HCT – Chapter 225 Saved Yet Not Saved

All the unease Zhang Liang carried along the way completely dissolved after just one meal.

The last time he had met Zhu Xiang was already four years ago.

Four years ago, he had still been a clueless child who actually rolled on the ground crying in front of the Xianyang Academy, even pretending to be the son of Qin’s Chancellor Lin Zhi, and was thrown into prison by the Qin crown prince, Zheng.

Thinking back to that time, he couldn’t help curling his toes, wishing he could dig a hole in the ground and crawl into it.

Recalling his days as a “study attendant” in Xianyang four years ago should not be a fond memory.

He lost face, ended up in prison, and even heard Lord Zhu Xiang insult his family and his father.

Anyone with a bit of backbone would naturally regard someone who insulted their family and ancestors as an enemy, wishing to kill them on the spot.

But when the Zhang brothers recalled the month they temporarily lived in Zhu Xiang’s home, not only could they not muster any hatred, they often felt nostalgic.

Of course, it wasn’t just because the food in Lord Zhu Xiang’s household was delicious.

Cough, fine—not only because the food was delicious.

It was the kind and knowledgeable elder, the peers who could keep up with their conversations, and the full yet relaxed days of learning—things Zhang Sheng and Zhang Liang had never experienced before.

Although Zhang Liang was spoiled back in Xinzheng and always surrounded by many “friends,” after returning home he felt that even arguing with Crown Prince Zheng (and losing) was more interesting than chatting with those “friends.”

But four years had passed.

Even close kin would grow distant after four years apart, let alone Zhu Xiang and him, who were practically strangers to begin with.

If not for the occasional letter exchange with Han Fei during these years, he wouldn’t have had the face to follow his father’s plan and seek out Han Fei now that Han was on the brink of destruction.

When he left Xianyang, he never imagined he would one day take the initiative to travel to Southern Qin, deliberately avoiding the moment of Han’s fall.

In these four years, Zhang Liang had experienced a drastic change in status and way of life.

Even though his father had passed away, the Zhang family still held great power in Han’s court and had not yet declined. Yet he had seen enough of the warmth and coldness of human relationships.

If long-standing family friends could change so much over the years, then Lord Zhu Xiang and Crown Prince Zheng—people with whom he had only shared a month’s acquaintance four years ago—had probably long forgotten him.

Back then he had slapped his own chest and declared that he would surely save Han and would never run away, yet now he was sneaking into Southern Qin in disgrace.

If they heard about this, they probably wouldn’t just be indifferent—they might despise him.

Zhang Liang had prepared himself mentally before heading south.

His teacher, Han Fei, was a Han prince. Even if he disliked it, he would still accept him, the son of a former Han chancellor, because they shared a mutual goal.

But Lord Zhu Xiang was a man of high virtue, and Crown Prince Zheng was proud and aloof. They would likely look down on him.

What he never expected was that the sharp-tongued Prince Zheng didn’t mock him.

Lord Zhu Xiang, although mentioning Han’s downfall, was only trying to comfort him, and within a single day had prepared a courtyard and clothes for him.

After dinner, young Ying Zheng had wanted to pull Zhang Liang aside for a chat, only to be driven away by Zhu Xiang.

“Zhang Liang has traveled far. Let him rest first,” Zhu Xiang said as he poked Ying Zheng’s forehead repeatedly, nudging him away. “Zhang Liang is living here from now on. You can talk to him anytime.”

Being poked away by his uncle, Ying Zheng still argued stiffly, “I wasn’t trying to chat with him. I just wanted to ask him something.”

“Yes, yes, yes. Ask him after he rests.”

After sending Ying Zheng away, Zhu Xiang turned back to Zhang Liang. “Settle in comfortably. If anything bothers you, tell me. My way of living is rather rough—there may be many things you’re not used to. Say so right away, don’t hold back.”

After sending off Zhu Xiang and the crown prince, the servant beside Zhang Liang sighed in admiration. “As expected of Lord Zhu Xiang—his bearing truly is extraordinary.”

Zhang Liang chuckled. “How exactly is Lord Zhu Xiang’s bearing extraordinary?”

The servant smiled awkwardly. “He treats you with such kindness, of course his bearing is extraordinary.”

Zhang Liang shook his head. What a strange answer.

As the servant sorted the clothes gifted by Zhu Xiang, he kept sighing. “I never expected Lord Zhu Xiang to give you the crown prince’s old garments. That must be a sign of his appreciation of you.”

He was visibly excited.

Zhang Liang said, “Lord Zhu Xiang regards me as a nephew only because I am Master Fei’s disciple. Giving me clothes is just like lending family garments to a younger relative in need. He didn’t think so much about it.”

The servant was unconvinced. “But these belonged to the crown prince!”

Zhang Liang replied calmly, “He is Lord Zhu Xiang.”

The servant hesitated, somewhat persuaded. “Could it be that he truly doesn’t mind? But that’s the crown prince. Who would casually treat the prince’s belongings as ordinary items?”

Zhang Liang said, “He did not treat the prince’s possessions as ordinary. He only gives them to those younger generations who can live in his home.”

That circle was actually narrower than the circle of people qualified to receive items belonging to the crown prince.

Anyone acknowledged by Lord Zhu Xiang as a junior and allowed to live in his household would certainly not lack rewards bestowed by royalty or nobility. But items gifted by Lord Zhu Xiang as an elder were rarer than things bestowed by the King of Qin, the crown prince, Lord Changping, or the Lady of Wu Commandery.

So Zhang Liang was deeply moved.

Even though they hadn’t met in four years, and his impression on Zhu Xiang back then hadn’t been the best, and now he had even abandoned Han to come here—

Lord Zhu Xiang still treated him with warmth and care. Even the aloof crown prince showed no contempt toward him.

Clutching the clothes Zhu Xiang had given him, Zhang Liang felt a surge of emotions—moved, guilty, depressed, sorrowful, self-disgusted. It was all tangled and overwhelming.

He suddenly didn’t want to speak anymore.

The small courtyard had rooms for Zhang Liang and his servant, along with a small kitchen and a rather spacious study.

Opening the study’s window revealed a cluster of chrysanthemums and a wide open sky.

He had brought many gifts meant to bribe Chu officials and the King of Chu, and some carefully chosen items for his teacher, Lord Zhu Xiang, and the crown prince. His own belongings were not many.

Aside from a few sets of clothing suitable for paying respects to nobles and high officials, what he brought the most of were bamboo slips and wooden tablets.

Those clothes weren’t very suitable for daily wear, and for the climate of Southern Qin, they were far too heavy. Zhu Xiang guessed that Zhang Liang didn’t know the temperatures in the south, so he thoughtfully prepared a change of clothes for him.

Although paper had already been introduced to Han, they had no papermaking workshops of their own, and the Han nobles believed bamboo slips and wooden tablets to be more fitting for aristocrats. So their writing materials still mainly consisted of bamboo and wood.

Among the Seven States, aside from Qin, which was aggressively promoting paper, only Zhao—the state Zhu Xiang originated from—and Chu, rich in water and grasses, had built official papermaking workshops.

Chu’s papermaking workshop had been quietly established by Lord Chunshen during his time as Chief Minister, by secretly poaching craftsmen from Zhao.

When Zhang Liang had been sent to Chu as an envoy, he hadn’t seen their nobles using paper. He assumed that such a newly established workshop must have been dissolved when Lord Chunshen fell from power.

“Master, the bed has been made,” the servant said.

Zhang Liang rubbed his slightly sore wrist and thought to himself that books made of paper really were better.

……

Zhang Liang originally thought he wouldn’t be able to sleep in a new environment—especially with his mind in such turmoil. But the moment his head touched the soft cotton pillow, he fell asleep, and slept straight through to mid-morning.

By the time he woke up, it was already almost time for lunch.

Feeling embarrassed, Zhang Liang immediately apologized to Ying Zheng, who hadn’t gone out for inspections today and was currently forcing his younger brother to work on a math worksheet.

Little Chengjiao looked up, confused. “You were jolting around on the road for over a month. You finally get to sleep in peace—what’s wrong with sleeping a bit more? Why apologize… ouch!”

“Do your work. Don’t ask so many questions,” Ying Zheng said as he tapped Chengjiao lightly on the head with the rolled-up booklet.

“Fine, I’ll do it, I’ll do it,” Chengjiao muttered, pouting. “I hate math.”

With a miserable expression, he gritted his teeth and continued struggling with the problems.

The test was out of 100 points. If he could get 80, he’d be rewarded with a special batch of fried chicken made by his uncle.

Even his big brother didn’t get any!

For fried chicken, he would fight to the end!

Ying Zheng said to Zhang Liang, “Han Fei has already arrived. When he heard that Han is about to perish, he cried his eyes out—tears and snot everywhere. He’ll see you once he manages to tidy himself up.”

Zhang Liang heard that his teacher had been sobbing uncontrollably, yet he didn’t feel as sad as he expected.

His attention had drifted. He knew what “tears and snot flowing” meant, but what was “xili-huala”?

He thought hard and concluded that it probably described the sound of crying like rushing water.

Sometimes, the Crown Prince’s choice of words was truly strange.

“You’re far inferior to me, but to be able to sneak alone into Chu’s palace at thirteen and persuade a king who no longer governs to send troops to save Han—that already puts you above most useless men in this world,” Ying Zheng said.

Zhang Liang’s expression turned odd. “A rare compliment from the Crown Prince.”

Ying Zheng said nothing. He was never stingy in praising the capable.

And he had praised Zhang Liang before.

Zhang Liang defecting to Qin pleased Ying Zheng very much.

His pride would never allow him to follow anyone’s path—not his uncle’s, nor the path of the great Ying Zheng from his dreams.

This was a talent the dream-world Ying Zheng had never encountered, which made Ying Zheng value him greatly.

Of course, that didn’t mean he ignored talents he had seen in his dreams, like Li Si, Han Fei, or the Meng brothers. It was just that the “unknown” was more interesting than the “known.”

When little Chengjiao finished his test and only got a little over sixty—missing out on the special fried chicken—he began loudly cursing math again. At that moment, Han Fei finally appeared, having composed himself, accompanied by Li Si, to meet Zhang Liang.

Zhu Xiang had prepared the formal apprentice-greeting ceremony, and Zhang Liang officially became Han Fei’s disciple.

After the ceremony, Han Fei wanted to say a few encouraging words—but before he could finish, he burst into tears again.

Zhang Liang held back as long as he could, but finally sorrow surged up, and he cried together with his teacher.

Li Si patted Han Fei’s shoulder to comfort his friend, while Zhu Xiang and Ying Zheng quietly slipped away, dragging little Chengjiao along.

“Let them cry for a while. Who knows—by the time they’re done crying, Han might already be gone.”

“Uncle, you’re even more vicious than I am.”

“Eh? Zheng’er? How could you call yourself vicious! Your uncle forbids you from insulting yourself!”

……

Zhu Xiang was right. Right around the time Zhang Liang formally acknowledged Han Fei as his teacher, the King of Han surrendered.

In the past, Han had Wei to its left, Zhao to its right, and Chu beneath it—its territory about the same size as Wei and Zhao.

Now, what remained of Han had shrunk to a single commandery, with Qin eyeing it from the west, Wei pressing it from above, and Chu below. If not for the help of Wei and Chu, this palm-sized Han would have been wiped out long ago.

To watch over each other and jointly resist Qin, Chu’s capital Chen, Wei’s capital Daliang, and Han’s capital Xinzheng were all clustered together near the tri-border intersection of the three states.

When Zhang Liang brought Chu reinforcements, the Chu general arrived in Xinzheng within just ten days.

The King of Chu did not send Xiang Yan.

Though foolish, he wasn’t stupid—he knew Xiang Yan was the most capable general of Chu. Since Qin was determined to unify the world, Xiang Yan had to remain at hand as the state’s last line of defense.

Lian Po merely surrounded Xinzheng without attacking, busying himself with harvesting crops and redistributing land.

Once Chu troops arrived, he lifted the siege but did not retreat, keeping all the territory he had seized.

The King of Han had been overjoyed that the capital was relieved. But once he saw the aftermath, he realized Han had been reduced to only Xinzheng.

Zhang Sheng strongly advocated joining forces with the Chu general to attack Lian Po and reclaim their lost lands, while also seeking aid from other states.

But Zhang Sheng was young and lacked seniority. The King did not listen.

And the King was tired.

He first gave himself a posthumous title—Huanhui—and then surrendered the city.

Lian Po was dumbstruck.

The Seven States were stunned.

Han’s ministers had still been preparing to continue resistance.

Capitals being taken and then restored was common—Qi had done it, and Yan had only recently had theirs seized again by Zhao.

None of them expected Han to collapse so quickly.

But the King himself had simply given up.

Lian Po accepted the surrender personally. Looking at the King of Han, who had already given himself a posthumous title, he was speechless, not knowing what to say.

……

“After Xinzheng was relieved, the King of Han… opened the gates and surrendered?”

Han Fei’s eyes rolled up, and he fainted.

Zhang Liang fell straight to the ground, laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe.