HCT – Chapter 45 Crispy Fried Braised Chicken and Duck

The story rewinds to the moment when Cai Ze and Zichu had just left the house with little Ying Zheng. As usual, Cai Ze hoisted Ying Zheng up onto his shoulders.

“Huh?” Zichu stumbled a bit, staring in disbelief at Cai Ze and the chubby little boy clinging to his head.

Both Cai Ze and the plump child sitting on his shoulders turned their heads in unison, looking at Zichu in confusion.

Zichu took a deep breath. “This—this is completely improper!”

Cai Ze snapped back to awareness and chuckled. “Apologies, it’s a habit. Zhu Xiang started it.”

Ying Zheng rested his chin on Cai Ze’s head and said, “Dear Father, both Uncle Lin and Grandpa Lian let me sit on their shoulders. What’s so strange about it? Even though Grandpa Xun doesn’t let me ride on his shoulders, he never scolded me either. You’re even more uptight about propriety than the Confucians.”

Zichu: “…Is that how you speak to your father?”

Ying Zheng turned his head away with a huff. “When you can’t out-argue me, you act all fatherly.”

Zichu’s hand twitched, itching to discipline him.

Seeing Zichu’s sour expression, Cai Ze quickly interjected, “Zheng’er, you mustn’t be disrespectful to your father.”

“I wasn’t being disrespectful.” Ying Zheng turned back lazily and offered a perfunctory salute. “Dear Father is generous and magnanimous. He wouldn’t stoop to argue with a child.”

If Grandfather weren’t here, Zichu might have already started spanking the child.

“You learned that from Zhu Xiang, didn’t you?” Zichu’s brows furrowed deeply. He wanted to criticize Zhu Xiang’s parenting but held back since he knew he was partially at fault. “Get down now.”

“Great-grandfather saw Uncle carrying me like this and didn’t say anything.” Ying Zheng clung tighter to Cai Ze’s head, defiantly lifting his chubby chin.

Cai Ze quickly tried to mediate again. “Zheng’er’s legs are short. Walking while holding hands makes him prone to tripping, but carrying him in the arms is too heavy. This way is easier. Would you like to try, Lord Zichu?”

Zichu frowned. “Brother Cai, just call me Xia Tong. I…”

Ying Zheng snorted. “Uncle always says Dear Father is too weak to carry me. Uncle Cai, don’t make things difficult for father.”

Zichu’s temper flared.

And that was the moment Zhu Xiang walked in.

He burst out laughing, doubling over and leaning against the stove for support. “Xia Tong, you’re still so easy to provoke? Even a child’s reverse psychology works on you—pfft, hahaha!”

Zichu hurriedly set down the heavy, squishy child from his shoulders. His thin face turned slightly red as he awkwardly tried to turn and leave.

But Zichu was a stubborn man. Faced with his closest friend’s teasing, he couldn’t just run away. Rubbing his stiff neck, he said, “Didn’t you want me to bond more with Zheng’er? Why mock me now?”

“Yes, yes.” Zhu Xiang clutched his waist, still laughing. “When Zheng’er sat on your shoulders, didn’t you finally feel the joy of fatherhood?”

Joy? What he felt was how heavy the child was—Zhu Xiang really had been feeding him well. Since returning to Qin, he hadn’t carried anything this heavy.

Still, surrounded by the child’s sweet, milky scent and warm presence, Zichu felt something stir in his heart.

He remembered the first time he laid eyes on the child. Back then, his mind was full of schemes; his excitement and joy had been entirely feigned. But after pretending for so long, he couldn’t quite tell if the affection he now felt was real or not.

“He was domineering even as a newborn,” Zichu recalled. “After the midwife cleaned him up and handed him to me, I gave him a gentle shake. He punched me square in the nose and glared at me—as if telling me to shut up.”

Ying Zheng, who’d just spent the whole walk riding on his father’s shoulders, now had a very complicated expression: “…”

Xue laughed. “My husband once said that newborns can’t see clearly—their vision is still hazy. Zheng’er probably didn’t do it on purpose. He was just curious.”

“Madam Xue, you’ve worked hard raising Zheng’er,” Zichu said, showing her more genuine respect than he ever did Zhu Xiang.

“It has been a bit tough,” Xue admitted.

Ying Zheng turned to look at his aunt in disbelief.

Xue patted his chubby cheeks and smiled. “Raising children is never easy.”

Looking at her smile, Ying Zheng puffed out his cheeks and hugged her leg tightly.

“What brings you here? Did His Majesty send you to hurry the meal?” Zhu Xiang finally stopped laughing. After wiping his hands, he poked Ying Zheng on the back of the head. As the boy turned, Zhu Xiang held out a slice of braised meat.

Ying Zheng opened his mouth and took a big bite, chewing with half-closed eyes and swaying happily. Then, he wiped the oil from his lips—on his aunt’s apron.

Xue gave Zichu a look that clearly said: See? Didn’t I tell you raising a child is hard?

Zichu wanted to scold Ying Zheng again, but when he saw how Xue gazed down at the child smearing her apron—her eyes so gentle it was as if they glowed—he swallowed his words.

He decided to find time later to talk to Zhu Xiang about Zheng’er’s education. While Zheng’er was indeed clever, he couldn’t be spoiled.

“His Majesty sent us to the kitchen for snacks and to see if you needed any help,” Cai Ze said with a smile after enjoying the show. “I’ve seen Zheng’er act all cutesy in front of the king before, and even now, I still get nervous every time.”

“Zheng’er, you’ve worked hard,” Zhu Xiang sighed. He fed the boy another slice of braised meat, then put some more meat and braised kelp into a small bowl. “Take this to your great-grandfather.”

Only after smearing his aunt’s apron a few more times did Ying Zheng finally let go. “Uncle, this isn’t enough. It’s not even enough for me.”

“Let great-grandfather try it first. If he thinks it tastes good, come back and tell me,” Zhu Xiang said, winking at him.

Ying Zheng immediately caught on. He grabbed the bowl, pulled on Zichu’s sleeve, and ran off.

Zichu blinked. “What’s going—watch your step!”

He looked back at Zhu Xiang, who nodded. Zichu sighed and followed after the boy.

Cai Ze rolled up his sleeves. “What else do we need to prepare?”

“Fry the braised chicken and duck in oil once,” Zhu Xiang replied.

Cai Ze took the sleeve ties from Xue, secured his rolled-up sleeves, then put on an apron and helped Zhu Xiang fry the chicken and duck.

Ever since he approached Xianyang, Zhu Xiang had been pondering how to give the two most important figures in Qin—the Chancellor Ying Hou Fan Ju and Crown Prince Zhu—a memorable gift.

Everyone sent preserved goods during holidays. Zhu Xiang had already gifted his preserved foods to the Zhaos who came to bid him farewell. So he decided to switch things up with braised dishes.

Aside from the special spices Zhu Xiang had brought, the rest were gathered by farmers from the nearby mountains. He had prepared a lot.

While Zhu Xiang went to the palace banquet, Xue stayed at their new home to cook. She first simmered the braising broth.

After smashing large bones and simmering them with the spices for half the night, Xue couldn’t sleep. So in the latter half of the night, she put on her cloak and came to the kitchen to personally braise the meat.

By coincidence, the old Qin king and his ministers, who’d come over to mooch a meal, ended up tasting the dishes Zhu Xiang had meant as gifts.

The meat dishes included braised chicken, duck, and eggs. The vegetarian options were kelp knots and potato slices.

“There aren’t many vegetables suitable for braising right now. Once we can make tofu, we’ll braise tofu and tofu skin, dig up bamboo shoots to braise in spring, and in July and August we’ll braise lotus root slices.” Since only braised dishes weren’t enough, Zhu Xiang also planned to steam some white flour buns. The braised meats were meant to be eaten stuffed inside those fluffy buns.

Unfortunately, the winter wheat that Zhu Xiang had been secretly promoting in Handan hadn’t reached harvest time before he left. Now, he was eating wheat flour from the Qin state.

The baiji mo that the Shaanxi locals used to sandwich meat was likely kang mo (a kind of dry-baked bread). But Qin’s wheat flour had terrible texture and hadn’t been allowed to ferment. The coarse, unleavened dough could only be steamed. After steaming, Zhu Xiang would lightly toast it, just to give the surface a bit of crispness.

Wheat in this era was vastly different from modern varieties. Each ear of wheat bore only about ten grains and would easily fall apart after ripening. During harvest, people had to pick up the scattered grains by hand, which was not only troublesome but also led to spoilage and a terrible taste. Even ground into flour, the texture was awful—it was like modern coarse wheat flour where the bran hadn’t been fully removed for the sake of nutrition.

Thanks to a thousand years of selective breeding, modern wheat has grains that cling tightly to the ear, and each ear now produces around forty grains; high-yield varieties can reach up to eighty. The taste is incomparable.

Though this era lacked fertilizers and pesticides, and thus couldn’t achieve such yields, the improved winter wheat Zhu Xiang had brought should have produced at least thirty grains per stalk.

After acquiring two varieties of improved winter wheat, Zhu Xiang used Lian Po’s land to cultivate a large batch of seeds. He took a small portion of those to Changping as leverage, leaving the rest in Handan.

By the time he left, most of the improved winter wheat had already been sown, with only a small reserve left in case of crop failure.

“I thought you’d be depressed for a while after arriving in Qin, but you recovered so quickly.” Although servants were helping with the fire and cooking, and there was nothing taboo about the comment, Cai Ze sighed. “You don’t look any different from how you were in Zhao.”

Zhu Xiang laughed, “I may not have many outstanding traits, but I’ve got a big heart and strong adaptability. I fought so hard to stay alive—wouldn’t it be ridiculous if I then died of grief? My life in Xianyang is certainly better than it was in Handan. If I don’t spend my days smiling, should I cry instead?”

“I’ll believe you when your hair turns black again,” Cai Ze said, glancing at Zhu Xiang’s hair.

Zhu Xiang ran his fingers through his hair. “Come see me next year—my hair will definitely be back to its shiny, jet-black glory.”

“Mmm, that would be best.” Cai Ze looked at the steamed flatbreads Zhu Xiang had placed on the rack. “I miss the flour you cultivated. This stuff clearly tastes terrible.”

“You ate this before—why didn’t you complain then?” Zhu Xiang teased him. “The winter wheat in Handan should be about to head, right? By the end of April, it should be mature.”

As he placed more steamed cakes into the steamer, he said hopefully, “The winter wheat I promoted this time has a good taste and a higher yield, even in the nobles’ fields. Even if the Zhao King bears a grudge against me, he should promote this new wheat variety across Zhao once he tastes the food made from the new flour.”

Cai Ze nodded. “Sow wheat in winter, millet and legumes in spring and early summer, and plant a few potatoes in the scattered wild plots—this year the common folk of Handan should live much better.”

Zhu Xiang’s brows curved like new moons at the thought. Ying Zheng’s smile looked exactly like Zhu Xiang’s—he truly took after his maternal uncle.

He hummed an off-key tune. “Once the fields on the outskirts of Handan yield their harvest, there should be enough seeds left to spread it to the rest of Zhao.”

Lin Xiangru had been asleep for a long time when he suddenly opened his eyes. “What month is it?”

His son, Lin Zhi, who had been sitting by the bed reading, rushed forward in excitement, choking up. “It’s almost March.”

Lin Xiangru’s voice was clear and loud—he hadn’t spoken like this in a long time. “March, huh? Zhu Xiang’s winter wheat must be about to head.”

Lin Zhi was stunned.

His mouth opened slightly, his face trembling faintly as he forced a stiff smile. “Yes, it should be heading now.”

Staring up at the bed canopy, Lin Xiangru said, “Before I left Handan, I visited Zhu Xiang in prison. He urged me not to let the farmers miss the right season. Sow wheat in winter, plant legumes in spring and summer, and dig potatoes in autumn in front of the house—then the people of Zhao will be fine.”

“Mm… yes… they’ll be fine.” Lin Zhi gripped Lin Xiangru’s outstretched, withered hand. “Father, the physician is just outside. I’ll go call him. Please wait.”

Lin Xiangru looked at his son with a gentle smile. “Don’t bother. If you go, I won’t be here when you come back. Help me to the courtyard.”

Lin Zhi looked up abruptly, tears blurring his vision. “Father…”

Lin Xiangru said, “Help me outside. I want to see the trees, the wind, the sky. Spring has come. If I don’t go out and see it, I might think it’s still winter.”

“…Yes.” Lin Zhi felt like his body had collapsed.

He let go of Lin Xiangru’s hand and stumbled like a wandering ghost to the corner of the room, pulling out a wheelchair.

The wheelchair had been made by Zhu Xiang in collaboration with the Mohists and gifted to Lian Po, who had injured his leg on the battlefield. Lian Po accused Zhu Xiang of cursing him and swung his crutch at him.

Not only did Zhu Xiang get smacked, but the wheelchair was also confiscated. Lian Po proudly showed it off to everyone, and soon the wheelchair became a must-have item for elderly people in Handan.

When Lin Xiangru left Handan, his health was already deteriorating. Lin Zhi had prepared a wheelchair just in case.

After returning to his homeland, Lin Xiangru’s health rapidly declined. Eventually, he could only move about in the wheelchair. After a few days, even that lay unused.

Now, it could be used again.

Lin Zhi lifted Lin Xiangru into the wheelchair, folded a quilt over him, and wheeled his father outside.

A gently warm breeze blew across them, and Lin Xiangru smiled again.

He saw new buds sprouting on the courtyard tree, green shoots piercing the gray earth, and birds chirping as they built nests in the branches… The sunlight was warm—spring had indeed arrived.

Zhu Xiang once said that winter was the most dangerous season for the elderly. If they could make it through, most could live another year.

Lin Xiangru squinted up at the sky, as if savoring the spring sunshine.

In Handan City, scholars were rushing to copy Xunzi’s Eulogy onto wooden slips.

They chanted:

“The Book of Rites says: When no grief is imposed upon the people, and they still grieve; when no reverence is imposed, and they still show reverence—
No one told the people to mourn for the righteous men, and yet they wept.
No one told the people to respect the righteous men, and yet they revered them.
All because the righteous men died protecting Lord Zhu Xiang…”

They lamented:

“The people point to where Lord Zhu Xiang once lived and sigh;
They point to the field paths he walked and weep silently;
They point to where he was assassinated, where the righteous died for him,
and beat their chests, wailing.
Snow washed away the blood of the righteous.
Soil wrapped their corpses.
The grief of the people is like a frozen lake, unable to be released;
Their anger burns like fire…”

They cried in fury:

“A towering mountain crumbles from decayed earth;
A thousand-mile dam collapses from an ant’s nest.
The frozen lake of sorrow continues to pile up—
When the fire of anger melts the frozen grief,
What will the resulting flood submerge?!”

Before the Eulogy could be fully copied, Zhao state soldiers stormed the gathering.

Scholars fled with their slips like startled hares; the soldiers, with heavy weapons, chased after them. The gathering quickly dispersed. The scattered slips and bamboo scrolls were burned. Smoke billowed skyward, and Handan returned to silence.

Lian Po sat in a pavilion, hugging a wine jar, laughing quietly.

He looked up at the thick smoke in the sky, took a swig, and coughed from the burn of the alcohol—tears sprang to his eyes.

A servant reported, “Master, the Zhao King has issued an urgent decree. Yan has taken advantage of our crop failure to launch an invasion.”

“No matter how weak Zhao becomes, Yan’s bunch of losers still don’t have what it takes to threaten us.” Lian Po drunkenly put down the wine jar. “Bring me my armor.”

“Yes, sir!”

“You don’t need to come with me. Take a team and deliver the improved seeds Zhu Xiang left to Yanmen Commandery.” Lian Po drew a deep breath, then gave a bleak smile. “The good seeds Zhu Xiang left for the people of Zhao must be planted in Zhao soil.”

“…Yes.”

Lian Yuan, the household servant who had once accompanied Zhu Xiang to Changping, knelt on the ground. His fist pounded the floor so hard that blood flowed from the back of his hand.

When Lian Yuan left the city, the peasants and Mohist disciples were weaving through the mountains together.

“Lord Zhu Xiang once said that when snow falls, if the wheat seedlings are pressed flat and covered with a mound of snow, they will stand up on their own the next year. It turns out to be true. Using this method to trick the officials and soldiers, hopefully, we can salvage part of the harvest.”

“Most of the officials and soldiers don’t know what potatoes look like. Once the wheat heads emerge, they wouldn’t go so far as to make the farmers pull up ripening wheat just to verify.”

“Potatoes only take three months to mature. If we plant them now in the fields where harvests have completely failed, they might still save us from famine.”

“The problem is we don’t have enough seed potatoes. Potatoes like warmth. The ones the soldiers forced us to plant in winter all froze to death. Sigh.”

“Changping had a great potato harvest last autumn. There should be some in storage. Could we…”

Xiang He sighed, “Even though Changping has many Zhao people, the Qin army would never allow food to be smuggled to the Zhao state. Perhaps Lord Zhu Xiang might have a way, but…”

“We can’t keep letting Lord Zhu Xiang risk his life for the Zhao people.” Xu Ming said with pain in his voice. “If the Zhao king wants his people to die, what does that have to do with Lord Zhu Xiang? After this last batch of potatoes, we should return to Qin. Lord Zhu Xiang needs us.”

Xiang He closed his eyes, unwilling to face the truth, then gave a firm nod.

“Meat porridge, braised dishes, crispy chicken, crispy duck, white steamed buns… this should be enough to get by,” Zhu Xiang arranged the dishes neatly, garnishing them with tender new leaves. “Let’s go, time to serve!”

While tidying his appearance, Cai Ze fretted, “Zheng’er already sent over some braised meat, but His Majesty didn’t ask for more. Could it be the braised meat doesn’t suit his taste?”

“If it didn’t suit him, His Majesty would have sent someone to say so,” Zhu Xiang replied. “My guess is he’s just too embarrassed to urge me.”

Cai Ze looked unconvinced. The King of Qin, embarrassed?

Nervously, he followed Zhu Xiang, carrying the food boxes as they walked out of the kitchen courtyard.

The old King of Qin and the others were already seated at the entrance to the courtyard. They had set up a canopy and tables, chatting on mats laid with soft cushions.

When Zhu Xiang and Cai Ze appeared, everyone looked up.

Ying Zheng voiced what all the elders were too polite to say: “Uncle, you finally came. Zheng’er is starving!”

“Sorry, sorry, I should’ve served a few dishes first,” Zhu Xiang said apologetically. “Zheng’er, you should’ve come and hurried your uncle.”

Ying Zheng sighed, “Zheng’er didn’t want to disturb Uncle cooking. Hurry, hurry, Zheng’er is famished.”

“Got it.” Zhu Xiang announced the dishes like a waiter in a drama, “Five crispy braised ducks, five crispy braised chickens, assorted braised platter, baked white buns, minced meat porridge—coming right up!”

He placed one braised chicken and one braised duck in front of each of the King of Qin, Fan Ju, and Bai Qi. The remaining four were divided among the others.

Zhu Xiang figured the three elders probably couldn’t finish a whole chicken on their own, but it would be inappropriate to make them share, so if it meant some waste, so be it.

Zichu had no complaints about not getting his own chicken and duck. On the contrary, he smiled—clearly, Zhu Xiang treating him less formally made him feel included.

“Your Majesty, if it doesn’t suit your taste—”

Before Zhu Xiang could finish, the King of Qin, Bai Qi, and Fan Ju all deftly pulled short swords from their sleeves and sliced off chicken legs, stuffing them into their mouths.

“Delicious!” the King of Qin’s eyes widened, and he picked up the pace. In a flash, all that remained of the chicken was the head and wings.

He bit into the head with a crunch, swallowing meat and bone alike. Then he gnawed on the wings with similar vigor, leaving behind just two clean bones.

The King of Qin exhaled contentedly, wiped his hands and sword with a cloth, then downed a cup of honey water in one gulp. Picking up a white steamed bun, he hesitated for a moment.

Just as Zhu Xiang, stunned by the sight, was about to explain that the halved bun was meant to be filled with the braised meat, the King had already used his chopsticks to stuff it full and was devouring it enthusiastically.

Zhu Xiang swallowed.

Alright, I believe it now. Don’t tell me that there were no white flour buns in the pre-Qin era. I hereby declare that meat-filled buns were encoded into the DNA of Qin people from the very beginning!

Why did our ancestors insist on imprinting everything into our DNA?

“Uncle, aren’t you hungry?” Ying Zheng held up a chicken leg, trying to feed it to Zhu Xiang.

The King of Qin, munching on his meat bun, locked eyes on the chicken leg.

Zhu Xiang patted Ying Zheng on the back, “Go.”

“Oh.” Ying Zheng stood up and ran to the King. “Great-grandfather, have a chicken leg!”

The King laughed, “Good boy.”

He accepted the chicken leg. Meanwhile, Zichu holding another leg and Cai Ze with a duck leg both froze.

But they had already taken a few bites—too late to offer theirs. They had no choice but to keep eating awkwardly.

Ying Zheng’s eyes sparkled, “Great-grandfather, do you want a duck leg too? Zheng’er will get it for you.”

The King nodded, “Good.”

Ying Zheng happily took the duck leg Zhu Xiang had just sliced off and handed it over, then returned to eat.

While he was doing that, Bai Qi put down his short sword and carefully wiped his fingers clean with a cloth—one by one.

He had already eaten all of his braised chicken and duck, leaving only spotless bones, so clean they could reflect light.

Zhu Xiang had originally expected the King of Qin to make a formal speech at the start of the banquet, or perhaps follow traditional etiquette—who uses chopsticks first, or toasting with wine.

Instead, the King and his chancellor and general had all ignored decorum, whipped out short swords, and dug into the meat like soldiers about to march into battle.

The King and General Bai Qi were one thing—but Chancellor Fan, why have you only half a duck left too? Weren’t you supposed to have a poor appetite?

“Why didn’t you make something this delicious for me while we were traveling?” the King grumbled, a little displeased.

Zhu Xiang wasn’t intimidated. He explained, “The marinade requires cassia bark, tsaoko, cumin, fennel, star anise, and other spices. It also needs to be simmered overnight with sugarcane syrup and bean paste—too many conditions to meet on the road. But once the marinade is done, it can be stored in an ice cellar. Just boil it with water when needed. It lasts ten days.”

It could actually last a month, but Zhu Xiang didn’t want it to spoil and give the King food poisoning, so he said ten days instead.

The King frowned, “Sounds complicated. Did you know I was coming to dine today?”

“No,” Zhu Xiang shook his head. “Yesterday I had Xue prepare the marinade. I was planning to go home today—”

Under the King’s sharp gaze, he changed his words, “—go home today to braise some chicken and duck as a gift for Your Majesty, Lord Ying, and General Wu’an.”

“Thoughtful of you.” The King wiped some crumbs from his lips. “Some of the spices you mentioned, I’ve heard of. The Zhou Rites mention their use in the eight delicacies under the category ‘ao’ (stew). The others… what is cumin?”

Zhu Xiang replied, “Cumin and the others are spices I tasted while buying herbs from mountain folk. If Your Majesty sends men to my home, I can teach them to cultivate it.”

The King nodded, “Most estates near Handan are royal property. You need test fields, don’t you? Take whatever you need. I’ll give you and Zheng’er… and Zichu, a few manors.”

Although there was an awkward pause before the King remembered Zichu, the fact that he remembered at all made Zichu feel grateful.

Zichu felt both moved and embarrassed.

He had planned to protect Zhu Xiang once they got to Qin, but before he could do anything, Zhu Xiang and Zheng’er had already earned him a manor.

He had a bad feeling—would he end up constantly receiving their help in the future? How shameful!

As he gave thanks, Zichu pondered what he could do in return so Zhu Xiang and Zheng’er might benefit too.

After polishing off a whole chicken and a meat bun, the King of Qin slowed down and entered tasting mode.

Fan Ju rubbed his belly and joined him in evaluating the food.

Servants poured honeyed water and wine, and the King and Fan Ju exchanged drinks, quoting classics and historical texts. Though they weren’t composing poems, they cited enough literature and poetry to finally give the banquet a touch of traditional elegance.

After the King of Qin and Fan Ju slowed down their eating, Zhu Xiang and the others didn’t dare to bury their heads in food anymore. They perked up their ears to listen to the conversation between the King and Fan Ju, occasionally chiming in with a few words.

Zhu Xiang had an excellent memory and could follow along with everything the King and Fan Ju said. However, he only jumped in when Cai Ze or Zichu couldn’t keep up. As for Bai Qi, he was playing mute.

Ying Zheng also didn’t want to join in. He climbed into his aunt’s arms and coquettishly asked to be fed meat.

At this banquet, the King of Qin had allowed Xue to sit at the same table, which was a rare gesture showing his recognition of her.

When the meal ended, Bai Qi had eaten the braised chicken and duck, along with a large bowl of porridge. The King of Qin finished the braised duck but couldn’t stomach the porridge. Fan Ju eyed the remaining half duck, craving it badly, but his slightly bloated stomach warned him not to overindulge.

Fan Ju smiled bitterly. “I didn’t expect to become a glutton today.”

Zhu Xiang quickly said, “I soaked some dried hawthorn slices. Marquis Ying can have some to aid digestion.”

“Good,” Fan Ju smiled. “You’re able to help Lin Xiangru… Lord Lin recover his health, so I trust you. If I recuperate at your house for a while, I’ll definitely get better too.”

Fan Ju had a poor appetite and usually relied on goat’s milk and rice porridge as his daily nourishment. He hadn’t eaten meat so heartily in a long time.

The King of Qin said earnestly, “Judging from your and General Wu’an’s appetites today, I’m confident you’ll accompany me for a long time. Take some time to recover. I’ll need you both again in the future.”

Fan Ju and Bai Qi were touched and expressed their gratitude.

Zhu Xiang’s eyelids twitched. Thankfully, he didn’t have to attend court, or he’d have to train himself to weep on command.

Should I always keep a bag of ginger in my sleeve to smoke my eyes? Zhu Xiang sighed inwardly. Being a high official is no easy job.

After a satisfying meal, the King of Qin was in a great mood.

Zichu and Cai Ze were sent off by the King to help Fan Ju and Bai Qi settle into their quarters, with Xue accompanying them. The King of Qin pulled Zhu Xiang and Ying Zheng aside for a walk to aid digestion and, incidentally, explained why Xiaozheng had suddenly appeared at Zhu Xiang’s house after their visit to Madam Huayang.

“Madam Huayang… is ill,” Zhu Xiang sighed. “Your Majesty, I suppose Madam Huayang doesn’t like Zheng’er, the prince born of a Zhao woman, right?”

The King of Qin became interested. “And what do you plan to do? I’ll stand up for you!”

The words “stand up for you” sent a shiver down Zhu Xiang’s spine.

He smiled bitterly. “Your Majesty, there’s nothing between me and Zheng’er, but I worry something might happen to her, sigh…”

The King asked, “Why do you say that?”

Zhu Xiang answered honestly, “Madam Huayang hasn’t accepted that she’s a Qin woman and not a Chu noblewoman. Even if the Crown Prince loves her dearly, she’ll eventually become depressed and fall ill.”

The King of Qin scoffed with a laugh, “She showed you hostility, and yet you’re thinking on her behalf?”

Zhu Xiang shook his head. “I’m thinking for myself. Even if Madam Huayang dislikes Zheng’er and me, our status won’t be shaken by her petty behavior. But if she becomes ill and distant, the Crown Prince—who loves her—might develop resentment toward us. I’d offend the Crown Prince without reason.”

The King shook his head with a smile. “If he dares, I won’t let him off.”

“Logically, the Crown Prince wouldn’t blame me, but people can’t always control their emotions,” Zhu Xiang replied. “Besides, if something happens to Madam Huayang, the Chu nobility that occupies half the Qin court will surely become hostile toward me.”

The King of Qin chuckled. “So, are you afraid?”

Zhu Xiang answered, “Not afraid. Just feel it’s a hassle.”

The King asked, “If you won’t let me intervene, then how will you handle it?”

Zhu Xiang said, “Since the Crown Prince didn’t come today, he must already be consoling Madam Huayang. Once she’s willing to see Zheng’er, I’ll have Xue speak with her.”

The King frowned. “Lady Xue? She’s just a commoner woman—can she persuade Madam Huayang? Why not go yourself?”

Zhu Xiang explained, “As fellow women, Madam Huayang will be less guarded. Xue is the wife of Lord Changping. She used to face off calmly against scholars who debated me, and now she can chat easily with Qin’s noblewomen. I trust her.”

The King stopped walking and looked at Zhu Xiang, suspicion in his eyes. “You taught her? Why? It’s enough if she helps manage your household.”

Zhu Xiang lowered his head and smiled. “Perhaps. But since I travel often, if Xue had nothing to do and just sat home waiting for me, life would be too dull. I hope her days are full even when I’m away, and that she won’t miss me too much. So, as long as she wants to learn, I’ll teach her.”

The King of Qin fell silent for a while, then put away his smile and said quietly, “You’re truly loyal, kind, and pure to your family and friends. Will you treat me the same?”

Zhu Xiang replied shyly, “Your Majesty, if one day I do treat you like that, you’d better carry a ruler in your sleeve at all times, like Lord Lin does.”

The King of Qin was stunned, then burst into loud laughter.

Ying Zheng, holding Zhu Xiang’s hand, looked up at this scene, thoughts churning.

Was his uncle truly so sincere with Grandfather, or was he doing it on purpose?

Sigh, so complicated. Luckily, tonight he could enter the dreamscape and let his dream-self figure it out.

Ying Zheng yawned and rubbed his eyes.

In the Crown Prince’s Residence:

Crown Prince Zhu stood before Madam Huayang’s bed. Her hair was loose, tears streaming, her expression bleak.

“Father personally ordered General Wu’an to lead the Qin army to Handan and escort Lord Zhu Xiang. I heard when Lord Zhu Xiang returned, General Wu’an drove his chariot, and Father commanded music to be played in welcome. Who fed you lies and made you treat Zhu Xiang’s nephew so coldly?” Crown Prince Zhu laughed in anger. “You want to defy Father?”

“No, I wouldn’t dare. I’m truly sick,” Madam Huayang said in panic. “No one lied to me, I just…”

Seeing Crown Prince Zhu’s icy expression, she lowered her head and sobbed.

“I know what you’re thinking. You believe that Zichu becoming your adopted son is the only reason he might inherit the throne. Yet he betrayed you by letting a Zhao woman’s son gain Father’s favor.” Crown Prince Zhu sighed as he saw her startled expression and sat beside her, gently patting her back.

Madam Huayang collapsed into his arms, sobbing.

“Huayang, do you think I’m stupid? I know everything in your heart, and so does Father. Otherwise, even if the hostage returned to Qin, he would have been sent back to Zhao.” Crown Prince Zhu continued patting her back. “The position of Crown Prince that I hold now, the right to decide my heir in the future—all of that lies with Father. Even after his death, it will still be decided by him. Understand?”

Madam Huayang shrank back and nodded weakly.

Crown Prince Zhu said, “Stop mingling with those people. You helped them once; that should be enough.”

Madam Huayang choked out, “Yes.”

He continued, “Now that Zichu has entered Father’s eyes, his status no longer comes from you. Even though I’ve made you my principal wife, Father can designate the Crown Princess at his will. Do you understand?”

Madam Huayang trembled and covered her face. “Don’t tell me His Majesty wants to make Lady Xia your wife!”

Crown Prince Zhu asked, “Why not? I’m no longer Lord Anguo, Huayang. If you don’t come to your senses, I won’t be able to protect you. Father won’t tolerate an empress or empress dowager who doesn’t have her heart in Qin. You used to be clear-minded. How did you become so confused? As long as you get along with Zichu and Zheng’er, both you and your brother can enjoy wealth and status.”

Madam Huayang lowered her hands and said in a trembling voice, “Yes.”

“Prepare well. Tomorrow, you’ll receive Zheng’er,” Crown Prince Zhu said, patting her back again before rising. “I’m going to apologize to Lord Changping.”

Madam Huayang grabbed his sleeve. “My dear, I’m sorry…”

Crown Prince Zhu smiled and comforted her. “It’s nothing. Rest well.”

Madam Huayang let go and watched him leave, then collapsed onto the bed, trembling with fear.

How had she lost her senses and dared to go against that terrifying King of Qin?

After Crown Prince Zhu stepped outside, he looked back and sighed inwardly.

Though he doted on Madam Huayang, he had over twenty children. Clearly, that affection had its limits.

When Empress Dowager Xuan was in power, he and his elder brother could only marry noblewomen of Chu as their main wives, just like their father’s empress. But he did hold some genuine affection for Madam Huayang, because she had no children of her own, devoted herself solely to him, and avoided the Chu nobility in the Qin court.

He hoped she would stay that way.