HCT – Chapter 60 Cold Noodles with Wild Vegetable Juice

After Xunzi entered Xianyang, the King of Qin did not come to greet him in person. He even left Xunzi hanging for several days, which didn’t match the image of a ruler eager to recruit talent.  Zhu Xiang felt that no matter which King of Qin it was, they probably all had a certain prejudice against Confucianism.

From the days when Qin was still fighting the Rong and Di tribes for territory to its rise as the most powerful state in the Warring States period, it had always stood in opposition to Confucian ideology. The unspoken rule of “Confucians do not enter Qin” made the King of Qin grit his teeth.

He could choose not to use you—but if you dared to look down on him, you deserved to be beheaded.

Last time Xunzi entered Qin, the king had closely monitored him. Otherwise, Xunzi wouldn’t have been received by Fan Ju. If Xunzi hadn’t praised Qin to Fan Ju, the King of Qin wouldn’t have paid him any mind, even if he was Zhu Xiang’s teacher.

A few days later, while eating dishes prepared by the palace cooks and reviewing the latest updates from Zhu Xiang’s household sent by Meng Wu, the King of Qin began to crave again.  Although the palace cooks had more or less figured out the recipes Zhu Xiang had shared, Zhu Xiang himself never followed recipes. On a whim, he’d casually toss seasonal ingredients into a pot and cook up flavors no one had ever tasted before. The King still craved Zhu Xiang’s cooking.

The palace cooks didn’t dare test new dishes on the king. To be fair, Zhu Xiang’s improvised dishes weren’t necessarily more delicious than what the palace chefs could make, but they were fresh and novel. Even if they didn’t suit the King’s tastes, he could still finish an extra bowl of rice just for the variety.

Especially when he saw the ever-eager Ying Zheng gobbling down food with zero table manners, hugging his own little rice bowl—gulp gulp gulp—the King of Qin always found his own appetite awakened.

“Let’s go to Zhu Xiang’s place,” the King finally decided, choosing to forgive Confucianism and give Xunzi a chance to pledge his loyalty.

Fan Ju, who rarely joked with the King nowadays, massaged his legs and remarked playfully, “Your Majesty, if you don’t go soon, I might just go myself. Food tastes better when you’re eating across from Zheng’er.”

The King of Qin thought of Ying Zheng’s puffed cheeks and cleared his throat. “Didn’t Zhu Xiang say he wanted Zheng’er to lose weight? What’s he thinking?”

Fan Ju replied, “Whatever he’s thinking, he definitely means well. He’s just cut down some snacks—Zheng’er still gets three proper meals a day, and he agreed to it himself.”

“Zheng’er is too sensible,” said the King with his hands behind his back. “As the future King of Qin, he shouldn’t need to be so sensible.”

Fan Ju was speechless. Eating too many snacks before meals was a bad habit—what strange logic was the king using? What did this have to do with being the future king?

Muttering a few more words, the King of Qin cheerfully boarded the carriage to Zhu Xiang’s home to accept Xunzi’s loyalty.

Of course, Xunzi wasn’t about to kneel before the King of Qin and swear allegiance. He cast a glance at the old King—his manners were impeccable, but his expression was clearly not friendly.

The King, with an air of arrogance, said, “Xun Qing, you’ve been in Xianyang a few days. What do you think of my Great Qin?”

Xunzi replied, “Zhu Xiang’s cooking has improved again.”

The King of Qin: “……”

“Um… I gathered some wild vegetables and made cold noodles with them. Would Your Majesty like to try a bowl before we talk?” Zhu Xiang said cautiously. He was really afraid Xunzi would offend the King.

Xunzi added respectfully, “Your Majesty, the weather is hot. Please take a short rest first. I’ll present the documents later.”

The King of Qin snorted but didn’t make things difficult for him.

“Cold noodles?” he asked. “You mean the noodles are served cold?”

Zhu Xiang patted his chest confidently. “Just wait and see, Your Majesty—the taste is definitely excellent!”

“Mm.” The King nodded. “Where’s Zheng’er?”

Zhu Xiang replied, “He’s in class. Lord Bai is teaching him about Qin’s rivers and mountains—he’s memorizing the map.”

The King frowned. “Does Zheng’er want to become a general?”

Zhu Xiang laughed. “Whether he does or not, he still needs to know Qin’s geography. If he doesn’t understand the land inside and out, he won’t know what kind of policies work best.”

The King nodded. “That’s true. But for someone so young to be memorizing maps—sigh, aren’t you being too hard on him?”

Zhu Xiang rubbed his nose and defended himself, “Your Majesty, I didn’t make Zheng’er study anything that hard. I only set his study hours and the number of subjects. The rest he chose himself. As long as he gets good grades in one subject, he’s allowed to pick a new one. This was all his idea.”

The King looked surprised. “He picked them himself? What else did he choose?”

Zhu Xiang said, “Too many things—Zheng’er wants to learn everything.”

The King frowned. “You shouldn’t try to learn too much at once.”

Zhu Xiang shook his head. “He never picks a new subject without finishing the previous one. As long as he completes them, it’s not too much.”

Then he pointed proudly at himself. “Zheng’er takes after me—I can learn anything too!” A great memory is unbeatable!

Seeing Zhu Xiang praising himself while talking about Zheng’er, the King gave him a look of disdain and walked off to observe Zheng’er’s lessons.

After he left, Xunzi unclenched his fist and wiped the sweat from his palm onto his sleeve.

The old King of Qin had an intimidating presence, and this trip to Qin concerned both the future of Confucianism and Xunzi’s own aspirations. Every word he said, every expression he made had been calculated to steer the King’s reactions.

But a tyrant never likes being led by others. If the King sensed Xunzi was playing him, disaster could follow.

Luckily, the King was in a good mood and didn’t scrutinize Xunzi too harshly.

“You were quite rude to the King of Qin,” Xunzi said in a low voice.

Zhu Xiang grinned. “I’m Zichu’s friend, and Zheng’er’s maternal uncle. I suppose that makes me somewhat of a junior to the King, doesn’t it? Outside this house, I’m completely respectful. But if I kept treating him like a monarch at home, that would be inappropriate.”

Xunzi frowned and pondered for a long time before sighing deeply.

He’d thought Zhu Xiang simply didn’t know how to deal with royalty, but now it was clear—Zhu Xiang was clever and had grown a lot.

But this kind of growth… Lian Po probably wouldn’t be too happy to see it. Fathers always want their children to grow up, but their hearts ache when they actually do.

“Go make your cold noodles. I’ll go see Zheng’er,” Xunzi said. “Don’t make the food too cold.”  The old King was elderly now—getting sick from cold food wouldn’t be good.

“Don’t worry,” Zhu Xiang said. He’d already prepared hot tea. Cold noodles paired with warm tea wouldn’t upset the stomach.

On the Guandong Plain, Qin had also started growing some wheat. After Zhu Xiang handed in a petition asking for ingredients in exchange for feeding the King, the King had sent over a generous supply of tribute foods, including rice from Shu and Chu and wheat from Guandong.

The wheat Zhu Xiang brought hadn’t been harvested yet. Even when the tribute rice and wheat were ground into flour and sifted many times, the texture still wasn’t great.

Zhu Xiang added potato starch to the flour to create noodles that, in the future, would get a restaurant blacklisted on a food app—but for now, they earned high praise.

He juiced wild greens he had picked from the mountains and turned them into vibrant green health noodles. Using cool boiled water mixed with saltpeter, he chilled the cooked noodles in ice water. Once they turned firm and springy, he rubbed them with sesame oil, working carefully.

“Uncle! It smells so good!”

Zhu Xiang turned to see Ying Zheng bounding toward him like a chubby little puppy on a leash, dragging the King of Qin along by the hand—as if the King was being pulled along in a run.

Every time he saw this scene, Zhu Xiang couldn’t help but sigh—his little nephew really was bolder than him. While he did his best to act like an ignorant commoner deferential to his elders around the Qin king, Zheng’er genuinely dared to act like a mischievous child in front of him.

“Shoo, shoo! Even if His Majesty is here, you still shouldn’t skip class.” Zhu Xiang waved his hand to shoo Ying Zheng away. “Don’t come near the noodles. You’ll get them dirty.”

“I won’t!” Ying Zheng craned his neck to look into the basin. “Great-grandfather let me leave class early—how is that skipping?”

“Your Majesty,” Zhu Xiang sighed helplessly, “could you maybe not disturb Zheng’er while he’s studying?”

The Qin king completely ignored him and strolled over at his own pace. “When did you get the ice from the icehouse?”

He had granted Zhu Xiang permission to use the royal icehouse, but the man had never taken a single cube from it. According to Meng Wu, Zhu Xiang’s household never lacked ice. The Qin king had always been curious and wanted to find out where the ice came from, but even his secret guards hadn’t figured it out yet.

Now that he had a chance to witness it again, he couldn’t be bothered to wait any longer for the spies’ report and asked directly.

“Nitre ice-making—a simple trick of material transformation. Same principle as how firewood burns.” Zhu Xiang had been waiting for this question. Who knew it would take the Qin king so long to get curious? “If Your Majesty is interested, I can perform a little magic show for you later.”

The Qin king raised a brow. “What is a magic show?”

Zhu Xiang explained, “It’s the kind of act where someone seemingly conjures fire or ice from thin air. Looks magical, but once you understand the principle, it’s a very ordinary performance.”

Ying Zheng’s face twitched slightly.

Even though it wasn’t his first time seeing Zhu Xiang perform his “magic,” it was still hard not to crack under the spectacle.

The Qin king nodded. “Fine, I’ll wait for your magic. Are those cold noodles ready yet?”

“All done—just need to season them now.” Zhu Xiang started introducing his sauces.

The two most important condiments for cold noodles were, of course, vinegar and soy sauce.

Vinegar did exist at this time, but the fermentation techniques were still in their infancy, much like alcohol production. In fact, strong liquor hadn’t even been mastered yet, so vinegar production was understandably primitive.

In the Wei and Jin periods, vinegar was considered a rare commodity. At this point in Qin, it was just as rare. The Qin king, however, liked pouring vinegar into millet porridge.

When Zhu Xiang saw that, he couldn’t help but sigh—this man had gone from being the ancestor of Shaanxi folks to the ancestor of Shanxi people.

Look at him, dousing his rice in vinegar with such flair—who’d believe he wasn’t from Shanxi?

In the future, vinegar-making and liquor-brewing would become two distinct crafts, with vinegar easier to produce and tastier too.

As a professor of agronomy and member of the Academy of Agricultural Sciences, Zhu Xiang naturally knew how to brew vinegar. After all, the academy regularly sold handmade agricultural products as side income.

After some trial and error, Zhu Xiang had brewed a fragrant vinegar far more intense in flavor than what existed now and planned to gift it to the Qin king. Today was the perfect time to let him taste it and see if it suited him.

“In addition to vinegar, I’ve also brewed soy sauce. The process is similar to making fermented bean paste,” Zhu Xiang explained. “If Your Majesty likes it, I’ll write down the recipe for you.”

In the pre-Qin era, most condiments were pastes. The predecessor of soy sauce was fermented bean paste, also called qingjiang.

Nobles typically used meat and fish-based pastes. When some nobles fell into poverty, they sought substitutes and discovered that bean paste tasted surprisingly similar to meat sauces, leading to the invention of qingjiang. Over time, bean paste evolved into soy sauce, doubanjiang, douchi, and other familiar condiments.

Zhu Xiang’s arrival had fast-tracked this process.

“Flavorful sauces made from soybeans—commoners can afford them too,” Zhu Xiang beamed.

The Qin king looked at him oddly. “You not only want the commoners to not starve—you want them to eat well too?”

As he made the sauces, Zhu Xiang responded, “Conventionally, yes—you make sure people don’t starve, then fill their bellies, then worry about nutrition and flavor. But why must we follow that sequence? Even if a person can only afford one barely-filling meal a day, if that meal is a little tastier, then life becomes a little more hopeful.”

The Qin king remarked, “Commoners don’t seek delicious food. They don’t have such thoughts.”

Zhu Xiang poured some infused oil made from spices as the base for the noodles. “They do. Even when eating coarse porridge, they care about texture and doneness. They pick wildflowers to decorate their hair, wash their faces clean before socializing during slow farming seasons… Even if they don’t have as much leisure as the nobles, they still seek joy where they can. That’s human nature.”

The Qin king said, “Nobles and commoners cannot be the same.”

Zhu Xiang replied, “Most nobles today have an ancestor who built their house from nothing. Weren’t those ancestors just commoners back then?”

Ying Zheng immediately stepped forward and tugged at Zhu Xiang’s sleeve. “Uncle!”

Zhu Xiang paused and sighed. “Your Majesty, this is actually beneficial to Qin’s governance too. Even if the state unifies the realm, you’ll still have to employ nobles who are not loyal to Qin—because to be an official, at least one must be literate. Right now, there are very few who can read. Even if you distrust them, there’s no one else to pick.”

“When royal authority is strong, nobles are weak, and vice versa. If Qin truly wants to keep the nobles of the Six States from rising again, you must select more talent from outside their lineages,” Zhu Xiang looked directly at the Qin king. “Nobles and commoners alike are your subjects. Aside from the supremacy of the throne, no one has the right to claim they are inherently superior.”

“You…” The Qin king sighed. “Just go make your noodles.”

“Alright.” Zhu Xiang resumed his work.

Ying Zheng clung to his uncle’s robes, glancing up at him, then over at his great-grandfather.

Was Great-Grandfather angry? Seemed like… he wasn’t. He actually looked quite pleased.

Ying Zheng mulled over his uncle’s words and suddenly thought of Han Fei.

When he’d seen Han Fei in his dreams, he’d thought it a shame to kill him. But if he were in charge…

No, he wouldn’t kill him.

Han Fei was talented, but the way he framed Yao Jia showed he’d never be loyal to Qin. Such talent, without loyalty, had to be killed.

Later, he regretted it a little—maybe Han Fei could’ve been persuaded. But what’s done was done. It wasn’t a deep regret.

If it were the current him? Han Fei? Whatever. Go yell all you want. If I think you’re better than me, I lose.

Ying Zheng puffed through his nose and put his hands on his hips. I have Uncle and Master Xun—Han Fei is nothing.

“Uncle, don’t say that kind of thing to outsiders,” he tugged on Zhu Xiang’s sleeve again.

“You think your uncle is stupid?” Zhu Xiang replied. “There are no outsiders here.”

“Oh.” Ying Zheng looked at the Qin king.

The king nodded. “Hm. The noodles aren’t ready yet?”

“All done.” Zhu Xiang handed over a small bowl. “Your Majesty, have a taste first. If it’s not to your liking, I’ll adjust it.”

The Qin king took a bite and said, “Not bad. The sauce could be richer.”

Zhu Xiang grinned. “I’ll bring the sauces up too. You can adjust it however you like.”

Make it himself? Even though he had once been a hostage prince, the Qin king had never so much as made his own bowl of food. Zhu Xiang’s “presumption” struck him as amusing, so he agreed.

Besides the cold noodles, Zhu Xiang also prepared thin slices of blanched mushrooms, vegetables, and meat to mix in.

When he brought the noodles up, Bai Qi was chatting with Fan Ju. Zhu Xiang didn’t know what they were discussing, but both looked relaxed.

He let out a breath of relief—Lord Bai and Lord Fan were finally becoming friends. That was rare.

Though Bai Qi was known as a “butcher,” later generations often sympathized with his forced suicide. Fortunately, Zhu Xiang had managed to save the captured soldiers from Changping, and now he didn’t have to stand against someone so deserving of respect.

“Cold noodles are here! Have a warm red date and ginger tea first to settle your stomach!” Zhu Xiang called out cheerfully.

The elders all gathered around the table under the shade of a tree.

Zhu Xiang introduced the various sauces and toppings to them, telling them to add whatever they liked, and if they didn’t feel like making their own, they could use the pre-mixed seasonings.

Bai Qi had already eaten cold noodles several times and wasn’t interested in the condiments. Xunzi enjoyed mixing his own. The King of Qin and Fan Ju, however, were curious about making their own seasoning, tried a few combinations, and finally managed to force down the noodles they had prepared.

The palace servants nearby twitched at the corners of their eyes and quickly lowered their heads, afraid their expressions would betray their shock.

The King of Qin was known to be picky about his food. Yet now he had made a face at something unappetizing and still insisted on finishing it? Unheard of.

“This is called vinegar and soy sauce? Smells great.” The King of Qin stroked his beard after finishing his meal and said, “The imperial physician said I should eat less meat. This soy sauce is just right for me. Zhu Xiang, what reward do you want?”

Zhu Xiang looked up, sauce still clinging to the corner of his mouth. “A reward? Your Majesty, no need. It’s just some condiments.”

The King of Qin frowned. “Merit must be rewarded. According to Qin law, rewards cannot be refused.”

“But this isn’t merit—just me making something tasty for my elders,” Zhu Xiang insisted. “If Your Majesty insists, then… can I go copy books in the palace library? I heard Your Majesty has many books.”

Ying Zheng immediately lifted his face from the bowl. “I want to read them too!”

“Very well,” said the King of Qin, stroking his beard again. “Xun Qing brought so many Confucian scholars. You may take some with you to copy books, and get the Xianyang Academy up and running. Xun Qing, would you serve as its headmaster?”

Xunzi rose and bowed respectfully. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

Hearing Xunzi address him as Your Majesty, the King of Qin grinned from ear to ear.

Seeing Xunzi’s reverent attitude, Zhu Xiang thought of a lecture he’d once heard.

Later generations of scholars preferred Mencius over Xunzi, accusing Xunzi of being sycophantic and lacking the upright spirit of a true man of letters.

In the Spring and Autumn period, the status of scholars (shi) was very high. Some considered themselves superior to kings. If a king failed to treat them properly, it wasn’t unusual for scholars to betray him—no one condemned such actions.

Just like the partition of Jin into Wei, Han, and Zhao—few criticized the new rulers or felt bad for the Jin monarchs they overthrew.

This came to be known in later times as “The Son of Heaven and the scholar-gentry co-govern the realm.” Scholars sought to place themselves on equal footing with rulers.

Mencius was that kind of scholar. He didn’t treat the King of Qi like a subject treats a ruler, but like a teacher to a student. He emphasized virtue and dignity in scholars.

This made him a paragon of morality for later generations—his values aligned more with modern sensibilities.

Xunzi, on the other hand, was the first to argue that scholars should be beneath the king, that they must not betray their country or sovereign.

He defined a strict class hierarchy, believing that only by everyone fulfilling their proper role could the nation remain stable. He abandoned the ideal of “educating rulers,” and instead trained himself and his students to serve as loyal ministers, focusing on entering government.

It’s no wonder he produced students like Li Si and Han Fei. And it’s no wonder later scholars disliked him.

Where scholars once stood tall, Xunzi had them kneel.

But after getting to know Xunzi, Zhu Xiang understood clearly that he was not someone who flattered rulers. His life experiences proved this.

Xunzi’s choices were rooted in realism—for the sake of unification. His every political idea was aimed at achieving and securing that goal.

Monarchical authority, centralization, weakening of aristocrats, loyalty to king and country—Xunzi’s theories were essentially The Prince of China, and the foundation for the long imperial era that followed.

That path wasn’t noble by modern standards. It seems backward, servile, and decadent—but in the Warring States period…

Nothing mattered more than unifying the world and ending the chaos.

Zhu Xiang said, “Your Majesty, should I go help out at the academy too?” Eagerly, eagerly.

“Go farm your land,” Xunzi said irritably.

“Go farm,” the King of Qin echoed his approval.

Zhu Xiang looked awkward. Was he being dismissed?

“Speaking of which, how’s that cotton growing?” The King of Qin put down his chopsticks after eating about 70% full, remembering the doctor’s advice. “Take me to see it.”

“Alright.” Zhu Xiang wiped his mouth and said to Ying Zheng, “You keep eating—hey, slow down!”

Ying Zheng was stuffing noodles into his mouth, cheeks puffed out. He swallowed hard and said, “I’m done!”

“I told you to slow down—you’ll choke.” Zhu Xiang helped wipe his face, exasperated.

How had he managed to raise Zheng’er into such a foodie? Was this really okay for raising the future Emperor Qin?

But now that it had happened, Zhu Xiang had no choice.

He took Ying Zheng’s hand and led the King of Qin to the cotton fields.

There was plenty of sun near Xianyang, and the cotton was growing well. But it hadn’t produced bolls yet, so there wasn’t much to see. After a brief inspection, the King of Qin lost interest and returned to the courtyard, asking Zhu Xiang to perform his “magic tricks.”

Zhu Xiang called Xiang He over to help with the performance.

The leader of the Mohists gave Zhu Xiang a look that defied description.

He had once sworn to follow Zhu Xiang to the death and even wanted to pass him the leadership token of the Mohists. Now he was quite glad Zhu Xiang hadn’t accepted.

But too late—Xiang He still ended up performing tricks for the King of Qin with Zhu Xiang.

Saltpeter ice-making, flame color reactions, pinhole imaging… The King of Qin’s eyes widened more and more, and Ying Zheng fidgeted faster and faster on his stool, his chubby little bottom squirming nonstop.

Every time he saw his uncle perform these tricks, Ying Zheng felt an urge to bury even more of those dream-world fangshi (alchemists).

These tricks—he had seen them all in his dreams.

One of them, named Xu Fu, was especially skilled at them. In the dream, after becoming Emperor Qin, he had believed Xu Fu’s tales of immortals and given him loads of money to find a fairy island.

Ying Zheng wanted to cover his face.

Dream-self, you were fooled! You, the mighty First Emperor, got tricked by some charlatan!

The fangshi who scammed dream-him must have been laughing behind his back. Fortunately, dream-him was not the real him.

He, Ying Zheng, the real First Emperor, being tricked by fangshi—what did that have to do with Zhu Xiang’s adorable nephew Zheng’er?

Absolutely nothing!

“Honestly… it’s a good thing I don’t believe in fangshi,” the King of Qin remarked, sighing in relief.

Ying Zheng’s little butt, which had just stopped wiggling, began squirming again in silence.

Although his grandfather probably didn’t know just how badly he had been fooled by those alchemists, he still felt this comment was mocking him.

“If alchemists truly possessed immortal arts, why would they pursue wealth and status in the mortal world?” Zhu Xiang sighed. “But immortality and ascending to godhood is a dream shared by all. Even knowing it’s unlikely, many still cling to the faintest possibility.”

King Qin asked curiously, “There are no immortal mountains overseas?”

Zhu Xiang replied, “Qin is probably one of the most powerful states on this land right now.”

King Qin didn’t ask how Zhu Xiang knew about overseas lands; instead, he sighed, “That’s true. If immortals really existed, why would they never appear? Either they have no interest in mortals, or they simply do not exist in this world. In either case, we have nowhere to find them. Are there any other tricks? I’ve heard that alchemists can refine elixirs. Do you know about that?”

“I do. It follows the same principles.” Zhu Xiang began explaining oxidation-reduction reactions. The nine color changes of the legendary Nine-Turn Golden Pill were based on similar principles. He also talked about the toxicity of heavy metals, giving examples and explanations.

During the experiments, the disciples of the Mohist school were a great help.

“If only the imperial physicians could help us with the research,” Zhu Xiang said, looking longingly at King Qin.

Competent physicians were hard to come by, so Zhu Xiang just stared at King Qin hopefully, too embarrassed to ask directly.

King Qin deliberately didn’t respond at first. When Zhu Xiang lowered his head and sighed, King Qin chuckled and said, “If you want someone’s help, take my decree and go find them.”

He pulled a token from his sleeve and tossed it to Zhu Xiang. “This token can also command the palace guards. Don’t misuse it. But since you rarely leave your residence, I doubt you’ll get the chance.”

Zhu Xiang happily cupped his hands in gratitude. “Rest assured, Your Majesty. If I need soldiers, I’ll go directly to Meng Wu and Lord Bai!”

King Qin laughed. “It’s good for them to work harder, better than sitting idle.”

Xunzi, watching King Qin casually hand over a command token to Zhu Xiang, couldn’t help but twitch his eyelid.

How long had Zhu Xiang been in Qin? Not even a year, and King Qin already trusted him so deeply?

Maybe the more suspicious a person is, the more they are drawn to someone like Zhu Xiang.

After watching the experiments, King Qin grew tired. He was getting old and didn’t have as much energy as before.

He summoned Crown Prince Zhu to the palace to handle the remaining paperwork and stayed at Zhu Xiang’s house to rest.

He decided to give himself a few days off.

Crown Prince Zhu was already grown; it was time to let him start managing state affairs and lighten the burden.

King Qin had resisted the idea of aging, but after spending time with Ying Zheng, he had gradually relaxed.

He truly was old now—his great-grandson was already this impressive.

Perhaps he should rest more, live a few more years, and spend more time guiding his great-grandson.

The more he looked at Ying Zheng, the more he liked him.

Even though he didn’t believe in alchemists or the existence of immortal mountains, he did believe in divine providence.

For generations, the rulers of Qin had worked tirelessly, but unifying the realm had always been a distant dream.

Even though Qin had become the most powerful state under his reign, hadn’t the Jin state once been the same? He still felt unsure.

It wasn’t until Zhu Xiang and Ying Zheng appeared that King Qin truly felt that Heaven favored Qin—that Qin could indeed unify the world.

It wouldn’t happen under him, nor Crown Prince Zhu, but perhaps under Zichu or Zheng’er.

Every dynastic change brought forth an exceptional ruler.

Zheng’er could speak shortly after birth and could clearly recall events from before his first birthday. He had an extraordinary memory, calm demeanor, mature thinking, and exceptional self-control. Even at a young age, he already displayed the qualities of a ruler.

With such a prince, it made sense for Qin to unify the realm.

And Zhu Xiang’s presence ensured that once unification was achieved, Qin would still have a path forward. The uncle and nephew complemented each other, and King Qin felt at ease, even if he were to close his eyes forever.

Even if Zheng’er ascended the throne right now, Qin would be fine.

So at last, he allowed himself to relax a little.

King Qin slept soundly in the villa. Meanwhile, Crown Prince Zhu, who had been resting in bed with his wives, was suddenly summoned and hurried off to the palace in a daze.

“Meng Wu, why did Father suddenly order me to handle state documents?” Crown Prince Zhu grew increasingly anxious. Could it be a test?

Meng Wu answered honestly, “Because His Majesty has eaten well, drank well, and played to his heart’s content. He’s now resting. He plans to continue resting in the villa tomorrow and wants the Crown Prince to handle state affairs.”

Crown Prince Zhu was dumbfounded. “Huh?”

Meng Wu said, “The cold noodles Zhu Xiang made were delicious.”

Crown Prince Zhu: “…” What are you even talking about?

Rubbing his forehead, he asked, “So you mean, Father is really resting at Zhu Xiang’s home, leaving me to act as regent?”

Meng Wu corrected him, “That villa was bestowed upon Zheng’er by His Majesty, so technically it’s Zheng’er’s house.”

Crown Prince Zhu asked, “And there’s a difference between Zheng’er’s house and Zhu Xiang’s?”

Meng Wu replied, “Zhu Xiang’s house is Zheng’er’s house, but Zheng’er’s house is not necessarily Zhu Xiang’s. That’s what Zhu Xiang told Zheng’er, so there must be a difference.”

Crown Prince Zhu was momentarily stunned, then shook his head with a wry smile. “Zhu Xiang is really something… Why don’t I have an uncle like him?”

Meng Wu asked in confusion, “Your Highness, Zhu Xiang is your nephew. Why envy Zheng’er?”

Crown Prince Zhu was stunned again. After a moment, he sighed and smiled, “That’s right. He’s Zheng’er’s uncle, but also my nephew. I was overthinking it.”

After a pause in the carriage, Crown Prince Zhu asked, “Are the cold noodles really that delicious?”

Meng Wu nodded vigorously. “Perfect for summer. I wish I could eat them every day. Zhu Xiang gave me the recipe, but the food at home still isn’t as good as his. So strange.”

Crown Prince Zhu’s mouth watered. He wanted to visit too. But now that Zhu Xiang had moved to the suburbs, he felt awkward going every day—what if Father grew suspicious?

But hadn’t Father already declared Zhu Xiang his assistant regent? Was it still inappropriate to drop by for a meal?

Crown Prince Zhu was tempted.

But when he arrived at the palace and saw the towering stacks of documents, all that temptation vanished.

There was simply too much paperwork. He felt crushed under the weight of it.

Sitting at the desk, he sighed as he flipped through the files. How did Father manage this every day and still have the energy to hang out at Zhu Xiang’s house?

He mumbled, “I don’t know how Father still has the energy to visit Zhu Xiang every day after finishing all this.”

While Crown Prince Zhu furrowed his brow over paperwork, King Qin was happily fishing by the water with his great-grandson.

When Crown Prince Zhu learned of this, the lines on his face deepened.

Two months later, the Xianyang Academy was established.

As Xunzi and Lin Zhi began discussing how to recruit students, Han Fei hurriedly arrived just outside Xianyang.

He hadn’t meant to arrive this soon, but along the way, he ran into Lu Buwei’s entourage and got a ride.

Lu Buwei had a keen eye for talent. Even though Han Fei was a young stutterer, Lu Buwei recognized him as a worthy man. When he heard Han Fei was going to visit Lord Changping, his “rare treasure” instincts kicked in, and he eagerly promised to introduce Han Fei.

After clearing up some misunderstandings with Zhu Xiang, Lu Buwei didn’t exactly become his close friend—Zhu Xiang was closely guarded by the king—but he could now at least stop by Zhu Xiang’s house and chat when the king wasn’t around.

Recommending a student seeking an audience was no big deal. Based on his understanding, Lu Buwei was sure Zhu Xiang wouldn’t refuse.

When Han Fei learned that the merchant helping him was the famous Lu Buwei, he stuttered even more.

“Isn’t… isn’t Lord Lu at odds with… with Lord Changping?” he asked nervously.

Lu Buwei laughed heartily. “How could I not respect a man of such virtue as Lord Zhu Xiang? I admire him immensely. Don’t worry—he’s very kind. If you’re sincere about learning, he’ll definitely guide you. By the way, have you heard of the Xianyang Academy?”

Han Fei shook his head.

Lu Buwei asked, “Do you know of Xunzi?”

Han Fei nodded.

Lu Buwei said, “Xunzi once taught Zhu Xiang. Now, to support Zhu Xiang’s transition to Qin, he’s become the head of the Xianyang Academy. You can visit him too.”

Han Fei was shocked. “To… to support him?”

Lu Buwei sighed. “Yes. Zhu Xiang calls Xunzi his teacher, but to me, he’s more like his grandfather.”

Han Fei tugged at his hair in frustration. “Xianyang Academy… Qin wants to copy the Jixia Academy?”

Lu Buwei replied, “No. Qin would never imitate others. Xianyang Academy is Xianyang Academy—not the Jixia Academy. It’s a place to select talents to serve the Qin king, not a free-for-all lecture hall. You’ll understand when you get there.”

Han Fei said, “Qin’s rule is… absolute.”

Lu Buwei said reverently, “Of course—it’s the Qin king, after all.”

Han Fei asked, “Who proposed… the academy?”

Lu Buwei said, “It was High Minister Lin Zhi, son of Lin Xiangru, a friend of Lord Zhu Xiang. All of Zhu Xiang’s friends are exceptional talents.”

As he spoke, Lu Buwei couldn’t help feeling a little envious.

He, too, wanted to be one of Zhu Xiang’s friends.

Not to mention the advantages, just being known as one of Zhu Xiang’s friends would be enough to earn the respect of the world.