HCT – Chapter 236 The Deadly Battle of Changping Commandery

After Zhu Xiang left Xianyang, he had just arrived at the first lodging point when Zichu—who had gone out early for an inspection tour—appeared without notice. Zhu Xiang had slept in the post station last night, and Zichu had been squatting in his carriage waiting for him, giving Zhu Xiang quite a scare.

Qin had just suffered a locust plague. Although there was enough food to distribute, Zichu had learned some basic economics from Zhu Xiang and understood this principle: “If the government does not control it, a ten-percent shortage of grain will not simply cause a ten-percent increase in price; it will cause grain prices to rise without limit—until ten percent of the population starves to death.”

While Zhu Xiang supervised and instructed spring plowing across the regions, Zichu also toured the country, monitoring local grain prices.

In the pre-Qin period, diligent rulers traveled their territory every one or two years to supervise regional officials and feudal lords.

During this trip, whenever Zichu encountered price-gouging—regardless of the perpetrator’s noble status or powerful backing—he executed them on the spot.

Only the King of Qin could do this. Even Chancellor Cai Ze could not. Therefore once again, Cai Ze had to remain in Xianyang to hold the fort while King Zichu traveled.

Fortunately, Xianyang still had the “soft-detained” Crown Prince Zheng to oversee the government.

Zhu Xiang asked speechlessly, “Do you have nothing better to do?”

Zichu grinned. “I wasn’t idle. But Zheng’er actually climbed over the wall to look for you, so I had to make time to ask you what happened.”

The crown prince had his own residence.

Zichu had ordered the residence that Crown Prince Zheng didn’t usually live in to be cleaned up, intending to “confine” him there for a month—reducing his workload and increasing his child-producing efforts.

Who knew Crown Prince Zheng would climb over the wall and slip out? The people monitoring him didn’t dare stop him and could only race on horseback to report to King Zichu.

Zhu Xiang let out a long sigh. “I was wondering why you suddenly changed your mind and let Zheng’er out. So it was because he climbed the wall. This child… aye.”

Zichu said, “He’s fearless because he has backing.”

Zhu Xiang rolled his eyes. “Isn’t that your fault? Even if you want to hold your grandchild sooner, I’ve never heard of locking up a crown prince for that.”

Zichu burst out laughing, coughing uncontrollably.

He pulled a porcelain bottle from his sleeve, poured out a honey-thick medicine, and swallowed it to suppress the cough.

Zhu Xiang’s eyelids twitched.

This medicine was something he and the Qin imperial physicians had developed—based on the later-era proven formula of Strong Loquat Syrup.

Honey, loquat leaf, mint, and… poppy husk.

Emperor Taizong of Tang, Li Shimin, had died from pill overuse. But historians, after close study, discovered that he had not been poisoned by heavy metals in search of immortality. Rather, due to injuries accumulated from years of battle, his hidden ailments caused excruciating pain in his later years. So he consumed large quantities of poppy-containing pills as painkillers, which ultimately caused his death.

This substance was essentially a sedative used in terminal palliative care in later eras.

With it, Zichu could “restore” normal condition for a short time, allowing him to function like the diligent King of Qin he once was.

Noticing Zhu Xiang’s look, Zichu silently put the porcelain bottle back into his sleeve, took a sip of warm water, and changed the subject: “What did Zheng’er come to you for? I never said that after being confined, he couldn’t see you in private when you left Xianyang. If he climbed the wall to find you, it must have been something important.”

Zhu Xiang half-joked, “Zheng’er tried to persuade me to join him in a rebellion—to force you into retirement as the Supreme Emperor.”

Zichu froze for a moment, then bent over laughing again, nearly coughing. “Alright, alright, what a filial child.”

Zhu Xiang sighed. “What do you think?”

Zichu wiped the tears from laughing. “I think it’s nothing.”

Zhu Xiang said, “He’s just worried about your health.”

Zichu smiled. “Zhu Xiang, if I abdicate before Qin has fully recovered its strength, wouldn’t that waste all these years of hard work, letting Zheng’er reap the rewards? I’ve already decided to let him inherit the position of First Emperor of Qin—this merit, I won’t let him steal as well.”

Zhu Xiang sighed. “Mm.”

Zichu’s smile faded, and his voice carried a touch of authority. “The burdens of Qin—good or bad—can only be carried by the King of Qin. As long as I draw breath, it is not the crown prince’s turn. To bear the disgrace of the realm—this is the duty of the ruler of the state…”

“To bear the misfortune of the realm—this is what makes one the ruler of the world,” Zhu Xiang completed gently. “That is what I told Zheng’er.”

Zichu’s eyes flickered. His hands clenched inside his sleeves, and warmth surged in his chest.

A bit awkward, he said, “As long as you understand.”

Zhu Xiang said, “This winter’s snowfall was excellent. I will make sure Guanzhong and Guandong harvest well this year. If you don’t want Zheng’er taking the credit, then live until the harvest.”

Zichu promised, “I will.”

Zhu Xiang sipped warm water, then added, “Zheng’er is in good health. This year you’ll definitely get a grandchild. Think of names in advance.”

Zichu replied, “I’ve already prepared several.”

Zhu Xiang said, “Don’t forget to eat regularly on the road. Follow the meal plan I wrote for you—three meals a day, on time.”

Zichu sighed helplessly. “You wrote a full month of meals with no repeats. Truly not afraid of trouble.”

Zhu Xiang said, “Yes—I’m not the one bothered.”

Zichu pointed at himself. “Are you calling me the trouble?”

Zhu Xiang said, “Aren’t those your own words?”

And so the two began arguing again.

Outside, a guard yawned.

In the past, hearing the King of Qin and Lord Changping quarrel would terrify them. Now they were used to it.

Zichu parted with Zhu Xiang the next day, heading toward other counties.

Before leaving, Zhu Xiang asked Zichu for a royal decree. If he encountered hoarders and speculators along the way, he could also kill and confiscate property under the king’s authority.

Zichu hadn’t wanted to. But after Zhu Xiang stared at him for a while, he sheepishly wrote the decree and even lent him the ancestral sword of the Qin kings.

King Zichu could kill any Qin noble at will—and so could Zhu Xiang.

Zhu Xiang’s household consisted of only three people, one of whom was the crown prince. He was the kind of “solitary minister” feared by rulers across history—fearless and bound by no unspoken rules. Not even the cruel officials kept by emperors of later dynasties were as formidable as him.

Zhu Xiang and King Zichu split up to inspect Qin’s heartland. Most powerful clans, after receiving warning letters from their supporters in court, behaved obediently and pretended to be charitable.

Those few who couldn’t resist the temptation of fortune brought by hoarding were eliminated one by one by King Zichu and Lord Changping.

Many of these gamblers had backing from the Qin royal clans; some were themselves members of the royal clan scattered across the regions.

Zhu Xiang’s reputation among the Qin royal clan plummeted instantly.

But no matter how they resented him, they could do nothing.

Unspoken rules only work when one has friends or relatives to threaten.

Zhu Xiang had very few friends, all holding great power in Qin; his only family were Lady Wu of Wu Commandery and Crown Prince Zheng—no one they could touch.

Only then did the Qin nobles realize how terrifying Zhu Xiang truly was.

He was gentle—until he chose not to be. As long as the king supported him, no one in Qin could shake the sword in his hand.

Under the strong suppression of King Zichu and Lord Changping, Qin’s grain price volatility quickly calmed.

Zhu Xiang continued touring the country to supervise spring plowing. King Zichu turned his carriage toward Qin’s long border to comfort the troops and oversee epidemic prevention.

After locusts came plagues. What Zhu Xiang feared most was that too many human deaths would lead to outbreaks of bacterial diseases caused by mosquitoes and rats.

Garlic, mugwort, ginger, and other antibacterial herbs were shipped in bulk to border cities. Officials and city soldiers went through the streets every day, preaching cleanliness, drinking hot water, eating cooked food. Border troops strictly screened every entrant… The Qin people did everything they could to keep the epidemic outside the gates.

The Warring States era had vast lands and sparse people. Refugees from other states could slip in easily. Many epidemics came from refugees entering villages, then spreading to cities.

Despite his advanced age, Xunzi personally led students of the Xianyang Academy to the villages along the frontier, teaching local leaders how to prevent disease.

At this time, all schools—Confucian and otherwise—left the academy and went into the countryside.

Because of such early prevention, although small outbreaks appeared in Qin, each was snuffed out at the earliest stage.

Though the border was tense and war could ignite at any moment, within Qin spring plowing proceeded vigorously. Farming and fighting advanced side by side.

This time, the allied armies of the five states did not gather together for a decisive battle with Qin as before.

They had discovered that when both sides arrayed their armies openly, Qin could easily win despite fewer troops.

Now that Qin’s territory had expanded and the border lengthened, the allies scattered and attacked in various regions, forcing Qin to divide its forces.

Their strategic goal was no longer to seize Qin territory, but to steal Qin’s grain and kill Qin’s people.

The tactics of the five-state coalition resembled those of the northern nomads—harassment, plunder, destruction.

Destroying crops was easier than defending them. If they could sabotage Qin’s spring plowing, seize Qin’s food, and spread disease into Qin, they would successfully weaken Qin and delay its eastward expansion.

It was an extremely sound strategic objective.

Qin, preoccupied with spring plowing, could not assemble many elite troops.

The five states, meanwhile, were in chaos, ravaged by epidemics. Their spring plowing was hopeless—but they could gather more soldiers.

Those soldiers were people whose lives held almost no hope. If they couldn’t steal grain from Qin, they would starve or die of disease.

So although their training was inferior to Qin’s, their ferocity was frightening. Nearly all of them were suicide-squad material.

By splitting up, the ferocious hungry masses of the five states could inflict tremendous damage on Qin.

The Qin generals, seeing the five-state army divide, instantly understood their intention.

They understood—but could only be troubled.

It was an open strategy, one that struck directly at Qin’s weakness. They could see it clearly yet do nothing, forced to divide their own troops and trade attrition with those five-state bandits.

If they could endure until spring plowing ended, the King of Qin could mobilize more troops to support the frontier.

Because the Northern Hu tribes had also suffered from the disaster, they moved south to plunder. Jiuyuan, Linzhong, and Yanmen were all in precarious conditions and needed support.

The entire State of Zhao was feeling triumphant.

Qin had greedily taken Jiuyuan, Linzhong, and Yanmen, but instead ended up carrying a heavy burden.

“According to the reports from Zhao, they’re saying we’ve become a burden. Looks like if we were still part of Zhao, we’d probably be suffering terribly after this disaster.”

“What a joke. Those Hu tribes? What pressure can they bring? General Li already came back to arrange everything.”

“It’s not like locusts ate the Hu tribes’ cattle and sheep. Who’s going to rob whom is still unclear. Kill their soldiers and we can even eat horse meat afterward.”

“Brothers, let’s fight hard! Don’t let anyone look down on us northerners!”

Most people in the northern commanderies didn’t do spring plowing. Instead, they replanted pasture and raised livestock, much like the Hu tribes of the Central Plains.

The northern commanderies were one of Zhao’s most important horse-producing regions.

Taking advantage of the shortage of men during spring plowing, the Hu tribes moved south. But since the northerners weren’t doing spring plowing either, all men and women, old and young, could go into battle.

People from the northern commanderies were famously fierce— even the women could take the field and kill the enemy.

Nearly all able-bodied adults poured out to fight; the elderly, weak, women, and children guarded the city gates.

Thus the northern border army again displayed the terrifying prowess they once had under Li Mu and Lord Xinling. The Hu coalition forces—who had just barely regained a bit of strength after being badly weakened—were completely wiped out again, and the northern border army captured countless warhorses.

Those horses were all sent to Qin’s eastern border towns. Horses in good condition could be used to form more cavalry units; injured or dead horses added a few extra pieces of meat to the soldiers’ pots.

With the reinforcements of horses and horse meat from the north, Qin’s morale soared.

The northern border army’s capabilities quickly spread throughout Qin, and with this battle, they rapidly integrated into the Qin family.

King Zichu of Qin chewed on a piece of extremely tough horse meat but broke into a radiant smile.

This was Zhu Xiang’s idea—part of the plan Li Mu had set before he left.

His friend had always brought him surprises.

The northern commanderies had sounded the horn early. While the five–nation alliance was still quarreling, they won a great victory, boosting Qin’s morale and instantly relieving much of the pressure on the Qin troops.

The Qin generals felt somewhat unwilling to accept this.

If they couldn’t produce a brilliant military achievement this time, wouldn’t the Zhao general from the northern commanderies steal all their glory?

An old general—Lord Xinping, Lian Po—was already enough to make them uncomfortable, along with the young general Li Mu, Lord Wucheng. And now Zhao generals were stealing the spotlight again?

Did they really think Qin lacked famous generals after Lord Wu’an’s death?

This was outrageous!

One by one, Qin generals rolled up their sleeves and visited the troops daily, urging the soldiers to push themselves harder and not be outdone by Zhao men.

Back then, Zhao people had been defeated by Qin.

And now that these Zhao generals had become Qin generals, how had every single one suddenly turned into a war god? The Qin side was deeply annoyed.

The Qin soldiers, personally roused by their generals, were filled with vigor.

Qin’s military merit system already made them naturally enthusiastic about battle. Now that they heard the newly annexed Zhao men were competing for military merits, how could they tolerate that?

They were grateful for the horses and horse meat sent by the northern commanderies, but losing? That was impossible.

King Zichu of Qin was overjoyed and even wrote a letter to the former king of Han, who was living quietly and comfortably in Xianyang, asking whether Han had any famous generals to join Qin’s internal competition.

The former king of Han thought about it, then bluntly replied: none!

What famous generals could Han possibly have? Even its elite troops had been destroyed early on by Bai Qi. “Your Majesty, do I, the former king of Han, look like a famous general to you?”

Han had only Han Fei and Zhang Liang to boast about. Nothing else.

King Zichu was quite disappointed upon reading the letter.

Why were Hans so useless?

His disappointment spread, and all Hans blushed with shame.

Han generals were furious at their former king. Their poor performance wasn’t necessarily their fault—maybe Han simply couldn’t provide enough troops.

The king of Han was infuriating. Qin had given him a chance to recommend them as generals, yet he actually called all Han generals useless.

They were disheartened.

Back when Qin attacked Han, although Han retreated at every step, most Han generals still fought desperately.

Even if they had no achievements, they had surely worked hard.

When Qin attacked Xinzheng, they gritted their teeth and held on until Chu came to help.

And their own king not only surrendered early but mocked them as worthless?

Han scholars once again felt ashamed and pained at having been betrayed by their king.

Their good-for-nothing king made even the thought of rebelling against Qin fade away.

Some people said the king of Han was actually being clever. By saying this, he distanced himself from the restless old Han nobility, avoiding implicating himself.

Few deposed kings survived; even if they did, they were exiled.

The king of Han lived comfortably in Xianyang—how many dispossessed kings could envy that? Having surrendered, why would he care for Hans? Naturally, he prioritized his own safety. The king indeed had some wisdom.

No one knew the truth, but the Han nobles who had originally intended to work with the five–nation alliance to attack Qin were now silent. Qin avoided an internal revolt.

A casual move by King Zichu brought such an outcome. When Chancellor Cai Ze heard the news, he broke into a cold sweat and informed King Zichu. King Zichu sighed.

It seemed he truly possessed the mandate of Heaven.

The northern commanderies’ victory over the Hu tribes, the Han nobles’ unrest settling down, and the five–nation alliance finally arguing their way into a plan— the armies marched.

The first place they attacked was Changping.

Changping bordered Zhao. Lord Changping, Zhu Xiang, was renowned everywhere. Everyone knew the Changping region had to be extremely wealthy.

If they could seize Changping, they could obtain vast amounts of grain.

The troops attacking Changping were from Zhao.

The Zhao commander had once fought in the Battle of Changping and had once received Zhu Xiang’s kindness.

Most of the soldiers in his army were Zhao civilians who, after hearing the officials sent by King Yan of Zhao proclaim “Seize Changping, welcome back Lord Zhu Xiang!”, brought their own food and weapons to join.

Some Zhao civilians didn’t even have proper weapons— they carried farm tools and wooden forks onto the battlefield.

Most of these temporary recruits came from plague-stricken regions and had no training. They could barely form a square formation, but still came to die beneath the walls.

Standing atop the walls, Bo Fu looked down and felt as if he wasn’t looking at an army of Zhao, but a group of refugees.

His heart sank.

When he saw the Zhao general leading them, he couldn’t recall the man’s name, but he recognized him as a former comrade from Changping. He felt even worse.

He couldn’t stop himself from shouting from atop the gate tower: “Are you here to take the city, or to send them to their deaths?! Do you really think this group, without even proper siege tools, can take a city? Or do you truly believe that capturing Changping will make Lord Zhu Xiang return?!”

The Zhao general sat tall on his warhorse, lifting his head to look at the Qin general on the walls.

Though more than ten years had passed, he recognized Bo Fu’s face.

Bo Fu had led the killing of Zhao Kuo, granting all Zhao soldiers a path to live. How could he forget him?

He opened his mouth to respond, but when he did, no words came out.

He had answers to all of Bo Fu’s questions. He even knew that he and the people behind him were being used as expendables.

But what of it? They had already come to the walls of Changping. For that sliver of impossible hope, they could only attack with all their strength.

The Zhao general raised his hand and brought it down.

The war drums thundered.

Siege!

Zhao men carried simple ladders and rushed howling toward the walls of Changping.

Since they knew the alliance army contained many plague–infected troops, the defenders did not sally out. The gates were shut; they would defend to the death.

Behind them was Qin territory, so they didn’t need to worry about losing their supply lines. They only needed to hold until the Zhao forces exhausted themselves or until Qin reinforcements arrived after spring plowing. Then the Zhao army would retreat.

But they had not expected that these Zhao soldiers—armed with crude weapons—would show such extraordinary endurance and ferocity.

The Zhao army besieging Changping was huge. They swarmed like ants, climbing the walls, only to fall under the defenders’ prepared defenses.

Corpses piled into mountains.

Yet Zhao morale did not drop at all. Like senseless walking corpses, they climbed over the bodies of their comrades and continued the assault.

King Yan had not provided proper siege equipment. So they piled soil and stones on the spot, using corpses as the foundation, building platform after platform, each one bringing them closer to the battlements.

Bo Fu ordered oil to be poured and lit, in hopes of burning the corpses under the gates.

Flames roared, burning many Zhao soldiers into charred remains. But when the fire died out, the Zhao troops still climbed over the solidified platforms to ascend the walls.

Many defenders vomited on the battlements.

It looked as if the Zhao soldiers were using their comrades’ corpses to build a macabre landscape outside the walls— and using that landscape as their assault ramp.

Most of the Changping defenders were veteran soldiers, yet none had ever seen anything so horrifying.

Ordinary besiegers would lose morale when blocked, and certainly retreat when fire was lit under the walls.

But the Zhao general gave no order to retreat, and the Zhao soldiers showed no desire to run.

They seemed devoid of fear, knowing only to climb. No matter how many died, not one fled.

Standing on the tower, Bo Fu looked down and could not find even a single deserter.

The corpse-platform they had built was nearly as high as the wall itself. Qin and Zhao soldiers were fighting practically on level ground.

The Zhao soldiers screamed “Bring back Lord Zhu Xiang!”

The defenders screamed “Protect Lord Zhu Xiang!”

Lord Zhu Xiang wasn’t even in Changping, yet both sides shouted his name.

Even their accents were similar.

If one didn’t listen carefully, one might think they were the same men shouting the same slogan.

On the walls, Zhao soldiers and once-Zhao soldiers now defending as Qin troops, Zhao officers and former Zhao officers fighting now as Qin defenders— all hacked at each other desperately.

They were slaughtering blindly, mixed together, relying only on uniform colors to distinguish friend from foe—sometimes even striking comrades by mistake.

No formations remained; commands could not be heard; the banners were invisible.

The two sides slaughtered each other, corpses piled at their feet, neither retreating.

As the situation grew desperate, more and more Changping civilians replaced fallen defenders.

Seeing that defending the walls couldn’t push the Zhao army back, Bo Fu led war chariots and cavalry out the gates to engage the main Zhao force waiting outside.

The Zhao general—once his comrade—led over ten thousand elite Zhao troops who had also been abandoned. His cavalry and chariots stood in perfect formation, waiting long enough.

The two armies confronted each other, displaying the might of two military powerhouses.

The gates closed behind the Qin troops. They were ready to fight to the death.

At the moment Bo Fu raised his hand, the Zhao general did the same.

War drums rolled. Trumpets blared.

Both sides charged forward simultaneously.

War chariots brushed past war chariots.

Warhorses brushed past warhorses.

Infantry formations brushed past infantry formations.

Their formations intersected—two giant, spinning meat-grinders leaving a field of corpses in their wake.

The drums sounded again. The banners waved.

Qin and Zhao turned their formations around with precision. Cavalry and chariots circled from both sides to the front.

Then—more drums.

They clashed again, abandoning crossbows and stones, engaging at close range.

Again and again.

All fought to the death.

None retreated.