HCT – Chapter 38 Porridge with Fine Grains and Dried Meat

The heavy snow quickly covered the corpses on the ground with a pale shroud, concealing their unwilling expressions.

Zhu Xiang still wanted to bury them, but the Zhao officials urged him to go home and pack his things so he could leave Zhao at first light the next morning.

Bai Qi had already set up camp just outside Handan. The King of Zhao and most of the Zhao nobility couldn’t bear the shock of the situation and wished Zhu Xiang would leave with Bai Qi that very night. Solving internal and external troubles in one go—this was a win-win for them.

But Cai Ze smiled and said that since the State of Qin had invited Lord Zhu Xiang to enter Qin and confer a title upon him, they naturally needed to perform all the proper formalities. Traveling in the middle of the night was not only dangerous but also failed to show the world the respect Qin held for Lord Zhu Xiang. With scholars and commoners glaring angrily nearby, the court had no choice but to relent.

The city gates were already closed, but within Handan, countless people held torches, disregarding the city’s curfew and the Qin army that blended into the dark just beyond the walls. They formed a flaming dragon of light, escorting Zhu Xiang back to his home on the outskirts of the city.

Seeing this scene, Bai Qi couldn’t help but feel deeply moved.

Sima Jin said, “General, if Zhao had put Zhu Xiang to good use, Zhao might’ve become a serious threat to Qin.”

Bai Qi thought silently: if Zhao had indeed utilized Zhu Xiang, perhaps it wouldn’t be clear which nation would eventually unify the world.

He replied, “No. The strength of a nation lies in its monarch. Even if Zhao has Zhu Xiang, as long as Qin has our King, we can surpass everything.”

Sima Jin still mumbled, “I still think that…”

Bai Qi calmly stared at Sima Jin.

Sima Jin felt a chill on his neck. Though the mighty General Wu’an hadn’t drawn his sword, it felt as if one was already placed at his throat.

“I mean… the general is absolutely right!” Sima Jin immediately changed his words.

Bai Qi withdrew his gaze and said, “Give Zhao some face. Pull back ten li. Tomorrow morning, we’ll go together to welcome Lord Zhu Xiang into Qin.”

Sima Jin beamed. “Yes, General! Hey, do you think Lord Zhu Xiang will treat me to a good meal? His cooking back in Changping…”

He began drooling just thinking about the meals Zhu Xiang had prepared during the Battle of Changping.

Bai Qi: “…”

The Qin army forced Zhu Xiang to leave his homeland, and you think it’s good enough that he doesn’t stab you—yet you’re dreaming of him cooking for you?

He truly didn’t know how to process Sima Jin’s strange way of thinking. The man was perfectly normal during battle—so why did he act like he was cursed the rest of the time?

Bai Qi turned away, not bothering to respond.

Sima Jin, long used to his general’s disdain, quickly caught up after Bai Qi walked off, chattering nonstop.

Bai Qi’s expression grew colder and colder, the air around him becoming frigid—as if the snowflakes outside the tent had drifted in.

After returning home, Zhu Xiang summoned his household servants. Those willing to leave with him could do so. Those who didn’t want to were given severance pay and sent to serve in the households of Lin Xiangru, Lian Po, or Li Mu.

Zhu Xiang didn’t mention granting them commoner status. Being a servant to a noble wasn’t free, but being a regular commoner had a much higher risk of death—freedom meant little in such chaotic times. Better to be a rich household’s servant than a struggling peasant, so Zhu Xiang arranged new homes for them.

With Zhu Xiang’s current reputation, even his servants earned respect. All chose to follow him. Even those with newborns who couldn’t travel far hoped to join him in Qin quietly later.

Zhu Xiang agreed but warned them to act with caution once in Qin. If they used his name to bully others, even he—kind as he was—would hand them over to Qin’s authorities for punishment.

Frightened, the servants dropped to their knees, kowtowing and swearing by heaven, earth, and their ancestors that they would never dare.

A few who had secretly used Zhu Xiang’s name for personal gain turned pale and weak, trembling so hard they couldn’t form coherent words.

Zhu Xiang studied everyone’s expressions and made his decisions. Clearly, not all of them could accompany him to Qin.

“Zhu Xiang, leave the rest to me. You should rest.” Once the doors were shut, Cai Ze returned to being the calm, affable man he always seemed to be. “The weather is bitter. Life in Qin will be hard. If you don’t take care of yourself, how will you face those who saved you?”

Zhu Xiang’s heart tightened. “Alright.”

He had the servants prepare a hot bath, soaked in it alone, dazed for a while, then dried his hair and went to sleep.

But as he closed his eyes, the faces of the dead appeared again, their eyes wide open. Voices echoed in his ears—“You must live,” “Live up to those who saved you,” “Don’t let their deaths be in vain”—overlapping into a migraine-inducing cacophony.

Zhu Xiang pulled the covers over his head, hiding in the suffocating darkness.

He knew those words came from concern. In this era, no one spoke of mental health, so he didn’t argue. He endured silently and tried to adjust on his own.

Under the blankets, he practiced deep breathing, hoping to fall asleep.

Just then, something warm wriggled into his bed.

Zhu Xiang pulled the covers down and saw Xue quietly tiptoeing out.

He reached down and felt Ying Zheng pop up from beneath his hand.

“Auntie said you probably can’t sleep, so she told me to keep you company,” Ying Zheng said as he hugged Zhu Xiang’s neck. “She doesn’t sleep well, and having someone next to her keeps her up. She’ll feel terrible tomorrow on the road. So I came instead!”

Zhu Xiang held the warm, soft little chubby boy in his arms and finally smiled from the heart. “Mm, thank you, Zheng’er.”

Ying Zheng snuggled into Zhu Xiang’s chest and closed his eyes. “No need to thank me. Sleep, Uncle.”

Zhu Xiang also closed his eyes. “Alright.”

Though the scenes and voices still echoed in his mind, Ying Zheng’s steady breathing slowly overtook them, and Zhu Xiang finally began to drift off.

By morning, Zhu Xiang felt like he was suffocating.

Opening his eyes, he saw his little Emperor-to-be nephew sprawled on his chest like a chubby orange cat, fast asleep, drooling all over his shirt.

Zhu Xiang pinched his chubby cheeks and shouted, “Zheng’er, wake up!”

Ying Zheng’s eyes flew open. “I didn’t wet the bed!”

Zhu Xiang laughed. “I said wake up, not wet the bed.”

Ying Zheng instantly covered his face, grinding his baby teeth in frustration.

Mean Uncle! This was all because Uncle would yell every time he wet the bed!

“Alright, up we get. Time to move.” Zhu Xiang’s smile was as bright as ever, as if yesterday’s tragedy had left no shadow.

He carried Ying Zheng to wash and change, then directed the servants to pack.

Based on yesterday’s observations, he selected only those he trusted to leave with him. The rest were told he couldn’t take too many people into Qin and would leave them in the care of the Lin family.

Whether they would follow later depended on how Lord Lin saw things.

Once everything was ready, Zhu Xiang opened the door to find a crowd outside.

Those who had been sobbing yesterday now wore forced smiles. They brought what little they had—dried meat, fine grains, delicate cloth—to see Zhu Xiang off. The poorer families had pooled resources to gift him a piece of dried meat for the journey.

Zhu Xiang accepted their gifts and repaid them: for dried meat, he gave preserved meat; for fine grains, he gave his own grain; for cloth, he gave cloth of his own.

“Courtesy demands reciprocity. If I accept your gifts, I must return the gesture. That is what makes a gentleman.”

With these words, the crowd had no choice but to accept his returns.

Soon, his stores of meat, grain, and cloth were all gone. So Zhu Xiang brought out gold, silver, and household goods to continue exchanging.

There were so many gift-givers that he soon gave away everything he had.

He repeatedly bowed to those still waiting, asking them to take their gifts back.

He used the principle of gentlemanly conduct as an excuse—if he took gifts without returning them, it would tarnish his character. The crowd, deeply admiring Zhu Xiang, didn’t want to sully his name and reluctantly stepped back.

They watched the ones who had arrived earlier and received gifts pound their chests in regret. Why hadn’t they come sooner?

They should’ve camped outside his door all night!

While Zhu Xiang exchanged farewells and gifts, the Qin army arrived. Bai Qi and Sima Jin silently watched nearby.

Sima Jin admired Zhu Xiang even more, eager to speak with him, but Bai Qi’s cold glare froze him in place.

“Lord Zhu Xiang, please.”

When Zhu Xiang reached the Qin troops, Bai Qi personally held the carriage reins, bowing as he invited Zhu Xiang aboard.

Zhu Xiang reflexively moved to help him up but stopped after half a step, accepting the bow in silence and boarded the carriage with Sima Jin’s help.

Bai Qi then invited Xue and Ying Zheng to board. Xue climbed up quietly, but Ying Zheng turned to look at the Zhao crowd ten meters away.

“Young Master Zheng…”

Suddenly, a child ran out from the crowd toward him.

A Qin soldier moved to block him.

“Don’t hurt him!” Ying Zheng let go of Xue’s hand and ran to meet the child.

The boy handed him a basket of handmade toys—sticks, stones, straw figurines.

“Grandpa and the elders in the village made them. We were too embarrassed to give them, but… but still wanted to. Will you accept them?”

Ying Zheng rummaged in his robe, hesitating between his father’s jade pendant and a wooden bracelet carved by a servant. Finally unable to part with the bracelet, he took off his hat and gave it to the boy.

“Uncle says courtesy demands reciprocity,” Ying Zheng said seriously to the crowd. “I am Prince Zheng of Qin! When I grow up, I’ll return to crush tyrannical Zhao and make sure you all have food and warm clothes! Wait for me!”

Before he could finish, a gust of cold wind blew over his bald little head, making him shiver violently.

Zhu Xiang leapt off the carriage and scooped him up, running back inside.

As he climbed onto the carriage, Zhu Xiang urged anxiously, “Lord Wu’an, let’s go quickly!”

Although that bold statement from the Zhu Xiang’s nephew had sounded impressive, they were still only in the outskirts of Handan!

“Zheng’er, you mustn’t say things like that in Zhao. Do you understand?” Zhu Xiang covered Ying Zheng’s wind-chilled forehead with his hand while gently advising him.

Xue slid down his chest. “My dear, you’re the one who taught him that.”

Ying Zheng hugged the basket of grass and thought to himself, That wasn’t something Uncle taught me.

Ying Zheng’s simple declaration, “I will return,” left the Zhao people who had come to see them off completely stunned. Bai Qi jumped onto the carriage to act as the driver and led them away.

The Qin army quickly formed ranks, enclosing the carriage at their center and set off at a steady trot.

The Zhao people stood in a daze for a moment—and then, like a dark wave, began to follow the Qin army.

Bai Qi looked back at the Zhao people, who should have been terrified of the Qin army, with a complex expression.

He had heard that Zhu Xiang had said to the King of Zhao just yesterday: “Those who oppress the people will doom their own country.”

And now, today, Zhu Xiang’s nephew, Prince Zheng of Qin, declared that he would destroy Zhao to save its people.

These two uncles and nephews really were…

Bai Qi glanced again at the carriage. He could only hope that once Zhu Xiang and Prince Zheng arrived in Qin, they would learn to hold their tongues and not speak so recklessly in a foreign land.

The carriage traveled for half a day. Some of the Zhao people fell behind, while others continued to follow, with new people joining them along the way.

The send-off procession stretched endlessly, still as far as the eye could see.

Some Qin soldiers couldn’t help but glance back at the Zhao crowd.

Earlier, when Zhu Xiang had exchanged gifts with these people, everyone had been smiling.

Now, however, their faces were full of pain and sorrow. There wasn’t a single person who wasn’t crying, yet none of them shouted Zhu Xiang’s name or tried to make him stay. They gritted their teeth and remained silent.

Zhu Xiang asked Sima Jin, who was riding beside the carriage window, “General Sima, are they still following?”

Sima Jin replied, “Yes, they are still following.”

Zhu Xiang got down from the carriage and asked the people to return.

They nodded and stopped walking.

After traveling another mile, Zhu Xiang noticed Sima Jin kept glancing back and asked again, “General Sima, are they still following?”

Sima Jin sighed, “They’ve started following us again.”

Zhu Xiang got down once more and pleaded with the people to stop.

Again, they agreed and halted.

But not long after, hearing Sima Jin sigh again, Zhu Xiang knew the people had resumed following.

This repeated several times until they reached the border of Handan and saw the stationed Zhao army.

At their commander’s orders, the Zhao troops let them pass, but their expressions were full of fear as they watched this Qin army—somehow passing unchallenged—escorted by such a crowd.

What terrified them even more was when Bai Qi ordered the Qin army to rest nearby, light fires, and prepare lunch.

The hungry Zhao people stopped about a dozen meters away from the Qin soldiers, staring quietly at the carriage carrying Zhu Xiang.

Inside, Xue was crying with red, swollen eyes. Ying Zheng, though not crying, looked dejected, his eyes rimmed with red.

Zhu Xiang got down again and ordered people to take the dried meat and food gifted by the send-off crowd and start a fire to cook.

“Please, after this farewell meal, return home.”

Zhu Xiang knelt before the crowd, his forehead pressed to the ground.

Because of the outrageous words Zhu Xiang had spoken the day before, many noble sons of Handan—though they admired him—did not dare come to see him off. Thus, those present were mostly uneducated commoners and rural Zhao people.

They had knelt to the gentry countless times, but when had nobles ever knelt to them?

Moved, the Zhao people knelt en masse and finally broke down in loud, anguished sobs.

The common folk did not understand refined songs or poems. They could only cry out their grief as a way to honor Zhu Xiang.

In the Zhao army camp, soldiers who witnessed this were deeply shaken. They asked among themselves who this person the Qin army was escorting could be, and why such a high-status Qin noble would kneel and bow to what appeared to be Zhao commoners?

“I overheard someone say it might be Lord Zhu Xiang, who saved the Zhao army at Changping.”

“Why would Lord Zhu Xiang be among the Qin army?!”

Even if they hadn’t seen Zhu Xiang, they had heard of his deeds.

Wasn’t Zhu Xiang a great hero of Zhao? Why was he leaving with the Qin?

Was he being forced?

But then, why didn’t the Qin army drive off the Zhao people? Why were the Zhao people, though crying, urging Zhu Xiang to go in peace, to not look back, to not grieve?

“Zhu Xiang!!!!”

Zhu Xiang, still kneeling, looked up to see several fine horses galloping toward him.

On horseback, Lian Po’s hair was disheveled like a mad old man; Lin Xiangru, who had long been in poor health, looked deathly pale and was coughing as he rode; the only one who seemed in good condition, Lin Zhi, held the reins in one hand and waved with the other.

“Master Lin, Lord Lian, Lin Li…” Zhu Xiang straightened from his kneeling posture and burst into uncontrollable tears.

Bai Qi stepped aside to allow them through and greeted them with a respectful clasp of his fists but said nothing.

The three returned the courtesy and rushed to Zhu Xiang.

Lin Xiangru knelt on one knee before Zhu Xiang and embraced him like a father comforting a deeply wronged child.

Zhu Xiang clung to him. All the calm he had forced himself to maintain shattered.

He buried his face in Lin Xiangru’s shoulder, trying to speak, but sobbed too hard to say a word.

Lian Po dropped to both knees and pounded the ground with his fists. “The king is unworthy! The king is unworthy! The king is unworthy!!”

Among the Zhao officers watching nearby, one recognized Lian Po.

In shock, he exclaimed, “Lord Lian?!”

“And Lord Lin…” another general’s voice trembled. “What on earth happened in Handan?!”

“Lord Zhu Xiang!!”

More cries rang out—it was Lord Pingyuan, Zhao Sheng, and Lord Pingyang, Zhao Bao, galloping over.

Even knowing Zhu Xiang had cursed Zhao with destruction, they still came to send him off.

The two Zhao princes knelt and bowed before Zhu Xiang. “Lord Zhu Xiang, we have wronged you. Zhao has wronged you… Please take care.”

One of the Zhao generals collapsed, barely able to remain standing with the help of a flagpole.

Lin Xiangru gently stroked Zhu Xiang’s hair and let him go.

Zhu Xiang wiped away his tears and helped the two princes up. “I know you both did your best. I do not blame you.”

Zhao Sheng and Zhao Bao thought to themselves: Then you must blame the king, or blame Zhao itself?

But they dared not ask. They could only continue crying and apologizing.

“Zhu Xiang!”

“Lord Zhu Xiang!”

More voices called out. Li Mu, and someone Zhu Xiang didn’t recognize—Prince Xinling of Wei—had arrived as well.

Seeing Li Mu, Zhu Xiang couldn’t help but scold, “Didn’t I tell you not to come?!”

Li Mu was still a young general—if he came to see him off, how could he survive in Zhao afterward? His whole foundation was in Yanmen Commandery; it was impossible for his entire family to abandon everything and follow Zhu Xiang to Qin!

“I thought about it for a long time. Seeing you off matters more than my future,” Li Mu said. “This is Prince Xinling of Wei.”

Zhu Xiang stood up and saluted him with a clasped-fist bow. “It’s an honor to meet you.”

Wei Wuji quickly supported him. “How could I dare accept a bow from Lord Zhu Xiang? I was ordered by the King of Wei to invite you to Wei, but alas…”

He originally wanted to say, If you don’t like Qin, you’re always welcome in Wei, but seeing Bai Qi’s darkened face, he held his tongue.

As Prince of Wei, he should’ve said it. But Wei Wuji, out of respect for this scholar, didn’t want to burden Zhu Xiang with more political pressure.

“A wise man on a long journey cannot go without music,” Wei Wuji changed the topic. “Since Zhao’s scholars dare not send you off, as a prince of Wei, I shall do so.”

With that, he turned and had his retainers take out instruments. He knelt on the ground and began to play.

His followers joined in, some playing qin, se, drums, flutes, or guzheng. Others drew their swords and struck them while singing loudly the verses of Book of Songs · Odes of Wei · The Plain Cap:

“Do you not see the plain cap?
The thorny man walks in anxiety.
My heart is weary, toilsome in thought.
Do you not see the plain robe?
My heart aches in sorrow—
I long to follow you home.
Do you not see the plain girdle?
My heart is knotted in grief—
I wish to be one with you.”

O noble man wronged—dressed in humble robes and thin from hardship, how I grieve for you, how I wish to share your burdens.

The Zhao commoners didn’t understand this refined song, but Lords Pingyuan and Pingyang did.

Zhao Sheng looked at his brother-in-law, face filled with shame and anger. Eventually, sorrow overtook all else, and he drew his sword and joined in the song.

Zhao Bao closed his eyes, clenched his fists, and let the tears fall freely down his cheeks.

Lian Po sat on the ground and sang aloud:

“I roam the fields, gathering herbs.
I do not think of old ties—
I seek a new kindred.
Not for wealth,
But for something different!”

Li Mu drew his sword and tapped it in accompaniment:

“Like the cormorant perching on the bridge, it wets not its wings. That man—he does not live up to his fine robes.”

Lian Po was singing a verse from Xiaoya: I Roam the Fields, condemning the Zhao King for favoring the new while discarding the old—not because the old ministers were more capable, but because the king had entirely forgotten the bonds of loyalty and service.

Li Mu followed with a verse from Cao Feng · Waiting for a Gentleman, ridiculing the Zhao people for being blind to talent—letting mediocrities govern the court while the truly capable languished unused.

Everyone around them was reciting poetry, yet Lin Xiangru, the most versed in the Classic of Poetry, simply helped Zhu Xiang tidy his hair and straighten his robe, murmuring simple, unadorned words.

“Qin is colder than Handan. You must wear more clothes—don’t go running in the fields in winter like you did here.”

“Xue may struggle to get along with the women of Qin. You must teach and protect her, don’t let her suffer.”

“Zheng’er will likely be separated from you once he goes to Xianyang. Visit him often. Convince the Qin King to make you his teacher…”

Ying Zheng broke free from Xue’s hands and clung tightly to Lin Xiangru’s leg, finally bursting into tears: “Grandpa Lin! Come to Qin with Zheng’er! Zheng’er will protect you! Grandpa Lian, come too! Grandpa Lin, are you going to leave Zheng’er? Uncle Li, Teacher! You can’t abandon your disciple! Can’t you all come with me? Please?”

Lin Xiangru picked him up and gently said:

“Zheng’er, Grandpa Lin is old. I can’t travel that far.”

“Your Grandpa Lian and your teacher have served Zhao for generations. Their soldiers are like family—they can’t leave.”

“I don’t care! We go together!” Ying Zheng clung to Lin Xiangru’s neck. “We go together!”

The memories he had seen in dreams of his time in Zhao were full of loneliness, humiliation, and rage.

But in this real world, ever since arriving at his uncle’s home, he had been cherished—especially by Grandpa Lin, who carried him, played with him, read with him, just like a real grandfather So he did not want to part from Grandpa Lin!

“Be good, Zheng’er, be good.” Lin Xiangru smiled through tears. “Didn’t you say you were grown now, that you’d protect your uncle and aunt? Then how can you act so willful now?”

He looked at the sky and said:

“Zhu Xiang, it’s time to go. If you don’t leave now, the snow will fall again.”

Zhu Xiang gently patted Ying Zheng’s head and lifted the sobbing boy from Lin Xiangru’s arms.

He knelt and bowed to Lin Xiangru: “Lord Lin, I am entering Qin.”

Lin Xiangru smiled: “Go, and take care of yourself.”

Zhu Xiang straightened up and bowed to Lian Po and Li Mu: “Lord Lian, Li Mu, I am entering Qin.”

Lian Po, sitting on the ground, scolded: “Go already! Leave this wretched place!”

Li Mu simply said: “Take care.”

Zhu Xiang looked toward the silent Lin Zhi and said: “Lin Li…”

“Enough. Don’t tell me you want to bow to me too?” Lin Zhi replied. “Take care.”

Zhu Xiang rose, bowed deeply to Lords Xinling, Pingyuan, and Pingyang, and once more to the commoners of Zhao who had come to see him off.

“Everyone, I am entering Qin. Please return.”

With that, he led the weeping Ying Zheng back to stand beside Xue, who was quietly crying with her head lowered. They climbed back into the carriage and did not appear again.

Later, once the Qin army had finished resting and struck camp to leave, Zhu Xiang never again stepped out of the carriage.

“Go home. Don’t let him worry.” Lin Xiangru told the Zhao people who still wanted to follow.  “What if he misses us and returns to Zhao?”

At that, the Zhao people broke down in tears and finally stopped their pursuit.

Wei Wuji put away his zither and said to his brother-in-law Zhao Sheng: “If Lord Zhu Xiang hadn’t left so quickly, before they could pack up and muster the courage, I fear many of them would’ve followed him into Qin. The Zhao King insisted he leave at dawn the next day—perhaps he foresaw this.”

Zhao Sheng said nothing, but his silence was telling. He thought the same. The Zhao King was no fool—if he were, with so many brothers, how could he have become king? He was merely immature, untested, and unfit for greatness. Even if the Zhao King himself hadn’t realized it, there were surely capable people at his side who did.

But what good was it? They might have delayed this moment—but could they truly stop the people of Zhao from turning away from their king and toward the Qin, whose lands steadily crept toward Zhao’s heartlands?

Bai Qi had pierced through Zhao’s defenses until he stood at the gates of Handan before they realized it. Even at the moment of Zhu Xiang’s departure, the Zhao King, for fear of losing his subjects, still treated Zhu Xiang so cruelly. Could that really save Zhao from destruction?

“I’m not going back to Handan. I’ll return straight to Wei. Take care, brother-in-law,” Wei Wuji whispered as he walked past Zhao Sheng. “Beware the Zhao King.”

Zhao Sheng remained silent.

“He must’ve warned you about the Zhao King.” After all this, even the usually diplomatic Zhao Bao had grown irritable, his tone sharp. “Who knows if we’ll even live to die of old age?”

Zhao Sheng turned: “I’ll return to my fief in Dongwu City. I won’t enter Handan again.”

Zhao Bao whispered: “Me too.”

Letting Zhao Dan remain king would doom Zhao to decline. But if they sparked a power struggle, they’d cause a civil war and destroy the nation even faster. What else could they do but return to their lands, play deaf and blind, and live in drunken oblivion?

In Handan, Xun Kuang gazed in the direction where Zhu Xiang had departed.

A Confucian student beside him sighed: “If Lord Zhu Xiang weren’t heading into Qin, we would’ve followed him. But Confucians do not enter Qin—why must it be Qin?”

Xun Kuang rolled his eyes: “Fool! If Confucians never enter Qin, then when Qin unifies the realm, we’ll be shut out of power!”

The student blinked: “Ah?”

Another asked: “Master Xun, if you want to enter Qin, why not leave with Lord Zhu Xiang?”

Xun Kuang turned toward the palace: “I still have things to do.”

He stepped forward.

“Zhu Xiang left too quickly to mourn at the graves of those who died for him. I will write eulogies in his stead.”

“Many in Handan don’t know why he left Zhao for Qin. The wider world knows even less. I must write and spread word of the injustice he suffered.”

“Zhu Xiang couldn’t bear to part from Lin Xiangru and his family, from Lian Po and Li Mu. I fear others may use their closeness as reason to harm them. I must persuade the Zhao King—if he wishes to redeem his name, he must reappoint Zhu Xiang’s friends.”

“There’s much to do. Once it’s done, I’ll enter Qin.”

Not only Xun Kuang remained—so did the Mohist Xiang He and the agrarian Xu Ming. They all suspected that once Zhu Xiang left, the Zhao King would slander him and mistreat his loved ones. They had failed to protect Zhu Xiang—this, at least, they must do.

The disciples all bowed: “Yes, Master Xun.”

Zhu Xiang continued toward Qin. Half a month later, he finally saw its new border.

During that time, under Xun Kuang’s persuasion, the Zhao King issued a decree of self-reflection. He recalled Lords Pingyuan and Pingyang, appointed Lian Po and Lin Xiangru as chancellors, greatly rewarded Li Mu, pardoned Zhao Kuo’s Mother, did not revoke Zhao She’s fief, and sent riches to let Zhao Kuo’s Mother live out her days in Mafu, barring her from reentering Handan.

He ordered his agrarian officials to reform farming tools based on the agricultural texts Zhu Xiang had left behind at the Lin household, to adjust farming seasons, rotate potato crops…

In just half a month, the Zhao court seemed reborn. Other states praised them, and many writings celebrated the Zhao King’s transformation into an enlightened ruler.

Half a month later, as Zhu Xiang entered Qin, Lin Xiangru resigned his post, citing age and illness. His fief passed to his eldest son. He took his youngest son, Lin Zhi, back to his ancestral home.

Li Mu had returned to Yanmen Commandery. Lian Po, Zhao Sheng, and Zhao Bao came to see him off.

Lin Xiangru had grown thin. The three old men didn’t toast him—they just shared a few simple dishes.

“Once you leave, Pingyuan and Pingyang will return to their fiefs too. Handan will only have me left… Never mind. Yan State grows restless. I’ll lead troops to war—no need to stay in Handan,” said Lian Po.

“Take care,” Lin Xiangru replied with a cough.

“No—you take care…” Lian Po forced a smile. “Enough talk. Eat.”

After returning to Handan, “enough” became Lian Po’s favorite word.

Zhao Sheng and Zhao Bao ate in silence. At the end, they simply said: “Take care.”

Lin Xiangru boarded his carriage. Lin Zhi again served as the driver, and they headed for Hongcheng.

Along the way, they heard weeping.

He stopped the carriage and asked the reason.

A woman cried that the tax agents wanted to uproot her sprouting wheat to plant potatoes. They also reclassified her small garden plots around the house as taxable farmland.

“They say this is Lord Zhu Xiang’s doing! But Lord Zhu Xiang always told us not to plant potatoes on good land! And the gardens never used to be taxed! How can they use potatoes to justify this? Lord Zhu Xiang said to plant them in fallow land because it wasn’t taxed!”

She repeated herself over and over, sobbing only one name by the end: “Lord Zhu Xiang…”

As if saying it enough would make him appear and refute the officials.

She didn’t know that even when Zhu Xiang had still been in Zhao, he couldn’t stop such abuses.

Lin Xiangru gave her some grain but said nothing.

He had said all he could to the Zhao King. It had changed nothing. So now, he said nothing.

As the carriage moved on, they passed many cries. Lin Xiangru no longer stopped.

“Lin Li, cough cough…”

“I know you’re talented, just unwilling to show it. But if I die, go to Qin. I failed to protect him. You must protect him.”

“Sigh… Yes.”

Lin Zhi frowned and smiled bitterly.

“Ding!”

Curled in the carriage, Zhu Xiang was awakened from his sleep by the system alert.

He looked at the cheerful pixel fireworks on the system banner and caught his breath.

His first 4-star “Life-and-Death Friendship” bond had appeared. The system rewarded him with 1,000 of any unlocked seeds.

Zhu Xiang stared at the grinning pixel avatar—Lin Zhi. Someone who was never supposed to change the course of history had now appeared in the affinity list.

It meant something had changed drastically in Lin Zhi’s future?

He didn’t draw a prize—just stared anxiously at the avatar.

“Lord Zhu Xiang, please step down.” Bai Qi gently knocked. “His Majesty has come to greet you.”

Zhu Xiang froze, quickly rousing Ying Zheng. He stepped down with Xue and the boy.

He asked softly: “Didn’t the Qin King return to Xianyang? Why is he still in Shangdang?”

“His Majesty does whatever he wants,” Bai Qi replied calmly.

Zhu Xiang: “…”

He could hear the subtle grievance in the general’s tone.

The Qin King had indeed planned to return to Xianyang. But on learning that the Zhao King truly meant to kill Zhu Xiang—and that Zhao’s people stormed prisons to save him—he immediately sent men to prepare things in Xianyang and stayed behind in Shangdang.

As Zhu Xiang arrived, court musicians played elegant tunes. The royal guards sang poems from Qin Feng

“Reed to express unfulfilled yearning.
Then came Wang Feng
Hemp in the Hills, pleading for Zhu Xiang’s affection, asking for a betrothal token.”

Amid the music, the Qin King beamed with joy and strode forward: “Zhu Xiang! I have finally waited for you!”

Zhu Xiang’s followers were deeply moved—even Bai Qi’s heart grew sour.

But Zhu Xiang… was so embarrassed he wanted to dig a hole and crawl inside.

The Qin King only thought Zhu Xiang was too moved to speak.

“Zhu Xiang! I promised that if you came to Qin, I’d grant you a noble title!” The Qin King grasped his hands, eyes shimmering with tears. Goosebumps erupted over Zhu Xiang’s skin. “From now on, your fief is Changping. You shall be the Marquis of Changping!”

Zhu Xiang: “…”

Zhu Xiang: “???”

Zhu Xiang: “!!!”

Old Qin King, you beast! I just arrived and you’re already using me like this?! Making me an enemy of Zhao?!

“Though your fief is Changping, you mustn’t stay there—it’s dangerous. Just collect its revenues.”

“Come with me to Xianyang and rest well,” the Qin King added.

Zhu Xiang blinked rapidly to make his eyes look wet: “Thank you, Your Majesty…”

When he heard Zhu Xiang say “Your Majesty,” the Qin King smiled even more gently:

“Zhu Xiang, with me by your side, you’ll always—”

He stopped mid-sentence.

“Zhu Xiang… your hair…”

Hair doesn’t turn white overnight. The new growth at Zhu Xiang’s roots—half a knuckle’s length—had turned snow-white, like long-lost winter frost that had fallen and refused to melt.