HCT – Chapter 258 Xunzi Offers Strategy

By the time Zhu Xiang received the news that Qin had launched its attack on Yan and that Zhao Gao was dead, it was already April.

He removed the straw hat from his head and wiped the sweat from his face with the towel hanging around his neck. “Let’s hope Wang Jian moves quickly.”

In the original timeline, it was also Wang Jian who led the expedition against Yan. It took him one year to take Ji, the Yan capital, with only a slight delay at the Yi River, where they encountered the combined forces of Dai and the remnants of Yan.

Qin had first destroyed Zhao, then attacked Yan. Zhao Prince Jia fled north to Dai Commandery, proclaimed himself King of Dai, gathered the scattered Zhao troops, and maneuvered through the mountains and forests of Dai, resisting Qin for six years.

If not for King Jia’s consideration of “lips and teeth”—that the fall of Yan would leave Dai exposed to a two-front assault—and the righteousness of aiding a neighboring state, he might have held out even longer. But his decision wasn’t truly a mistake. Once Yan fell, Dai would also collapse in an instant under pressure from both sides. It was simply that Qin was too strong. No decision could have changed the outcome.

Afterward, King Xi of Yan and Crown Prince Dan fled to Liaodong. King Xi killed Crown Prince Dan in an attempt to sue for peace with Qin. The King of Qin refused, but since Qin was then engaged on multiple fronts—Wei and Chu being far more important—Qin temporarily halted its advance. Four years later, Qin finally captured Liaodong and took King Xi alive.

Now, the only states remaining were Yan and Chu, and Chu had already shrunk to the lands south of the Huai River.

Yan was isolated, with no allies, and Wang Jian was more than ten years younger than he had been in the original history. Qin’s armaments were also superior to what they once were. Taking Yan in a single decisive campaign should be easier than before.

Although logistics weren’t under Zhu Xiang’s official jurisdiction, all matters concerning grain levies still passed through his hands.

When Qin conquered Zhao, they caused little harm to the common people. With Zhu Xiang and Lian Po restoring order in time, Zhao had produced a surplus harvest the previous year. This grain was now supplying the army attacking Yan. Qin no longer needed to transport grain across the eastern plains, shortening supply lines considerably.

After Zhu Xiang’s coordination, Zhao’s people only needed to pay their usual yearly taxes—no additional levies.

People of Zhao, upon hearing the Qin army was going to war, had expected to tighten their belts. Unexpectedly, the taxes were lower than under the Zhao king. They were left utterly bewildered.

They sent respected village elders to gather money and quietly seek out Lian Po’s disciples to inquire whether something larger was happening behind the scenes.

Lian Po was speechless.

“As long as there’s enough grain for the army, and you’ve gathered enough, there’s no need to levy more,” Lian Po said. “Qin has nearly unified the realm. They can collect taxes from countless lands. It’s just a small state like Yan—there’s no need to strip you of all your grain.”

The elders went back and explained this. The common folk only half understood.

“So… following the King of Qin might actually be better than following the King of Zhao?”

“A ruler worse than the Zhao king would be rare. And Lord Zhu Xiang and Lord Lian are back.”

“That’s true.”

Thus reassured, the people returned to their fields and continued farming, without abandoning their land to flee into the mountains.

It was currently the lean season between harvests, yet the people still had food to eat. Even though they had to mix wild vegetables into their meals to fill their stomachs, it was still food—not grass roots, bark, or mud.

Being able to eat wild vegetables to satiety was, in itself, considered a bountiful year.

It wasn’t just the common folk—who struggled to think beyond mere survival—who felt life had improved. Even Zhao’s scholars felt their circumstances had become better since Zhao’s fall.

Zhao King Yan had waged endless wars year after year, neglecting agriculture. Even families of low-born scholars had no surplus grain left.

Moreover, Qin had already built academies in Zhao territory. Low-born scholars no longer needed to attach themselves to powerful nobles to have a chance at office. Compared to King Zhao, the King of Qin truly appeared more enlightened.

For most scholars, as long as they could serve as officials, it mattered little which ruler they served.

Legally, all of pre-Qin Huaxia belonged to the Zhou dynasty. Scholars had always traveled between states freely. From the Spring and Autumn period to the Warring States, over 140 small countries had merged into seven great powers. Scholars had long been psychologically prepared for unification.

Perhaps only the old aristocrats of the six former states were unhappy, but most scholars needed only an avenue for advancement to feel grateful toward the new ruler.

Thus scholars of Zhao no longer called themselves “scholars of Zhao,” but “scholars of Zhao land,” actively cooperating with Qin’s campaign against Yan.

Some even brought their retainers and proudly enlisted, eager to fight for the King of Qin.

With only Yan and Chu left, this was one of the last chances to earn military merit and win noble titles!

Although one could become an official through the academies and examinations, official rank and noble titles were not the same. If they planned to serve Qin, naturally they also desired the chance to earn titles.

News of the swift loyalty of Zhao’s scholars reached Xianyang, and the intellectuals there sighed—unsurprised. Not even a little.

With Lord Zhu Xiang and Lord Lian—Zhao’s great sages—back on Zhao soil, of course Zhao would return wholeheartedly.

Xunzi had already returned to Xianyang.

Upon his return, he immediately had Lin Zhi and Cai Ze pinned down and personally beat them both so badly they had to take several days off to recover. When they returned to court, the swelling on their faces hadn’t even faded.

Confucians valued dignity more than anything. For Xunzi to strike them directly in the face showed just how furious he was.

King Zheng of Qin was so frightened he rushed to visit Xunzi, only to be kept outside the door. He obediently waited in the snow for an hour before Xunzi finally let him in.

Spring snow was falling at the time. To soften Xunzi’s anger, the king deliberately ordered his attendants not to hold an umbrella over him.

By the time Xunzi opened the door, snow had already piled into a small mound on the king’s shoulders, earning him a thorough scolding.

But since the king had essentially performed a “Standing in the Snow at Xun’s Gate,” he avoided a beating.

Pleased, he wrote proudly to his uncle about his “foresight.”

Xunzi, however, still hadn’t forgiven Lin Zhi and Cai Ze. After the king’s display of humility, Xunzi promptly kicked Lin Zhi out of the position of Chancellor.

He would rather work harder himself and attend more court sessions than allow Lin Zhi to cause any more trouble.

That rascal Lin Zhi was absolutely unfit to be Chancellor!

Thus, in later generations, the reason for “Standing in the Snow at Xun’s Gate” was rewritten as the King of Qin begging Xunzi to become Chancellor. They even fabricated sayings like “Now that the world is unified, a Confucian sage must emerge.”

The truth was buried in personal diaries—uncertain whether it would ever resurface.

Even though Xunzi now held the title of Chancellor, neither the King of Qin nor Lin Zhi or Cai Ze dared let him exhaust himself. The minor matters still fell to Lin Zhi and Cai Ze. Xunzi had gained an additional responsibility: keeping an eye on the King of Qin so he wouldn’t act impulsively, and instructing him when needed.

Xunzi held a cup of hot tea. “Zhao has returned to Qin in spirit. You believe this is due to Zhu Xiang and Lian Po?”

King Zheng replied, “Partly due to my uncle and Lord Lian, but that is not the root cause.”

He took out a letter from his sleeve. “This is my uncle’s letter.”

Xunzi snapped, “I’m not asking for Zhu Xiang’s answer. I’m asking for yours!”

The king hurried to straighten his expression. “My own opinion is the same as my uncle’s. The people of Zhao have food to eat, and the scholars of Zhao have offices to hold. That is the fundamental reason.”

Xunzi nodded. “That is the hearts of the people.”

He looked at the king, increasingly pleased. This was indeed the child he had watched grow up—his ideal candidate for a sage-king.

Though sometimes mischievous, what young person wasn’t spirited? As long as he stayed within proper bounds.

Of course, doing things like single-handedly tackling an assassin… that deserved a beating.

Fortunately, Zheng had always been obedient since childhood, and both Zhu Xiang and Xue Ji could rein him in. Had he been a stubborn, self-willed Qin king with no restraints, he would have ended up like the monarch who “lifted the cauldron and died.”

“Yan will soon fall. Only Chu remains. With Qin’s current strength, no strategy is needed—you can crush Chu head-on.” Xunzi sipped his tea. “You should think about what must be done after unification.”

King Zheng said, “I will first exempt the entire realm from taxes for one year, and promise no corvée labor or conscription for that year.”

Xunzi smiled slightly. “Can you restrain yourself?”

The king replied solemnly, “Yes!”

Xunzi smiled and shook his head. “Tell me the truth.”

The king’s stern expression collapsed. “…Exempting taxes is certain. As for corvée and conscription… ahem. Recruiting people during the off-season to repair canals and roads near their hometowns is for their own benefit—so it doesn’t count as corvée. And when Qin forces eliminate bandits in various regions, that shouldn’t count as warfare.”

Xunzi sighed with a smile. “Very well. As long as you understand the boundaries. And what else? How will the land be divided?”

Xunzi’s question struck at the heart of the matter. King Zheng sighed inwardly.

“I must honor military merit,” he said. “Then we will rewrite the household registries and redistribute land.”

Xunzi replied, “And where will this land come from?”

“From the land held by the royal clans.”

“Not enough.”

“…Master Xun…”

“Will you confiscate all the land of the nobles of the Six States and redistribute it?”

The king answered, “If they are willing to serve as officials under Qin, they may keep more of their land.”

Xunzi shook his head. “That will cause great upheaval. You cannot do it that way.”

“The military merits must be honored,” the king insisted.

After Zhu Xiang told King Zheng about the “future,” and after comparing it to scenes remembered from his dreams, the king recognized his greatest mistake after unifying the realm—land redistribution.

After Qin’s unification, in order to appease the scholars of all states, the First Emperor ordered everyone to self-report their landholdings, abandoning the redistribution policy. This resulted in the old nobles of the Six States controlling the localities and disillusioned the soldiers who had fought for Qin.

The First Emperor tried to compensate by sending troops north against the Xiongnu and south against the Baiyue, where vast territories could be freely distributed as rewards.

But, as Zhu Xiang said, the First Emperor had little understanding of geography or agriculture. The north was dry, the south plagued with miasma—both regions harsh and inhospitable. Granting land there was not a reward, but exile.

Qin soldiers wanted fertile land in the east—the heartland—not barren expanses in the north or south. They wanted prosperity after earning merit, not suffering.

Moreover, these new wars caused even more conscription and corvée. Originally, military merit granted not only land but exemption from corvée. But that promise was broken.

The emperor broke faith with the Qin people. The Qin people, in turn, abandoned their emperor.

This “Qin emperor” referred not only to the First Emperor but to the Qin dynasty’s rulers as a whole. Whether the First Emperor or his successor, it was a covenant between the sovereign and the hearts of the people.

Zhu Xiang told King Zheng that when Liu Bang seized the realm in later generations, he learned from this mistake.

Though Liu Bang was impoverished—unable even to find matching horses for his own carriage—and though foreign kings eyed his domain and the Xiongnu threatened the north, he still gritted his teeth and honored every promise of land to the soldiers from the east and Guanzhong who had fought for him.

He also exempted soldiers who settled in the east from corvée for six years, and those who settled in Guanzhong for twelve years.

In matters outside the struggle for the throne, Liu Bang was always loyal and righteous—even toward ordinary soldiers. This was something the King of Qin needed to learn.

King Zheng of Qin fully agreed. He was first the King of Qin, and only then the future First Emperor. So once he conquered the world, he should first grant benefits to the Qin people who had followed him through countless battles before extending favors to the people of the other states.

This was exactly what his uncle meant by the “foundation.”

The First Emperor treated his meritorious officials well. However, because from hostage prince to crown prince to ruler, he never had much contact with people of lower status, he failed to recognize that the common folk of Qin were also great contributors to Qin’s unification of the realm. As a result, he committed the mistake of “a ruler deceiving his people,” diminishing his own prestige and the dignity of the Qin throne.

King Zheng should imitate a certain “true Second Emperor of Qin”—first ensure the Qin people were fed and secure, then consider pacifying the six former states.

So even if he had to wage war again, even if he had to lead the Qin army to re-unify the world a second time, King Zheng still intended to fulfill his promise. He believed that as long as he acted this way, no matter how many times the former nobles of the six states rebelled, the Qin army would crush them with ease.

But Xunzi likely did not wish to see warfare again, so King Zheng purposely left things vague.

However, Xunzi kept pressing. Ah…

King Zheng looked at Xunzi with a hint of resentful complaint in his eyes. “Master Xun already knows what I must do, and that I have to do it. Why force me into arguing with you?”

Xunzi glared at this child who always wanted to act spoiled toward elders. “Who wants to argue with you? Speak of the serious matter!”

King Zheng said, “What I said was the serious matter.”

Xunzi glared again, and King Zheng met the glare with righteous confidence.

Xunzi sighed. “I’m not saying you shouldn’t distribute the land. But you’re being too direct. You could be more tactful.”

King Zheng asked, “Does Master Xun have a better proposal?”

Xunzi replied, “Zhu Xiang has opened large tracts of farmland in the south. He always complains the land is fertile but he lacks manpower. You can exchange southern Qin lands for central plains lands—have those great families relocate to the south.”

King Zheng frowned. “If we do that, won’t they cause unrest in southern Qin?”

Xunzi smiled. “The great clans’ lands aren’t owned by one person, but by entire lineages. Bring their talented or high-ranking members here to Xianyang. Then disperse their clans to southern Qin.”

King Zheng thought for a moment and understood. “Scatter their clans?”

Xunzi nodded. “Once the clan is scattered, their cohesion dissolves. It’s only land—Your Majesty can afford to be generous. The world is vast now, yet the population is small. You are not lacking land. You simply cannot allow them to gather in one place.”

King Zheng smiled. “Southern Qin has become a land famed for its prosperity after years of my uncle’s governance. Relocating them there is an act of favor.”

Xunzi said, “It is an act of favor—but only after you first make a move to take their land, then allow others to remonstrate, and then appear to retreat. That is what makes it favor.”

King Zheng was full of admiration. As expected of Master Xun. If only he were younger, Zheng would hand over all responsibilities of Chancellor to him.

In times of peace, Confucianism truly had its use. No wonder future generations would call it “Confucian skin over Legalist bones.”

King Zheng said, “Then I shall follow Master Xun’s plan.”

After thinking a moment, he added, “As for the memorial regarding the treatment of the former nobles of the six states, let Han Fei draft it.”

Master Xun said, “Isn’t Lord Chunping of Zhao still idle in Xianyang? Even if he lacks talent, as long as he is literate, he can at least handle routine clerical duties. He should appear in court and share Han Fei’s workload.”

King Zheng said, “I have accepted proposals from both the royal clan of Han and the royal clan of Zhao. This shows I bear no malice toward the clans of the six states. If they have ability, I welcome them to serve in court.”

Master Xun nodded with satisfaction. “Such broad-mindedness befits a king.”

Truly, the child he watched grow up understood everything with just one explanation.

…

By late July, Zhu Xiang received another letter from King Zheng. Seeing the plan devised jointly by Xunzi and King Zheng, he couldn’t help but laugh.

Land-exchange, huh?

Next time, would they have the powerful nobles take turns guarding the Qin emperor’s tombs and produce a new generation of “young nobles of the five tombs”?

In his original history, the Han dynasty had “crossed the river by feeling the stones” laid by Qin. In this world, it seemed the Qin emperor was the one learning from the Han emperor?

If the Han emperors of that other world learned of this…

He recalled how the Han dynasty was the only one that loudly praised its enemies in official histories—believing that the stronger the opponent appeared, the more glorious the Han victory.

With the personality of Han Gaozu Liu Bang, he’d probably be pleased as could be.

After all, it wasn’t his world’s Liu Bang who couldn’t become emperor—but the Qin emperor here was learning from him and his descendants!

I truly am impressive!

“Zhang Liang, do you understand the plan?” Zhu Xiang asked.

Zhang Liang’s face was stiff. “It is a good strategy.”

Zhu Xiang said, “Then what concerns you?”

Zhang Liang replied, “I have no concerns.”

Zhu Xiang sighed helplessly. “I told you to go to Xianyang and assist little Zheng, but you insisted on helping me. I’m only building a dam—what is there to help? Look, he just executed Zhao Gao not long ago. If you don’t keep watch, he might promote another treacherous villain to cause trouble.”

Zhang Liang snapped, “Doesn’t that prove he’s an incompetent king? Only foolish rulers favor petty men. You should make him reflect, not rely on others to fix his mistakes.”

Meng Yi: “…” His fists tightened.

Li Erlang: “…” I’m covering my ears.

Zhu Xiang said, “You make a fair point. So you should say it directly in front of Zheng.”

Zhang Liang turned his head away.

Zhu Xiang chuckled. “What are you sulking about?”

Zhang Liang lowered his head. “I’m not sulking. It’s just…”

Zhu Xiang asked, “Just what?”

Zhang Liang muttered something too quietly to hear.

Seeing Zhang Liang so flustered, Zhu Xiang leaned closer. “Come on, say it softly.”

Zhang Liang leaned to his ear and whispered irritably, “That brat Ying Zheng bullied me since we were young. If I go to him as an inner court officer, he’s the ruler and I’m the subject—he’ll definitely find ways to torment me!”

Zhu Xiang: “…”

Ahem… Yes, that definitely sounded like something Zheng would do.

Although the Qin Shi Huang of real history was quite a jokester, their Zheng seemed to take things a bit too far.

This must be Xia Tong’s fault.

In real history, Qin Shi Huang’s father was so proper and serious. But look at their Xia Tong—always causing mischief and stressing Cai Ze to death.

With such a father, how could Zheng grow up normal?!

“I’ll write to Zheng and tell him not to act out,” Zhu Xiang said. “You’ll stay at Master Xun’s residence and take care of him. With Master Xun protecting you, he won’t dare misbehave.”

Zhang Liang pouted. “Fine, then I’ll go.”

Meng Yi hadn’t heard the whispered part—only Zhang Liang’s final agreement. He turned green with anger. If you don’t want to go, then don’t go! How dare a Han look down on the King of Qin?! Spoiled brat!

Meng Yi still pictured Zhang Liang as the boy who rolled on the ground crying outside the Xianyang Academy, with the crown prince’s sword at his neck. He didn’t think Zhang Liang was any sort of talent.

Seeing Meng Yi’s displeasure, Zhang Liang sighed inwardly like an old man. He cupped his hands politely. “Lord Meng, it’s not that I don’t appreciate serving the King of Qin. But I am still young and not yet of age. My late father was Han’s chancellor. If I become an inner court officer without any achievements, many will be unconvinced. That was why I hesitated.”

Meng Yi: “…” Do you think I believe that? If that were the reason, why did you call the king incompetent? You clearly resent him!

Zhu Xiang coughed lightly, suppressing laughter. “Zhang Liang has given you a step down—take it. And he does consider that reason as well. The rest is just private matters between him and Zheng. They spent several years together in southern Qin and have some personal grudges.”

Meng Yi’s heart soured with jealousy. He regretted it—why hadn’t he gone to Zhu Xiang earlier, instead of hesitating about this and that?

Meng Yi cupped his hands. “Since it’s only the inner court, as long as you have talent, you’ll silence doubters. I know you are on good terms with the king, but he is now ruler of a nation. Please uphold proper conduct between ruler and subject.”

Zhang Liang sighed. “I understand.”

That was exactly the problem!

After witnessing Han’s downfall and the disgrace of its king, Zhang Liang’s rebellious temper had been worn down. Once in court, standing beside the King of Qin, he would behave cautiously.

His worry was that Zheng would see his careful, restrained demeanor and immediately pull a mocking face at him—while Zhang Liang could no longer pounce at him like in southern Qin for a fight. Even if he lost, at least he could fight back.

Zhang Liang drooped. “I’ll go after the autumn harvest. I want to stay with you, Lord Zhu Xiang, to see Han… the Han lands enjoy a good harvest this year.”

Zhu Xiang nodded. “All right.”

He glanced at the sky, a trace of worry between his brows.

The Yellow River had four flood seasons:
the Peach-Blossom Flood during Qingming rains,
the summer rain Flood Season,
the continuous autumn rain Flood Season,
and the ice-melt Flood Season in winter and spring.

If the summer flood season overlapped with the autumn one, major flooding would occur.

In July, heavy rains had fallen in both the upper and middle reaches of the river. Fortunately, the embankments had been reinforced early, preventing a breach. But the flood season wasn’t over.

The next crucial flood period in the middle reaches would be in August. In the upper reaches, in September.

The river was already at saturation level. If it rained in August, the middle reaches would flood; if it rained in September, the upper reaches would.

It had been less than a year since the last great disaster. Hopefully, this year would pass safely.

Flooding was natural disaster—but Zhu Xiang wasn’t the sort to sit and wait.

Even modern society couldn’t fully prevent flooding when water exceeded capacity. What he needed to do was continue reinforcing the embankments and prepare designated flood-relief zones in advance to protect major grain regions and large cities.

Meanwhile, Yan was still at war. Military rations had to reach the front before the flood season, lest rain and flood disrupt the supply lines.

Zhu Xiang also sent warning to Wang Jian that there might be major flooding this year and that he should prepare accordingly.

Wang Jian was carefully and steadily advancing the battle line and had just reached the Yan capital, Jicheng.

When he read Zhu Xiang’s letter, he felt a massive headache.

Could he not fight one war in peace? Why was it that every time he led a campaign to destroy a state, external circumstances forced him to speed up?

Wang Jian sighed deeply and ordered an end to the siege preparations. They would prepare for a direct assault, and he sent envoys to persuade the Yan ministers to surrender.

Yan King Xi and Crown Prince Dan had provoked Qin by sending assassins to murder the King of Qin—hence Yan’s calamity. This had nothing to do with the rest of the court.

The king and crown prince were doomed. But the rest were innocent.

The King of Qin was merciful. Scholars and officials from Wei, Zhao, Han, Qi, and southern Chu still served in Qin; even the kings of Han and Qi lived in luxury in Xianyang until death.

They could continue their wealth and rank—why throw their families’ lives away to die with the misguided king and prince?

Even as he sent envoys to negotiate surrender, Wang Jian kept sighing.

He hadn’t wanted to use schemes this time. He wanted a righteous battle to prove his true military strength.

Previously, the King of Zhao had been killed by his own people, and Wang Jian barely lifted a finger to take the state. His contributions weren’t enough for a marquisate.

If he didn’t win a proper battle this time, his merits still wouldn’t be enough—and people would continue to say he always took advantage of others’ misfortune.

But Qin’s grand plan mattered more than his desire for a title. Zhu Xiang warned that flooding could sever supply lines and block future advances. There was no time to drag things out.

“Becoming a marquis is truly difficult,” Wang Jian lamented. His hair had already turned gray.