HCT – Chapter 7 The Small Throne of the First Emperor

Lord Gangcheng, Cai Ze—an extraordinary man who had been rejected by all the states because of his terrible looks, even driven out of Zhao.

This time, Zhao really couldn’t be blamed for being blind. Not only Zhao, but also Yan, Han, and Wei all cruelly judged him by his appearance and turned him away.

In the end, he had no choice but to go to Qin. There, he used the saying “the full moon will wane” to enlighten Qin’s Chancellor Fan Ju, who then recommended him for office.

Cai Ze had no grand ambition to save the world. His endless lobbying in search of an official post was simply a pursuit of wealth and status.

Upon seeing the treacherous waters of Qin’s court, he returned the seal of Chancellor within days, chose to remain a mid-ranking official, occasionally offered suggestions to the Qin king, earned a few merits, and eventually became a veteran of four reigns, ennobled as Lord Gangcheng, enjoying a wealthy retirement.

Ying Zheng’s brain couldn’t retain faces; he couldn’t even remember the face of the old General Wang Jian, whom he had cried and begged to come back in the middle of the night. But for some reason, he remembered Lord Gangcheng.

If the Gangcheng of another world knew this, he would surely be quite comforted.

In this timeline, when Cai Ze was thrown out of Handan, Zhu Xiang was at the city gate recruiting laborers.

That was the year Zhu Xiang had just taken charge of the Lin family’s lands. Zhao was at war, strong laborers were scarce, and every day he would go to the recruitment stalls at the gate to look for help.

After Zhu Xiang saved him (as Zhu Xiang liked to boast), Cai Ze lacked the travel funds to go to another state and learned that Zhu Xiang was working for Lin Xiangru. Hoping to use the Lin family as a stepping stone, he stayed on their estate.

It happened that Xia Tong was leaving, so Zhu Xiang hired Cai Ze as a bookkeeper and took the opportunity to study under him.

Cai Ze was now a retainer of Lin Xiangru and still lived near Zhu Xiang’s home, waiting for his chance to soar. After a few shared meals, his friendship with Zhu Xiang grew rapidly, and he was willing to teach Zhu Xiang everything he knew.

The first time Ying Zheng saw, in real life, the future subject from his fragmented dreams, he blinked his large, round black grape-like eyes and curiously examined Cai Ze.

Cai Ze was shocked: “Zhu Xiang, where’d you pick up this kid? He’s pretty gutsy.”

Zhu Xiang proudly said, “Of course. Like uncle, like nephew. He takes after me.”

When Zhu Xiang had just adopted Ying Zheng, Cai Ze didn’t know the full story yet. But he did know Zhu Xiang’s past.

He studied the smug-looking Zhu Xiang and couldn’t help but wonder—Zhu Xiang adopted the child of the older sister who abandoned him? He had always known Zhu Xiang to be kindhearted, but this kind? Wasn’t that going too far?

“Don’t just stand outside, come in,” Cai Ze said as he tied up the horse. “Did you come here today just to show off your nephew?”

Zhu Xiang replied seriously, “Exactly!”

“…Please leave,” said Cai Ze.

Zhu Xiang pushed in with Ying Zheng in his arms: “Not leaving. Zheng’er, charge!”

Cai Ze was shoved aside by Zhu Xiang and looked completely resigned.

When he had first met Zhu Xiang, he thought he was just a kind-hearted but overly reckless teenager.

After spending more time together, he came to admire Zhu Xiang’s virtue and was amazed by his talent, discovering that Zhu Xiang was far more mature and thoughtful than others his age.

But once they grew close, Cai Ze’s opinion flipped again.

This kid was just a pure-hearted, overly reckless, occasionally mischievous young man. Sometimes you sighed watching him; sometimes you felt an itch in your hands.

Ying Zheng’s little head filled with confusion. Charge? Charge where? What is Uncle going to do now?

Before he could figure it out, Zhu Xiang had already made himself at home, borrowing some cushions from Cai Ze to build a little seat.

Ying Zheng’s body was still soft, and when seated on the cushions, he kept sliding down. So Zhu Xiang stacked several cushions to make a small “throne” for him.

Leaning back against the cushions, with his little hands resting on them, Ying Zheng sat encased in his tiny cushion throne, his little head bobbing. Then he rubbed his eyes, curled up in the warm throne, and couldn’t stop himself from falling asleep.

Children are naturally sleepy. With a full belly, Ying Zheng could no longer resist and drifted off.

Zhu Xiang rested his chin in his palm, grinning as he watched his nephew nestled in the throne, his expression full of fondness.

Cai Ze brought out an outer robe to serve as a blanket for Ying Zheng and asked in a hushed voice, “Why didn’t you let him sleep at home?”

Zhu Xiang replied, “He was just abandoned by Chunhua. He’s definitely anxious. It’s better to keep him close.”

He hadn’t told Xue any of this.

Children rely more on instinct. Even though Xue had accepted Ying Zheng as her own, to Ying Zheng, Xue—who shared no blood with him—was still a stranger.

Xue had keenly sensed his fear of her, but Zhu Xiang had managed to joke it away.

Still, this wasn’t a real problem. After just one day together, Zhu Xiang already noticed that Ying Zheng, true to his future identity as the First Emperor, was far more rational and mature than most children his age.

Perhaps even Ying Zheng himself hadn’t noticed—he was consciously using reason to override instinct, trying his best to accept Xue as a relative.

Until that day came, Zhu Xiang would stay by his side and help him adapt to his new family.

Even the closest people don’t need to share everything. Some well-intentioned concealment is better for family harmony and everyone’s peace of mind. This was where the importance of friends came in.

Aside from hiding Ying Zheng’s royal identity, Zhu Xiang told Cai Ze everything else, in full.

He didn’t need Cai Ze’s advice—he just wanted someone to listen.

Cai Ze was a rhetorician. All the glory and wealth he longed for depended on his eloquence. But in private, he was so calm that he sometimes seemed silent.

This probably had to do with his appearance. People inevitably judge by looks. He had no close friends, his family didn’t much like him, and his teachers and peers treated him like a stranger. So in private, he often read alone, thought alone, and disliked talking.

After meeting Zhu Xiang—who loved to talk—he was forced to listen to endless nonsense, and forced into many conversations.

This time was no different.

After hearing Zhu Xiang’s long sigh, Cai Ze asked, “Aren’t you worried that after you raise this child well, Chunhua will come back and try to take him away? Children are naturally close to their mothers. Even if his mother abandoned him, if she sheds a few tears, he might still side with her. He might even scheme to seize your property for her.”

Zhu Xiang laughed. “Of course Chunhua would do that.”

He looked at the sleeping Ying Zheng and reached out to gently poke his chubby little cheek. “But I believe that sincerity breeds sincerity. As long as I raise Zheng’er properly and teach him right from wrong, even if he can’t let go of his attachment to his birth mother, he’ll still consider mine and Xue’s feelings. And a child I raise will definitely have the wisdom to handle the relationship between us and his birth mother.”

Zhu Xiang thought to himself: I’m just bragging here.

Something that small—how could the future First Emperor not handle it? Worst case, let Chunhua stay in the palace with her lovers, and I’ll go farm in the south for Zheng’er. We won’t cross paths, and Zheng’er won’t have to feel torn.

He gently poked Ying Zheng’s face again.

Ying Zheng smacked his little lips, furrowed his tiny brows, then relaxed them, rolled over, kicked off one of the throne’s armrests, and sprawled out in a big starfish pose.

Zhu Xiang stifled a laugh and pulled the robe back over him.

Watching this, the stern look on Cai Ze’s face gave way to helplessness.

Seeing how much Zhu Xiang adored this child, even if he advised him to adopt a more controllable heir as a backup, Zhu Xiang wouldn’t listen.

Cai Ze thought—he’d just have to find a way to get himself appointed to office, get a fief, and take Zhu Xiang in when he’s old and has no one else. Zhu Xiang clearly had no retirement plan.

“I just went into your kitchen and saw your jar of meat sauce is empty. I’ll have someone bring some later.” Zhu Xiang, having poured out his worries, changed the subject. “Next time just tell me when you run out of something. Do I have to check your kitchen every day? I’m not your son.”

Listening to Zhu Xiang ramble, Cai Ze lazily lifted his eyelids. “You can call me Father. I don’t mind.”

“Peh.” Zhu Xiang said, “Don’t try to take advantage of me. Alright, alright, what are we learning today? I’ve already memorized the last book.”

He pulled a scroll of paper from his sleeve as he spoke.

Cai Ze looked at the paper from Zhu Xiang’s sleeve and sighed in his heart.

Even though he’d seen it many times, he still sighed.

Lately, he had been thinking—was it really wise to seek fortune in Zhao? With the current king’s lack of vision and drive, even if he earned some temporary prosperity, it wouldn’t last.

A subject’s wealth depended on the nation he served and the ruler he followed. If the king was foolish and the state unstable, then his dream of a prosperous retirement would never come true.

While teaching Zhu Xiang from a new text—copying it out for writing practice—Cai Ze was quietly contemplating his own future.

After dying once, Zhu Xiang’s memory had improved dramatically. He could memorize almost anything instantly, and he picked up writing quickly too.

Books in this era weren’t lengthy. Zhu Xiang soon finished copying the new one, tucked it back into his sleeve, and planned to study it more at home.

“Mr. Cai, you seem a little distracted today,” Zhu Xiang asked. “Master Lin will soon have a chance to recommend you as envoy to another state. That would show the king your ability. Is that what you’re worried about?”

Cai Ze hesitated, unsure whether to share what was on his mind.

But looking into Zhu Xiang’s clear gaze, the hesitation melted away.

He thought—he could trust his one and only friend.

“Zhao has been cultivated by three generations of wise rulers,” Cai Ze said, “and I once believed that by coming to Zhao, I could realize my ambitions. But the current king is terribly mediocre. It takes generations of effort for a wealthy family to accumulate its estate—but just one fool to squander it all. I’m not sure I should stay in Zhao.”

After speaking, Cai Ze gave a bitter smile and mocked himself: “But even if I go to another state, I doubt I’d be entrusted with any real responsibilities.”

Cai Ze was well aware of his appearance. It was far too difficult for others to see his talent beyond his looks.

Zhu Xiang thought for a moment, then asked, “But deep down, Mr. Cai, you must have a place in mind where you believe your ambitions can be realized, don’t you?”

Zhu Xiang didn’t know that Cai Ze would one day become Lord Gangcheng of Qin.

Even those who study history can’t be expected to remember the name of every minister. What’s more, there were simply too many dazzling figures during this period of history for Cai Ze to stand out. Zhu Xiang had no impression of the name Cai Ze.

He only speculated, based on common knowledge of this world, the books Cai Ze read, and the information he sought out, that Cai Ze was considering entering Qin.

Cai Ze sighed. “You mean Qin? If not for having nowhere else to turn, who would willingly go west to that barbaric land?”

Just then, Ying Zheng, who had been napping, opened his eyes and happened to hear that sentence.

He lay on his back on the soft throne his uncle had arranged for him, and with his dark eyes, he quietly stared at Cai Ze.

Lord Gangcheng, I’ll remember what you said!

Zhu Xiang knew that scholars of this era held deep prejudice against the state of Qin.

But it wasn’t because Qin was poor.

Zhu Xiang had once been recommended a well-known drama about Great Qin by a professor on an archaeological trip. The two of them praised it as wonderfully done and enjoyable, while happily nitpicking its flaws.

When the Qin King clutched a handful of yellow soil and sobbed “ying ying ying,” Zhu Xiang laughed like a barking dog.

The Loess Plateau was one of the birthplaces of Chinese civilization. Precisely because it had once been prosperous, nurturing a brilliant culture even with primitive farming techniques, it had exhausted its potential early, leaving behind barren land.

Qin rose in the middle and lower reaches of the Wei River and flourished in Yongzhou.

By the Warring States period, people had already begun grading soil and farmland. According to the Yu Gong, Yongzhou’s land was rated “top-tier.” From the mid-Warring States onward, Qin had become one of the most powerful states. Sima Qian also recorded that Qin had “fertile lands stretching for a thousand li.”

Qin rose so quickly because it had abundant land, a sparse population, and extremely fertile soil.

So the reason scholars from other states disdained Qin wasn’t because of poverty, but because of its customs—because they saw Qin as barbaric.

Qin stood isolated from the Central Plains, alone in the northwest. During the Spring and Autumn period, the Zhou royal court and other Central Plains states considered Qin part of the western Rong tribes, not truly “one of them.”

After King Ping of Zhou moved east, Qin began expanding eastward and was enfeoffed as a feudal state, trying to integrate into the family of Central Plains states. But Qin’s vastly different customs still made it an object of disdain.

For example, it wasn’t until the reign of Duke Xian of Qin that the state abolished the practice of burying the living with the dead— a custom that had lasted over 300 years since Duke Wu of Qin.

The many philosophical schools in the Central Plains abhorred human sacrifice, especially the Confucians. Confucius once made a harsh remark: “The one who started using figurines for burial—may he have no descendants!”

During the Western Zhou, a ban on live human sacrifices was issued, and substitutes like straw figurines and miniature chariots were used, much like today’s paper offerings. After the Spring and Autumn period, a trend of lavish tomb offerings emerged, and clay human figurines were used.

Confucius condemned this backsliding in burial customs. If you’re using human-like figurines now, are you going to return to burying real people next? May you die without heirs!

From Confucius’s anger, it’s clear how barbaric and disgusting Qin’s reinstatement of live burials was to the enlightened.

Even though Qin had abolished the practice by now, its past made it a last resort in the eyes of honorable scholars.

Even someone like Cai Ze, who only sought wealth and power, still hesitated due to Qin’s reputation.

Choosing to seek a position in Qin basically signified that one was at the end of their rope—abandoning all sense of propriety and honor. For the scholars of this era, it was tantamount to admitting their life up to that point had been a complete failure, and they no longer even cared about saving face.

Zhu Xiang grabbed the now-awake Ying Zheng and hugged him tightly.

A child not yet two years old shouldn’t have been able to understand the conversation between Cai Ze and Zhu Xiang, but with the legendary emperor’s precociousness and pettiness in mind, Zhu Xiang still treated Ying Zheng like a grown adult, explaining why Cai Ze was reluctant to go to Qin.

Ying Zheng pouted. “It’s been so many years already!”

Zhu Xiang chuckled. “When your ancestors dig the pit, their descendants have to fill it in if they want to build a house—can’t be helped.”

Ying Zheng’s pout deepened. “Besides, didn’t the Zhou also rise in Haojing!”

Zhu Xiang explained, “Which is why Zhou was once ‘Earl of the West.’ The second Zhou king, King Cheng, built a new capital—Chengzhou—in the Central Plains.”

That is, Luoyang.

An elderly archaeology professor once grumbled that excavations at Haojing had yielded very little, which gave rise to another round of absurd claims that “Chinese history is fake”—some people even began denying the existence of the Western Zhou.

Fortunately, later excavations shut them up.

Before the Zhou established dominance in the Central Plains, they too had been viewed as barbarian allies, just like Qin. Once in power, they found themselves torn. On one hand, they wanted to shed their barbarian past by moving the capital to the Central Plains; on the other, they feared doing so would confirm the accusations.

Trapped in this dilemma, they kept the capital at Haojing, but it remained a transitional one—less developed than Chengzhou, which is why archaeological finds there are so scarce.

This time, Ying Zheng pursed his lips into a pout instead of just sulking: “Hmph. Wherever the king is, that’s the Central Plains! They don’t count!”

If it were up to me, I’d just make Guanzhong the capital. Then Guanzhong would be the Central Plains! Ying Zheng still remembered his uncle’s warning not to reveal his identity, so he only said that in his heart.

But even without him saying it, Zhu Xiang could tell what his little nephew was thinking from the way his lips stuck out like a bottle hook and the disdain in his little eyes.

Zhu Xiang was delighted. That’s the First Emperor for you—born to be domineering!

“Zhu Xiang, your nephew…” Cai Ze sensed something was off.

Zhu Xiang lifted the little boy. “Looks like me, right?”

Cai Ze: “…”

Zhu Xiang brought his squirming nephew back into his arms and said, “Curious, aren’t you? Ask Lin Li. I can’t tell you.”

After thinking a while, Cai Ze asked, “Do you want to go to Qin?”

Ying Zheng immediately turned to look at his uncle.

Cai Ze again sensed something from the child’s expressive face—something wasn’t right.

Could this kid… No, that can’t be. He’s still so young—what could he understand?

“This isn’t about what I want,” Zhu Xiang said, pressing Ying Zheng’s head into his chest so the boy couldn’t see the sadness in his expression. “I’m just a commoner. My future isn’t mine to choose. And I can’t abandon the Lin family.”

Cai Ze fell silent.

After a while, he said, “If King Zhao still refuses to use me, then I’ll try my luck in Qin. That king probably won’t value the descendants of Lord Lin either. When the time comes, I’ll find a way to bring all of you to Qin.”

Zhu Xiang gently rubbed the back of his nephew’s head. “Alright. It’s a promise.”

The two fell into a quiet silence.

After a long pause, Cai Ze said, “Zhu Xiang, you used to just bury your head in the fields. This is the first time you’ve spoken to me about the affairs of the various states.”

Zhu Xiang pinched the soft fold of skin where his nephew’s head met his neck and murmured, “Maybe having a child makes you worry more about the future. Don’t tell Lin Li about any of this. You’re the only one I can talk to.”

Cai Ze replied, “Of course. Just like you won’t tell him I’m thinking of going to Qin.”

Zhu Xiang picked up Ying Zheng and said sadly, “We call ourselves friends who would die for each other, yet we still keep secrets. How tragic.”

Cai Ze didn’t speak.

He only let out a deep sigh after watching Zhu Xiang walk away.

Zhu Xiang had initially just wanted to study with Cai Ze and show off his nephew. He hadn’t expected to delve into such heavy matters he’d been avoiding, and now his mood was gloomy.

“Zheng’er, Uncle’s going to take you for a walk in the fields,” Zhu Xiang said. “Uncle is great at farming—seriously amazing!”

Ying Zheng lay in his uncle’s arms, playing with his fingers out of boredom.

What’s there to brag about in farming? I don’t get Uncle.

Zhu Xiang hoisted him onto his shoulder, letting him hug his head while he surveyed the fields. As they passed, all the farmers paused their work to greet Zhu Xiang in their own way.

Yan and Zhao were full of bold, chivalrous young men—in other words, lots of gangsters and street brawlers.

Along the way, Zhu Xiang also saw many such men carrying weapons and sparring shirtless in the shade by the fields.

These men blocked the paths, forcing commoners to walk around them.

But when Zhu Xiang passed by with the child on his shoulder, they immediately stepped aside and even asked why he wasn’t accompanied by servants, offering to guard him.

Even when Zhu Xiang declined, they still followed to keep him company and even wove leaf and grass toys for Ying Zheng.

Ying Zheng used the top of his uncle’s head as a little table, piling up the leafy toys.

He curiously observed the unfamiliar people around him.

Everyone wore warm, kind smiles.

Having grown up amid hatred, Ying Zheng found this very strange—very confusing.

“Lord Zhu Xiang, is this your adopted son? He looks clever!”

“His name is Zheng. Doesn’t he look just like me?”

“Ah, yes—very much so! He’s sure to be as amazing as Lord Zhu Xiang in the future!”

Amid the endless praise from strangers, Ying Zheng hugged his uncle’s head tightly and buried his face in his uncle’s hair.

So strange…