HCT – Chapter 235 Crown Ceremony of Crown Prince Zheng

Qin’s locust-extermination campaign lasted three months.

From autumn into winter, until the very leaves on the ground had almost all been devoured by the insects. Locusts prefer grasses and cereal crops; as for plants like cotton, their leaves normally wouldn’t appeal to them.

But once they gather into a plague, swarming in enormous numbers, whenever they encounter foliage they rush forward together. Most of them remain in a constant state of semi-starvation.  At such times, they will eat any leaves they find.

They would even bite at the flesh of dying or badly injured livestock. Fortunately, they did not attack living beings; otherwise, with so many locusts, who knows how many people would have been killed.

Qin managed to control its native locust population extremely well, so the plague did not break out there first. After ravaging the east, the locusts arrived in Qin later, giving the state a crucial window to harvest early.

Qin had also planted large quantities of tubers—potatoes and sweet potatoes—buried deep in the soil. Even if their leaves were eaten, the yield would remain unaffected.

When the end of the twelfth month approached, perhaps Heaven had finally tired of tormenting the world. A heavy snowfall descended, delivering a fatal blow to the locusts. After a full year of effort, and nearly three months of total war between man and locust, the battle finally came to an end.

King Zichu of Qin ascended the sacrificial platform, prayed to Heaven and Earth, honored his ancestors and the gods, and—also for the first time—offered sacrifice on behalf of all who had participated in the locust-extermination effort.

Crown Prince Zheng stood beside King Zichu, looking up at his father—who was struggling to suppress a cough—his hands clenched tightly inside his sleeves. Only a year had passed, yet his father looked nothing like the man he had met in Shouchun. And even then, during their meeting at Shouchun, his father had already been ill and looked unwell.

“Father, you should rest,” Prince Zheng said softly, unable to bear it.

Zichu patted his shoulder with a smile. “I cannot rest yet.”

Prince Zheng lowered his head without replying.

His return to Xianyang this time was for his coming-of-age crown ceremony in the first month.

Members of Qin’s royal clan held their crown ceremony later than in the Zhou rites—only at the nominal age of twenty-two. Historical records note that King Zhaoxiang and the First Emperor both received their crowns after ascending the throne, and King Wu received his crown as crown prince before becoming king.

Prince Zheng would be twenty-one in actual age, twenty-two by Qin reckoning, come the first month, and thus it was time for the ceremony.

Once crowned, and after his accession, he would directly take full control of the Qin throne. This was a major national event.

And now that the war against the locusts had ended successfully, the grain rescued in time plus supplies brought from the south would barely allow Qin’s people to muddle through the year without mass starvation. The state needed a grand ceremony to lift morale. Prince Zheng’s crown ceremony was therefore prepared on an exceptionally magnificent scale.

In his dreams, he had held a king’s crown ceremony—one that should have exceeded the specifications of a crown prince’s rite. But after reviewing the preparations, he found that his actual ceremony seemed livelier and grander than the one he had dreamt of as king.

With Xunzi overseeing the rites, ceremonial protocol in Qin was more formal than in the Qin Dynasty of his dreams.

King Zichu also added many additional steps for Prince Zheng—such as arranging for the two Dowager Queens and numerous senior ministers who had instructed him to offer blessings.

Xueji was currently escorting grain north and would also hurry back to attend the ceremony.

After studying the entire schedule, Prince Zheng had only one thought: Exhausting. Just looking at it was exhausting.

But the elders were all delighted and wanted to add even more steps. Prince Zheng could only grimace and let himself be tormented.

When the Chancellor Lin Zhi took the lead, and Lord Changping (Zhu Xiang) agreed, and Prime Minister Cai Ze abstained, adding several sacrificial dances before the ceremony, Prince Zheng finally grew angry.

“I have to stand outdoors in the snow, dressed in full ceremonial robes, watching dance performances?!”

Zhu Xiang and Lin Zhi patted his shoulders from either side with benevolent smiles. “You only have one crown ceremony in your life. Everything that ought to be there must be there. Don’t worry—you won’t freeze.”

Prince Zheng immediately went to complain to Xunzi.

Xunzi thought for a moment, then sighed. “It is indeed overly complicated… but since His Majesty approved, let it be.”

Face flushed red, Prince Zheng went to complain to Dowager Huayang and Dowager Xia.

The two dowagers, however, were more interested in learning what kind of sacrificial dances were being added.

Prince Zheng: “…”

He finally realized that none of the elders cared about his feelings—they only cared about having fun.

It was only a crown ceremony—just follow the basic procedure, why make it a full-day spectacle? What a waste of working hours!

Zhu Xiang laughed so hard he nearly bent over listening to Prince Zheng’s complaints. At this moment, young Ying Zheng was exactly like modern youths grumbling about weddings—

The newlyweds would like nothing better than to sign the paperwork and be done, maybe gather a few close friends at most. But the elders insisted on a grand affair—music, dancing, every ritual under the sun.

Speaking of weddings…

Zhu Xiang asked Zichu, “Now that Zheng is coming of age, what bride have you prepared for him?”

Zichu replied, “He has strong opinions. I thought he’d want to choose his own consort, so I only prepared a few candidates. After his crown ceremony, I’ll bestow them upon him. As for the women you arranged for him—are any of them pregnant? If so, we can grant a title first.”

Zhu Xiang blinked. “Huh? What women?”

Zichu: “?”

Zhu Xiang: “?”

They stared at one another.

Lin Zhi cleared his throat. “Don’t tell me—each of you assumed the other one would arrange women to teach him the… matters of adulthood, so neither of you did?”

Zichu: “…”

Zhu Xiang: “…”

Cai Ze covered his face. “So Zheng has not yet known a woman?!”

His voice shot upward, nearly exploding into a roar.

A noble son, the crown prince of Qin—twenty-two years old and still untouched?! What were these two men doing?!

Zichu immediately said, “Zhu Xiang raised Zheng—this is his fault.”

Zhu Xiang exploded. “You not only refused to raise your own son, you expect me to manage his harem too?!”

Zichu countered.

Zhu Xiang retorted.

Seeing the two invalids about to start fighting again, Lin Zhi and Cai Ze dragged them apart lest they faint from fury.

“All right, all right. Hurry and send your chosen women to Zheng and hope that next year you’ll be holding a grandchild,” Lin Zhi sighed. “Zheng is healthy. You’ll get one soon.”

Zichu, held back, still kicked at Zhu Xiang while coughing, “If I die before seeing a grandson, it’s Zhu Xiang’s fault!”

Zhu Xiang, held by Cai Ze, kicked back, “It’s your own fault!”

“Enough.”

“You’re both wrong.”

“Get the women to Zheng already.”

“Give him a month’s leave—let him stay in the rear quarters and… work diligently. He is not allowed out until a month has passed.”

Zhu Xiang hesitated. “Why does this sound like we’re treating Zheng as breeding stock… ahem.”

The other three—including Zheng’s biological father—looked at him calmly.

…Well, weren’t they?

Zhu Xiang sighed. “Fine, fine.” The boy truly had a throne to inherit, after all.

But Zhu Xiang had full confidence in Ying Zheng’s fertility. Everyone knew—just Qin Er Shi alone had executed over thirty siblings. His family’s First Emperor produced plenty of offspring.

Sigh—

Once Zheng completed his crown ceremony, Zhu Xiang supposed he shouldn’t call him “baby First Emperor” or “little Zheng” anymore.

A deep melancholy washed over him.

“How did Zheng grow up so fast?” Zhu Xiang gestured around his waist. “He was only this tall—it feels like just yesterday.”

Zichu said, “When Zheng was born, he was vigorous. His cries were especially loud. He was extraordinary from the start.”

Lin Zhi, too, felt wistful. “He can’t sit on my shoulders pretending to be a general anymore.”

Cai Ze snapped, “Don’t even bring that up! You used to make him poke my hair bun with a wooden sword! Am I a scarecrow you train with?!”

Zichu immediately perked up. “There’s a story? Details!”

Zhu Xiang grinned. “Oh, there are plenty of stories.”

The argument ended. The four stood under the eaves, hands tucked into their sleeves, watching the snow and reminiscing about Ying Zheng’s childhood.

When Ying Zheng arrived carrying documents for his father, the prime minister, the chancellor, and Lord Changping, he found all four elders had tossed aside their work to discuss his embarrassing past.

“I did not wet the bed!” he shouted, mortified.

Zhu Xiang: “You did.”

Lin Zhi: “It’s true.”

Cai Ze: “I think… well, never mind. If Zheng says he didn’t, he didn’t.”

Zichu: “Hahahahahaha!”

Face burning, Ying Zheng turned to leave.

Halfway out, he remembered he’d come to deliver the documents. He spun back around, furious: “What are you doing standing around chatting?! Have you finished all this paperwork?!”

Zichu laughed loudly. “Look at this crown prince—he’s urging me, the King of Qin, to work.”

Zhu Xiang laughed as well. “Indeed, such insolence! King of Qin, you must punish him!”

Lin Zhi said sternly, “A crown prince scolding the king—unheard of. He must be punished.”

Cai Ze thought for a moment, then joined in, “And how shall we punish him?”

Zichu declared, “Zhu Xiang said Zheng’s favorite is osmanthus cake. I decree the crown prince shall not eat osmanthus cake from this day onward.”

Zhu Xiang laughed so hard he almost collapsed. “Too cruel—I approve!”

Lin Zhi remained serious: “With Zheng’s personality, once he becomes king, he will probably issue an edict renaming osmanthus cake so he can eat it again.”

Cai Ze burst into laughter. “That does sound like him.”

Ying Zheng stomped into the room, threw the documents on the table, and bolted.

He was going to complain to Master Xunzi!

Those four weren’t working—just making fun of him!

Zichu said, “He must be running to find Master Xun again.”

Zhu Xiang shook his head. “Little tattletale.”

Lin Zhi clapped his hands. “All right, enough snow watching. Time to work.”

Cai Ze rubbed his shoulders and sighed, “So much to do. Where’s Li Mu? We don’t need him to command troops now—bring him in.”

Zichu sighed. “I already summoned him. He insisted on visiting Yanmen Commandery. Hah—clearly just trying to avoid work.”

Zhu Xiang nodded, “Absolutely.”

Lin Zhi said, “Not exactly. The grasslands have also suffered severe disaster this time. He went to Yanmen Commandery to reorganize military affairs as a precaution against a Northern Hu invasion. That is necessary.”

The four of them chatted while picking up the documents Ying Zheng had angrily thrown all over the place.

“It’s a pity that Li Mu can’t attend Zheng’er’s capping ceremony.”

“That truly is regrettable.”

“Maybe he’ll make it back in time.”

“When he gets back, don’t let him leave. Make him stay and work.”

Zhu Xiang and Zichu leaned shoulder to shoulder, laughing so hard they swayed left and right.

Lin Zhi pressed his forehead. “Cai Ze, really? Are you that tired?”

Cai Ze gave a cold snort and flicked his sleeve. “Try being Chancellor yourself.”

Lin Zhi immediately said, “No thanks.”

Zhu Xiang and Zichu continued leaning on each other, laughing uncontrollably.

The moment Xunzi, who had been summoned by Ying Zheng to “advise” them, stepped into the courtyard, he heard unrestrained laughter from inside.

He sighed with a smile and said to Ying Zheng, “Seems they’ve already started handling state affairs. Don’t be upset.”

Ying Zheng held onto Xunzi’s arm and let out a heavy cold snort. “Master Xun, come with me. If you’re not there, they’ll bully me again.”

Xunzi patted Ying Zheng’s arm, still smiling. “I won’t go. If I go, they won’t dare be this relaxed.”

Ying Zheng said, “Then I’ll bring the documents I need to handle to Master Xun. I don’t want to work with them.”

Xunzi replied, “Do as you like. I just so happen to have a few capable people to introduce to you.”

Ying Zheng nodded. “Alright.”

He truly would rather run back and forth several times than work in the same room with those four elders.

Zhu Xiang and Zichu mocked Ying Zheng again, Lin Zhi joined in, and Cai Ze tried to persuade them not to go too far.

On the second day of the first month—the twenty-first birthday of Ying Zheng—the time for his capping ceremony arrived.

Xueji and Li Mu both returned right on time.

Li Mu even gifted Ying Zheng a knife, saying it was the spoils taken from a Northern Hu chieftain, brought from the Western Regions. It looked quite nice—Zheng’er would surely like it.

“The Western Regions can forge knives too?” Ying Zheng held it fondly. “I thought knives were invented by my uncle.”

Zhu Xiang laughed. “I’m not that talented.”

Ying Zheng lifted his chin proudly. “When I become King of Qin, I’ll send people to make peace with the countries of the Western Regions.”

Zhu Xiang let out a relieved sigh. “Good, good. Peace, not conquest.”

Ying Zheng shot him a glare. “I’m not stupid. The Western Regions are far away, with deserts in between. Even if we conquered them, Qin couldn’t rule that land.”

Zhu Xiang pretended to wipe tears. “Zheng’er has grown mature.”

Ying Zheng: “…”

His fists clenched—yet he couldn’t hit his uncle. Infuriating!

King Zichu laughed. “Stop teasing him.”

Xueji pinched Zhu Xiang’s arm.

Zhu Xiang hurriedly straightened his expression and coughed. “Zheng’er, time to leave.”

Ying Zheng stiffened slightly, then nodded. “Mm.”

Before leaving, he knelt before Zhu Xiang and Xueji, bowing deeply three times before rising and walking out.

After coming of age, he could no longer behave like a child toward his uncle and aunt; nor could he continue serving his adoptive parents as a child.

So before that moment arrived, he had to fulfill all proper rites.

Zhu Xiang and Xueji’s eyes reddened. They held back their tears with effort.

Only after Ying Zheng boarded the carriage did the two finally cover their faces and cry.

“Alright, don’t cry anymore. You still have to attend Zheng’er’s ceremony,” Zichu said. “I should set off as well.”

Zhu Xiang and Xueji nodded, supporting each other as they got into their carriage.

They would attend as Lord Changping and Lady of Wu Commandery, offering blessings to the Crown Prince.

But from this moment on, the Crown Prince could no longer interact with them like ordinary parents and a child.

Throughout Qin history, the crown prince’s capping ceremony was always held at Qinian Palace in Yong City, and Ying Zheng was no exception.

The palace was now decorated with solemn dignity. Nobles and ministers had returned from their posts across the commanderies, waiting for the ceremony to begin.

King Zichu added every possible ceremonial step he could into Ying Zheng’s capping ritual.

The Qin ministers shifted weight from left foot to right, from right back to left, all wearing wry smiles.

They knew the King valued the Crown Prince greatly. But at times like this, they realized they still hadn’t understood just how much.

The Crown Prince walked step by step toward the high platform.

King Zichu and the two Dowager Queens were already waiting atop it.

Zichu had especially arranged for the two Dowagers to attend as elder relatives.

King Zichu placed the cap upon Ying Zheng’s head; the Dowagers helped him change into new ceremonial robes and accessories.

Lord Changping Zhu Xiang and Lady Xueji were also granted the exceptional honor of stepping onto the platform to fasten the long and short ceremonial swords onto Ying Zheng.

Qin nobles traditionally wore one long and one short sword: the long one for ritual propriety, the short one for cutting meat—a custom inherited from their days living alongside the northern tribes.

King Zichu said, “Zheng’er, you’ve grown. From now on, Qin will be entrusted to you.”

The Crown Prince looked at his father’s weary face and bowed. “Yes, Father.”

Zichu hesitated, and just as the Prince straightened up, he suddenly pulled him into a hug, gently patting his back.

The Crown Prince froze.

The ministers all stared in shock.

Zichu said, “Zheng’er, I’ve failed you in many ways. Fortunately, Zhu Xiang and Xueji raised you well.”

The Crown Prince said softly, “Father has treated me very well. You’ve never failed me.”

Zichu smiled. “Zhu Xiang scolds me every day, saying I only birth sons but don’t raise them. I do have some self-awareness.”

The Crown Prince fell silent.

Zichu continued, “In the future, take good care of your uncle and aunt. They are the ones who cherish you the most in this world.”

Ying Zheng’s voice lowered even further. “…Yes. I understand.”

Zichu released him. “Alright. Come. Follow me.”

He took the Prince’s hand and led him step by step to the highest point, performing the final rites—offering worship to Heaven, Earth, and the ancestors, and to all of Qin’s spirits and matters.

From this moment on, the Crown Prince had officially come of age.

…

At this time, the Five Kingdoms were stirring restlessly.

It had been nearly ten years since the last locust disaster. A plague of this scale had not been seen in decades. The eastern kingdoms underestimated its severity.

After the locusts ravaged the land, all five kingdoms had poor harvests.

Then heavy snow sealed the land. Relief crops couldn’t be planted. Animals like hares and rodents that could once be eaten were nearly gone. Vegetation, already chewed bare, was now killed by frost. Nothing was left to eat.

Locusts even gnawed on hemp and mulberry fibers, leaving many commoners without clothing.

In the past they could stuff mattresses and coats with dry grass. Now locusts had eaten even that. They were not only starving, but freezing.

Starving and freezing, many commoners collapsed in the snow.

When enough people died, plague followed.

Just as drought brings locusts, locusts bring great plague.

Ironically, when corpses piled up and people starved to death en masse, previously scarce rats suddenly appeared.

The starving commoners immediately caught them and ate them raw—no firewood left to cook—thus contracting bubonic plague.

The plague killed even more people, attracting even more rats, which were then eaten by other starving commoners, spreading plague further.

Only then did the kings and nobles of the Five Kingdoms panic.

But not too much.

Famine and plague? Quite normal. They just needed to shift domestic discontent elsewhere.

In Zhu Xiang’s past world, Qin too suffered a great locust plague—“locusts came from the east, covering the sky.”

But at that time, the young Qin King and Lu Buwei were selling ranks to raise grain, Zhao sent Li Mu to attack Yan, Yan was being defeated by Zhao, Wei was holding a funeral for its king, and neither Han nor Qi did anything at all.

As for Chu, the locusts barely affected them, so ignoring it was natural.

There were no relief crops then, and without Zhu Xiang’s early warning, the east suffered far worse—but they still did nothing.

Now, however, they intended to unite and act.

All of it began with Guo Kai’s suggestion to King Yan of Zhao.

“My lord, Zhao has suffered total crop failure. The commoners resent you deeply, yet all praise Zhu Xiang. Why not use the excuse of ‘bringing Zhu Xiang home’ to send troops against Changping Commandery? Changping has abundant grain and can relieve Zhao’s food shortage. The people there are Zhao folk—they will surely lean toward Zhao. Perhaps the moment Zhao troops arrive, they will open their gates and surrender.”

King Yan was delighted by the idea and immediately convened the court, preparing to send troops.

Zhao ministers also coveted Changping’s grain but dared not move alone. They proposed that Zhao unite with the Five Kingdoms and attack together.

The other kingdoms had suffered terribly; even Yan put aside its hatred for Zhao and joined the alliance.

Qi didn’t want to fight, but the other four threatened to withhold grain sales—so Qi had no choice but to join.

Changping Commandery no longer had Lord Changping.

And even if he were there, facing danger he would evacuate early. Zhao people could never “bring him home,” and he would never return.

Every scholar in the world understood this.

The Crown Prince of Qin—Lord Changping’s nephew—had just come of age. King Zichu had held the most extravagant capping ceremony in Qin’s history, reaffirming the Crown Prince’s position.

He would certainly become King of Qin. How could Lord Changping ever leave Qin and become an enemy of his only remaining blood relative?

But the Zhao commoners did not know this.

They were truly ignorant.

Illiterate, inexperienced, never having left their villages.

Their minds contained nothing beyond survival. They never questioned anything. Whatever the king’s envoys said, they believed like fools.

They truly believed that if they captured Changping Commandery, they could welcome Lord Changping Zhu Xiang back.

They heard that Lord Changping had slain the Locust God in Qin, so Qin had few deaths from famine.

They heard he had intimidated the Plague God, so Qin had no epidemic.

As long as he returned to Zhao, there would be no more locusts or plague.

They believed he was the incarnation of the God of Agriculture—he could make Zhao’s fields grow endless grain. Zhao people would never go hungry again.

Despite lacking food, clothing, weapons, or even adequate grain rations, Zhao commoners eagerly volunteered to join the army. Even drinking bloody water and eating corpses on the way, they would follow Pang Nuan to attack Changping.

Pang Nuan was tormented.

He knew it was all a lie. These Zhao people were being sent to die.

Even if they couldn’t take Changping, as long as these starving masses died, Zhao’s crisis would be resolved.

But he had no choice and could only lead them to slaughter.

Per court decree, sick soldiers were placed in the vanguard to spread disease once they reached Changping. In this way, Zhao could purge its own plague victims while weakening Qin.

With profound grief, Pang Nuan appointed the commanders from the list given by King Zhao and sent them to lead troops made of more than half plague victims to attack Changping.

He himself led another contingent to join the armies of the other four kingdoms.

Qin quickly received word of the alliance.

King Zichu ordered Wang Jian and Li Mu to return south of the Huai River. Wang Jian would attack Chu; Li Mu would lead the fleet against Qi—splitting the alliance apart.

Lian Po and Meng Ao would serve as main generals to face the allied forces.

The Crown Prince went to find Zhu Xiang.

“Uncle, Father’s health is deteriorating,” the Crown Prince said grimly. “Stay a while longer. Help me persuade him to rest. I can act as regent, and you can tend to his health. Let him rest.”

He clenched his jaw. “If he refuses… then we—we will lock him up!”

Zhu Xiang, who was packing to depart and inspect the disaster-stricken regions of Guanzhong and East Qin to prepare for spring plowing despite wartime conditions, smiled with an expression the Crown Prince couldn’t decipher.

It seemed bitter, proud, indulgent—and helpless all at once.

“To bear the nation’s shame—that is the ruler of the state.
To bear the nation’s misfortune—that is the king of the world.”

“Zheng’er, at a moment of national peril, who can make the King of Qin rest?”

“I cannot. You cannot.”

“For he is the king.”

The Crown Prince fell silent for a long time before choking out, “…Yes. Father is the king. Uncle… safe travels.”