HCT – Chapter 265 On Deeds and Intent

By the end of April, the weather finally warmed.

Zhu Xiang sheathed his sword and returned to using a hoe.

Li Mu continued to sit in command over the Jianghuai Plain, acting as the backing and protector for the local officials King Zheng of Qin had sent. Zhu Xiang went from region to region repairing irrigation systems that had fallen into disrepair during wartime and guided the farmers in cultivating the fields.

Because the cold disaster in Chu was extremely severe, Xue Ji did not dare bring young Fusu into the stricken land. But all the cold-weather supplies Chu needed were procured by her—cotton and cotton cloth were shipped continuously southward, saving many lives.

Due to the previous “cotton cloth war,” the Chu nobility had pushed all blame onto cotton, claiming cotton was a “seed of calamity,” and that planting it caused Chu’s famine. As a result, most of the cotton fields in Chu had been uprooted. Chu people had developed a prejudice against cotton.

When the cold disaster struck, some impoverished scholars and overly superstitious Chu people would rather freeze to death than use cotton or cotton cloth.

As for such people, Zhu Xiang could only give up the idea of helping them.

King Zheng wrote a letter to Zhu Xiang, saying that after his enthronement he would issue a recruiting edict for scholars for three consecutive years, inviting scholars across the land to come to Xianyang to sit for examinations and become officials.

Before these scholars reached Xianyang, they would first need to pass county- and commandery-level examinations and recommendations. The “academy → institute → national academy” three-tier examination and recommendation system would be pushed nationwide by leveraging these three years of recruitment.

King Zheng had established two new commanderies in the Jianghuai Plain. Zhu Xiang happened to be repairing Chu’s agricultural infrastructure in that same region, so the institute-level examinations of those two commanderies were entrusted to him entirely.

Based on the fact that impoverished Chu scholars had rather frozen to death than touch cotton cloth, Zhu Xiang devised the final major policy-essay question: “Using the incident where Chu nobles, in pursuit of profit, forced Chu people to plant cotton—creating famine—then shifted all blame onto cotton, causing Chu people to freeze to death rather than use cotton cloth… write a policy essay advising the ruler from the perspective of ‘natural disasters vs. human-made calamities.’”

Zhu Xiang also conveniently mailed this question to King Zheng, urging him to write an essay as well. He wanted to check whether King Zheng had been slacking in his studies.

After reading the letter, King Zheng folded his hands, chin resting on the back of them: “I’m about to become the First Emperor of Qin—why must I still do homework?”

Zhang Liang and Meng Yi continued with their own tasks, ignoring the grumbling king.

But grumbling was grumbling; King Zheng still picked up his books and diligently prepared to write the essay.

Writing a policy essay to advise myself.jpg.

From Zhu Xiang’s assigned homework, King Zheng even got inspiration for the policy-essay topic he planned to use for the talent selection in Xianyang Palace— “Heaven’s Way Is Constant.”

“Qin and the other six states occupy the same land and experience the same natural disasters—so why does Qin grow increasingly strong while the Six States grow increasingly weak?”

This was not a topic one could answer by simply praising Qin a few times. King Zheng wanted to test the scholars’ understanding of Qin’s concrete disaster-relief measures, and whether they could innovate and offer feasible suggestions.

There was also a deeper political reason for using this topic.

“Heaven’s way is constant” was Xunzi’s most important political viewpoint. For King Zheng to use Xunzi’s doctrine for the first imperial selection was to officially acknowledge Xunzi-based Confucianism as a legitimate orthodoxy of statecraft in Qin.

In the future Qin would indeed embrace all schools, but this could not be stated openly. He needed a “unified ideology.”

According to Zhu Xiang’s “spoiler,” Confucianism endured for over two thousand years in Huaxia civilization precisely because of its ability to absorb and encompass everything.

With Confucius’ “Among three people walking, there must be one who can teach me” as the foundation, any doctrine from the Hundred Schools suitable for Qin could be incorporated into Qin’s official “New Confucianism.”

Even Qin’s traditional Legalist school—well, who led Legalism now? Han Fei and Li Si, both disciples of Xunzi.

As long as Xunzi lived, Confucianism and Legalism would not dare rip their faces apart.

This was why even though Xunzi’s body was afflicted with old age and illness, and living was harder than dying, he still gritted his teeth and endured.

He could not die yet.

He had to live until Qin was founded, establish the basis for the Confucian–Legalist synthesis, and then pass this burden to Zhu Xiang.

When Zhu Xiang grew into his forties—of age and seniority beyond reproach—and with Xunzi as the trailblazer carrying the pressure of being the first, only then could Zhu Xiang stand alone above the Hundred Schools and force them into full integration.

After a person ages too much, eating, drinking, and sleeping become difficult; bones so brittle that even sneezing brings pain. A death with smiles is release.

But it was not yet time for Xunzi’s release. He could only endure—endure until his body finally collapsed.

King Zheng knew about the breath Xunzi was forcing himself to hold, knew how difficult life was for him now, but there was nothing he could do.

In his dreams, the future version of himself once longed for immortality. His uncle had told him that those who sought immortality die young.

All people must die—even his miraculous uncle.

He would grow up; his elders would age. He would age; his elders would pass away.

That is the human world—generation after generation of births and farewells, the unending passing on of the flame.

Though King Zheng was unwilling, he could only accept it.

He could only think more, do more, and do what he could to ease the heart of an elder nearing the end of his life.

…

The Jianghuai Plain had good foundations; with Zhu Xiang leading the repairs to irrigation and introducing Qin’s superior seed varieties, and with the cold spell killing many pests in the soil, the region enjoyed a plentiful harvest in late autumn.

Zhu Xiang sat on a field ridge, staring blankly at the golden wheat fields.

Xue Ji, little Fusu, and Chengjiao would all attend the First Emperor’s enthronement ceremony in the first month of the new year. They had come north early to meet Zhu Xiang, and had just arrived in Xiangcheng today.

Travel-weary, Xue Ji, Fusu, and Chengjiao were resting at the residence. Li Mu rode out to find Zhu Xiang.

Seeing Zhu Xiang spacing out, Li Mu deliberately nudged his horse forward and made it lower its head to bump him, nearly scaring Zhu Xiang into tumbling into the field.

Startled, Zhu Xiang turned to see Li Mu laughing uproariously on horseback and jumped to his feet to curse him furiously.

Li Mu dismounted with a grin. “Xue Ji has arrived. Instead of hurrying home, what are you doing dazing off here?”

“She’s arrived?” Zhu Xiang quickly collected himself, snatched Li Mu’s horse, and galloped home—leaving his own little donkey for Li Mu.

The donkey was a specialty of the northern nomads.

After hearing from Zhu Xiang about the Western Regions and the Silk Road of later generations, King Zheng sent envoys westward to explore. The donkey was a “tribute” brought back by those envoys. After gifting one to the elderly Xunzi, he only bestowed the remaining pair upon Zhu Xiang’s uncle and aunt.

Zhu Xiang rode one first, since his aunt was far away in southern Qin.

Although the donkey was a rarity, its height was far inferior to a horse’s. Zhu Xiang riding a tall warhorse while Li Mu rode the tiny donkey side-by-side made for an absurd sight.

Li Mu, however, was thick-skinned enough to sit on the donkey and gaze up at Zhu Xiang with unbothered contentment.

“You looked gloomy just now. What trouble did you run into?” Li Mu asked.

“It’s not trouble,” Zhu Xiang replied.

He hesitated, then decided to tell Li Mu what had been on his mind.

Others might not understand him. Even if Li Mu could not fully understand, he would at least listen quietly.

While conducting disaster relief, bandit suppression, and agricultural guidance across the Jianghuai Plain, Zhu Xiang also recompiled Chu’s household registers.

Thus he knew precisely how many had died in the drought—just those confirmed frozen or starved already numbered in the tens of thousands. Counting the hidden households and those killed during bandit suppression, the real number was unknown.

Chu had just lost a war and now suffered disaster. The land was devastated; cries of grief filled the land.

Qin organized relief efforts at this time. Zhu Xiang countered superstition with superstition and performed “destroying gods” while suppressing bandits. The thaw in April became credited to him; Chu’s autumn harvest became Qin’s benevolent achievement.

Originally, among the Six States, Chu scholars harbored the strongest anti-Qin sentiment because of King Qi’s death and Xiang Yan’s resistance.

But after this cold disaster, Chu commoners were the first to lean toward Qin, and the scholars’ hostility was also reduced.

Furthermore, since the cold disaster left Chu in severe grain shortage, anti-Qin forces were also starving. They either froze or starved in the cold spell, or robbed commoners for supplies—only to be suppressed by Zhu Xiang. They became stepping stones for Zhu Xiang’s reputation, and for Qin’s benevolence.

This cold disaster was calamity for Chu—but an opportunity for Qin.

As long as next year brought another good harvest, Chu households would have surplus grain, and Qin’s rule over Chu would stabilize.

Zhu Xiang had originally been thinking about Chu’s future and felt astonished that this disaster turned out to be a boon for Qin.

Then a gust of chilly autumn wind struck him awake, making him shiver.

He realized he had coldly calculated the disaster’s benefits—and even felt pleased by them.

“When I was in southern Qin, I would cry over Chu people suffering famine,” Zhu Xiang said quietly. “But now that I’ve seen their disaster with my own eyes, they’ve become nothing more than numbers on a ledger. Though I still carry out disaster relief, something inside me seems to have changed.”

As Zhu Xiang expected, Li Mu only listened quietly, offering no empty consolation.

“Perhaps I have been in high position too long,” Zhu Xiang continued. “Perhaps I hold too many lives in my hands. Though I constantly reflect on myself, I still cannot avoid changing.”

He drew a deep breath and said self-mockingly, “They say a gentleman evaluates deeds, not intentions. If judged by deeds alone, I’m still the same man. But that’s for others to say. When I use ‘judge deeds, not intentions’ to excuse myself… I have already stepped onto a wrong path.”

Only then did Li Mu finally ask:

“Then how do you wish to change?”

Zhu Xiang shook his head. “I don’t know. At the very least, even if my heart changes, my actions can’t change. After Zheng’er becomes Qin Shihuang, I will continue traveling among the common people, living alongside the fields and farmers. Maybe my heart will yearn for wealth and leisure, but I must restrain that yearning.”

Li Mu shook his head. “Why bother? This world doesn’t belong to you alone.”

Zhu Xiang replied, “There are things in this world that only I can do. Regarding those things, this world is mine alone—my responsibility alone.”

Li Mu said, “Zhu Xiang, how arrogant you are.”

Zhu Xiang burst out laughing. “Don’t talk about me. When it came to destroying Chu, you clearly could’ve cooperated with others, yet you insisted on doing it alone. Aren’t you arrogant too?”

Li Mu shook his head again. “I’m not the same as you.”

Zhu Xiang said, “You’re no different. You’re relaxed simply because Wang Jian, Old Lian, and others can do what you can do. But if there were a matter that only you could accomplish, even if it meant disobeying the king’s orders, you would persist to the end.”

Li Mu didn’t reply.

He had wanted to say “not necessarily,” but perhaps Zhu Xiang understood him better than he understood himself.

In truth, Zhu Xiang did understand him better than he did.

Wasn’t that exactly why Li Mu, the late Wu’an Jun of Zhao, ended up executed?

The Zhao and Qin armies had been confronting each other for days, yet the King of Zhao insisted on replacing the general at the last moment. Knowing full well what the political climate in court was like, Li Mu still refused to accept the edict—and that refusal led to his death.

Li Mu clung to that slim hope of persuading the king only because he knew that aside from himself, no one in Zhao had any hope of repelling Qin.

“If only I can”—then the responsibility belonged to him alone.

Such was the “arrogance” of the truly gifted.

Li Mu sighed. “Since you insist on suffering, then suffer. No one can persuade you. It’s just that Xueji’s health isn’t good…” He paused. “You should still try to persuade her not to wander around anymore. Let her stay in Xianyang and look after Zheng’er.”

Zhu Xiang replied, “I’ll persuade her if I can. But if Xueji feels she prefers traveling outside, then I…”

Zhu Xiang released the reins, spreading his hands with a shrug. “What can I do?”

Li Mu asked, “Aren’t you afraid she might fall ill and pass away?”

Zhu Xiang said, “I’m very afraid of losing the people around me. But I’ve experienced so many farewells. I know they all have pursuits of their own. I cannot block their paths just because I’m afraid.”

Li Mu could only sigh and drop the subject.

Right now, Zhu Xiang and Xueji were both still healthy. The matters he worried about were far in the future. For the sake of his mood, he decided not to think further.

Chatting as they rode, Zhu Xiang and Li Mu returned to the city.

Xueji walked over holding little Fusu’s hand, with Chengjiao trailing behind her.

“Aiya, how did you get so dirty? Hurry and change clothes.”

Zhu Xiang had been all smiles, eager to give Xueji a warm, long-awaited embrace, but Xueji’s expression changed instantly. She first blocked little Fusu, who was about to dive into Zhu Xiang’s arms, then waved at Zhu Xiang in disgust to keep him away.

Zhu Xiang’s face fell. “Xueji, we haven’t seen each other in so long. How could you dislike me? You weren’t like this before.”

Xueji kept shooing him away. “You’re filthy. You’ll dirty Fusu’s clothes. Go, go.”

Zhu Xiang: “…”

Chengjiao burst out laughing. “Uncle, now that Fusu is here, your status has dropped.”

Zhu Xiang shot him a glance but couldn’t help laughing too.

“All right, all right, our Fusu is the highest-ranking in the family now.” Zhu Xiang obediently went to wash and change.

Only after he finished freshening up did Xueji finally hug him—and stuffed a chubby little Fusu into his arms.

Fusu frowned deeply, full of displeasure. “Who are you! How dare you hold me!”

Zhu Xiang blinked in confusion. “I’m your grandpa-uncle! Didn’t you just want to leap into my arms earlier?”

Little Fusu asked, “Uncle?”

He tilted his head. “I thought you were a bad guy, so I wanted to protect Auntie and beat you up!”

As soon as he said that, he clenched his pudgy fists and thumped Zhu Xiang’s shoulder twice.

Zhu Xiang: “…”

He stared at Xueji in disbelief. “Xue… did you teach Fusu wrong? Why is he so aggressive? Even Zheng’er wasn’t this fond of punching at this age.”

Xueji said confidently, “Nonsense. At that age, Zheng’er punched your stomach all the time.”

Zhu Xiang: “…”

All right, maybe that did happen. But punching his uncle for fun and trying to beat up a “stranger” on sight—how were those the same?!

Zhu Xiang felt a headache coming on. Had Xueji really spoiled Fusu rotten?

He had been wandering through wind and rain and couldn’t raise Fusu personally, so he had entrusted the child to Xueji to bring back to South Qin. Since she had always been strict with Zheng’er, he thought leaving Fusu in her care would be safe.

Now it seemed sons and grandsons really weren’t the same. It looked like he had to teach Fusu himself.

Zhu Xiang wasn’t confident. He knew he spoiled Zheng’er too much—if not for Xueji, Zheng’er would not have turned out so well. And now, with Fusu? Two soft-hearted adults raising one child… what would Fusu become?

At least back then, Xunzi could help discipline Zheng’er. Now…

Thinking of Xunzi, Zhu Xiang’s eyes dimmed.

Seeing Zhu Xiang fall silent, Xueji’s confidence faded. “Fusu is actually very polite. He’s just… a little impulsive.” She lowered her voice. “All right, I know. I’ll teach him properly. He’s still young. We can teach him when he’s a bit older.”

Zhu Xiang snapped out of it. “All right.”

Xueji sighed in relief.

She knew she had spoiled Fusu too. But Fusu behaved so well and obediently with her—just impatient with outsiders—so she hadn’t taken it seriously.

“Fusu, you can’t be rude to strangers.” Zhu Xiang rubbed Fusu’s head. “You’re still young, so maybe you don’t understand what Uncle is saying.”

Little Fusu shook his head vigorously. “Fusu isn’t young! At this age, Father was already managing the household!”

Zhu Xiang laughed helplessly. “Fine, fine. If you want to manage the household, you must first memorize the multiplication table. How far have you gotten?”

Little Fusu blinked. “What’s the multiplication table?”

Zhu Xiang grinned slyly. “So Fusu doesn’t know yet. Aiya… When your father was your age, forget the multiplication table—he could do five-digit calculations easily. Looks like Fusu has a lot to learn. To catch up to your father, you’ll have to work hard with Uncle.”

“Work hard?” Fusu echoed.

Zhu Xiang said, “Uncle’s going to make a study plan to help you catch up to your father. Think you can do it?”

Fusu puffed out his chest proudly. “Of course! Fusu is the best!”

Zhu Xiang praised him. “Good. Ambition suits you. Uncle believes in you. We’ll start tomorrow.”

“Yes!” Fusu said with great enthusiasm.

Xueji hesitated.

She wanted to object—Fusu was too young for arithmetic lessons. But Zhu Xiang shot her a look, so she could only sigh and stay silent.

Her husband had decided; matters of the household would follow his lead. Poor nephew-grandson… his carefree days were over.

Chengjiao laughed so hard his eyes disappeared.

He still hated arithmetic even now, though he had mastered it. Seeing someone else about to suffer through it delighted him—especially since Fusu had stolen “his share” of Xueji’s affection. He was ready to watch Fusu’s misery.

Chengjiao fanned the flames. “Fusu, you already agreed. Don’t say you can’t do it later.”

Little Fusu puffed his cheeks. “I won’t! Fusu is the best! Auntie, isn’t Fusu the best?”

Xueji smiled helplessly. “Of course. Fusu is the best.”

“Hmph.” Fusu crossed his arms proudly.

Li Mu watched from the side, unsure whether to laugh or cover his face.

Zhu Xiang, you’re supposed to teach kids, so why start by tricking him? Fusu is still a child; you can’t teach him like Zheng’er—he doesn’t have Zheng’er’s mind for schemes.

…

Zhu Xiang was as good at taking care of children as he was at farming. In just one day, little Fusu was once again clinging to him, calling “Uncle this” and “Uncle that,” sweet as a sugar dumpling.

Zhu Xiang finally understood why Xueji found it impossible to be strict with him.

Compared to Zheng’er with his eight hundred schemes, little Fusu was unbelievably simple—he believed anything with just a bit of coaxing. He was basically an oversized doll.

Thinking of Zheng’er—always full of ideas, always interrogating him with ten “why”s for every answer—Fusu, though less clever, was undeniably adorable.

Besides, Fusu was still a bright child—far better than Chengjiao had been. He just couldn’t compare to Zheng’er.

But then, no one in the world could compare to Zheng’er.

Even Li Mu melted under Fusu’s sweet cries of “Grandpa Li,” competing with Zhu Xiang to be Fusu’s personal horse.

Zhu Xiang complained to Li Mu, “You have a son, and your son’s already married. Go hold your grandchildren. Why are you throwing your son in Xianyang and playing with my grandson? Go play with your own!”

Li Mu replied, “Your grandson is smarter.”

Zhu Xiang called him an irresponsible father.

Li Mu felt no guilt whatsoever. In this era, disciples who inherited one’s aspirations were more important than one’s own children. Had Xunzi ever spoken about his family?

Xunzi had a whole brood of children and grandchildren but only let his students serve him, and he passed down his teachings to Zhu Xiang—he looked almost like a lifelong bachelor.

Besides, Li Mu had already given his family abundant resources, and King Zheng had promised his son could inherit a title a rank below his own—giving him a better starting point than most nobles. Li Mu felt he had done plenty.

Yes—plenty.

Zhu Xiang was speechless. “You really won’t let me teach your son for a while?”

Li Mu said, “I’ve already given him a high enough starting point. If he’s capable, he’ll enter the academy or go to the borders and earn merit on his own. If he has talent, he’ll naturally appear before you. If he has none, forcing him won’t help.”

Zhu Xiang tried persuading him again but failed. He sighed helplessly.

Not only Li Mu—his other friends were the same.

Though Zhu Xiang understood that they didn’t want the friendship of the older generation to turn their children into lazy dependents… still, not being allowed to play with their kids was disappointing.

Li Mu said, “If I do have an outstanding descendant, I’ll bring him to you.”

Zhu Xiang muttered, “Lord Bai said the same thing.”

Li Mu replied, “Lord Bai only said that to inspire later generations.”

Zhu Xiang sighed. “All right, all right, enough. …Put Fusu down, would you? He’s pulling your hair apart!”

Li Mu’s hair was already half undone, but he didn’t care and continued running around with Fusu on his shoulders like some wild ghost.

Zhu Xiang covered his face. Even Zheng’er hadn’t been treated this way! He was turning into the Lìn Li of the past!

Once again, Zhu Xiang worried about Fusu’s future education.

Would Lin Li and Cai Ze be able to keep a stern face with Fusu? He couldn’t do it alone… Should he have Zheng’er play the “strict role”?

Carrying this heavy concern, he waited for Li Si and Han Fei and traveled back to Xianyang with them.

Then Zhu Xiang fell into despair again—because every time the carriage stopped for rest, Li Si and Han Fei also took turns putting Fusu on their shoulders and running around with him.

Han Fei whispered to Zhu Xiang, “The Crown Prince and the King look so alike. Seeing him is like seeing the young King Qin again.”

Then Zhu Xiang understood. These two had missed their chance to play with the young Zheng’er… so they were playing with Zheng’er’s son instead.

I’ll complain about this when we get back!