HCT – Chapter 250 The Jujube Trees Have Become a Forest

A person of vile character, when driven to absolute desperation, will do the most heartless, inhuman things.

Zhao King Qian’s situation was even worse than in actual history.

Historically, at least he ascended the throne when Zhao was not yet in grave danger. He lived comfortably as king for a few years, and although he was eventually captured in Handan and exiled, he had barely suffered.

But in this life, Zhao King Yan passed the throne to him when the country was already moments away from destruction. On the very first day of his reign, he had to flee for his life. Before he could experience any pleasure of being a monarch, he had already become a terrified fugitive, like a startled bird.

After arriving in Gu City, aware that he had reached the end of the road, Zhao Qian vented his terror through extreme indulgence and violence—until he provoked an uprising among the citizens of Gu City.

Zhao Qian still retained a bit of “restraint.” The women he assaulted were all from commoner families; he did not dare touch the households of the gentry.

He thought that by doing so, he could rest easy. Who would have imagined that commoners—those beneath him—would dare resent their lofty king?

Not only Zhao Qian, even the gentry of Gu City didn’t expect such an outcome.

Gu City’s resistance had been fierce. Some of the gentry wished to live and die with Zhao; others hoped to negotiate with Qin troops once they arrived. Whatever their reasons, Gu City should never have fallen so easily—and in a way completely unrelated to them.

When Wang Jian heard some gentry furiously scolding the “vulgar commoners” for rebelling, he thought coldly: Ignorant fools, indeed.

The surrounding townsfolk glared at that gentryman in rage. Yet a few scholars sighed softly—some even agreeing with him.

Emotionally, the commoners’ anger was understandable. But in the view of grand morality, commoners were still unreliable… or so the scholars believed.

Wang Jian’s brow twitched. He stepped toward the gentryman who was cursing at the top of his lungs.

“Did Zhao Qian torture your wife or daughter to death?” Wang Jian asked.

The gentryman didn’t understand why he was asking, but answered truthfully—“No”—and then continued rambling about moral principles.

Wang Jian said indifferently, “Since he didn’t, what right do you have to spout nonsense here?”

Then he drew his sword and struck. The gentryman’s head fell, rolled twice, and stopped at the feet of the watching commoners.

A commoner raised his foot and kicked the head away. “Well said!”

Several scholars were stunned.

Commoners and some scholars cheered.

Wang Jian calmly turned to the clerk behind him. “Write an article on how Zhao Qian abused the commoners and caused the fall of the city, and how the city’s gentry scolded those who lost their wives and daughters for being ‘disloyal.’ Didn’t that Xianyang Gazette run by Zhu Xiang say they were short on lively material?”

“Yes,” the clerk replied.

He cast a disdainful glance at the kicked-away head.

Though the students of Xianyang Academy studied widely, this clerk was a true Ru scholar—one who had fled from Qi to Qin.

And Ru scholars of this era, without exception, were regarded by monarchs as “rebels.”

Whether Confucius, Mencius, or Xunzi, all upheld the belief: “If the ruler treats his ministers like dirt and weeds, the ministers will treat the ruler like an enemy.” Xunzi even extended this to the commoners, declaring: “The people can bear the boat aloft; they can also overturn it.”

Now, Zhao Qian’s little boat had indeed been capsized by the great waves of Zhao’s common people—while the scholars of Zhao were still complaining that the waves dared exist.

But there are no waves without wind. Why not ask what kinds of wicked winds successive Zhao kings had been stirring?

People said Heaven favored Qin. But seeing how Zhao King Yan and Zhao Qian had rotted the kingdom, it was clearly the people’s hearts that favored Qin.

Ru scholars might be “rebels,” but with the brush, they had skill—and could win the hearts of the masses.

After spreading the tale of how Zhao’s people overturned Zhao Qian’s boat throughout Gu City and other still-unfallen Zhao cities, morale crumbled.

Wang Jian, acting swiftly before Lian Po and Li Mu could arrive, wiped out nearly all remaining Zhao forces.

He let out a soft breath of relief.

Lian Po never realized Wang Jian’s hidden motive.

Handan had fallen; he knew Wang Jian would quickly sweep through Zhao. Lian Po hadn’t come to fight wars—he wanted to use his remaining reputation to reduce Zhao’s resistance and ensure stability as soon as possible.

Li Mu had similar intentions, though mixed with personal grudges to settle.

But Li Mu knew Wang Jian well. From the changes in Wang Jian’s battle strategies, he guessed the man’s frustrations.

Upon their first meeting, Li Mu teased, “Why the rush? There’s still Yan and Chu after Zhao. I can let you have the lead.”

Wang Jian responded with a kick.

Li Mu didn’t dodge. Dusting off the footprint on his clothes, he said, “Don’t worry. His Majesty said even when he was a child that he’d grant you a marquisate, but only after you’ve become a proper old general.”

Wang Jian cursed, “Shut it. Don’t speculate about His Majesty’s thoughts.”

“I’m not speculating,” Li Mu said. “He really said it when he was little.”

At that moment, Zhu Xiang opened the door. “What did Zheng’er say when he was little?”

Qin King Zheng walked in behind him. “I’d also like to know.”

Wang Jian instantly straightened. “Nothing. Just joking with Lord Wucheng.”

Li Mu, unrestrained, repeated everything.

Zheng nodded. “Yes, I said that.”

Zhu Xiang asked curiously, “How old does Wang Jian have to be before you’ll grant him the title?”

Zheng pretended to think seriously. “About as old as Elder Lian is now?”

Wang Jian: … Your Majesty, are you serious or joking?

Li Mu said solemnly, “Then Wang Jian must be careful. Generals rarely live to Elder Lian’s age. One little slip, and you’ll only receive a posthumous marquisate.”

Zhu Xiang patted Wang Jian’s shoulder and sighed dramatically. “General Wang, take care of your health.”

Wang Jian: … Are you all serious or joking?

Zheng asked, puzzled, “General Wang, is this not funny? Why aren’t you laughing?”

Zhu Xiang burst out laughing. Li Mu’s shoulders trembled—clearly suppressing laughter.

Wang Jian’s mouth twitched. “This subject cannot laugh at that.”

Zheng said cheerfully, “General Wang is too serious. Relax. Even though I am king, you watched me grow up. You can be at ease.”

Wang Jian: … This isn’t about ease. Your Majesty, how do you expect me to laugh at that?!

Zheng, Zhu Xiang, and Li Mu all found it hilarious. When they shared it with Lian Po, he also laughed heartily.

Only Wang Jian found no joy in it.

Zheng became convinced—with evidence, he thought—that Wang Jian truly lacked the humor his uncle claimed he had.

After teasing the eager-to-earn-merit Wang Jian, Zheng hurriedly pulled Zhu Xiang toward Handan.

It was time for him to fulfill a promise he made as a child.

Zheng didn’t enter Handan immediately. First, he went to find his former home.

He thought that the home he shared with his uncle and aunt should still be near the outskirts of Handan. Though Zhao had suffered war and famine, the outskirts of the capital should not have been severely damaged.

But reality disappointed him.

The village he once played in had been burned down.

The courtyard he once lived in was now rubble.

The jujube tree he once climbed onto his elders’ shoulders to pick fruit from—only a bare stump remained, surrounded by weeds.

Zheng stared at the stump amid the wild grass. His hands clenched tightly, nails digging painfully into his palms.

Zhu Xiang sighed, cleared away the weeds, and let him sit down.

Zheng sat silently, suffocated with grief.

“How could this happen?” he murmured—angry, disbelieving, and wounded all at once.

“I’ll go ask around,” Zhu Xiang said.

Zheng nodded like a wronged child, sullen and heartbroken.

Though they traveled in disguise, they brought many attendants—just in case.

Even if the land was barren now, they were still close to the capital. Zhu Xiang only needed to locate a Zhao gentry household with farmland nearby to learn the truth.

The Zhao royal clan, now hostages, had been confined to their estates in Handan awaiting Qin’s judgment.

And nearby—by coincidence—stood the estate of Lord Pingyang.

A young son of Lord Pingyang was brought out to answer their questions.

He was a few years older than Zhu Xiang, and though he didn’t recognize Zhu Xiang, no one from Lord Pingyang’s family was unfamiliar with him. After all, Lord Pingyang had spoken of Zhu Xiang even as he lay dying.

The youth said gloomily, “While my father lived, he requested this area as his fief and took great care in maintaining the estate. When my uncle, Lord Pingyuan, lived—and when Lord Xinling used to be in Handan—they came often.”

He paused, voice sinking lower.

“After Zhao Yan took the throne, he listened to slander and seized this land to make it a royal manor…”

His voice dropped again.

“They destroyed the village… tore down the houses. Sigh.”

Zhu Xiang walked back to Zheng, letting his furious nephew lean against him.

He patted Zheng’s back gently.

“As expected,” Zhu Xiang said softly. “When Lord Pingyang was alive, he would have protected this place.”

After all, Lord Pingyang had visited him before his death, reminiscing about the past, regretting not having recommended him.

“Alright, don’t be angry anymore. Zhao Yan is already dead.”

Li Mu, unable to save Zhao Yan, had informed Zhu Xiang shamefully—begging him to speak well of him before Lin Zhi.

Zhu Xiang had rolled his eyes.

Stories of “human stumps” in ancient times were mostly legends, and unreliable. Without antibiotics, such massive wounds would almost always become infected and fatal.

Li Mu had stammered that he accidentally struck Zhao Yan a few too many times, and the pampered man simply couldn’t withstand the blows.

Zhu Xiang had wanted to ask, How did you ever think he would?

He told Li Mu to write several apology letters and avoid Lin Zhi for a while.

Zhao Yan had even wanted to dig up Lin Xiangru’s grave—let alone spare Zhu Xiang’s old home.

All Zhu Xiang could hope now was that the commoners of the village had not suffered too greatly.

Zhu Xiang asked, and the Young Lord of Pingyang replied, “When my elder brother heard that Zhao Yan wanted to take out his anger on the commoners here, he moved all of them to Pingyang, leaving only me in Handan. My cousin—the eldest son of Lord Pingyuan—also helped.”

Zhu Xiang let out a breath of relief and thanked the young lord.

The young lord hurriedly said he didn’t dare accept thanks—it was only following his late father’s instructions, and as a son, he was merely carrying out his father’s will.

Zhu Xiang then turned to Qin King Zheng. “Should we go take a look at Pingyang?”

Qin King Zheng lowered his voice and said, “The lines of Lord Pingyang and Lord Pingyuan may each retain one more generation of noble title.”

The young lord immediately knelt in gratitude.

His heart was full of relief.

Ever since their father passed away, the family had fiercely argued over whether they should continue protecting the people of this village despite Zhao Yan’s hatred.

In the end, his elder brother and cousin decided that since their father had entrusted them to protect Lord Lin and Zhu Xiang’s old acquaintances, they had to fulfill that trust and maintain their father’s righteousness.

Besides, from a practical standpoint, Zhao’s downfall was inevitable, and Qin’s unification was unstoppable. Lord Pingyuan was benevolent—if they did this, when Zhao fell, perhaps Lord Changping would help them later.

Anyway, ever since ascending the throne, Zhao Yan favored Lord Chunping’s faction and was deeply hostile to the descendants of Pingyuan and Pingyang, who had supported Chunping’s rival. At that point, violating a few more of Zhao Yan’s orders no longer mattered.

As members of the royal clan, Zhao Yan did not dare go too far beyond prohibiting them from holding office. Their lives merely became more frugal.

They never expected Zhao to fall so quickly. They even less expected that the Qin King would value those commoners so highly.

“This land is barren, but the soil is still fertile. We could bring back the people who left and move my fief here. Or, Zheng’er, do you want to turn the Zhao royal palace into a traveling palace?” Zhu Xiang asked.

Qin King Zheng muttered, “I won’t live in the Zhao royal palace—it’s unlucky.”

“Alright, unlucky,” Zhu Xiang replied. “Then should we rebuild here?”

“Of course. Uncle’s fief stays as it is. This place will become Uncle Lin’s fief.”

“That works too. This land originally belonged to Lord Lin’s allotment.”

Although the descendants of Pingyang and Pingyuan could retain an extra generation of titles, their fiefs certainly wouldn’t remain so extensive—they would likely be reassigned near Xianyang, for easier supervision.

And for those families, it was also more desirable to live near the capital—better opportunities for future generations.

Zhu Xiang dismissed the Pingyang descendants and sent attendants farther away. Only then did he pull Qin King Zheng into his arms and gently pat his back. “Don’t be angry. Anger only hurts yourself.”

Qin King Zheng, embarrassed, murmured, “I’m not a child anymore. Uncle doesn’t need to coax me.”

“Of course you’re not a child. But people of any age get angry—what does that have to do with being a child?” Zhu Xiang soothed him. “Let’s plant another jujube tree here.”

Qin King Zheng grumbled softly, “It won’t be my original jujube tree.”

Zhu Xiang released him and smiled mysteriously. “That’s not certain.”

Qin King Zheng blinked in confusion. “The tree was cut down. How could it grow back?”

“Our family’s jujube tree grew incredibly well, and the fruit was exceptionally sweet. I gave out many saplings. Most of the jujube trees in this village are descendants of that one. Lord Lin and Lord Lian also planted saplings from our tree. Li Mu even took some jujubes to plant in Yanmen Commandery—I don’t know if they survived. As I came here, I noticed plenty of jujube trees in the nearby villages—they should all be children of our old tree.”

Qin King Zheng’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

“Of course. You know how delicious our jujubes were. Lin Li, that rascal, always came to steal them. If he went through the trouble to steal the fruit, how could he not transplant a sapling into his own yard?”

Qin King Zheng finally relaxed and even smiled. “Uncle Lin would definitely steal the whole tree if he could.”

He jumped off the stump and tugged Zhu Xiang forward. “Come on! Let’s ask Teacher if the ones in Yanmen survived!”

Zhu Xiang nearly stumbled from how hard his nephew pulled him.

He chuckled silently. Zheng’er claimed he wasn’t anxious, yet of course he was. Luckily, plenty of the jujube tree’s offspring existed.

Li Mu was busy managing Handan’s affairs after escorting the Qin King into the city. When he saw the king rushing toward him while dragging Zhu Xiang, he let out a mental sigh.

Clearly, he already knew about the destroyed village.

Just as he was thinking about how to comfort Zheng’er, Qin King Zheng shouted, “Teacher! The jujubes Uncle gave you—did the ones you planted in Yanmen survive?!”

Li Mu froze for a moment, then smiled helplessly. “They did. After Yanmen came under Qin, I went to look. The trees bore plenty of fruit.”

Qin King Zheng instantly dropped Zhu Xiang and plopped onto the chair Li Mu just vacated. “If the Lin family’s tree was cut down, move the ones from Yanmen here.”

Although Zhu Xiang said the village’s trees were all descendants of the original, Zheng still trusted the ones planted by his teacher and Uncle Lin the most.

Li Mu said, “Even if Lin’s tree wasn’t cut, we can still move two from Yanmen. Two trees aren’t many.”

“Exactly!” Qin King Zheng said.

Li Mu flashed a look at Zhu Xiang.

Zhu Xiang responded, “We can plant an entire jujube forest nearby and build a big house. We’ll come here to play often. Even if it’s Lin Li’s fief, what difference is it from our estate?”

Qin King Zheng nodded vigorously, his mood finally fully restored. “When the villagers return, I’ll exempt them from taxes for life!”

Zhu Xiang laughed. “Of course. And make sure to warn Lin Li, so he doesn’t secretly collect money to buy wine.”

Qin King Zheng snorted. “Uncle Lin would never do that. At most he’d ‘borrow’ wine from the palace and leave me a note in the wine cellar.”

Zhu Xiang shook his head. “Lin Li is doing it wrong. When I used to sneak your great-grandfather’s sheep, I never left evidence. He never knew who took them. That’s how you steal properly.”

Qin King Zheng burst out laughing. “Great-grandfather definitely knew it was you. Who else would dare?”

Li Mu held his forehead. “Zhu Xiang, don’t corrupt Zheng’er.”

The king laughed harder. “I’m already the King of Qin. Uncle can’t corrupt me.”

“You’re the King of Qin, and Zhu Xiang shouldn’t be saying these things to you. What if you steal sheep from Uncle Lin or someone else?”

“What’s the problem? Wouldn’t Uncle Lin give them to me anyway?”

Zhu Xiang nodded seriously. “Exactly. He’s taken so much wine from you—how could a few sheep compare?”

Li Mu sighed. This wasn’t about stinginess! If the king of Qin started casually taking livestock from his ministers, what would that do to his reputation? If the scholars of Xianyang heard, they’d scold the king nonstop.

Li Mu resolved privately to write to Xunzi and complain. Only Xunzi could discipline Zhu Xiang.

As for Lord Lian—if he told Lian, that man would just bulge his eyes and say, “What’s the big deal? Let him take them!” Then deliver a hundred sheep as compensation.

Lian Po always spoiled Zheng’er and interfered whenever they tried to educate him.

After finally appeasing his nephew, Zhu Xiang let out a long breath.

He really had feared Zheng’er might, in a fit of rage, burn down the Zhao royal ancestral tomb.

Zhao had only just fallen. Qin was claiming righteous cause—some decorum had to be maintained. They couldn’t be like Bai Gong of Chu who, because of a personal grudge, burned the Chu king’s ancestral tomb.

Besides, Pingyuan and Pingyang had been kind to him. He didn’t care about Zhao Yan and Zhao Qian, but the Zhao royal tomb was also where those good people’s ancestors rested—he had to show respect.

Burning the Zhao ancestral tomb now would cause huge trouble in governing newly annexed Zhao lands.

If Zheng’er really couldn’t let go of the anger, he could wait ten or twenty years. By then, the tomb keepers would be negligent, making accidental fire or theft perfectly plausible. After a decade or two, most Zhao people would have become Qin people—they wouldn’t care so much.

Qin King Zheng took his uncle’s advice to heart. He truly had wanted to burn the tomb.

But since Uncle said so, and since Pingyang and Pingyuan’s descendants had done a good deed, he decided to postpone the matter.

Ten years later, he would secretly arrange for the Zhao royal tomb to “accidentally” burn, satisfying his resentment.

Qin King Zheng had not only come to Zhao to revisit old traces, but also to fulfill promises.

He remitted one year of taxes and corvée for all Zhao people. He promised to treat Zhao and Qin people equally, to build schools so they could serve in office.

He met those who had once been close to Lian and Lin, allowing them to choose talented children to study in the Xianyang Academy.

If any were veteran generals and passed Lian’s evaluation, they could serve under him.

The king treated the Zhao scholars so kindly that their resentment eased, stifling thoughts of rebellion.

After all, the kings of Qin and Zhao shared ancestors eight hundred years ago—they could simply consider Qin’s king as inheriting Zhao’s mandate. Serving him wasn’t betrayal.

Zhu Xiang felt complicated hearing their self-comforting reasoning.

In the end, after Zhao’s fall, the only person willing to die with the Zhao king was the notorious traitor Guo Kai.

Because of this, his reputation actually improved. Even the Zhao knights no longer hunted his family.

Before, many wanted to wipe out Guo Kai’s entire clan for misleading the king and causing Zhao’s destruction.

But Guo Kai, infamous as he was, turned out to be the only minister with enough loyalty to die with the king, making the scholars feel conflicted.

Though Guo Kai was a treacherous villain, he had genuinely been loyal to the king. It was only because the king was foolish that Guo Kai became a sycophant. The true fault lay with the king.

So seeing him as a loyalist, the scholars gradually eased their hatred.

Lin Zhi, unable to kill Zhao Yan with his own hands, felt extremely frustrated—just as Li Mu and Zhu Xiang had expected.

If Li Mu were here now, even though Lin Zhi knew it wasn’t reasonable, he would still kick him several times and demand at least a hundred jars of good wine as compensation, despite Cai Ze and Zhu Xiang scolding him from both sides.

Unable to kill his enemy, Lin Zhi could only torment Zhao’s reputation.

He sent people everywhere to proclaim Guo Kai’s loyalty, using the infamous traitor to mock the entire Zhao court.

Guo Kai was a notorious villain, yet he had more backbone than the supposedly righteous ministers—no wonder the king trusted him! Zhao’s only loyal man was a traitor—what did that make the rest? Ever since Lord Pingyang died, the whole state rotted through; Zhao deserved to perish!

Qin King Zheng fully cooperated.

He praised Guo Kai’s loyalty and even buried him with Zhao Yan—in the very tomb Zhao Yan had built for himself.

As for Zhao Yan’s actual corpse, only Lin Zhi knew where it ended up.

Thus Guo Kai alone lay in the royal tomb and would receive ten years of offerings from the Zhao clan.

Zhu Xiang was exasperated by the petty vengeance of Lin Zhi and Zheng’er. But… if it made them happy, so be it.

Personally, he disliked glorifying Guo Kai, a man whose treachery harmed the people terribly—especially when Guo Kai encouraged sending infected civilians to die in war. That crossed Zhu Xiang’s bottom line.

Such a man deserved to be ground to ash, not honored as a loyalist lying in the royal tomb for ten years.

But there were many things Zhu Xiang disliked but could not change.

Zheng’er and Lin were right. He was the naïve one. Elevating Guo Kai while crushing Zhao’s scholar class was among the best ways to stabilize the region.

Still, Qin King Zheng sensed his uncle’s displeasure and said, “Uncle, just ten years. After that, I’ll grind Guo Kai’s bones to ash—and I’ll have a Zhao person do it. He was loyal to the king but harmed the people. If a Zhao man digs him up and burns him, that’s perfectly normal!”

Far away in Xianyang, Lin Zhi also sensed Zhu Xiang’s disapproval and sent a letter explaining that Guo Kai would be dealt with after being politically ‘used.’ If any descendants were found, they would never enter the academy. They would be commoners, tasting the hardship they had inflicted.

Suddenly, Qin King Zheng clapped excitedly. “Then the burning of the Zhao royal tomb has a reason too!”

Zhu Xiang: “…”

How did Zheng’er’s mind work like this? What flexibility! Truly his imperial nephew.

He chuckled. “Good. Now we have a reason for the Zhao tomb’s ‘accidental fire.’ Excellent.”