HCT – Chapter 64 Xunzi’s Wooden Cane

Many of the Qin nobles didn’t care much about cotton cultivation. To them, it was just another type of fabric for commoners—basically a different-looking hemp cloth that required more delicate care. Hemp was incredibly cheap, so they didn’t have high hopes for cotton.

However, upon hearing that cotton was warmer than hemp, they figured soldiers stationed in the northern border fortresses might prefer it. Besides, discovering a new crop species expanded the variety of cultivable plants, which was certainly better than discovering nothing. So they all acknowledged that this was a meritorious achievement worthy of a title.

The Qin king was aware that many of his ministers didn’t truly support his policies—they only followed them out of respect for his authority.

Initially, he didn’t see this as a problem. But one day, he overheard Zhu Xiang saying in casual conversation, “Watching someone who once looked down on you slap their own face—what a satisfying thing.” Since then, the king had wanted that satisfaction too.

After first consulting Zhu Xiang on what mature cotton looked like and observing the immature cotton bolls for several days to confirm that Zhu Xiang was telling the truth, the king cheerfully summoned the court ministers to the cotton fields—to witness the slap in the face themselves.

“Hemp needs to be crushed before it can be spun, and silkworm cocoons have to be boiled to extract silk… but cotton? It’s already a usable fiber the moment it ripens?” The court official in charge of agriculture crouched down without concern for his image, rubbing the cotton boll in his hand. The soft touch immediately allowed him to envision how comfortable fabric made from it could be.

With his face still covered in mud from a scuffle with Lin Zhi, Zhu Xiang explained, “Cotton still needs processing.”

He gave a rough overview of how cotton thread and batting were produced, as well as how old cotton could be refurbished.

The old Qin king stroked his beard. “Cotton can be refurbished? Then a single quilt could last for many years, and even commoners would have warm bedding in winter.”

Zhu Xiang said, “It’s best to mix some new cotton into the old during refurbishment to retain good insulation. But even that is far better than quilts stuffed with dry grass.”

Before cotton, commoners had to rely on collected straw and dead leaves to keep warm in winter—like beasts. They would stuff this straw into quilts to gain some insulation. If the weather turned damp and the straw grew moldy, the warmth was lost, and people often fell ill from the mold.

Nobles, meanwhile, had animal hides and quilts stuffed with animal fur, or warm cloth tributed from nomadic tribes in the north.

This was why nobles lived, on average, nearly twice as long as commoners. Each winter only widened that gap further.

Before being taken in by Lin Xiangru, Zhu Xiang had been a commoner whose quilt was filled with straw.

After fully accepting his memories and personality from the future, he’d once sat silently for a long time, looking at a peasant’s winter bedding.

In the pre-Qin era, some frontier ethnic minorities in China were already using coarse cotton—originally from India—but it never caught on. Part of that was due to its remote origin and the difficulty of spreading the cultivation techniques. But another reason was that the cotton fiber was short and the yield was low, making it more costly than hemp.

It wasn’t until the Southern Song Dynasty that coarse cotton quality and yield improved enough, generation by generation, to make cotton fabric widely available to commoners.

Even so, coarse cotton had intrinsic limitations. No matter how much it improved, it couldn’t compete with better varieties.

The cotton that became widely used in later generations was long-staple cotton from Central America. By the late Ming dynasty, after it was introduced, cotton cultivation exploded and became one of the main cash crops, leading to the rise of countless textile workshops.

So when Zhu Xiang had gone to India to obtain coarse cotton seeds, it couldn’t help the common people much in the immediate term.

At the time, he even considered: Would he have to wait for Qin Shi Huang to seek the elixir of immortality and join his sea expedition, hoping for a stroke of dumb luck that might take them to the Americas?

Perhaps it was this thought that led him to eventually tell Lin Xiangru of his desire for warmer clothing—and that was why Lin gifted him cotton seeds before his departure.

“What are you sulking for? Cotton’s had a good harvest and you’re still gloomy. If my father’s spirit sees you from the heavens, he’ll come back and beat you.” Lin Zhi wiped the mud off his face, clapped Zhu Xiang on the shoulder, and then casually used Zhu Xiang’s sleeve to clean his hands.

Zhu Xiang had been touched by Lin Zhi’s comfort… until he realized what Lin was doing. Then he wanted to punch him again.

Crown Prince Zhu cleared his throat and gave the two young men a pointed look—there were outsiders present! Hurry and clean yourselves up!

Zhu Xiang left Xu Ming and Xiang He behind to explain cotton cultivation and processing to the king and ministers, dragging Lin Zhi off to wash and change.

The old king watched with great interest as Xu Ming and Xiang He demonstrated the cotton processing on-site.

Although it took quite some time, the highest-ranking nobles showed not a trace of impatience. On the contrary, their faces were full of excitement, and many even rolled up their sleeves to help.

For the first time, Xue was summoned to stand before the king and entrusted with the duty of promoting and teaching cotton textile techniques.

Even noblewomen had to learn weaving and sewing. The Qin king had heard that Xue was especially skilled in spinning and weaving, and she had even participated in the Mohist project to develop looms better suited for cotton. Since cotton would continue to be researched at Zhu Xiang’s home, and Xue was Lady of Lord Changping, she would naturally be the first to master how to use it.

The king declared that once the cotton weaving techniques were finalized, he would have palace women and noble ladies learn it together, and then have the women from each noble household spread the new textile knowledge further.

Xue was extremely nervous.

She asked, “Why not have the weaving girls from each household come learn from me?”

The King of Qin smiled and said, “No, let the noblewomen come.”

He offered no further explanation, and Xue dared not ask. She made a mental note to ask her husband about it that evening.

Some of the court officials were surprised by the king’s decision, but Crown Prince Zhu patted his chest and declared he would have his most favored consort, Lady Huayang, join in the spinning and weaving too—what more could they say?

All they could do was praise Crown Prince Zhu relentlessly. “The future empress personally weaving cloth—she’ll be a model for all women in the realm!”

Ying Zheng listened closely to the king and his ministers, his little head working nonstop.

If Great-Grandfather had noblewomen learn and promote cotton weaving, it would surely spark widespread imitation among lower-ranking scholars and wealthy merchants. Most of the land in Qin was controlled by the nobility and those wealthy merchants—if they began planting cotton, the crop would soon spread across the entire country.

Once common farmers saw the landowners switching to cotton, their doubts would vanish, and they’d allocate some of their fields to grow it as well.

Moreover, the government alone couldn’t effectively promote the technology to the peasantry. It was the local powerful families who had direct contact with farmers and who would pay to have them trained.

But Great-Grandfather likely wouldn’t issue a direct mandate to promote cotton. If he did, some nobles might become greedy and force the farmers to tear out their grain crops in favor of cotton, all to earn royal rewards.

They wouldn’t rip out their own food crops. And they certainly wouldn’t care if farmers starved after losing their grain harvest.

Yes… just like when Zhao tried to promote potatoes.

Though Qin had far stronger local governance than Zhao and such things were unlikely to happen on a wide scale, even a few such incidents could weaken Qin’s national strength.

And besides… his uncle would probably be heartbroken if people starved because he introduced cotton.

“Zheng’er, do you have any advice for Great-Grandfather?” The old King of Qin had been observing Ying Zheng. Noticing his thoughtful expression, he smiled broadly, picked him up in front of all the ministers, and asked with a grin.

Ying Zheng replied, “I was thinking… if Great-Grandfather forces cotton cultivation, some officials may, in their eagerness for merit, have farmers replace food crops with cotton. But if Great-Grandfather has Auntie and the noblewomen of Xianyang weave cotton cloth together, and cotton fabric becomes fashionable…”

Noticing the confusion on the others’ faces, Ying Zheng clarified, “Fashion means the most popular thing at a given time. If cotton fabric becomes the fashion among Qin nobility, then scholars and profit-hungry merchants will rush to imitate. Great-Grandfather won’t even need to issue an order—cotton will spread on its own.”

He paused, then added, “Farmers are the most conservative and don’t know what’s going on in the capital, so they’ll be the last to start planting cotton. By then, cultivation and weaving techniques will be mature, so even if they switch to the new crop, it won’t cause much harm.”

The King of Qin beamed. “Well said.”

He set Ying Zheng down, patted him on the shoulder, and told him to stand beside Crown Prince Zhu. “Keep an eye on this child.”

Crown Prince Zhu happily took Ying Zheng’s hand.

See? Isn’t my grandson amazing? Hahahahahahaha!

Meng Ao quietly said to Meng Wu, “Did Lord Changping teach Prince Zheng to say all that?”

Meng Wu whispered back, “Definitely not Zhu Xiang. Father, you haven’t stayed at Zhu Xiang’s home, so you don’t know how smart Zheng’er is. Sometimes when we talk, it feels like he’s already an adult.”

He paused, then added, “When Zhu Xiang isn’t around, he’s like a little adult.”

Meng Ao, intrigued, asked, “And when he’s with Lord Changping?”

Meng Wu imitated Zhu Xiang’s tone and said, “Uncle, hungwy~ sleepy~ cuddwe~”

Ying Zheng abruptly turned his head and fixed Meng Wu with a hawk-like glare.

Meng Wu instantly shut his mouth.

Ying Zheng shot Meng Wu a warning look before turning his head back.

How did Ying Zheng hear what Meng Wu said, and how could someone so short manage to glare at him? Of course, it was because Meng Ao and Meng Wu were standing right behind Crown Prince Zhu, guarding the King and the prince.

Ying Zheng furrowed his brows deeply.

In the dream world, Meng Wu had always been a quiet, reserved man whom he hadn’t interacted with much. He was more familiar with Meng Tian and Meng Yi. Both were meticulous and reliable people whom he trusted deeply. Based on that, he had assumed Meng Wu would also be a mature and steady person.

But the Meng Wu he was encountering now… wasn’t he a bit like what Uncle called “scattered in the head”?

At first, he thought it was just Meng Wu. But now Meng Ao was like this too? Was this a father-to-son trait?

Did Meng Tian and Meng Yi also have a side he didn’t know about?

Ying Zheng knew that the King was currently evaluating Meng Tian and Meng Yi to make them his study companions. He was curious—what would this era’s Meng Tian and Meng Yi be like?

After bathing and changing clothes, Zhu Xiang and Lin Zhi neatly tied up their still-damp hair to show proper etiquette.

Xunzi had already heard about the mess they’d made in the cotton field and very much wanted to whack both of them with a ruler.

Now you two know how to show manners? What about earlier when you were flinging mud at each other like children?

Seeing the displeasure on Xunzi’s face, Zhu Xiang and Lin Zhi turned and ran like thieves caught stealing from the house.

Xunzi originally planned to scold them, but seeing how fast they fled, he was so furious he kept slamming his cane on the ground.

Still fuming, he broke the cane clean in half.

Han Fei flinched, his shoulders trembling.

Every time he saw Xunzi angry, he was terrified.

He didn’t believe he could become the next leader of Confucianism after Xunzi—not only because his heart leaned toward Legalism, but also because he lacked the physical presence.

There was no way he could break a cane in fury at Xunzi’s age.

“Do you want to take a look at the cotton field?” Xunzi asked after calming down a little, tossing away the broken cane.

Han Fei shook his head dejectedly.

Xunzi didn’t ask why he was so down. He just said, “Then go back to your books.”

Han Fei replied, “Yes, sir.”

Before entering the study, he glanced toward the cotton field, his expression full of quiet sorrow.

The King of Qin personally toured the cotton fields with the Crown Prince and high ministers. Could the King of Han do something like that?

No Han king in history had ever done so.

Ancient wise rulers were said to farm and weave themselves, but Han Fei had believed such things were impossible in this day and age.

Yet the behavior of those ancient sage-kings had reappeared—not in some benevolent monarch, but in the ruler that the Six States denounced as a wolf and tiger.

What was a “tiger-wolf king”? What was a “benevolent king”?

Han Fei couldn’t focus on reading anymore. He stood up and walked over to Xunzi, respectfully asking: “Master Xunzi, what… what is benevolence? Lord Zhu Xiang is… definitely benevolent. But the King of Qin…”

He trailed off, then smiled bitterly. “The King of Qin… he definitely isn’t.”

“If he can show compassion for the people, then no matter how bad his private morals are, he is a benevolent ruler,” Xunzi replied, still holding a bamboo scroll in his hand.

Though students at the Xianyang academy were already copying books from bamboo slips onto paper, Xunzi still preferred holding the traditional bamboo scrolls.

Han Fei asked, “This… this counts too? This is your definition of benevolence?”

Xunzi said, “It’s not just mine. It’s the definition of benevolence from our sage master, Confucius.”

Still staring at the bamboo slip, Xunzi added, “Don’t go learning from people like Zixia and Mencius. They’re petty scholars who only talk empty morality and chase fame. They’ve distorted the ideas of Master Confucius. They’re traitors to the Confucian path.”

Hearing Xunzi’s habitual scolding of other Confucians, Han Fei flinched again.

The most terrifying part of studying under Xunzi was listening to him curse the sages. Even though Han Fei claimed to disregard their teachings, that didn’t mean he disrespected the sages themselves.

But Xunzi… huh, worthless Confucians.

Han Fei, who still respected the sages now, didn’t know that one day he would inherit Xunzi’s sharp tongue. In the future, he would write an essay scolding almost every other school of thought, just like Xunzi did.

Though Han Fei wasn’t quite as ruthless—he criticized entire schools like the Mohists, Confucians, and knights collectively, aiming at ideas, not individuals. Xunzi, on the other hand, named names directly.

Once he finished his ritual denunciation of “worthless Confucians,” Xunzi finally put down the bamboo scroll and began explaining benevolence.

Confucius, on the surface, was a defender of Zhou ritual, but in reality, he undermined it.

For instance, Zhou ritual stipulated that only nobles could read and write, yet Confucius was the first to open private academies—not just to low-born scholars, but even to “wild men” who weren’t considered true commoners at the time.

In Confucius’s philosophy, the highest praise he could give someone was calling them benevolent. Yet even when he spoke of the almost morally perfect noble Chen Wenzi, he still said the man did not qualify as “benevolent.”

Confucius criticized Guan Zhong many times, taking issue with both his beliefs and his personal conduct.

And yet, Guan Zhong was one of the few people Confucius did praise as “benevolent.”

Guan Zhong brought peace and stability to Qi. He helped Qi dominate without relying on warfare. Confucius praised him, saying, “Such is benevolence, such is benevolence!”—and said it twice for emphasis.

So in Confucius’s eyes, “benevolence” wasn’t about personal virtue. It was about helping the ruler govern wisely, allowing the people to live in peace and prosperity, and enriching the nation without resorting to conquest. That, to Confucius, was the highest form of nobility.

“So if the King of Qin, under Zhu Xiang’s guidance, can transform his brutal army into a force of righteous salvation for the world, then why can’t he be called a benevolent ruler?” Xunzi asked rhetorically.

Han Fei fell silent.

Xunzi asked, “Still don’t want to go see the cotton field?”

Han Fei replied, “No.”

Xunzi sighed. “Then will you go back to reading?”

Han Fei answered sadly, “I… I can’t focus.”

Xunzi picked up a scroll. “If you change your mind, I’ll take you there myself.”

Han Fei shrank his shoulders inward like he wanted to curl up into a ball.

Xunzi glanced at him and sighed inwardly.

The day Han Fei could stand tall with squared shoulders anytime, anywhere—that would be the day he was ready.

But as long as Han Fei’s heart still clung to the royal house of Han, as long as he couldn’t let go of being a prince of that doomed state, it would be hard.

Sigh… The only one in the Han royal family who truly cared about Han was a minor, disregarded branch prince. With a country like that—how could Han not perish?