HCT – Chapter 59 Sour Shepherd’s Purse Fish Soup

Xunzi and his disciples were on their way to Qin in a carriage when they encountered Meng Wu coming to greet them.

Xunzi, ever tolerant of Zhu Xiang’s acquaintances, chuckled and said, “You’re a general—why are you always handling such petty errands?”

Meng Wu cupped his fists. “His Majesty has ordered that Xunzi hurry to Xianyang to instruct Lord Zhu Xiang.”

Xunzi’s smile collapsed. “What has that rascal Zhu Xiang done this time?”

Meng Wu hesitated, then lowered his voice. “I haven’t seen him do anything wrong. He’s just been staying at his manor outside Xianyang, planting cotton and raising Prince Zheng. He keeps to himself.”

Xunzi fell into deep thought but couldn’t make sense of it. After all, both Zhu Xiang and the King of Qin were unpredictable—hardly ones you could understand with ordinary logic. Without seeing it firsthand, Xunzi couldn’t guess what the two had been up to.

Originally, the Confucian disciples were excited to see a Qin general personally come to greet Xunzi, thinking it signaled the king’s new appreciation for Confucianism.

But once they learned who Meng Wu really was, fear crept in.

Even if Meng Ao’s military feats didn’t surpass Bai Qi’s, his name was renowned among the Seven States. For the son of a Qin Grand Minister to personally come greet Xunzi—wasn’t that a bit too grand? Given the King of Qin’s reputation, they couldn’t help overthinking.

But as with Xunzi’s own thoughts earlier, the King of Qin’s mind was unfathomable. They could only follow Meng Wu into Qin, feeling more and more anxious.

Meng Wu personally drove Xunzi’s carriage. Xunzi didn’t sit inside but rode beside him, asking about Zhu Xiang.

Meng Wu answered every question frankly.

“Zhu Xiang wants to use a ruse to draw Lord Lian and Li Mu into Qin. I once heard His Majesty talking about it, and he kept slapping the table and laughing. I don’t know what Zhu Xiang said. I didn’t dare ask—afraid he’d be upset.”

“Prince Zichu, Lin Li, and Cai Ze all think Zhu Xiang wouldn’t resort to trickery. But Chancellor Ying said his scheme was passable. Though, he too was laughing as he said it—so I still don’t know if the plan is good or not.”

“Lord Bai went to the manor outside the city too. He’s teaching young prince Zheng military strategy. Zhu Xiang made up some sort of war game—it’s actually pretty fun. I have a copy myself but didn’t bring it in case I lost it.”

“Reading? Uh… I think Zhu Xiang does read? But Zheng reads every day, that’s for sure. He’s very diligent!”

“There are indeed people unhappy with Zhu Xiang. Many in court are quietly targeting him. But my father said their real target is Prince Zichu, not Zhu Xiang. Zhu Xiang never sets foot in court anyway, so those rumors don’t affect him.”

“Definitely no effect. His Majesty drops by Zhu Xiang’s home every few days to eat. What effect could there be?”

Xunzi frowned. “Then what taboo did Zhu Xiang commit to make the King of Qin summon me so urgently to Xianyang?”

Meng Wu shook his head vigorously. “I really don’t know. Zhu Xiang hadn’t done anything wrong. The day before I left, His Majesty was still eating at Zhu Xiang’s house. He even joked with the King of Qin, saying: next time you come, bring your own ingredients—we’re going broke feeding you…”

Crack—Xunzi, frail as he was, snapped his cane in half.

Meng Wu trembled and fell silent.

“I understand,” Xunzi said, closing his eyes to rest and asking no more.

Meng Wu scratched his head. Understand what? He didn’t get it, but fine—time to head back.

The imperial roads weren’t invented in Emperor Qin Shi Huang’s time. Every state had similar roads for administrative efficiency. With Meng Wu leading the way, Xunzi could ride on official roads and reached the outskirts of Xianyang in under half a month.

Zhu Xiang had received word in advance. He brought Xue, leading little Zheng by the hand, and was waiting by the roadside at dawn.

Ying Zheng was yawning and swaying sleepily. Zhu Xiang had to fetch a chair, sit down, and cradle Zheng in his arms while they waited for Xunzi.

From afar, Xunzi saw Zhu Xiang arrogantly sitting in the middle of the road on a chair—and his fists clenched.

Luckily, Zhu Xiang wasn’t stupid. The moment he saw the carriage approaching, he stood up with little Zheng in his arms and even had someone quickly hide the chair.

Xunzi took a deep breath. Fine. At least he knows to hide the chair. He passes—for now.

“Xunzi!” Zhu Xiang called out, bowing while still holding the soundly sleeping Ying Zheng.

Xue, who had meant to take Zheng from Zhu Xiang’s arms, held her forehead in exasperation as Xunzi slapped Zhu Xiang on the back—so hard he nearly toppled over.

Zhu Xiang protested, “Xunzi, what was that for? Why hit me the moment we meet?”

Xunzi pointed to Zheng in his arms. “If you want him to greet me, then wake him. If you can’t bear to wake him, then let him sleep properly. But holding him while bowing to me? What kind of etiquette is that? Is this what I taught you?”

Ying Zheng, a child blessed with deep sleep: “Zzz… zzz… zzz…”

Meng Wu, watching gleefully from the side, began rehearsing how to report all this to the King. His Majesty will laugh again, for sure.

Though Xunzi had scolded Zhu Xiang, he didn’t allow him to actually wake Zheng.

He hefted the child briefly, smiled and said, “He hasn’t lost weight,” then handed him to Meng Wu to carry. As for Zhu Xiang, who dared reach to wake Zheng, he got another beating.

Meng Wu: “…” I barely carry my own son. If I’d known this would happen, I wouldn’t have stood so close.

But anyone who came to mooch food at Zhu Xiang’s house was bound to be saddled with little Zheng at some point. Even the King of Qin often carried his great-grandson, letting the child tug at his beard. Meng Wu had also carried Zheng on his shoulders plenty of times, so he was quite practiced.

The personal guards Meng Wu brought with him had never seen their general carry a child before, and their eyes nearly popped out.

Among the famous Qin generals, only Sima Jin had a slightly odd reputation. The rest all tried to model themselves after Lord Wu’an’s stoic expression. Even Sima Jin usually kept a stern face.

Qin generals earned their ranks through bloodshed and carnage. They radiated a natural authority. Together with their somber black armor, flags, and expressions, the Qin army’s presence was overwhelming.

And now here was their general, skillfully cradling a chubby baby—and even rubbing his cheek affectionately against the boy’s.

Clearly, Meng Wu had also been corrupted by Zhu Xiang.

“I heard the King of Qin comes to dine at your house, and you make him pay?” Xunzi asked with biting sarcasm. “Did you even draft a document listing the added expenses for each meal?”

Zhu Xiang: “…Xunzi, how did you know? I just submitted that document.”

Xunzi raised his freshly carved cane.

Under the speechless gaze of the Confucian disciples, Zhu Xiang turned and ran. “Xunzi! Let’s talk this through—don’t hit me!”

Xunzi roared, “How dare a disciple flee when his teacher disciplines him?”

Zhu Xiang argued, “If I let you beat me to a pulp, wouldn’t that mean you’re a cruel teacher? I can’t allow that. It would be unfilial of me! So clearly, I have to run!”

One disciple couldn’t help muttering, “Zhu Xiang makes a fair point.”

Another cast him a glance and said, “It is logical—but you better not let Xunzi hear you.”

Spurred by this exchange, the other disciples clamped their mouths shut before the debate spiraled further.

Xue sighed and stepped forward. “Xunzi, the weather is hot. Shall we return home? My husband has already prepared food for your arrival.”

Xunzi tossed his cane—it smacked into Zhu Xiang’s back, making him crouch down in pain.

With a snort, Xunzi said, “Fine.”

He took Zheng from Meng Wu, and the moment the boy was in his arms, Xunzi’s stern face softened into one of grandfatherly affection. Stroking the child’s cheek like a doting elder who hadn’t seen his grandchild in ages, he smiled broadly and returned to the carriage in high spirits.

Ying Zheng, who could sleep through anything: “Snore… snore…”

Seeing that Xunzi had entered the carriage, Zhu Xiang immediately stood up—his cries of pain vanished like smoke.

Xue asked with concern, “Does it hurt? We should go home and put on some medicine.”

Zhu Xiang replied, “It doesn’t hurt. But I have to act like it does in front of Xunzi. Otherwise, he’ll be unhappy.”

Xue: “…Next time you get scolded by Xunzi, I’m not helping you anymore!” She sometimes felt that her husband enjoyed asking for a beating.

Zhu Xiang gave Meng Wu a playful kick, then went over to greet the Confucian disciples, calling them his junior brothers.

The disciples hastily declined the title, respectfully calling him “Lord Zhu Xiang.”

Meng Wu patted the shoe print on his leg, confused. “Why’d you kick me?”

Zhu Xiang gritted his teeth. “Who told you to snitch? Was it you who told His Majesty I made him pay for meals at my house?”

Meng Wu looked even more baffled. “What’s wrong with that? His Majesty approved!”

Zhu Xiang retorted, “But Xunzi didn’t approve!”

Meng Wu said righteously, “I don’t study Confucianism. How would I know what Xunzi approves of?”

Zhu Xiang grabbed Meng Wu’s shoulder. “Good point. From now on, I’ll teach you the Confucian classics!”

Meng Wu frowned. “No thanks.”

From the carriage, Xunzi shouted, “Zhu Xiang! What are you dawdling for? Hurry up and drive the carriage!”

Zhu Xiang scrambled up. “Coming, coming!”

“Out of the way! You know how to drive?” Meng Wu jumped in too, shoved him aside, and took the reins.

Driving a carriage—especially a war chariot—was a skilled job. Meng Wu was afraid Zhu Xiang might flip the cart.

Xue chuckled behind her hand and returned to her own carriage for the ride home.

All the way there, Zhu Xiang’s voice was as noisy as ever.

“Meng Wu, I think I can do it. Let me try?”

“You can’t!”

This exchange repeated several times.

“Stop that racket! Don’t wake up Zheng’er’s afternoon nap!”

Finally, one shout from Xunzi silenced them both.

Despite the chaos, Ying Zheng just rolled over in Xunzi’s arms and kept snoring away.

Xunzi smiled fondly and stroked the chubby little face. Unbothered by disturbances—clearly, Zheng’er had the makings of a king.

Since the King of Qin told Zhu Xiang not to stand on ceremony, Zhu Xiang didn’t—he managed the royal estate as if it were his own property and had long prepared accommodations for Xunzi and the others.

The King of Qin saw that Zhu Xiang truly took him at his word, burst into laughter again, and simply gifted the estate to Zheng’er.

Zichu was immensely jealous. Even he had never received property directly from the King.

And instead of smoothing things over between Zichu and Zheng’er, Zhu Xiang mocked Zichu on purpose.

The two ended up in another ridiculous scuffle, squabbling like a pair of foolish roosters. Lin Zhi cheered them on from the sidelines while Cai Ze and Meng Wu calmly critiqued their fighting skills, debating whether they’d actually improved.

Xunzi, upon arriving at the estate, made himself at home without hesitation.

He immediately rearranged the house to his liking and designated quarters for his disciples, clearly intending to turn the place into a teaching hall.

Zhu Xiang went straight to the kitchen upon returning home.

Ying Zheng, as always, woke up the moment food was ready.

Opening his eyes, the first thing he saw was Xunzi’s wrinkled face—he was so startled he nearly rolled off Xunzi’s lap.

“Grandpa Xun! When did you get here?” After properly bowing, he climbed right back onto Xunzi’s lap, hugging his arm. “Uncle didn’t wake me up!”

Xunzi smiled. “That’s because I told him not to disturb you. Children need sleep to grow well.”

Ying Zheng grinned. “Then I’ll definitely grow up strong!”

“Of course,” said Xunzi. “Now go wash your hands and eat. After that, I’ll quiz you on your studies.”

Ying Zheng patted his chest. “Test me all you like!”

Xunzi asked, “Has your uncle been reading diligently?”

Ying Zheng hesitated, then replied, “Uncle doesn’t read as much lately, but it’s not his fault.”

“Why not?”

“Even though he always smiles, I know he’s been feeling down ever since he came back from Zhao. He still doesn’t sleep well. He spends all his energy farming and hosting Great-Grandfather and the others. When he finally has free time, he’s too exhausted to read. But whenever he’s feeling a bit better, he picks up a book right away.”

Xunzi sighed. “I see. Has the King had the royal physician check on him?”

“I asked the doctor in secret. He said Uncle has insufficient yang energy and needs to take tonic medicine brewed with boy’s urine. When Uncle found out, he refused to drink any medicine at all.”

Xunzi was stunned, then burst out laughing.

Ying Zheng scratched his nose. “I tried peeing into Uncle’s cup once. He caught me and I almost got spanked for the first time.”

Xunzi laughed so hard he nearly doubled over. “Zheng’er, that’s very filial of you—but don’t do it again.”

“I won’t, I won’t! If I do, Auntie will really spank me.”

Although Uncle would never lay a hand on me no matter how mad he is… Auntie definitely would.

After laughing his fill, Xunzi began asking Ying Zheng about his impressions of the King of Qin, the Crown Prince, and Zichu.

Ying Zheng said, “Great-Grandfather is a wise ruler, but he’s suspicious by nature. Before I came to Qin, I heard he trusted Lord Ying greatly. But from what I’ve seen, he’s always testing Lord Ying’s loyalty. Maybe only Uncle can truly put him at ease.”

“My grandfather, by others’ judgment, is more kind-hearted than intelligent—ordinary and unremarkable. But I wonder… has surviving so long as Crown Prince under such a suspicious King not required great wisdom? Perhaps his plainness is a form of cleverness.”

“As for my biological father…” Ying Zheng paused, then spoke honestly, “He’s calculating and deep-thinking. But he is truly loyal to Uncle and would never harm him. As for me… he doesn’t look at me like a father looks at his son. It’s more like he sees me as a friend’s child. Which suits me just fine.”

Ordinarily, it was improper for descendants to pass judgment on their elders—but Xunzi valued truth above protocol.

After listening, Xunzi said, “You’re quite accurate about the King and Crown Prince. But you may be a bit harsh on your father. I know you resent him for abandoning you, but from what I’ve heard, he did leave people to protect you and planned to send you to Zhu Xiang’s side. He’s not entirely heartless.”

Ying Zheng nodded. “I know. My father is a proper Qin prince. He may care for his children, but he won’t show favoritism. If he’s partial to me now, it’s because of Uncle.”

“Well said,” Xunzi replied, not pursuing the point further. He rubbed Zheng’er’s head. “Royal heirs rarely get to enjoy family love. But you’re different. Cherish your uncle.”

Ying Zheng’s expression turned serious. “I’ll protect Uncle and Auntie.”

Xunzi added, “Be careful when your birth mother arrives in Qin.”

Ying Zheng said coldly, “A woman who abandoned her child isn’t worthy of being called mother. She’s not my real mother. I only have Auntie.”

Xunzi sighed. “Don’t say that in front of others.”

Ying Zheng stubbornly said, “Do you want me to give her face in public to appear filial? But she showed me no compassion—why should I be filial? If even heartless parents can expect a child’s respect, doesn’t that just encourage parental cruelty?”

Xunzi asked, “What if she’s good to you after returning to Qin?”

Ying Zheng was silent for a long time. Then, he smiled bitterly. “She won’t be. No matter how much I indulge her, she’ll betray me…”

Crash!

Ying Zheng turned around to see a jar shattered on the floor—its contents of preserved fruit strewn everywhere.

“Uncle…” he said, alarmed.

Zhu Xiang stood frozen, hand still outstretched from the fall.

Zhu Xiang rushed forward, half-kneeling on the ground as he hugged Ying Zheng tightly. “It’s okay, it’s okay now, Zheng’er. Uncle will protect you. Chunhua won’t have another chance to hurt you. Trust me! You’re still a child—you don’t need to worry about these things. Uncle will keep her outside the door for you.”

Ying Zheng clutched Zhu Xiang’s robe, blinking his eyes.

In that moment, he hadn’t entered the dream realm, yet it felt as if he was seeing his future self dozing off at a desk. Pain, despair, and a rage that wanted to destroy everything surged from deep within, clogging his throat with countless unspoken accusations.

Qin customs differed slightly from the Central Plains—coming-of-age ceremonies were held at twenty-two. But even before his crown ceremony, Ying Zheng had already held significant power. In the ninth year of his reign, he came of age and immediately eliminated Lao Ai. In the tenth year, he forced Lu Buwei to commit suicide.

He moved swiftly, clearly having amassed strength long before. Before taking full control, he let Lu Buwei manage court affairs and turned a blind eye to Lao Ai to appease the powerful Empress Dowager. But once in power, he removed them with thunderous speed. No matter how long Lu Buwei or Lao Ai had built their power, to Ying Zheng, they were like dust blown away with a flick of his fingers.

But just because he handled them easily didn’t mean he felt at ease. No matter how cold and emotionless outsiders imagined a king to be—as if sitting on the throne turned one into a heartless, bloodless being—the truth was, every king was still human, with feelings. He could remove the Empress Dowager’s faction swiftly, but that didn’t mean her foolish choices didn’t hurt him.

Though the First Emperor’s achievements surpassed those of the legendary Three Sovereigns and Five Emperors, he lived his life abandoned by his closest kin: His father left him in Zhao, his mother chose a lover and illegitimate children, and his only brother rebelled. Even if Qin Shi Huang didn’t care about their betrayal, in the dead of night, thinking back, how could he not feel anger?

“Uncle…” Ying Zheng choked back sobs, clinging to Zhu Xiang’s robes. “I don’t want to see her. I don’t want to see her.”

Zhu Xiang kept apologizing. “I’m sorry, Zheng’er. I only thought about how Chunhua could help bring Lord Lian and Li Mu to Qin, and I ignored how you’d feel.”

Ying Zheng shook his head in Zhu Xiang’s arms and wiped away his tears with Zhu Xiang’s clothes. “She can come to Qin. I just don’t want to see her. I won’t see her!”

“Alright, you don’t have to. I’ll find a way!” Zhu Xiang promised, only to get smacked hard on the head by Xunzi.

“Zheng’er doesn’t have to acknowledge her as his mother emotionally, but the proper rites must still be observed,” Xunzi said.

Zhu Xiang protested, “Didn’t you say we shouldn’t repay evil with virtue?”

Xunzi replied, “No one’s asking you or Zheng’er to repay evil with virtue. Just go perform the rites after a few days, then leave. Let Zichu arrange for them to meet separated by a curtain—no need to even speak.”

Zhu Xiang still wanted to argue, but Ying Zheng tugged on his sleeve and poked his head out from his arms.

“Alright. Just the rites—I can do that,” Ying Zheng said, red-eyed. “Nothing more!”

Right now, I’m not that future version of me in the dream. I have my uncle. I can be willful!

“What else do you want to do?” Xunzi glanced at them both. “You really think you should repay her kindness? She gave birth to you, and letting her live in comfort is repayment enough.”

“Grandpa Xun!” Zhu Xiang released him, and Ying Zheng lunged into Xunzi’s arms.

Xunzi caught him and playfully flicked his nose. “Did you really think I wanted you to be filial to her? Like you said, if parents who abandon their children can still expect respectful devotion, then wouldn’t that encourage even more heartless parenting?”

Zhu Xiang wiped his eyes, stood up, and said, “Zheng’er, you have to trust your uncle and your father. In this world, women can do very little. All power comes from the men around them. Unlike before, when she abandoned her brother and child, if she tries to do evil now, it won’t be her doing it—it’ll mean I and Xia Tong are doing evil too.”

Ying Zheng looked back at his uncle.

Zhu Xiang pulled out a handkerchief to wipe his face. “If Xia Tong, I, and you don’t give her power, she’ll have nothing.”

Zhu Xiang had never believed Chunhua could truly harm him or Zheng’er. Even a crown princess, a empress, or a empress dowager only held influence because the men beside them allowed it. This world was already unfair enough to women—if he, as a man, couldn’t even stand firm, then he really would be worthless.

As for filial piety, Zheng’er only needed to provide her with food and clothing—that alone would be enough.

“Mm.” Ying Zheng threw himself back into Zhu Xiang’s arms.

Zhu Xiang picked him up, still feeling deeply guilty. He had really neglected Zheng’er’s feelings when offering that strategy and would have to make up for it properly.

Xunzi looked at Zhu Xiang’s expression and shook his head in exasperation. Thank goodness Zheng’er was sensible and clever. Otherwise, with how Zhu Xiang doted on him, he’d surely become a spoiled brat.

“Weren’t you here to call us for dinner?” Xunzi asked. “Or did something else come up?”

“Ah, right—dinner.” Zhu Xiang looked at the scattered candied fruit on the floor and winced.

“Well, they can still be eaten after a wash and some sun.”

He called in servants to gather the fruit.

Seeing Zhu Xiang still being so frugal, Xunzi smiled and stroked his beard. Whether rich or poor, Zhu Xiang’s character stayed the same—truly worthy of being his student.

Hearing it was time to eat, Ying Zheng was instantly no longer sad. Zhu Xiang carried him to wash his face and hands. He even willingly put on the frilly apron he usually disliked and waited obediently for dinner.

Since it was hot, Zhu Xiang had cooked a light meal to cool Xunzi down. He picked shepherd’s purse to make a sour fish soup, brewed tea into a light broth to dip thinly sliced meat, and turned peaches and plums into jam to go with de-bittered lotus pods…

Xunzi dined with the other Confucian disciples. Seeing the different-style tables and chairs and the spread of refined dishes, they had much to say, but with Xunzi present, they didn’t dare speak. As adherents to the Zhou rites, they had opinions even about seating.

But when they saw Xunzi sit comfortably in a chair, they could only follow suit. It was indeed more comfortable than kneeling, but they still felt awkward—as if they were betraying the sages.

Only Confucian disciples would think of elevating a mere seat to the height of the sages.

“Sichuan has sent an old tea tree. His Majesty asked me to plant it on the manor. I’ve processed some of its leaves—Master Xun, see if the taste suits you,” Zhu Xiang said as he poured tea for Xunzi.

Tea leaves already existed at this time, but they were typically cooked with vegetables and meat into a thick soup.

If one drank that tea soup as a beverage, it would surely taste terrible. But as a dish, it was decent—no different from other vegetable-based broths.

Back in Zhao, Zhu Xiang had already wanted to try roasting tea leaves, but tea was a rare and precious item. He didn’t feel right using up Lord Lin or Lord Lian’s treasured stores.

But King Qin had plenty of good things, so he used them freely. After much practice, he managed to produce tea that couldn’t clearly be called green, black, yellow, or oolong.

Probably green tea?

Whatever. As long as it tasted good.

Xunzi took a sip and his eyes lit up. “Very elegant.”

Zhu Xiang smiled. “If you add some sun-dried fruit and flower petals to the tea leaves, the flavor changes again. But I imagine Master Xun would prefer plain tea.”

Setting down the cup, Xunzi said, “This teacup is also quite interesting.”

Zhu Xiang beamed. “Xiang He and I came up with the design together. Once we improve the kiln, we’ll be able to make even finer pottery… We’ve even renamed it ‘porcelain.’”

Xunzi scolded jokingly, “So this is what you came to Qin for?”

Zhu Xiang replied, “Porcelain is less porous than earthenware and cheaper than metal utensils, so commoners can use it too. And it’s beautiful—if ordinary folks can have attractive ceramics at home, they’ll surely be in better spirits. Once we produce cotton, I’ll work on improving the loom, so commoners can have warm clothes for winter…”

Before he finished, a Confucian disciple couldn’t help blurting out, “Lord Zhu Xiang, why do you concern yourself with such vulgar matters?”

Xunzi’s expression darkened.

Zhu Xiang smiled and said, “Most people’s lives revolve around clothing, food, shelter, and travel. If I don’t care about those, what should I care about? Those who survive on coarse greens don’t have the strength to worry about these things—it’s the responsibility of those who feast on meat. The deeds of wise and capable men ultimately aim to let the common people live in peace and without worry. Even soldiers who fight and expand the borders do so to gain more farmland and protect the people. It all comes down to this.”

Meng Wu nodded vigorously. “Exactly!”

Xunzi snorted coldly. “Not everyone sees things as clearly as you. Many seek to make great contributions but have no idea what those should be. They think that dressing in fine silk and dining on meat makes them accomplished. You, who gaze at the sky, try talking to those who crawl on the ground—ever heard of ‘no talking while eating’?”

“Yes, Master Xun,” Zhu Xiang quickly fell silent.

The Confucian disciple who had spoken turned pale.

Ying Zheng sneered.

The Confucian school certainly had talent, but most only knew how to talk big and hadn’t learned half of what Master Xun knew.

Come to think of it, weren’t Li Si and Han Fei also Xunzi’s disciples?

Ying Zheng bit down on his chopsticks, a look of deep thought on his face.

Had Master Xun accepted Li Si and Han Fei as disciples yet? If not, did that make them his juniors?

Surely Master Xun wouldn’t deny that I’m his disciple?

“Don’t bite the chopsticks, or you’ll grow a mouthful of crooked teeth,” Zhu Xiang scolded Ying Zheng.

“My gums itch,” Ying Zheng pouted.

“Are your adult teeth coming in? Then all the more reason not to bite. I’ll ask the imperial physician to make you a cooling herbal pouch. You can chew on that instead.”

Ying Zheng nodded.

Next time he returned to the dream realm, he’d check when his dream self lost his baby teeth—and whether it hurt.

His dream self always looked so dignified in public, but Ying Zheng had seen plenty of his embarrassing past—like crying secretly under the covers or in the wardrobe. Quite common.

As he grew older, he stopped crying, but he’d still grumble in private or slash at tables with his sword to vent.

I’d never be so childish, thought Ying Zheng.

After Xunzi spoke, no one dared say another word at the table.

Even though the food was delicious, the Confucian disciples had no appetite.

When they found out that Zhu Xiang had personally cooked the entire meal, they were even more stunned.

Seeing their expressions, Zhu Xiang sighed.

After the meal, tea was served again. While Xunzi excused himself to the restroom, Zhu Xiang addressed the Confucian disciples—men who were technically his peers, though Xunzi claimed otherwise: “Mencius’ teachings don’t completely align with Confucius’, and Master Xun’s theories also differ from other sages. You must read, yes, but also think for yourselves. Start from what you’ve seen with your own eyes—form your own ideas.”

Seeing that they didn’t quite understand, he continued, “I know you respect the sages and hesitate to question them. But even their theories have errors—things that may not hold up a hundred years later. If everything stayed the same, and students were always inferior to their teachers, how could knowledge ever progress?”

“Think about it—would you want your students to always be weaker than you? Or your children, for that matter—would you wish each generation to be worse than the last?”

“Even Confucius said, ‘When three walk together, one can be my teacher,’ and constantly reflected on himself. What you should emulate in the sages is their character.”

“You may wonder, after coming to Qin, why its laws and governance seem so far from the sages’ ideals, yet the state is stronger and its people live better. Observe more. Ask more. Think more. Once you resolve your doubts, you’ll be ready to make your own contributions.”

All of the disciples present were older than Zhu Xiang.

In such dangerous times, unless they had already produced heirs, younger men wouldn’t risk traveling to study abroad.

But Zhu Xiang spoke to them like a university professor lecturing earnest students. And the disciples, in turn, treated him with the reverence they would offer a teacher.

Even the one who had earlier questioned him hadn’t truly doubted Zhu Xiang—he had spoken out of admiration and lost control of his tongue.

The Confucian disciples of this era were different from the rigid scholars of later generations. Though respectful of sages, they had not lost their drive to question or improve.

In a world where life was as cheap as grass, the Confucian scholar who could walk the six states with a sword could not possibly be a narrow-minded pedant.

“We will humbly follow Lord Zhu Xiang’s teachings,” the disciples stood and bowed deeply.

Zhu Xiang waved his hand. “Sit down, no need for formalities. His Majesty plans to build an academy and copy the texts of all the major schools. I will recommend you for admission. While copying, you’ll also gain knowledge. I believe Master Xun will keep you close. You are all full of potential.”

The disciples didn’t sit, but bowed again.

Ying Zheng, sitting in Zhu Xiang’s lap with his hands clutching his arm, looking like he was already on a dragon throne, snorted through his nose.

He felt very proud.

Seeing that these men were reasonable and willing to accept Qin, Zhu Xiang softened his tone even more.

He asked their names—unfortunately, none of them were Li Si, Han Fei, or Zhang Cang, Xunzi’s most famous disciples.

Li Si and Zhang Cang would eventually become officials of Qin and would surely seek out Xunzi. Han Fei, a Korean noble, might not.

Just as Zhu Xiang was thinking this, he had no idea that Han Fei had already arrived at the border of Qin.

But Han Fei hadn’t come to see Xunzi—he had come to visit Lord Changping.

Very few knew Xunzi had come to Qin, and Han Fei certainly didn’t. He was searching for a way to make Han strong again. Though he had read all the major schools’ theories, he hadn’t found the teacher he sought.

He was indeed interested in Xunzi’s ideas, but at this point, Xunzi hadn’t yet revealed his political philosophy. So Han Fei hadn’t thought of apprenticing under him.

In the original timeline, Xunzi only focused on writing and built his reputation for governance after becoming magistrate of Lanling in Chu. It was then that Han Fei sought him out.

Right now, Xunzi’s political ideas were only in rough drafts—seen only by people like Zhu Xiang.

Lord Changping had already made a name for himself across the Three Jin states. Han Fei had long heard of him.

When Zhu Xiang was trapped in Handan, Han Fei had even advised the King of Han to invite Zhu Xiang to join them.

Han’s territory was small, and its farmland yielded little—barely enough for self-sufficiency. Han Fei understood that the foundation of a strong nation was grain. Reforming political systems was key, but so was boosting agricultural output.

If Zhu Xiang had gone to Han, he could’ve helped increase harvests and attracted others who admired him. With more farmers and soldiers, Han could resist Qin.

Han Fei had spent a long time convincing the king. But Han was slow to act, and Bai Qi had already used the promise of returning Handan to bring Zhu Xiang to Qin.

The King of Han beat his chest in frustration—but also felt a bit smug.

He was glad he hadn’t brought Zhu Xiang to Han himself, or Bai Qi might have demanded the capital in exchange.

When Han Fei learned the king was bragging about how “wise” he had been, he was so furious he stammered and stormed off to argue.

The result? The king nearly banished him.

Even before that, Han Fei had spent five years submitting memorials, begging the king to remove useless courtiers and promote men of real talent. The king ignored every one.

This time, Han Fei had finally reached his limit.

But even though the king disliked Han Fei’s stutter and verbosity, Han Fei still hoped to strengthen Han and avoid destruction.

He kept following Zhu Xiang’s developments. Once Zhu Xiang began achieving things in Qin, Han Fei began to seriously consider going there to learn from him.

After much preparation, he wrote down his ideas on bamboo slips, then took a couple of old retainers, boarded a worn-out carriage, and entered Qin with a heart full of anxiety.