HCT – Chapter 34 The Old Man’s Spit

When Zhu Xiang was locked into the prison carriage, he wasn’t all that disheartened. In fact, he felt a strange sense of relief—so it really came to this, after all.

His elders had already done everything they could to save him. By normal reasoning, if he kept a low profile and refrained from seeking official rank, he ought to have been able to escape this disaster and perhaps even achieve the legendary feat of “conning the King of Qin into a textbook-worthy story.”

But call it pessimism if you will—Zhu Xiang had always harbored a nagging feeling that things wouldn’t go that smoothly. If everyone followed logic, Zhao Kuo would never have replaced Lord Lian at the Battle of Changping.

Regardless of what the future held, Zhu Xiang was determined to live as happily as he could before things took a turn—to cherish every ordinary day he got to spend with people he cared for, and who cared for him.

When Zhao Sheng arrived, Zhu Xiang was surprised to find the experience much better than expected.

They were still reasonably courteous—willing to wait at his home rather than arresting him publicly.

But when he saw they intended to execute people, Zhu Xiang panicked. As the prison cart rolled away, he kept shouting back, “Go home, all of you! I’m fine!”

However, when he spotted Lin Xiangru and Lin Zhi, his composure completely fell apart.

“Lord Lin, the weather is cold, please go back!” Zhu Xiang yelled in distress. “Lin Li! What if Lord Lin catches a chill and falls ill!”

Lin Li gave a bitter smile. “It is my father’s will. As his son, what can I do but follow?”

Lin Xiangru said calmly, “I’m dressed warmly, and I’ve got a hand warmer in my coat. I’ll be fine. Sit further inside—don’t lean on the prison bars, snow might drift in.”

His voice was steady—so steady, it sounded like all hope had died in his heart.

After receiving King Zhao’s decree, Zhao Bao had rushed to Lin Xiangru’s residence to inform him of the situation.

He also relayed the king’s reasoning behind this action.

Lin Xiangru was silent for a long while before giving a bitter laugh. “If someone had falsely accused the two of us, do you think the King would first investigate the truth, or throw us into prison and then look into it?”

Zhao Bao furrowed his brow and said nothing.

Lin Xiangru continued, “He still looks down on Zhu Xiang. Even after everything Zhu Xiang has done—why does he still look down on him? Do you know? Zhu Xiang encountered the King of Qin during the Battle of Changping. The reinforcements that helped Bai Qi were personally led by the King of Qin.”

Zhao Bao looked at him in disbelief.

After another long pause, Zhao Bao murmured, “So the King of Qin went to Changping in person…”

Lin Xiangru said, “Zhu Xiang told me that although he could tell the King of Qin’s kindness was an act, the man treated him exceedingly well during those months—like a nephew… perhaps even better than a nephew. Zhu Xiang even picked fights with him on purpose, just like he does with me and Lian Po. But the King of Qin never got angry—at most, he’d lightly knock him on the head to make him stop.”

Zhao Bao trembled slightly. “The King of Qin…”

Lin Xiangru continued, “Lord Xinling personally came to Handan with a letter from the King of Wei, asking Zhu Xiang to come to Wei. Lord Chunshen and the King of Chu were also planning to send a prince. Qi, Yan, and Han all showed interest as well. The King of Qin even made a personal promise—if Zhu Xiang would leave Handan for Xianyang, he’d immediately be granted a noble title. And yet, Zhu Xiang came back. Do you know why?”

Zhao Bao closed his eyes in pain. “Because of you. He owes you a debt.”

Lin Xiangru thought to himself—Not just that. He also feared that if he went to Qin, our muddle-headed king might take it out on Xue and Zheng’er.

“Yes. He’s a good boy, loyal and grateful. If not for me holding him back, he could have found favor in any country he chose.” Lin Xiangru sighed. “I thought once King Zhao saw all those rulers vying for Zhu Xiang, he’d understand his worth and treat him well. But no… Our king probably just thinks all the other rulers are fools, and only he is truly clever.”

Zhao Bao asked, “Lord Lin, have you lost faith in our sovereign?”

In the Warring States period, the bond between ruler and scholar was a mutual one. It wasn’t rare for officials to abandon their posts and flee. Only in Qin, with its harsh laws, was such escape difficult—thus in scholars’ eyes, Qin was the very embodiment of tyranny.

In the State of Zhao, if Lin Xiangru were disappointed in the King of Zhao, he could easily leave.

“Aren’t you disappointed?” Lin Xiangru said. “If it weren’t for my benefactor grasping my hand and urging me to assist him well, I would have long been disappointed. But… I’ve let down my benefactor. I’ve done everything I can, yet I’ve been unable to influence him in the slightest.”

Zhao Bao realized something. His eyes widened. “Zhu Xiang gained fame before the rulers of other states—was that your plan, Lord Lin?!”

Lin Xiangru admitted, “Yes. You see, as a subject of Zhao, I was able to get the kings of the other six states to grant Zhu Xiang a title, yet our own King of Zhao finds it difficult to even bestow him with the proper identity of a scholar. Why is that?”

Zhao Bao didn’t know how to answer.

“Enough. The prison cart should be arriving in Handan soon. I should go send Zhu Xiang off.” Lin Xiangru hunched his back and walked into the inner room, instructing Lin Zhi to fetch winter clothes and a brazier.

Lin Xiangru deeply regretted it. When he had repeatedly failed to secure an official position for Zhu Xiang, he should have found a way to send him to a foreign state.

He had thought that, with Zhu Xiang being a commoner, he wouldn’t be valued much in other states either. And that with himself and Lian Po protecting Zhu Xiang in Zhao, it would still be better than being alone in a foreign land.

Now, he truly regretted it.

Why was the King of Zhao so foolish? Foolishness was one thing, but he was also incredibly arrogant—he especially liked doing things that set him apart from others, just to show off his so-called cleverness.

Perhaps the King thought that intelligent people were always different from the crowd. But he didn’t realize—fools also often go against the grain.

“Lord Lin! With me and my brother, Lord Pingyuan, here, we won’t let any harm come to Zhu Xiang. I’ve already arranged everything in the prison!” Zhao Bao cupped his hands and gave a deep bow. “Please, Lord Lin, do not abandon His Majesty!”

Lin Xiangru looked back. “Lord Pingyang, it is not I who have abandoned His Majesty—it is His Majesty who has abandoned me. He knows Zhu Xiang is like a son to me, and yet, when he threw Zhu Xiang into prison to appease others, did he spare a single thought for how to appease me?”

With those words, Lin Xiangru turned back and continued packing.

Zhao Bao had arranged for the prison to be prepared. But prison—how comfortable could it really be, even when arranged for? Lin Xiangru needed to prepare more things, as many as possible.

Zhu Xiang could not dissuade Lin Xiangru from accompanying him. He could only curl up inside the prison cart, silently weeping while hugging the brazier Lin Xiangru had handed him.

Upon learning that Zhao Kuo would bring disaster to hundreds of thousands of Zhao soldiers, he felt more helplessness and powerlessness than hatred.

That was simply how this era was—human life was as worthless as grass.

It was a real tragedy in history.

Even when he and Xue were abandoned by Chunhua, even when Zheng’er was abandoned too, all he had ever wanted was to never see her again—not revenge.

But this time—it was the first time he had felt such deep hatred and fury toward someone.

Even someone who only knows a few passages about the Warring States from their school textbooks would know how much Lin Xiangru and Lian Po had done for Zhao.

Lord Ma Fu might be comparable to those two elders. But the King of Zhao always used Lord Ma Fu as an excuse to lavish favor upon Zhao Kuo. In that case, aren’t Lord Lin and Lord Lian, who share equal merit with Lord Ma Fu, also worthy of such favor?

A darkly humorous thought popped into Zhu Xiang’s mind. King of Zhao, by imprisoning me, you’re slapping the faces of Lord Lin and Lord Lian!

Lord Pingyuan no longer rode a horse. He walked beside Lin Xiangru, step by step following the prison cart. He wept as he walked, as if he were not sending Zhu Xiang to prison, but to his grave.

Zhu Xiang thought, The King of Zhao has slapped Lord Pingyuan’s face too… oh, and I heard that Lord Pingyang also pleaded for me, so this royal slap really covers a wide area.

How could a king like this not incite hatred and fury?

Yu Xin saw the scene and felt deeply stifled.

He kept asking himself—Was I really wrong?

He looked at Lin Xiangru’s stooped figure, at Lord Pingyuan’s silent weeping, and at the growing number of citizens following the prison cart from afar, all wearing sorrowful expressions.

At that moment, it felt like he had become a wicked villain persecuting loyal and virtuous men.

Yu Xin dismounted, walked up to the prison cart, and said to Zhu Xiang, “If I have wronged you, I will repay the debt with my life.”

Zhu Xiang lifted his weary face and asked, “By doing this, what purpose do you serve other than burdening me with a human life?”

Yu Xin frowned. “What do you mean by that?”

Zhu Xiang said, “Is my way of thinking truly so incomprehensible to the world? I simply regard human life as life. Why is it that you all can so easily disregard the lives of others—and your own as well?”

Yu Xin continued to frown without speaking.

Zhu Xiang looked at Yu Xin, then suddenly laughed. “I’ve heard of you, Lord Yu. You’re famous for your loyalty to your friends, so much so that you gave up the high chancellor’s position in Zhao for them. But your friend Wei Qi nearly beat Fan Ju to death. You loathe Fan Ju for forcing Wei Qi to his death—but should Fan Ju not also loathe Wei Qi? You care only for the lives of your friends, and not how many innocent lives your friends have taken. In your eyes, not all lives are equal. That’s why you can’t understand me. You simply can’t understand me! Hahaha!”

Hearing Zhu Xiang insult Wei Qi, Yu Xin flew into a rage and drew his sword.

His blade was blocked by a young man.

Yu Xin glared. “Who are you! He insulted my friend—I must kill him!”

The young man removed the snow-covered bamboo hat from his head. Beads of sweat still clung to his face from his fast ride.

“General Li Mu of Yanmen,” the young man said, spinning into position, shielding the prison cart with his body. “Zhu Xiang is my friend. If you kill him, I will kill you.”

Upon learning that Zhu Xiang had voluntarily gone to Changping as an envoy, Li Mu had repeatedly sent letters to the King of Zhao, requesting permission to return to Handan and escort Zhu Xiang to Changping safely.

But the King of Zhao did not even know this young general and ignored his requests outright.

Li Mu then asked for leave under the pretense of a family visit. Several months later, he was finally allowed to temporarily step down from his post and leave Yanmen Commandery.

After Zhu Xiang returned to Handan, he suffered much harassment. Li Mu, fearing that others would use his resignation as ammunition against Zhu Xiang, took residence in General Lian Po’s home, waiting for the situation to calm down before visiting Zhu Xiang.

When Lian Po heard that Zhu Xiang had been arrested, Li Mu rushed there on horseback—just in time to see Yu Xin drawing his sword.

“Yu Xin! Your friend Wei Qi tried to frame Fan Ju, and now you want to wrongfully kill Zhu Xiang too?” Lian Po strode forward with heavy steps. “You two really are friends—your treacherous faces look exactly the same!”

Lian Po also drew his sword, shouting furiously: “Go ahead! Draw your sword! Let’s see whose blade is faster!”

Lian Po, a seasoned warrior of many battles, carried an overwhelming presence.

Yu Xin involuntarily backed away several steps, his limbs weakening under Lian Po’s furious scolding.

“Yu Xin,” said Lord Pingyuan, Zhao Sheng, stepping forward, “Though I defended Wei Qi, I also told the King of Qin plainly that it was wrong of Wei Qi to nearly have Fan Ju killed. But because he was my friend, I chose to protect him. Wei Qi himself regretted it deeply. Precisely because we were Wei Qi’s friends, we should all take him as a mirror and correct our own conduct. I have said all I need to say.”

Lord Pingyuan swept his sleeve, ordered the prison cart opened, took off his outer robe, and draped it over Zhu Xiang’s shoulders, helping him into the prison.

Yu Xin stood frozen in the snow, stunned with disbelief.

Those were his final words—and thus, the end of friendship.

Had Lord Pingyuan really broken ties with him over Zhu Xiang?

The prison cart came to a halt, and the people of the capital quietly gathered around.

An old man, leaning on a cane, tottered forward and asked, “Is that really Lord Zhu Xiang in the prison cart? The very same Lord Zhu Xiang who saved 150,000 lives in Zhao?”

Even in the Warring States period, elders were respected—an old man meeting a king did not need to kneel. From his clothing, this elder was likely a scholar, and so he came forth to speak on behalf of the people behind him.

Yu Xin looked at the old man, but for some reason, he couldn’t speak.

“Yes, that is Lord Zhu Xiang,” a guard answered loudly. “Lord Zhu Xiang has been wrongfully accused. But even if he truly did kill Zhao Kuo—did Zhao Kuo not deserve to die?”

The official said nothing—but the guard had spoken, which was against the law. Moreover, his words mocked the nobility, implying Zhao Kuo deserved death.

And so, after speaking, the guard drew his sword.

“My father and younger brother were among those whom Lord Zhu Xiang saved. Only I stayed in Handan on duty and did not go to Changping. Now I escort Lord Zhu Xiang’s prison cart—I have no face left to meet my family again.”

With that, he placed the blade across his own neck.

Yan and Zhao were home to many men of passionate loyalty and tragic resolve.

These “men” were not scholars—but righteous warriors.

An unnamed guard who had remained silent throughout the escort of the prison cart suddenly shouted to the crowd that the man inside was the wrongly accused Lord Zhu Xiang. Then, without warning, he drew his sword to take his own life.

It all happened so quickly, as if it were a surreal dream.

Blood spilled—but it wasn’t the guard’s.

A man from Zhao suddenly rushed forward and shouted, “Didn’t you hear what Lord Zhu Xiang just said? Lord Zhu Xiang values our lives as he does his own. That’s why he learned to farm, why he went to Changping. He wouldn’t even kill those who wronged him—if you die here, it will grieve him!”

Blocking the guard’s sword, the man clenched his bloodied hand and bowed with fists cupped to Yu Xin. “I am Bo Fu of Zhao. I killed Zhao Kuo. Every man who returned from Changping can testify to it. Take my head and report back to the King of Zhao.”

“Bo Fu, didn’t you stay in Changping?” another man from Zhao pushed through the crowd. “Why did you come back?”

“When I heard in Handan that rumors were spreading about Lord Zhu Xiang killing Zhao Kuo, I quietly returned.” Seeing an old comrade, Bo Fu smiled. “It was I who killed Zhao Kuo. He was feeding grain to the horses, while we were starving—eating the flesh of our dead brothers on the battlefield. We finally found the potatoes left by Lord Lian, enough to fill our bellies. But Zhao Kuo wanted to destroy the potatoes, and even said he would kill Lord Zhu Xiang, who had taught us to plant them, once we returned to Handan.”

Bo Fu let out a scornful laugh and said, “I don’t know what that madman Zhao Kuo was thinking. I only know—he deserved to die!”

That Zhao soldier clenched his teeth, letting out a guttural, trembling sound as if facing something truly terrifying.

His whole body shook more and more violently. His fists tightened.

“Yes, Zhao Kuo deserved to die!” he forced the words through gritted teeth. Then, waving his fists furiously, his face flushed red, he cried, “Zhao Kuo deserved to die! Zhao Kuo deserved to die! I was part of it too—I helped kill Zhao Kuo!”

He had not, in fact, taken part in killing Zhao Kuo. But he stepped forward, pounded his chest, and said, “Take my head to the King. Zhao Kuo was killed by me! He deserved it!”

“I was part of it too,” said another Zhao soldier as he stepped forward. “I also helped kill Zhao Kuo!”

The King of Zhao had drafted men from across the state to fight in Changping. There were few Changping soldiers from Handan, as most had stayed to guard the capital. Yet now, as Lord Zhu Xiang was just being thrown into prison, these Changping soldiers had all rushed back to Handan.

“So what if it was me who killed Zhao Kuo?! There was food and horse meat, but he forced us to eat dirt! Eat human flesh! Tell me he didn’t deserve to die!”

“Persecuting Lord Zhu Xiang who saved 150,000 people, and honoring Zhao Kuo who led 400,000 to their deaths—what kind of foolish king is that?!”

“Take my head! Let Lord Zhu Xiang go!”

“Vile traitor! You persecute Lord Zhu Xiang—your ancestors will live in shame for generations! Your descendants will be spat upon for all time!”

“Pah!” an old man questioning Yu Xin suddenly spat in his face, then leaned on his cane and sat down in the snow.

He cursed loudly, “Come, use your sword and kill this old man! My blood will summon wolves to feast on the organs and soul of the vile traitor!”

“Lord Zhu Xiang is innocent!”

“Let Lord Zhu Xiang out!”

“Release him!”

The emotions of the gathered crowd were stirred. They clenched their fists, shielding the Changping soldiers who were ready to die, and shouted angrily at Yu Xin.

The shouts reached the prison. Zhu Xiang turned his head in bewilderment.

Zhao Sheng also paused mid-step. He vaguely heard someone shouting “Zhao Kuo deserves to die,” and “Lord Zhu Xiang is innocent.”

“Heh, is our lord hoping to be the next Tyrant King of Zhao, after King Li of Zhou?” Lian Po sneered, arms crossed. “The King of Zhao wants to suppress his enraged people? But the soldiers he can deploy—are the people. Will he have guards kill their own friends and family?”

Zhao Sheng staggered as if he might fall. With sorrow, he muttered, “I knew it. This was bound to happen.”

Zhu Xiang took a deep breath and turned around.

“Zhu Xiang, they got what they deserved. Why do you care?” Lin Xiangru rebuked him.

Zhu Xiang replied, “What they deserve is a foolish king—not these people who cry out for my innocence. If I don’t urge them to leave now, are we really going to wait for the king to order them killed by their own loved ones?”

After speaking, he walked out of the prison.

None of the guards following him tried to stop him.

“Father, Zhu Xiang is just that kind of person. Don’t be angry,” Lin Zhi said as he patted the back of Lin Xiangru, who was stomping his feet in frustration.

He knew exactly what his father was thinking: if a bloody conflict really broke out at the gates, King Zhao would surely release Zhu Xiang immediately.

But how could Zhu Xiang tolerate those he saved dying for him? If Zhu Xiang were that kind of person, the crowd outside wouldn’t have gathered or been willing to die for him.

Zhao Sheng did not leave. He collapsed to the ground and bawled uncontrollably, no longer caring about his dignity.

“Is the State of Zhao doomed? Is Zhao going to fall?” Zhao Sheng cried and cursed. “Zhao Dan! Do you want Zhao to perish?!”

Lian Po patted Li Mu on the shoulder. “Let’s go too. We can’t let Zhu Xiang get hurt.”

Li Mu gripped the sword in his hand tightly, his face contorted with pain.

His family had been generals in Yanmen Commandery for generations, guarding the Great Wall and repelling barbarian invasions. Their loyalty to Zhao was unquestionable.

But with such a king, could swords like theirs truly protect the state of Zhao?

“Let’s go. One step at a time,” Lian Po said resolutely as he walked outside.

Li Mu lowered his head and followed.

Zhu Xiang stepped out of the prison gate. Facing the crowd that fell silent upon seeing him, he said, “If you die for me, then it’s I who killed you. I don’t want to take lives—I only want to save them. Please go back! Don’t tarnish my ideals!”

“Lord Zhu Xiang!” Bofu pushed forward and knelt down. “I’m the one who killed Zhao Kuo. I can’t let you be wrongly blamed for it!”

Zhu Xiang’s hands were tied in front of him, so he couldn’t help Bofu up. He could only sit across from Bofu in the snow and say, “No. Zhao Kuo died in battle. If the son of Ma Fu died not in a charge against the Qin army, but in a mutiny against his own soldiers, or by my hand while trying to rescue captured Zhao soldiers, wouldn’t that be a disgrace to Lord Ma Fu’s name?”

“Yes.” An old woman, supported by servants, finally made her way forward. “If my son Zhao Kuo died on the battlefield, then it was at the hands of the Qin. If not, then it was by his own hand. No one else should bear responsibility for his death. I am Zhao Kuo’s mother. I offer my apologies to Lord Zhu Xiang on behalf of my unworthy son.”

Zhu Xiang shook his head. “You’ve already done your best to persuade him. Even birth parents should not have to endlessly shoulder the wrongs of their children and grandchildren.”

He stood up and said, “I’m going back inside. Please, all of you return home. The king will clear my name. I’ll be safe—please believe in me. Bofu, you must not die for me.”

It was true that Bofu had severed Zhao Kuo’s head. But now, the soldiers of Changping were all rushing to claim responsibility, so the king likely wouldn’t arrest Bofu to take the blame.

If the king had wanted to find a scapegoat, he would’ve already had a death row prisoner impersonate the one who killed Zhao Kuo. If he had wanted to end the matter, he would’ve issued a strong decree that Zhao Kuo died honorably in battle against the Qin and did not disgrace his father’s legacy in his final moments.

Others could use Lord Ma Fu’s legacy to pressure the king into punishing Zhao Kuo’s killer, but the king could also use that same legacy to silence them.

But the king didn’t do that.

Zhu Xiang repeatedly bowed to the crowd in thanks, then turned back and returned to prison.

Lian Po said, “Go home, all of you. Lord Zhu Xiang values your lives deeply. If any of you were to die, it would grieve him greatly. So if you respect him, don’t make him grieve.”

He cupped his hands toward the crowd, then escorted Zhu Xiang back to the prison alongside Li Mu.

The crowd stood silently before the prison gates. They neither made noise nor left.

Snow fell on their heads and shoulders, and from afar, they looked like unmoving statues.

Yu Xin wiped the spit off his face. He looked at the prison gate, but didn’t enter—instead, he turned and went to the palace.

He had to inform the king. Things had spiraled out of their control. With Zhu Xiang’s level of prestige, whether he was released or executed would deeply affect the morale of the Zhao people.

Yu Xin felt lost. He had always considered himself just as clever and talented as the famed Lin Xiangru once was, but now, he truly didn’t know what to do.

When the heavy snow had blanketed all of Handan, the crowd outside the prison finally dispersed—and the King of Zhao had learned of what had happened.

The king panicked. “What should we do? What should we do? Why have so many gathered for Zhu Xiang? Could it be that Zhu Xiang really is a Qin spy, and the Qin sent them?”

Yu Xin, who had always believed Zhu Xiang should never be trusted, was stunned by the king’s words.

He looked up and examined the king’s expression.

Besides panic, the king’s face was filled with anger and disgust.

And in that moment, Yu Xin finally understood something.

The king didn’t support him because he truly believed what Yu Xin had said.

Quite the opposite—perhaps the king knew full well that Zhu Xiang had rendered great service and earned high esteem in Zhao.