HCT – Chapter 76 Nourishing Medicinal Soup

After arriving in Xianyang, Lian Po and Li Mu didn’t require Zhu Xiang to worry about them—both men knew exactly how to deal with the Qin nobility.

Still, Zhu Xiang couldn’t afford to care too much about them, or the King of Qin might start feeling uneasy.

But even though Zhu Xiang deliberately pretended not to meddle, rumors about him still circulated all over Xianyang. The gossip generally revolved around the idea that Zhu Xiang’s personal connections had grown too powerful and might soon overshadow the King of Qin himself.

People said the King was already old and frail, the Crown Prince was also in poor health, and that Prince Zichu might not be willing to wait for the throne—he might be eyeing the crown early.

When Xia Tong heard this shocking news from one of his subordinates, he was in the middle of being aggressively cornered by Zhu Xiang and Xue, one on each side, forcing him to drink nourishing medicinal soup.

Although Zhu Xiang only had basic medical knowledge, it was clear that Xia Tong’s condition—eating without absorbing anything—pointed to gastrointestinal issues. So, drawing on what the old professors had taught him, Zhu Xiang prepared a variety of “medicinal meals” specifically meant to aid digestion and strengthen the stomach.

But Xia Tong already hated taking medicine, and the addition of medicinal flavors to food only made it worse in his picky eyes. To him, it tasted even more unbearable than raw medicine.

Zhu Xiang understood that. But even so, he and Xue supervised Xia Tong every day, making sure he drank the soup on schedule—mainly to prevent him from secretly dumping it out.

For a healthy person, drinking soup doesn’t offer nourishment—it just increases purine intake and risks triggering gout.

Anyone with a basic understanding of science would know that soup contains minimal nutrients. It merely extracts flavor compounds from the ingredients, which is why it tastes so rich. Most of the nutrition remains in the solids.

So Zhu Xiang didn’t just make broth—he blended the meat and vegetables into a thick puree.

Little Ying Zheng tried to encourage his father: “Father, I used to eat this all the time when I didn’t have teeth. It’s really tasty! Of course, now that I have teeth, I don’t need to eat mush anymore.”

Ying Zheng opened his mouth wide, showing off two rows of clean, beautiful baby teeth—he hadn’t even reached the age to start losing them yet.

Xia Tong was so irritated by his son’s comment that he nearly snapped the wooden spoon in his hand.

When he heard the explosive news from his subordinate, Xia Tong saw it as a perfect opportunity—he could spit the disgusting puree onto Zhu Xiang and then claim he had been startled by the shocking report, thereby excusing himself from today’s medicinal meal.

Zhu Xiang gave him a sharp glare.

Xia Tong coughed dramatically, pretending to have choked. “Cough, cough! This is just cruel! Zhu Xiang, what if His Majesty becomes suspicious of us?!”

Zhu Xiang, expression full of disdain, turned to change clothes. “Xue, bring him another bowl. Xia Tong, did you think I only made one serving?”

Xue had been quite worried, but after hearing Zhu Xiang’s words, she pressed her lips into a smile. “I’ll go right away.”

Since her beloved didn’t seem too concerned, maybe it really wasn’t such a serious matter after all.

Thinking of the King of Qin’s kind and gentle face, Xue finally felt at ease.

Xia Tong’s face collapsed. Holding his forehead, he sighed deeply—he would rather live ten years less than drink this disgusting, nourishing medicinal soup.

While changing clothes, Zhu Xiang was also thinking about the rumors.

He let out a long sigh and looked out at the misty fog outside the window.

History lovers online often said: they wished wise kings could live longer—but also hoped wise kings would die sooner.

As people age, their thoughts are increasingly influenced by their decaying bodies, inevitably becoming more suspicious and rigid.

Those who fear death, when chased by it, become increasingly paranoid by the day. Waiting to die is even more terrifying than death itself.

The King of Qin, on a rational level, understood that Zhu Xiang would never attempt to seize power, and that the idea of him overshadowing the monarch was pure nonsense. The king also knew that his own days were numbered, and that Zhu Xiang, a minister who had no desire for fame or wealth, was the best and most trustworthy candidate to assist the next generation.

But even the King of Qin was only human—he couldn’t stay rational all the time. So he applied checks and balances, issued warnings, and reminded the younger generation that while the old wolf king was still alive, they shouldn’t even dream of grabbing power.

Yet Prince Zichu, a royal descendant with no natural advantage, couldn’t hope to secure his position without stepping into the light. And stepping into the light meant being struck down. It was truly… exhausting. Zhu Xiang pressed a hand to his forehead and let out a long sigh.

Even if the King of Qin were replaced, it wouldn’t change a thing. Once someone became king—whether it was the Crown Prince, Xia Tong, or even little Zheng’er—their first identity would be as the ruler, and only then as themselves.

Even if they fully trusted him, Zhu Xiang couldn’t act in any way that would force them to choose between their duties as a monarch and their personal affection for him.

Zhu Xiang sluggishly finished changing his clothes and found Ying Zheng leaning against the doorway, waiting for him.

Ying Zheng had just turned five, growing from a chubby toddler with a head-to-body ratio of three-to-one into a still-round little boy with a five-head ratio—his cheeks and belly still adorably puffed.

Arms crossed and with a prematurely mature expression as if trying to act cool, he made Zhu Xiang laugh so hard he had to cover his mouth.

Ying Zheng stood up straighter, annoyed. “Uncle, what are you laughing at?”

“I wasn’t, I wasn’t.” Zhu Xiang scooped him up, rubbing his cheek. “Does Zheng’er have something to say to Uncle in private?”

Ying Zheng wrapped his arms around Zhu Xiang’s neck and whispered softly into his ear: “Uncle, am I dragging you down?”

Zhu Xiang’s brows furrowed. “Who said that? I’ll go beat them up!”

But Ying Zheng pressed, unwilling to let it go. “Uncle, am I your burden?”

Zhu Xiang spoke gently, “Zheng’er, of course not. You’re my support. Without you, Uncle probably wouldn’t have been able to hold on. Your Auntie too. You are the pillar of our family.”

He wasn’t lying.

At least for Zhu Xiang himself, had he not known that the world would one day unify in his lifetime, that the foundation for that unification—the future First Emperor of Qin—was none other than his nephew, he might not have had the strength to recover from all the setbacks he’d faced.

And the same held true for the future. No matter how harshly the old King of Qin tried to check him, even if Crown Prince Zhu or Xia Tong one day became a capable king, he would still strive to survive—at least long enough to witness the day the First Emperor united all under heaven.

He was already the emperor’s uncle. If he didn’t live to see that historic moment with his own eyes, it would feel like a great loss.

Ying Zheng tightened his hug. “Uncle, do you trust me?”

Zhu Xiang replied, “Of course.”

Ying Zheng said, “I heard you want to go to Bashu. Uncle, you should go—go to Bashu so you can avoid the King’s suspicion and watchful eye.”

Zhu Xiang froze.

He looked down at the child in his arms and couldn’t speak for a long while.

Ying Zheng, face serious, said, “Uncle, you said you trust me. I have Grandfather and Father to take care of me, I have Grandpa Xun, Grandpa Lian, Grandpa Fan, and Grandpa Bai to teach me, and my teacher has entered Qin too. You can go to Shu without worry. I’ll help take care of the elders for you.”

Zhu Xiang pinched Ying Zheng’s cheek. “Zheng’er, you’re only five.”

Ying Zheng retorted, “I’m six!”

Zhu Xiang replied, “In Uncle’s book, you’re only one year older after surviving a whole year. So, you’re five.”

Ying Zheng sighed helplessly, “Uncle, I don’t want to argue with you about that… Didn’t you say you trust me?”

Zhu Xiang laughed. “I trust you. But that doesn’t mean I don’t worry about you. You’re still a child. No matter how capable you are, when you’re still a child, you should be protected by your elders. Even when young eagles learn to fly, the parent eagle still circles nearby to guard them.”

He adjusted the child in his arms and began walking toward the place where Xia Tong was still being forced to drink his medicinal soup. “Uncle will create a childhood for Zheng’er—one where you can both fully display your talents and laugh freely. Uncle hopes that when you grow up and it’s your turn to shoulder responsibilities, you’ll look back on your childhood with your elders and smile with fondness—not frown and wonder why your life has been so bitter since the very beginning.”

Ying Zheng’s stern little face suddenly fell. “Uncle, I’m not a child… not an ordinary child.”

Zhu Xiang chuckled. “And your uncle isn’t an ordinary uncle either. Don’t worry, just one Zheng’er—your uncle can still protect you. But you’re right. Going to Shu Commandery is indeed a good idea.”

Ying Zheng straightened his back proudly. “Uncle, Aunt—go to Shu with peace of mind! Leave Xianyang to me!”

“Mm.” Zhu Xiang smiled.

After being carried by Zhu Xiang to mock Xia Tong for a bit, Ying Zheng used the excuse of needing to return to class and ran off with a da-da-da, not giving Xia Tong a chance to scold him.

Xue shook her head and said, “Zheng’er’s been getting too naughty lately. He needs a good scolding. If you keep letting him get away with being disrespectful to elders, I’ll take matters into my own hands.”

Zhu Xiang replied, “Alright, I’ll do the spoiling, you handle the teaching.”

Xue shot Zhu Xiang a glare and left, fuming.

Xia Tong said, “If you want someone to discipline Zheng’er, you can leave that to me.”

Zhu Xiang said, “You better not. If you hit Zheng’er, he might rebel even harder. Precocious boys always like to defy their fathers, but in front of female elders, they tend to be especially obedient.”

Xia Tong tilted his head, stroking his chin. “Is that so? I’ve never really…”

Then he thought about it—if he were scolded by the Crown Prince… ahem, he’d probably only admit fault verbally.

“Zheng’er knows I plan to go to Shu—did you tell him?” Zhu Xiang asked as he sat on the edge of Xia Tong’s bed.

Xia Tong, having fallen ill again due to a bout of lingering spring cold, was wrapped in blankets and resting in bed.

He shook his head. “I don’t want you to go to Shu. That place is full of miasma and poisonous fog, surrounded by treacherous mountains and rivers, and its people are still uncivilized. It’s too dangerous. Even if staying in Xianyang is stifling, at least your safety is guaranteed here. Though… that was my opinion before.”

Xia Tong let out a bitter smile. “The king really is old now—to the point that he’s even suspicious of a royal grandson.”

Zhu Xiang said, “The more he’s suspicious of you, the more you need to do things properly. Otherwise, if you hide away just because of his suspicion and attempts to rein you in, he’ll think you’re harboring resentment against him.”

Xia Tong sighed. “It’s so hard to handle…”

Zhu Xiang teased, “When you become the King of Qin, it’ll be just as hard.”

Xia Tong replied, “Who knows, I might end up even more paranoid than the current king. You better watch yourself.”

Zhu Xiang rolled his eyes. “Then stop secretly dumping the medicinal porridge. First, try living to the King’s age. Let Zheng’er be Crown Prince for forty or fifty years, and when he finally can’t bear it anymore, stage a coup and make you the Retired King.”

Xia Tong nearly choked from laughing. “Alright, alright, I’ll do my best. You didn’t avoid Zheng’er when you were talking to Li Mu about Shu. He probably figured it out himself. Sometimes I really suspect Zheng’er’s already an adult—maybe he could rule Qin right now without needing your regency.”

Zhu Xiang said, “Watch your tongue with that kind of talk. Let’s set a small goal first—at least let him be Crown Prince for ten years.”

Xia Tong waved his hand. “Fine, fine, if you say it’s a small goal, then it’s a small goal. I feel my body’s still fine—achieving that goal should be easy. Are you really going to Shu? How will you convince the King?”

Zhu Xiang said, “I’ll just be honest. The nobles in Xianyang are a pain—they complain even when I’m just farming. I can’t be bothered with them. I want to go south and grow rice. The lands east of Hangu and in the Central Plains mainly grow millet, broomcorn millet, and wheat, and the methods are already mature. I’ve passed on all the agricultural knowledge I know here—it’s time to go south.”

He crossed his arms and shrugged. “Qin aims to unify the entire world, not just the Central Plains. The Central Plains have been cultivated for a thousand years. The South hasn’t. The customs and environment in the South are totally different from the North, and Qin has no idea how to govern it. His Majesty is a wise ruler—he knows that if I achieve something in Shu, it will benefit Qin’s southern unification immensely.”

Xia Tong thought for a moment and sighed. “Even I want to go with you.”

Zhu Xiang replied, “You can’t. The Shu Principality recently attempted multiple rebellions. Even though it’s been dissolved, if you go to Shu as the governor, people will just say you’re the third Qin prince trying to rebel.”

Xia Tong sighed. “True. Are you planning to take Zheng’er with you? Aren’t you worried he’ll get sick?”

Zhu Xiang said, “It’s not that I want to take Zheng’er, but if I go to Shu, the King will definitely insist I take him. If Zheng’er stays in Xianyang, I could even fake my death and escape. But if he’s with me, the journey is long and rough—I won’t leave him behind to return alone. I’d have to come back with him. That’s why I’m so reluctant to leave Xianyang.”

Zhu Xiang knew he spoiled Zheng’er. The King of Qin knew it too.

If Ying Zheng stayed in Xianyang under the care of elders, Zhu Xiang might not worry too much. But if he took Ying Zheng on a long journey, there was no way Zhu Xiang would ever abandon him halfway and entrust him to someone else.

Xia Tong pressed his forehead. “He’s underestimated how much you dote on Zheng’er. Even if Zheng’er stays in Xianyang, you’d never leave him behind. You have so many close friends and relatives here—any one of them could hold you back.”

Zhu Xiang spread his hands. “He judges others by his own standards. The King is not you—what you understand, he doesn’t. Don’t worry. I’m absolutely confident that Zheng’er won’t fall ill because of Shu’s climate.”

Shu had been developed relatively early. As long as one stayed out of the forests, there were no toxic mists. Other illnesses were usually from mosquito bites, heatstroke, or dampness—all of which could be prevented.

Even without the Dujiangyan irrigation system, the Chengdu Plain was still an economically thriving region. With garlic, ginger, and chili in hand, Zhu Xiang had no fear of the humidity. In fact, compared to Xianyang, Shu was better for a child’s health.

It would be perfect if Xia Tong could go too, but the King would never agree.

“There’s another reason I want to take Zheng’er,” Zhu Xiang lowered his voice. “If the King is suspicious of you, do you think he’s not suspicious of Zheng’er?”

Xia Tong sat up straight.

Though Zhu Xiang’s house was crawling with the King’s spies, Xia Tong’s residence was spacious and often open during the day, making it difficult for eavesdroppers to hear their conversations.

Xia Tong clenched his jaw, his face twitching slightly. “Zheng’er is only a child!”

Zhu Xiang said coldly, “Zheng’er is not only precocious—at his age, children are often sickly. But he’s hardly ever fallen ill. The occasional cold just turns into a few days of coughing and that’s it. Everything about him suggests divine favor—he seems like a heaven-sent ruler for Qin. The King is old. When he’s suspicious, it’s not always about logic or threats—it could be jealousy.”

“Xia Tong, you’ve said it yourself. You’re jealous of Zheng’er’s brilliance and health. But he’s your son, so it’s a mix of envy and hope. The King and Zheng’er are two generations apart. His feelings aren’t as deep as he makes them out to be.”

“I heard that a Taoist entered the palace to make the King an elixir for longevity, and said Zheng’er was blessed by Heaven—his child’s urine could be used as a medicinal guide. What if next time, they want Zheng’er’s blood or flesh?”

“I have to leave for Shu with Zheng’er while the King still has some sense left. This is also a warning to him.”

Zhu Xiang mocked himself. “Test after test, endlessly probing… if I don’t push back a little, he’ll think I’m made of clay.”

A subject mustn’t blindly obey a sovereign—there must be a balance of power.

Even though history didn’t record King Zhao of Qin as being so deluded that he trusted sorcerers to such extremes, Zhu Xiang wasn’t going to risk his nephew on that chance.