HCT – Chapter 228 The Rebellious King Yan of Zhao

Han Fei finally pulled himself together.

It was as if sparks had ignited in his eyes, and he rolled up his sleeves, throwing himself into work with renewed vigor.

To Zhu Xiang, Han Fei now looked exactly like the passionate male lead of a hot-blooded manga.

He only hoped Li Si could keep him grounded—otherwise, the future matters of Han would crush him again.

The Han king and the Han royal clan certainly had no intention of causing more trouble.

They had originally been common scholars who, by a stroke of luck, saved the orphaned descendant of the Zhao clan. They allied with the Zhaos, and because Wei and Zhao both needed a weaker clan as a buffer between them, they were elevated to the rank of feudal lords.

Now, if they could peacefully return to the ranks of hereditary nobles, they would accept it willingly.

But the hereditary nobles of Han might not feel the same.

The rebellion in Xinzheng was the first time the nobles of the six states raised the banner of revolt—it showed how deeply dissatisfied they were with Qin.

Yet their dissatisfaction wasn’t because Qin mistreated the Han king. Although he had been under house arrest at the time, it was far better than starving to death or being exiled deep into the mountains.

Zhu Xiang guessed that the Han nobles rebelled mainly because Qin offered no upward mobility for them, causing their class status to drop.

In Qin’s later years, the common people grew resentful because they never had time to recuperate; the scholars grew resentful because after the wars ended, the paths of advancement through military merit or becoming a guest official were blocked. The nobles of the six states were all facing the danger of falling into the ranks of commoners.

Although Qin had now added a recommendation system through the academies, if the Han nobles couldn’t compete with nobles from other states—or even commoners—then even if they didn’t plot rebellion, as the only consort clan not aligned with the crown prince’s faction, they would inevitably stir up trouble.

And once the Han nobles made a move, the Han royal family would have to shoulder the blame—just like during the Xinzheng rebellion, when King Han An was executed.

He hoped Han Fei would endure it.

Zhu Xiang privately reminded Li Si, telling him of the difficulties Han Fei would face in the future.

Li Si immediately promised that he would keep an eye on Han Fei.

Zhu Xiang was deeply moved by Li Si’s loyalty toward Han Fei, believing Li Si would protect him well.

He no longer judged Li Si’s character through the filter of history. As he saw him now, Li Si treated Han Fei with wholehearted sincerity. Their friendship was genuine and profound, and their shared ideals made them a pair like Boya and Ziqi.

Zhu Xiang expressed his admiration to Li Si, saying that his friendship with Han Fei would surely become a celebrated story throughout history.

When Li Si walked away, he could no longer hold it in—he punched a tree trunk twice.

When he heard Zhu Xiang say that Han Fei might be dragged into trouble by the Han faction in the Qin court, something stirred inside him.

Was Lord Zhu Xiang asking him to monitor… no, to supervise Han Fei? Was Lord Zhu Xiang finally showing him real trust?

And then…

Li Si squatted down, clutching his head.

Who the hell was a “lifelong sworn friend” to Han Fei?! And why was he supposed to protect Han Fei like some kind of wet nurse?!

He was—

“Master-uncle, what’s wrong?” Zhang Liang, who had recovered earlier than Han Fei, passed by carrying a basket full of dried radish strips.

Li Si straightened, face calm. “Lord Zhu Xiang told me that although in Qin one may enter office through academy examinations and recommendations, the Han nobles might not be able to compete with commoners or nobles from other states. They will certainly take the shortcut of seeking help from Prince Chengjiao and try to morally blackmail Han Fei into helping them. He wants me to support Han Fei.”

“Moral blackmail? That is indeed a very accurate description,” Zhang Liang said. “Master-uncle, don’t worry. I will also help watch over my teacher.”

Li Si nodded. “I know you are smart—that’s why I told you. Han Fei is always indecisive when it comes to matters concerning Han.”

After venting in front of Han Fei’s disciple, speaking sarcastically about him, Li Si finally felt vindicated and refreshed. He then went off to tell Han Fei about Lord Zhu Xiang’s concerns.

Zhang Liang watched Li Si’s departing figure, his expression a bit strange.

“What are you staring at?” A little Chengjiao poked his head out of a nearby bush, leaves and twigs stuck to his hair.

Zhang Liang jumped, nearly dropping his basket. “Young prince, why are you hiding in the bushes?”

Little Chengjiao replied with an ancient weariness, “What else? To hide from big brother dragging me off to do math problems.”

Zhang Liang asked, puzzled, “Then why are you not hiding anymore?”

Little Chengjiao’s expression grew even more world-weary. “It’s almost mealtime.”

Zhang Liang: “…”

So Crown Prince Zheng only needs to wait at mealtime to guarantee catching you?

Little Chengjiao urged, “You still haven’t said why you kept staring at Li Si’s back. Did you discover his secret? Tell me! That hateful Li Si—even helped big brother teach me math!”

Zhang Liang had no words. What do you mean ‘even helped’…?

He said, “I just didn’t think Master-uncle’s friendship with my teacher was so deep. When he heard my teacher might be used by the Han nobles, he was so angry he hurt his own hand… and he even threatened me.”

Little Chengjiao blinked. “Threatened you?”

“He cursed the Han nobles as all being incompetent cowards, unwilling to advance through academy recommendations, preferring to latch onto shortcuts and forcing my teacher to help them.”

Little Chengjiao understood. “Oh, talking about Han nobles—your Zhang family is among the most elite. He was basically cursing you to your face. Li Si is usually so cautious he’s practically obsequious; aside from insulting Han Fei, he rarely offends anyone. He must really be furious.”

Little Chengjiao crossed his arms, adopting his overly mature demeanor again. “Uncle says that honest people who rarely get angry are the scariest when they do. Li Si is probably that sort.”

“I’m also scary when I’m angry.”

Little Chengjiao nodded. “Yes, big brother gets angry often, and he’s not honest at all, but he’s still quite scary when he’s angry.”

Zhang Liang gave him a sympathetic look and stepped back.

Ying Zheng grabbed little Chengjiao by the collar, sneering, “Yes. Your big brother gets angry often, and isn’t honest at all—but still quite scary.”

Little Chengjiao trembled, squeezed his eyes shut, and screamed, “Uncle! Aunt! Help! Big brother is going to boil beans with bean stalks!”

Zhang Liang blinked. “What is ‘boiling beans with bean stalks’?”

Ying Zheng said, “A poem uncle made up while telling stories, about brothers turning on each other.”

He dragged little Chengjiao away.

“Uncle! Aunt! Save me! Save me!”

Little Chengjiao kept yelling with his eyes closed the whole way.

Zhang Liang was curious about the full poem, but it wasn’t his place to watch the crown prince discipline his brother—he didn’t want Prince Chengjiao to hold a grudge later.

Shaking his head, he carried his basket of dried radish strips toward the kitchen.

Dried radish seasoned with a bit of salt, Sichuan pepper, and chili powder made a wonderfully appetizing side dish.

On the way, he ran into Zhu Xiang and Xue Ji.

The couple had heard little Chengjiao’s miserable screams and came to look for him.

Chengjiao definitely deserved this lesson, but they needed to make sure Ying Zheng didn’t get too angry and punish him excessively.

Discipline should help someone grow—not hurt them.

At mealtime, when Zhang Liang came out holding a plate of roasted pumpkin seeds, little Chengjiao—eyes swollen and palms red—was complaining to Xue Ji about his cruel older brother.

The moment he saw the pumpkin seeds, little Chengjiao stopped crying immediately and started munching away.

Seeing the crown prince’s expression, Zhang Liang knew he was absolutely thinking that this little brother had not been beaten nearly enough.

Zhang Liang couldn’t help smiling.

He suddenly missed his younger brothers back home.

Less than a year after Han was destroyed by Qin, and as King Han was on his way to Xianyang, Qin’s offensive against Zhao had been stalled.

Generals Meng Ao and his deputy Wang He marched straight ahead, arriving at the city of Shanwu, the seat of Yanmen Commandery.

The three northern frontier commanderies established by King Wuling of Zhao—Yunzhong, Yanmen, and Dai—were aligned from west to east. Yunzhong lay near the Daqing Mountains in Inner Mongolia, Yanmen stretched from Ningwu in Shanxi northward into the ancient Inner Mongolia region, and Dai Commandery spanned from Yanggao in Shanxi to Yu County in Hebei.

In fact, there was a fourth northern frontier commandery: Jiuyuan, west of Yunzhong, near present-day Baotou in Inner Mongolia.

After Qin King Zhaoxiang secured Taiyuan, Qin shared a long border with Yanmen Commandery.

Meng Ao’s current campaign into Zhao aimed primarily to seize Yanmen Commandery. Yanmen was the key strategic pass from the northern deserts to the Central Plains, also known as the “Northern Gate Lock.”

Capturing Yanmen would sever Yunzhong and Jiuyuan from Zhao. With their supply lines cut off, Yunzhong and Jiuyuan could not sustain themselves, and without Zhao’s provisions, their stationed troops would be forced to surrender from hunger rather than fight.

Under the administration of Li Mu and Lord Xinling, Yanmen’s civilians were better off than those in Zhao’s cities in the Central Plains, and their loyalty to Zhao was strong. After Lord Xinling left Zhao, command of Yanmen’s garrison passed to Sima Shang.

Although Sima Shang’s military skills were average, he followed the administrative and military practices of Li Mu and Lord Xinling, fortifying Yanmen Commandery into a near-impregnable fortress.

Knowing that Zhao’s forces had marched all the way from Yan over a thousand miles while Qin’s troops were fresh and rested, General Pang Xuan of Zhao feared defeat. He withdrew to Shanwu, joining Sima Shang to use the city as a stronghold and wear down Qin’s forces.

Meng Ao was now facing a tough nut to crack.

Wang He laughed, “We should’ve let Lord Wucheng and Lord Changping attack Yanmen.”

Meng Ao gave him a blank look. “The Qin King orders, and Lord Wucheng would come. But you want Lord Changping to besiege the city? Are you trying to get us exiled by the King?”

Wang He replied, “Being exiled to southern Qin wouldn’t be the worst.”

Meng Ao laughed and scolded him. “You just want to keep serving as General Wu’an’s deputy, don’t you? You’re looking down on me, is that it?”

Wang He replied, “I really do want to serve as General Wu’an’s deputy one last time, but it’s definitely not because I look down on you, General Meng. I’ve followed General Wu’an in battle my whole life. Now that I’m old, I can no longer fight alongside him—what a regret.”

Meng Ao mocked him. “Isn’t that because your health is terrible? You have rheumatism and can’t handle Southern Qin’s damp heat.”

Wang He sighed. “I’m certain I’ll die on the battlefield this time, so whether or not I can handle the damp heat doesn’t matter.”

The smile faded from Meng Ao’s face. He patted Wang He on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’m not as good as General Wu’an, but I can still take a little place like Yanmen Commandery.”

Wang He asked, “Then how about letting me take the first-assault merit at Shanwu?”

Meng Ao was helpless. “Why are you in such a hurry?”

Wang He smiled. “I know my own body. I definitely won’t live to next year. I’m relying entirely on medicine now.”

Meng Ao fell silent for a long moment. “Fine. Do as you wish.”

Wang He was suffering from a parasitic disease.

But no one in this era had any idea what kind of parasite it was, nor how to treat it.

Generals who fought in distant campaigns often contracted parasitic diseases, because during marches they ate whatever they could grab, and often couldn’t even make a fire. Many died young—let alone someone like Wang He, who was already old.

He often suffered severe abdominal pain and could only endure it by taking a type of herb with numbing properties.

But that herb was poisonous. Taken in large amounts, it only ensured that one died with less pain.

During the period when the medicine was effective, Wang He was still a formidable veteran—young generals might not even be able to defeat him.

When the medicine wore off, he curled up on his bed, becoming an old man at death’s door.

Thus, Wang He volunteered to go to battle, and before setting out he had already written his will and comforted his family.

If luck allowed, he wished to die in a first assault.

“First assault” meant being among the first to climb the city walls during a siege.

In siege warfare, the first assault earned the highest merit—and the highest risk. Those who served in the first assault always set out prepared to trade their lives for honor.

Wang He didn’t seek wealth or rank. He only sought a glorious death.

Not only Meng Ao understood this—every Qin general did.

Meng Ao originally thought giving Wang He the first-assault merit would be easy. He didn’t expect Shanwu City to hold him off.

He had no choice but to sigh—General Wucheng and Lord Xinling were truly heroes of their generation. The legacy they left in Yanmen Commandery was indeed a tough bone to gnaw.

But Meng Ao felt no fear.

If General Wucheng and Lord Xinling were still in Yanmen, he would have had to ask the Qin King to use a strategy of sowing discord first.

Now, without them, Yanmen was just an empty shell—sturdy, but still only a shell. Just a bit harder to chew.

Meng Ao had strong troops, ample supplies, and well-made weapons. Though he had already worn down Yanmen’s Zhao forces for some time, he continued pushing forward layer by layer, step by step, closing in on Shanwu City.

The Qin army set camp at the foot of Mount Guancin, south of Shanwu City. They faced the Zhao army in temporary stalemate, draining Zhao’s supplies and cutting off reinforcements—classic siege strategy.

Meng Ao made this decision because the Han King had abruptly driven his chariot to surrender to Lian Po, and Lian Po sent his deputy Sima Jin to assist Meng Ao.

King Zichu of Qin knew Lian Po did not wish to attack Zhao, so he ordered Lian Po to escort the Han King back to Xianyang, while the army was handed to Sima Jin to follow Meng Ao’s command.

Even if Yanmen Commandery’s shell was firm, once Meng Ao’s and Sima Jin’s armies joined forces, they could surround Shanwu City to the death.

Since his accession, the Zhao King had repeatedly fought with Yan, leaving Zhao’s domestic manpower depleted. Yanmen had also been stripped of many able-bodied men.

Even the best cook cannot make a meal without grain—Zhao could not match Qin in a war of attrition.

Those with insight watched the standoff between Qin and Zhao and were reminded of the Battle of Changping.

Lian Po, as he escorted the Han King back to Xianyang, looked eastward once and thought of Changping as well.

In the Battle of Changping, he had retreated layer by layer but held firm each time, forcing Qin into a war of attrition—testing which side would break first.

Yanmen was now in a similar situation.

The difference was that during Changping, the Qin army was deep in enemy territory. They had conquered Yewang and Shangdang but had not yet digested them; their supply lines were extremely long, and they had already endured years of war.

But Changping was in Zhao territory. Behind Lian Po lay the vast heartland of Zhao—transporting grain and replenishing manpower was far easier.

If Lian Po dragged the battle on, Qin would have to retreat.

Thus Qin used a plan of internal discord to replace him with Zhao Kuo, while secretly sending Bai Qi to the front. Even the Qin King personally went to Changping.

Back then, Qin fought like walking on the edge of a cliff—each war was pushed to the extreme.

But things were no longer the same.

Not at all the same.

Lian Po withdrew his gaze.

Within Handan, the Zhao ministers also felt a déjà vu of the Battle of Changping.

The Zhao King hadn’t done anything yet, but ministers were already warning him: don’t you dare replace the veteran Pang Nuan with some young general, just as the former king replaced Lian Po with Zhao Kuo.

When fighting Qin, veteran generals were always more reliable.

Logically, with the lesson of Changping and this early warning, the Zhao King should not have meddled with the command at Shanwu.

But they all misunderstood his character—it was precisely when he refused to listen to wise counsel.

Guo Kai knew Zhao Yian very well.

When Zhao Yian was still a prince, he had already hated Zhu Xiang deeply—because a mere commoner had made his father lose face.

Zhao Yian believed that after Lian Po and Li Mu were handed over to Qin, they should have committed suicide.

When Lord Xinling and Lord Chunshen committed suicide, Zhao Yian privately told his ministers that such were loyal ministers. Lian Po and Li Mu were treacherous villains by comparison.

He also cursed Lin Xiangru as a treacherous villain.

The former king had treated Lin Xiangru with great favor, yet Lin Xiangru raised a son like Zhu Xiang—a scourge of Zhao—and the king did not scold him.

But Lin Xiangru even sent his son Lin Zhi to Qin to serve as chancellor—utterly unworthy of a minister.

Zhao Yian even wanted to arrest all of Lin Xiangru’s relatives still in Zhao and even considered digging up Lin Xiangru’s grave.

Fortunately, the Zhao ministers refused.

Scholars and officials frequently moved among the six states. If Zhao killed the families of anyone serving abroad, all scholars would flee.

Moreover, Lin Xiangru had only contributed to Zhao, never harmed it. Desecrating his grave was unthinkable.

The previous king, Zhao Xiaocheng, had already regretted driving away virtuous ministers like Lin Xiangru, Zhu Xiang, Lian Po, and Li Mu. How could his son continue staining his reputation?

Even those who supported Zhao Yian, including Guo Kai, urged him to stop.

Lin Zhi was Qin’s chancellor and Qin King Zichu’s friend.

When King Zhaoxiang wanted to avenge Marquis Ying, he sent troops and detained foreign nobles. Qin King Zichu now had the momentum to sweep the Six States, even stronger than Zhaoxiang’s peak. If Zhao dared to desecrate Lin Xiangru’s tomb, Qin’s armies would march on Handan the next day.

Terrified of Qin, Zhao Yian reluctantly dropped the idea.

But the Lin clan was already heartbroken.

They all resigned and stayed at their ancestral home, ready to relocate their ancestors’ graves the moment things turned dangerous.

Qin King Zichu learned of this and did not dare tell Zhu Xiang.

He sent an envoy directly to Zhao Yian, warning him: if he dared insult Lin Xiangru’s grave today, Qin would burn Zhao’s royal tombs tomorrow.

Don’t forget the flames that consumed Chu’s royal tombs. Qin always kept its word.

Zhao Yian was so frightened he fell seriously ill. He didn’t dare resent the Qin King—so he resented the commoner Zhu Xiang and his friends all the more.

After Zhao Yian took the throne, he won several wars against Yan.

He was full of confidence and believed himself to be as brave as his great-grandfather, King Wuling of Zhao.

But late in King Xiaocheng’s reign, government affairs were largely delegated to ministers. He recognized his own incompetence and chose to trust capable ministers.

When Lord Pingyuan and Lord Pingyang served as chancellors, Zhao did not flourish, but it suffered no disasters and remained stable.

Zhao Yian wanted to seize full power. The ministers opposed him, urging him to follow the “non-action” governance of King Xiaocheng’s later years.

Zhao Yian felt everything he wanted to do met opposition, and his resentment grew.

It exploded when he tried to depose the queen.

When troubled, he often visited brothels in Handan in disguise.

A beautiful courtesan captured his heart. When he revealed his identity, she looked at him with divine reverence, and he brought her into the palace.

He wanted to grant her a consort’s title.

For the first time, the Zhao royal clan staged a mass sit-in protest at the palace. Even when Zhu Xiang had been forced out, or when Lian Po and Li Mu were given away, they had never been this furious.

“You can take a courtesan into the harem for pleasure, but you absolutely may not grant her a title!”

Zhao Yian’s stubbornness erupted.

“This forbidden, that forbidden—do you even see me as your king?!”

He also grew deeply annoyed with Queen Zhao, who kept admonishing him.

Finally, Guo Kai offered him a plan: have a wealthy merchant adopt the courtesan as a foster daughter, then have her sent to a destitute noble household, and finally have that noble present her to the palace.

Among the hereditary aristocracy, there were always some fallen relatives who drank, gambled, visited brothels, and cared only for money. They had no regard for face.

Thus the courtesan became the merchant’s daughter and the noble’s foster daughter.

Only then could Zhao Yian grant her a consort title.

By the time ministers discovered the ruse, it was too late.

They couldn’t publicly expose the sham and tear apart the façade, so they could only accept it, pretending the new consort wasn’t a courtesan.

Zhao Yian finally got his moment of triumph.

This time, he actually had no intention of replacing Pang Nuan, but the ministers’ early warnings treated him like a child—his stubbornness rose again.

Guo Kai seized the moment and said, “General Pang is undoubtedly loyal, but Sima Shang once served as Li Mu’s deputy—that’s uncertain.”

Playing to Zhao Yian’s hatred of Li Mu, he slandered Sima Shang and the Yanmen generals, accusing them of colluding with Qin.

Because the four northern commanderies—including Jiuyuan—held special status, their commanders had authority equal to feudal lords. King Wuling, King Huiwen, and King Xiaocheng had granted their northern commanders great autonomy: generals outside the capital did not have to obey royal orders.

Li Mu’s family had commanded the northern commanderies for generations. Nearly all the current northern generals had served under him.

Before departing, Li Mu had told his subordinates not to change any of his policies.

When Lord Xinling later governed Yanmen, he maintained Li Mu’s policies as well.

After Sima Shang took over, he also refused the interference of the king’s envoys, saying Yanmen had its own situation and needed no changes.

Originally, this was only an internal debate. Those supporting Sima Shang won, so Yanmen’s system remained unchanged.

But in Guo Kai’s words, it became: Sima Shang was still loyal to Li Mu, not to the Zhao King.

Guo Kai said, “I’ve heard that Li Mu and Zhu Xiang have written to Yanmen many times, instructing the generals. Though they are far away in Southern Qin, they act like feudal lords of Yanmen. The generals and officials of Yanmen respect their orders more than the envoys you sent.”

“They boast Yanmen is secure, yet they’ve let Qin surround Shanwu. If they aren’t loyal to Qin, then they lied before—Yanmen’s governance is poor. And if they weren’t lying, then they deliberately lost to Qin.”

“Either way, they are guilty, Your Majesty.”

“Now that Qin’s armies press upon us, how can we entrust our hopes to Sima Shang, who listens more to Li Mu and Zhu Xiang than to his own king?”

Zhao Yian felt Guo Kai was absolutely right.

He immediately convened court and presented Guo Kai’s accusations as verified intelligence proving Sima Shang’s collusion with Qin.

Sima Shang had always been Li Mu’s and Lord Xinling’s deputy. His reputation was obscure, his achievements unremarkable, and he indeed admired Li Mu and Zhu Xiang.

With Zhao Yian claiming certainty, the Zhao ministers became unsure.

They decided to take a cautious step—replace Sima Shang with another in local command while slowly investigating the matter.

Just replacing the local commander, without removing the main general Pang Nuan—surely nothing would go wrong.