HCT – Chapter 63 Clusters of White Cotton Flowers

Han Fei had not realized the true significance behind the Qin King’s latest edict to recruit talented individuals. He simply marveled inwardly at how powerful Qin was and how wise its ruler seemed—clearly someone who valued capable people.

But he wasn’t the only one unaware. The other nobles failed to see it too.

During the Spring and Autumn and Warring States periods, all the states fiercely competed for talent. Qi built the Jixia Academy, Yan constructed the Talent Recruitment Platform, and other states made similar efforts.

However, these measures were usually temporary whims of their rulers and never evolved into a stable system.

Even the renowned Jixia Academy faltered. Once Xunzi was pushed out from his post as academic dean, all the capable men of Qi left the country.

But Qin was different.

On the surface, Qin was merely constructing the Xianyang Academy, as if trying to build another Jixia. Yet, what Qin truly aimed for was the institutionalization of talent recruitment.

There’s a world of difference between issuing sporadic calls for talent and holding fixed, periodic recruitment exams.

During the Wei and Jin dynasties, the Sima family conspired to seize power from the Cao Wei regime by allying with powerful aristocratic clans. They implemented the Nine-Rank System to block social mobility for those from humble origins. After centuries of chaos dominated by these elite families, the Sui, Tang, and Song dynasties eventually established and refined the imperial examination system, allowing commoners to compete with aristocrats.

Qin, now promoting regularly scheduled recruitment edicts, was in a better position than later dynasties were when instituting the imperial exams.

Why? Because Qin had no powerful aristocracy monopolizing court positions. Many of its high-ranking officials were foreign guest-ministers. Thanks to the military merit system, many low-born scholars had already made their way into court.

Thus, Qin’s plan to expand its guest-minister ranks and place them in mid-to-low-level positions faced little opposition in court.

With the current intelligence of the rulers of the other six states, they certainly wouldn’t recognize that this recruitment edict was actually baring fangs at their royal clans and powerful aristocrats.

“I wonder how many people in the six states will actually notice?” It was already approaching Mid-Autumn, yet Lin Zhi was still walking around with his collar wide open, alarming Zhu Xiang enough to ask repeatedly whether he had taken the wrong medicine.

Zhu Xiang said, “Some will. If it’s minor nobles who realize the implications, they might scramble to enter Qin. If it’s major aristocrats… they’ll probably just suffer silently. What else can they do?”

The exact structure of Qin’s recruitment system hadn’t been revealed yet. The first round of candidates hadn’t even been selected. So the other six states still believed Qin’s talent recruitment was no different from their own.

Once the first batch of candidates was chosen, they would see the difference—and the more perceptive among them would grasp its true significance.

But even if they understood, they could do nothing.

Qin had not yet unified the world, so their protests were useless. If Qin waited until after unification to roll this out, it would’ve been much harder.

Lin Zhi popped a piece of dried meat into his mouth and laughed, “True, it’s easier for Qin to implement something like this. But without His Majesty’s push, even in Qin, it wouldn’t be that easy. The moment he gives the order, all the ministers just bury their heads and get to work. Not one dares to oppose.”

Zhu Xiang thought to himself: the title “Warring States Demon King” wasn’t just for show. The old King of Qin could make children stop crying in other states, and even in a peaceful Qin, his authority was godlike.

The pressure the current King of Qin exuded was akin to that of Zheng—the future First Emperor—after unifying China.

“At last, I can rest.” Lin Zhi collapsed onto a chair. “His Majesty is wise, yes, but he sure squeezes his officials dry. Ugh, even the documents I read are on paper now. My wrist is killing me.”

Having finally gotten some time off, Lin Zhi grumbled non-stop.

Zhu Xiang smiled and tried to comfort him.

Lin Zhi was naturally carefree, and ever since studying Laozi and Zhuangzi, he had become even more easygoing. He’d originally planned to retreat into the mountains after his father’s death, away from worldly affairs. Now that he was working under the King of Qin, of course he felt constrained.

“By the way, it seems Xia Tong is sick,” Lin Zhi said. “He hasn’t sent word, but His Majesty did dispatch an imperial physician to the north.”

Zhu Xiang’s eyelid twitched. “Sick? Is it serious?”

Lin Zhi replied, “Doesn’t seem too bad. He sent a report not long ago celebrating a successful meeting with the Xiongnu leader. If he’s still working, he probably isn’t gravely ill.”

Zhu Xiang massaged his forehead. “I told him not to overwork, but I bet he completely ignored me.”

Lin Zhi snorted. “Of course. He loves working—he’s a true son of Qin.”

Zhu Xiang said, “Not every son of Qin is like that. It’s just that he…”

Could it be that Zheng’s personality was modeled after Xia Tong?

Zhu Xiang sighed deeply. “Once he returns, I’ll ask His Majesty to let him take medical leave. Nothing is more important than health.”

The thought of his friend dying young made Zhu Xiang feel like a sword was suspended above his heart.

Knowing the future doesn’t make one happy—especially when that future involves the tragic fates of those closest to you.

“I’ll help too. If he refuses, I’ll badmouth him to His Majesty and get him grounded,” Lin Zhi said with a mischievous grin. “Cai Ze has been sent on a diplomatic mission to Yan. I heard there’s famine and plague there. Let’s hope he doesn’t fall ill.”

Zhu Xiang sighed again, more heavily this time.

Cai Ze had a gift for persuasion. His talents were best displayed when dancing on the edge of a blade.

He had once been someone who knew how to protect himself—he found a post in Qin and immediately blended into the court, preserving his wealth and safety. But now, Cai Ze’s ambitious climb up the political ladder left Zhu Xiang constantly on edge.

“Good thing I only do safe work and don’t make you worry,” Lin Zhi joked. “Come on, say thank you.”

Zhu Xiang bowed. “Thank you, Brother Lin Li.”

Lin Zhi burst out laughing.

After a bit more banter, Lin Zhi went off to play with little Ying Zheng after school.

He had really missed pinching that soft, chubby face of Ying Zheng.

Originally, Lin Zhi had planned to live in seclusion. Though he had wives and concubines, he was never particularly fond of women and had no children.

Now that he was going to spend the rest of his life as an official in Qin, he was ready to settle down. He figured, if he pinched little Zheng often enough, maybe he’d get a smart, obedient, chubby son of his own one day.

When Lin Zhi arrived, Ying Zheng was learning swordsmanship from Xunzi—alongside Han Fei.

Xunzi really could do anything.

After class, Han Fei was surprised to see Ying Zheng with a stern face, wiping his own face with a soft cloth.

Every time Han Fei had seen Ying Zheng before, he’d been with Zhu Xiang, acting just like any other lively, mischievous child.

But once Xunzi began teaching them together, Han Fei was stunned to discover that the Ying Zheng who was around his uncle and aunt was completely different from the Ying Zheng who wasn’t.

It was like watching two different people.

If either his uncle or aunt was present, Ying Zheng would already be whining and pretending to be tired, tilting his face up expectantly for someone to wait on him. But now, his expression was blank as he wiped his own sweat, washed his face and hands, and straightened his clothing.

“What are you staring at?” Ying Zheng frowned.

Han Fei immediately stammered, “I-I-I, no, I…”

Ying Zheng tilted his head in confusion. “You don’t stutter that much when you’re speaking with my uncle. Why is it so much worse around others?”

“I-I-I don’t know.” Han Fei was utterly tongue-tied. Was that true? He hadn’t even noticed.

“Whew.” After resting a bit, Ying Zheng turned to Xunzi. “Grandpa Xun, Uncle Lin is visiting our home today. He’ll definitely come find me to play later, so I’d like to take a leave from the rest of my classes.”

Lin Zhi assumed that Ying Zheng’s lessons were already finished, but in reality, Ying Zheng had added extra classes.

Once he realized he still had the energy for more learning, Ying Zheng had persuaded Xunzi to increase his course load, formally beginning his studies in statecraft.

Though he had his “dream self” to guide him, that guidance was mostly just “reading books on his own.” Ying Zheng needed a teacher who could answer his questions.

“Alright,” Xunzi agreed. He was strict with his other students, but indulgent toward Ying Zheng.

“I-I’ll keep studying,” Han Fei said.

Xunzi replied, “Go meet Lin Zhi too. You should learn from his attitude toward life.”

Xunzi didn’t particularly like Lin Zhi’s excessively carefree lifestyle. After Lin Zhi had persuaded King Huiwen of Zhao on behalf of Zhuangzi and became Zhuangzi’s disciple, Xunzi liked him even less.

Still, compared to Han Fei—who tended to overthink everything—perhaps it would be better if he learned from Lin Zhi.

“Yes, teacher.” Han Fei was also curious about what kind of person the famously renowned Lin Xiangru’s son might be.

Then he saw a half-dressed, disheveled man, chest bared and hair a mess, burst in and scoop up Ying Zheng onto his shoulder, immediately breaking into a tap dance.

If this scene were drawn like a comic, Han Fei’s expression would become a frozen “=口=” face. His color drained, turning into grey lines with dramatic scratchy shading in the background.

Who is this guy? Don’t tell me this is Lin Zhi!?

“Hmph.”

THUD! A heavy object slammed to the floor.

Han Fei flinched, afraid to turn and see the look on Xunzi’s face.

Thankfully, a savior arrived in time. Zhu Xiang said coldly, “Lin Li, how long has it been since you were last beaten by Xunzi? Are you missing the old days or what?”

Lin Zhi bolted. “Zheng’er, run!”

Ying Zheng beamed. “Uncle Lin, charge!”

“Lin Li, stop right there!” Xunzi drew his broad sword. “Wearing such indecent clothing in front of me—is that supposed to be an insult?”

Zhu Xiang: “…”

Watching Xunzi brandish his sharpened sword and charge after Lin Zhi, Zhu Xiang asked Han Fei, “I heard Confucius had a friend who used to tease him by baring his chest and spreading his robes in front of him. Confucius chased him through several streets with a sword. Is that story real?”

Han Fei, paralyzed by Xunzi’s killing aura, stammered, “D-d-d-don’t know!”

Zhu Xiang sighed. “The Confucian school sure is full of martial virtue. I think even though you’re studying under Xunzi, you’re not suited for Confucianism.”

Han Fei whispered, “I-I think Legalism suits me better.”

Zhu Xiang replied, “Xunzi won’t mind, but don’t say it to his face.”

Han Fei quickly said, “Of course not!”

As he uttered those words, Han Fei suddenly realized: just as Ying Zheng had said, his stutter really did lessen when speaking with Zhu Xiang.

Zhu Xiang said, “Let’s catch up too. Don’t let Xunzi actually chop Lin Li to pieces—even if Lin Li brought it on himself.”

Han Fei nodded. “Alright.”

He snuck a glance at Zhu Xiang, wondering why his stutter eased around this man.

As clever as he was, he figured it out quickly.

When speaking with others, even if they tried to hide it well, Han Fei—who had faced a lifetime of discrimination due to his stutter—could still sense their impatience when he struggled to get a full sentence out.

Desperate to express himself clearly, his anxiety only worsened the problem.

But only Zhu Xiang remained calm and patient when he stuttered, quietly waiting for him to finish, continuing the conversation as if nothing had happened. The more Han Fei spoke with him, the more relaxed he felt. Though the stutter remained, it was noticeably lighter.

Was this what people meant when they said someone’s presence was like “a spring breeze”?

Lin Zhi didn’t dare run too fast, not wanting to exhaust the elderly Xunzi.

He put Ying Zheng down and obediently endured a few whacks from the flat of Xunzi’s sword before being spared.

Watching Lin Zhi grimace in pain, Zhu Xiang squatted beside Ying Zheng, placed his hands on the boy’s shoulders, and said earnestly, “See? That’s a cautionary tale. Those who seek death will find it. Zheng’er, don’t follow his example.”

“Zheng’er won’t.” Ying Zheng had turned back into a childish baby and now hung from Zhu Xiang’s neck like a swing.

Zhu Xiang picked him up. “Lin Li, quit pretending. Come help me make sweet and sour fish.”

Still groaning on the ground, Lin Zhi raised one hand. “I don’t eat fish with bones.”

“Then you can go hungry.” Zhu Xiang kicked him.

Lin Zhi dusted himself off, stood up, and said, “You could treat me like you treat Zheng’er—debone the fish for me and serve it straight to my bowl.”

Zhu Xiang and Ying Zheng made the same face and said the same thing at once: “Peh!”

Lin Zhi turned to Xunzi and cried, “Did you see that? Zhu Xiang is corrupting Zheng’er!”

Xunzi replied, “I didn’t see anything.”

Lin Zhi: “…”

Muttering about favoritism, he obediently followed Zhu Xiang to the kitchen to prepare fish.

Han Fei was surprised to learn that Zhu Xiang personally cooked. “Lord Zhu Xiang… cooks?”

Xunzi said, “You eat Zhu Xiang’s cooking every day. You’re only now realizing it?”

Han Fei broke into a cold sweat. “Z-Lord Zhu Xiang… cooks? But isn’t it said that a gentleman should stay away from the kitchen?”

Xunzi replied, “That saying refers to a gentleman avoiding the act of killing, not the kitchen itself. That’s why Zhu Xiang makes Lin Zhi kill the fish. Does he look like a gentleman to you?”

Han Fei: “?” Teacher sounds like he’s making sense… but it also kind of sounds like sophistry!

“I-I can go too?” Han Fei asked hesitantly.

Lord Zhu Xiang and Lord Lin were cooking for him—he didn’t dare eat it.

Even though he had been eating it quite a lot these days…

Xunzi turned to get some tea leaves from the cupboard. “What are you going to do? Get in the way? You don’t even know how to start a fire.”

Han Fei: “I do know how to start a fire!”

Xunzi said, “If you won’t make a mess, then go ahead.”

Han Fei eagerly followed them to the kitchen.

Xunzi let out a soft sigh with a smile.

Zhu Xiang really did have a way of leading people astray—but that wasn’t a bad thing.

Han Fei was a very talented child. If he could just open up a little, his future would be limitless.

It’s just… this child probably wouldn’t be able to carry on the mantle of Confucianism.

Funny how, after all this time, it turned out that the one he had least expected—Zhu Xiang—was the person who most embodied the path of Confucius in his heart.

With his hands behind his back, Xunzi slowly walked back to his room.

He’d heard Zhu Xiang had picked some chrysanthemums to make into floral tea. He’d go open a pack to try it.

When Zhu Xiang saw that Han Fei had come to the kitchen, he wasn’t surprised. After asking Han Fei what he could do, he assigned him to start the fire.

Ying Zheng was sitting on a small stool, obediently peeling garlic.

If Xia Tong were here right now, he’d be the one washing the vegetables.

Friends working together in the kitchen while chatting was one of the ways they bonded and deepened their friendship.

Xue, seeing that Han Fei was awkwardly feeding firewood into the stove, carefully instructed him on how to light it and use the bellows.

Ever since she found out Xia Tong was the Qin prince, Xue no longer felt any unease about people of noble birth helping her man with chores.

If even Xia Tong and Zheng’er helped out, how could anyone else claim to have a higher status than them?

Oh, the King of Qin hadn’t been to the kitchen, but the Crown Prince had once helped Zheng’er with the bellows and even buried potatoes in the ashes.

Xue had seen so many aristocrats that she now viewed them with the same calm indifference as commoners.

She could tell her beloved occasionally missed their days in Zhao, but she herself preferred life in Qin.

Life in Qin might be more subdued, and she had fewer people to talk to, but it gave her a deep sense of safety. She believed that as long as they were in Qin, her beloved and Zheng’er would be safe.

In Zhao, she feared the king and nobles. In Qin, the king and crown prince strolled through their home with Zheng’er, sipping tea.

Xue really liked Qin.

She had heard that Han Fei had lived poorly in Han, so she would occasionally praise Qin in front of him, saying he ought to enter Qin’s service. The King of Qin was a good ruler and would surely value him.

As for Han Fei being a prince of Han, Xue didn’t think that was anything worth hesitating over—Qin’s court was already full of princes and nobles from the other six states.

The version of the Qin king that Xue saw was always kind and warm, so her judgment was clearly biased.

But when Han Fei looked at Xue—who looked after him like a sister-in-law would—and saw how she spoke about the King of Qin, his mood sank a bit further.

Lord Zhu Xiang had said the only reason the King of Qin treated him differently was because he was a foreign relative of the royal family. But Han Fei himself was a prince of Han—yet even his own king had never treated him differently.

Was this disparity simply how kings treated those close to them versus those they weren’t close to? Or was the King of Qin truly different from other monarchs?

After living in Lord Zhu Xiang’s house for a while, Han Fei had seen the old King of Qin several times.

They hadn’t spoken, but just watching the old king working in the fields, helping his great-grandson gather wheat, stirred something deep in Han Fei’s heart.

It was as if he were witnessing a sage-king from the annals of history, walking among them.

Lord Zhu Xiang once said: It’s not that fine jade is a crime, but that lacking the power to protect it makes it a crime to possess it.

Qin clearly had the strength to protect fine jade—so did it mean Qin had already attained it?

But all the rumors in the world said the King of Qin was cruel, untrustworthy, lacking in personal virtue—completely at odds with “benevolence.”

“Ow!” Lost in thought, Han Fei accidentally burned his hand.

Zhu Xiang immediately dropped his spatula, dunked Han Fei’s hand into cold water, and told Xue to apply medicine.

Xue sighed. “How are you this careless?”

Han Fei lowered his head awkwardly and let her scold him.

After the two left, Lin Zhi chuckled. “Xue Ji may be younger than Han Fei, but she sure acts like his big sister.”

Zhu Xiang kept stirring the pot. “Han Fei’s mental age is probably younger than both of us.”

“That’s true. He hasn’t suffered enough yet,” Lin Zhi said, sneaking a slice of stir-fried meat into Ying Zheng’s mouth. Then he popped one into his own.

Their synchronized snacking was way too smooth—clearly something they’d practiced many times before.

“He’ll suffer plenty in the future,” Zhu Xiang said.

Lin Zhi laughed. “Still won’t compare to what you’ve been through… That pickled cabbage looks good. Gimme some.”

Zhu Xiang gave him a look of disdain. “Pick it out yourself. What, you want me to feed it to you?”

Ying Zheng tilted his head back and opened his mouth: “Ah—”

Zhu Xiang, resigned, picked up some freshly stir-fried pickled cabbage and fed it into his obedient little nephew’s mouth.

Lin Zhi: “Ah—”

Zhu Xiang made a disgusted face. “Scram. Want me to shove a block of salt in your mouth?”

Lin Zhi grinned. “I thought you’d stuff wood in there.”

Zhu Xiang rolled his eyes. Ying Zheng giggled.

When the pickled fish was ready, Crown Prince Zhu arrived again with arms full of bags.

Seeing how much thinner the crown prince’s face had become, Zhu Xiang exclaimed, “Your Highness! What happened? You look so thin—are you sick?”

Crown Prince Zhu replied weakly, “No… I’m just exhausted. I’ve stayed up several nights in a row, to the point where my chest aches.”

Zhu Xiang pressed a hand to his forehead. “Your Highness, health is more important than anything. You’re not young anymore—how can you still pull all-nighters?”

The crown prince looked like he was about to cry. “But His Majesty, who’s even older than me, also stays up all night!”

Zhu Xiang thought to himself: His Majesty only has two sons—you have over twenty! How can your constitution compare? The king may be an old tree, but his roots are deep and his branches still strong. Meanwhile, your body’s already hollowed out by wine and women!

“Your Highness, stay at the manor and take good care of your health. Don’t return until you’re well,” Zhu Xiang said with concern. “Just report your illness to His Majesty.”

The crown prince drooped his head. “Alright. But His Majesty will scold me again—for slacking off in archery and chariot training, and for becoming weak.”

His aged face wore a pout like a child being chastised by an elder. Even Zhu Xiang couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy.

Ying Zheng watched his grandfather’s aggrieved expression and twitched slightly. That face reminded him of a child named Fusu in his dreams.

In his dream, his older self constantly scolded Fusu for being useless, unlike himself. Wasn’t this just like how Great-grandfather scolded Grandfather for being useless, unlike Great-grandfather?

Ying Zheng pinched his own chubby chin. Being a mediocre Qin prince was really tough…

Even if Grandfather and Fusu weren’t truly mediocre, what could they do? Great-grandfather and his dream-self were just too outstanding.

Ying Zheng leaned over to whisper in Zhu Xiang’s ear, “Uncle, in the future, my eldest son will be taught by you. Make sure he doesn’t turn out like Grandfather.”

Zhu Xiang nudged Ying Zheng with his elbow and gave him a look: Your grandfather is right there at the table!

Ying Zheng responded with a look of his own: He’s hard of hearing. He won’t catch it.

Zhu Xiang gave his head a firm pat. Still not allowed! Don’t speak ill of elders!

Ying Zheng sighed, straightened his little apron, and obediently waited for his uncle and aunt to pick out the fish bones for him.

“This is delicious. I feel alive again,” the crown prince said, gulping down a bowl of rice with the sauerkraut fish soup. “I didn’t used to like rice, but Zhu Xiang—your rice doesn’t seem any different from mine. Why does yours taste so much better?”

Zhu Xiang replied, “Steaming rice takes some skill. I’ll write down my techniques for heat control and equipment. Let the royal cooks study it, and they’ll be able to make great rice too.”

The crown prince wiped his mouth. “Then maybe I’ll just live here permanently. I’ve got no energy left for managing my back courtyard anyway.”

Knowing the crown prince had come just to mooch a meal, Xunzi brought Han Fei to dine elsewhere, avoiding awkwardness. The crown prince was too familiar with Zhu Xiang and Lin Zhi—he even casually spoke of private matters.

Zhu Xiang’s eyelid twitched. Has His Highness’s health deteriorated this badly?

He began mentally composing a meal plan to nourish the crown prince and thought about making him exercise more.

Zheng’er, your grandfather’s exercise regimen will be your responsibility!

By the time the crown prince arrived, the cotton was finally ready for harvest.

Wearing a wide straw hat and short work clothes, he cheerfully joined Zhu Xiang in the fields to pick cotton. But after just a few puffs, he was winded and had to sit by the ridge, gulping down water.

Ying Zheng fanned him with a large palm-leaf fan.

“I heard Zhu Xiang go on and on about cotton, but I didn’t expect it to really be a flower,” the crown prince said, lowering his water gourd. “It’s beautiful.”

Ying Zheng nodded.

The crown prince continued, “Just by looking at it, I can tell this can definitely be spun into cloth. It’s way more intuitive than hemp.”

Ying Zheng nodded again.

Fluffy white cotton balls clung to the branches. Even someone clueless about textiles could tell it would make great insulation for clothing.

“It’s just a bit taxing on the land,” the crown prince noted. “We’ll have to teach farmers to compost more and develop better irrigation. No wonder His Majesty rejected all the petitions to go to war.”

Ying Zheng asked, “Won’t the Qin generals be upset?”

“Maybe,” the crown prince admitted. “But even if they are, they won’t dare act rashly. Lord Wu’an is still recovering at Zhu Xiang’s home. By the way, why haven’t I seen Lord Wu’an these days?”

Unlike the king, who monitored Zhu Xiang’s household closely, the crown prince, familiar with Zhu Xiang, never sent anyone to spy there.

Ying Zheng answered, “Uncle Bai went home to fetch his children and settle them in Xianyang. But he won’t stay at his own house when he returns—he’ll live with us again.”

The crown prince laughed. “Just like me, then. Even Lord Wu’an feels more at ease at Zhu Xiang’s place than in his own home.”

Even one’s own children couldn’t treat elders as well as Zhu Xiang did.

Not that they were unfilial, just that they lacked Zhu Xiang’s capability and attentiveness.

Forget food, clothing, and shelter—even when it came to conversation, Zhu Xiang was unmatched. They could talk endlessly with him. He was a great listener and speaker, capable of engaging with any topic. No one else even came close.

“Zheng’er, once the cotton fabric is ready, Grandfather will wear a cotton coat with you to host our guests,” the crown prince said with a smile. “Let them all envy our coats.”

Ying Zheng declared proudly, “All the newest foods, tools, and clothes in the world come from our Qin royal family!”

The crown prince patted his little head. “Others keep trying to corrupt you with luxurious gifts, but they can’t even imagine what your life is like.”

If rarity defines luxury, then Ying Zheng’s life was the ultimate luxury—even the Qin king couldn’t compare. Because whenever Zhu Xiang came up with a novel invention, even if he immediately informed the king, his own family always got to enjoy it first.

Ying Zheng sighed. “Uncle says those who bring me gifts all think I’m some bumpkin from rural Zhao. But Handan wasn’t really that rural…”

The crown prince laughed so hard he nearly choked.

As the cotton harvest neared completion, the Qin king arrived with a group of ministers—most of them unfamiliar to Zhu Xiang.

Oh, wait—there were a few familiar faces. Meng Wu stood in the crowd, winking at Zhu Xiang.

Zhu Xiang’s eyelid twitched. Why is Meng Wu suddenly acting playful? He had heard Meng Wu had been working with Lin Zhi recently—surely Lin Zhi hadn’t corrupted him too?

Lin Zhi really is a terrible influence…

Just as Meng Wu was winking away, he got his foot stepped on by an old man—his father, Meng Ao. Meng Ao had come to Qin from Qi and laid the foundation for the Meng family’s rise in Qin.

He was now eyeing Zhu Xiang in the crowd with great curiosity.

It couldn’t be helped. Under the sun, Zhu Xiang’s hair shimmered like it was glowing, as though haloed with divine light, making many people momentarily hold their breath, thinking they were seeing a celestial being.

But as soon as Lin Zhi smeared a clump of mud onto Zhu Xiang’s head, the “divine halo” vanished. Right in front of the Qin king, Zhu Xiang retaliated, and the two of them broke into a full-on mud fight.

The Qin king watched with a hearty laugh and didn’t try to stop them at all.

The Qin officials silently updated their understanding of just how deeply the king favored Zhu Xiang and Lin Zhi.

Zhu Xiang was understandable—his talents made him worthy of any amount of favor. But Lin Zhi? Wasn’t he the son of the king’s most despised minister, Lin Xiangru? How did he end up being doted on too?

Fan Ju glanced at his jealous colleagues and smirked to himself.

They just don’t get it.

He himself had already made peace with things. Once Lian Po and Li Mu entered Qin, he planned to officially retire from office.

But he wouldn’t return to his fiefdom—he’d stay at Zhu Xiang’s house.

Remaining in Xianyang would not only reassure the king, it would also show how reluctant he was to part from His Majesty. And, frankly, life there was bound to be far better than on his estate.

Fan Ju was deeply distrustful by nature. He didn’t even trust his own descendants, fearing that once he was old, they wouldn’t care for him properly.

But Zhu Xiang—Zhu Xiang would definitely take good care of him.