdrawal symptoms” before finally adjusting to vacation life.

Zhu Xiang had the Wujun Four forward the documents they couldn’t handle to the seaside. He and Bai Qi handled most of them, leaving only the final decisions to Ying Zheng.

Ying Zheng suddenly had a great deal of free time—enough to take little Chengjiao out to forage at low tide.

After a few days of rest, his hand no longer needed to be suspended—only continued ointment.

Barefoot and carrying a small wooden bucket, he and Chengjiao picked small seafood along the receding shoreline.

Chengjiao wore only a little vest and shorts, running wildly across the sand. When he fell after running too fast, he simply rolled across the ground, covering himself head to toe in sand.

Ying Zheng scolded with a stern face, “Don’t run too close to the water—you’ll get swept away… Don’t fall! If you fall, don’t roll! Look at all that sand. How are you going to wash later?”

Little Chengjiao completely ignored his crown prince brother. He wriggled around on the sand like a little grub and even tried to bury himself in it.

Ying Zheng rubbed his forehead.

Is this brother really related to me? Why does it feel like we’re not even the same species?

Why are you burying yourself in sand?! When I was your age, I was already running a county!

Xue Ji couldn’t stay under the sun, so she sat beneath a huge umbrella watching their belongings. Zhu Xiang walked behind Ying Zheng with his hands clasped behind his back.

“Children are like this. Zheng’er, you can loosen up too,” Zhu Xiang said.

Ying Zheng replied listlessly, “You should’ve told that to the me from ten years ago. I’m already grown now… Eh? Uncle, look! That shell is huge!”

He immediately jumped and ran toward it.

Zhu Xiang laughed. Yes, yes, you’re all grown up—yet an oversized shell still excites you.

Ying Zheng lifted the shell. “Uncle, look! It’s alive!”

“Only pick the live ones. Dead ones can’t be eaten,” Zhu Xiang said.

Ying Zheng tossed the shell into the bucket, which had some seawater in it, and continued searching for treasures on the beach.

Chengjiao, finished with his sand play, picked up a little wooden shovel and came to help his brother dig.

The beach looked empty at first glance, but a closer look revealed breathing holes everywhere.

All they had to do was poke a long wire into the breathing hole, dig a little, and they’d always find something.

Clams, crabs, conches, sea anemones—Ying Zheng even found a nearly dried-up fish in a sandy pit.

Chengjiao had good luck too. He was playing with a long-dead big conch, and after smashing it open with his shovel, he found an orange conch pearl the size of a fingertip inside. The kid was so delighted he immediately rolled across the sand again.

“I’m giving it to Aunt!”

After his celebratory roll, he got up and sprinted toward Xue Ji, shaking off sand and seawater the whole way, making Ying Zheng frown deeply.

Zhu Xiang patted Ying Zheng’s shoulder. “What? You want to find a conch pearl too?”

Ying Zheng snorted, handed the bucket to Zhu Xiang, and focused all his attention on searching for conches.

He refused to believe Chengjiao could find a pearl and he couldn’t!

Whether Ying Zheng found a conch pearl or not, let’s set that aside. That night, Zhu Xiang set up a large pot by the sea. Ying Zheng and Chengjiao gathered firewood. Xue Ji and Bai Qi helped clean the seafood with seawater. They added only a little scallion, ginger, garlic, and yellow wine, and poached a pot of small seafood.

Zhu Xiang also made a pot of ginger–garlic brown sugar tea to warm everyone’s stomachs after eating seafood.

Bai Qi, who lived inland and rarely ate freshly caught seafood, thoroughly enjoyed the feast.

Xue Ji often urged Bai Qi to eat more, but today she was hurrying to tell Bai Qi to eat less, lest he end up with indigestion and stomach pain.

While Ying Zheng was eating happily, he said, “The sea’s resources are abundant. We should levy a fishing tax.”

Zhu Xiang: “……”

Don’t say such mood-killing things during a vacation.

Are you a tyrant or what!

Fine, you are.

Zhu Xiang said, “You can ask Qi officials how they manage coastal taxes. Qi rose by the sea—they must have a mature system.”

Ying Zheng said, “The Jixia Academy of Qi is practically in ruins. Many scholars have gone west to study at the Xianyang Academy. Since Father abolished the Queen and the Confucian students who supported Father and my maternal uncle were driven out by various states, quite a few Qi scholars must have fled to Qin. I just don’t know whether those Qi scholars have brought Qi’s legal texts with them.”

Zhu Xiang said, “You don’t need to worry about that. Confucian scholars are widely read. There must be people well-versed in legal codes. Ask Xunzi to recommend a Qi scholar—he’ll certainly be proficient in Qi’s laws.”

Ying Zheng looked odd. “Uncle, when I write to Xunzi, can I put that sentence in the letter?”

Zhu Xiang said, “If you don’t want your old teacher to fall ill from rage, you’d better not.”

Ying Zheng sighed regretfully.

Bai Qi couldn’t help laughing.

Even when Xunzi was sick at home, he heard this joke—every student Xunzi favored was never a pure Confucian.

Xue Ji patted little Chengjiao’s back after he almost choked. “Husband, if you don’t want to anger Xunzi, then don’t say things that will anger him.”

Zhu Xiang said, “I’ll say it behind his back.”

Xue Ji frowned. “Even worse!”

Zhu Xiang raised both hands in surrender. “Fine, I won’t say it.”

Ying Zheng chimed in, “Uncle means he’ll say it behind Aunt’s back instead.”

Zhu Xiang gave Ying Zheng a light smack on the head. “You talk too much.”

Little Chengjiao, seeing the Crown Prince get smacked by their uncle, burst into gleeful laughter.

Ying Zheng immediately gave little Chengjiao a smack on the head.

Zhu Xiang smacked Ying Zheng again.

Ying Zheng smacked little Chengjiao again.

Little Chengjiao became furious and pounced on Ying Zheng, rolling around with him until his clothes were all crooked.

Bai Qi almost choked from laughing.

Xue Ji started to worry. Zheng’er had already been spoiled into all sorts of bad habits by her husband, and now Chengjiao was becoming the same. How was she ever going to explain this to Empress Dowager Huayang?

After a few days of playing by the sea, Zhu Xiang saw that Ying Zheng’s arm had mostly recovered and took him to inspect the experimental salt field.

Ever since coming to Wu Commandery, Zhu Xiang had been experimenting with solar salt production.

After all, he was only an agronomy professor and didn’t know much about salt-drying techniques. Relying on chemistry basics and memories from visiting old-style salt fields in his previous life, he tried to deduce the ancient methods.

He could already produce fairly tasty salt using filtering and boiling—coarse salt by later standards, but refined salt by current ones.

Learning from established boiling-salt methods, he brought students from Xianyang Academy who excelled in basic chemistry and physics, mixed them with craftsmen, and together they repeatedly tested the salt-drying method Zhu Xiang described.

When Zhu Xiang saw those students, their faces had already been tanned into rough, dark shades—not much different from local fishermen.

The students who had volunteered to tackle the salt-drying problem had split into two factions, each with its own experimental base.

One group directly dried seawater by layering tide pools—at least eight levels—each lower pool with higher salinity than the one above. The bottom layer formed crystallized salt mounds that had to settle for half a year to a year before they could be eaten.

The older the sea salt, the fewer the impurities. If consumed early, it still needed to be boiled and filtered again at home.

This method, called “flat-pan salt drying,” produced the most salt with the least labor, but without machinery, it required extremely specific terrain—only a few tidal flats could support such salt fields.

The other group used a more complicated method.

They also built many pools, but water-intake pools were placed at the bottom.

These pools were lined with fine clay or ash-mixed soil. When tides came in, salt would crystallize on the soil surface, forming salt-earth.

With scrapers in hand, the students scraped off the salt-earth like plowing a field, piling it beside the pools. Then they used bamboo pipes to pour seawater onto it, extracting brine.

Afterward, the brine was dried in flat pans, similar to the first method.

This method required much more labor and resources and was less efficient, but it worked regardless of terrain.

Salt-drying was harsh, exhausting work—more dependent on weather than farming.

Zhu Xiang had learned the history of salt workers during his previous-life travels. Even in late Qing times, salt workers followed the tides like nomads, calling themselves “tide-skin birds,” living off the sea, with extremely low status.

They were exempt even from corvée labor, meaning being a salt worker was practically as exhausting as forced labor.

These salt workers must have used the second method.

Good natural salt fields were extremely rare. Supplying an empire required mountains of salt workers’ sweat.

Still, compared to boiling salt, solar salt was easier, more productive, more efficient, and higher quality.

Even bitter hardship, when slightly reduced, could be called “progress.”

After hearing Zhu Xiang’s explanation, Ying Zheng uncharacteristically fell silent and didn’t try to argue.

“Uncle, salt workers will be exempt from corvée.”

“Mm.”

“And from military service.”

“Mm.”

Ying Zheng said, “Uncle, shall we try it ourselves?”

Zhu Xiang said, “It’s very hard. Try it for one day and you’ll spend several days lying in bed.”

Ying Zheng said, “I’m strong. I’m not afraid.”

Zhu Xiang said, “Then let’s go. We’ll change clothes first.”

Little Chengjiao raised his hand. “I want to go too!”

Zhu Xiang smiled. “How about you sweep salt-earth with your aunt on the side?”

Little Chengjiao nodded vigorously. “Okay!”

Bai Qi stood with his hands behind his back, watching Zhu Xiang and Xue Ji lead the two Qin princes onto the salt fields.

He wanted to try too, but Zhu Xiang forbade him due to his poor health—even pulling out the King of Qin’s token to stop him.

“Ah—ouch, it stings… I can’t wipe my sweat. My hands are covered in salt grains. It hurts when it touches my face!”

“It really does… Xue, Chengjiao!”

“Coming!”

“Big Brother, lower your head! I can’t reach!”

Xue Ji and Chengjiao had been sweeping the salt-earth, but seeing Zhu Xiang and Ying Zheng unable to wipe their sweat, they hurried over to help.

Bai Qi also found something to do—fetching cool water and wringing towels for the two.

Within just a quarter of an hour, Zhu Xiang and Ying Zheng looked as if they had been fished out of the sea—far more exhausted than farming.

“Uncle, how long does it take to produce one batch of salt?”

“Nine to ten months.”

“So hard…”

“Yes.”

Ying Zheng collapsed on the salt-earth. “Uncle, state-run saltworks could greatly increase national revenue. We must do it. But how do we suppress salt prices while letting salt workers live a little better? If they suffer like this and still can’t eat their fill, they’ll revolt.”

Zhu Xiang said, “That’s something you need to think about yourself. Your uncle isn’t omniscient.”

Ying Zheng scoffed, “Uncle, what good are you then!”

Zhu Xiang said, “Good for making pastries for you while you think. Want some iced milk-fruit tart?”

Ying Zheng instantly revived. “Yes! Let’s go home right now!”

Zhu Xiang and Ying Zheng slowly climbed up, dragging their exhausted bodies to wash and change clothes, then were helped onto the carriage by Xue Ji and Bai Qi.

“Zheng’er, your uncle is too tired. He won’t make pastries today.”

“No! Uncle, you said it—you’ll get fat if you break your promise!”

“Let me be fat.”

“Hmph. Fine, not today. Make it tomorrow.”

“Thank you for your vast, enormous generosity.”

“Huh?!”

“I mean—your great kindness.”

Xue Ji had been worried about the two collapsing from exhaustion, but seeing them still bickering while lying in the carriage, she shook her head with a smile.

“Chengjiao, don’t learn from your uncle and brother,” she warned.

Little Chengjiao asked, “Then who should I learn from?”

Xue Ji frowned, thinking hard, but couldn’t come up with anyone better than her husband or Zheng’er. She fell into a dilemma.

Bai Qi laughed. “Just learn from your uncle and Crown Prince brother.”

“Oh.” Little Chengjiao scooted over to Ying Zheng. “Big Brother, want me to pound your back?”

Ying Zheng said coldly, “No one gives favors for free. Tell me—what do you want?”

Little Chengjiao said, “Ten fewer math questions today!”

Ying Zheng replied mercilessly, “Not a chance.”

Little Chengjiao felt wronged, but he still earnestly pounded his brother’s back.

Feeling wronged—thump thump thump.