HCT – Chapter 77 Floating Lanterns and Fireworks

Ever since acquiring a chair, the King of Qin had taken to summoning his ministers while seated upon it, towering above them as they knelt on their mats below—just as they always had.

At this moment, he gazed down at Zhu Xiang, who was kneeling calmly before him, and fell silent for a long time.

The palace attendants standing nearby bowed their heads low, barely daring to breathe under the oppressive weight of the silence.

“You…” the King of Qin finally opened his eyes, which had been closed for some time. His swollen, sagging eyelids trembled slightly, revealing eyes that were still piercingly clear. “You want to take Zheng’er to the land of Shu?”

Zhu Xiang replied, “Yes, Your Majesty. Zheng’er is still young and won’t begin his formal studies for a few years. Before then, I’d like to show him more of the customs and cultures of different lands.”

The King of Qin stared at Zhu Xiang, who met his gaze without the slightest trace of fear.

His heart was filled with conflicting emotions.

He admired Zhu Xiang’s upright character, yet also despised how the man never showed the slightest fear before him.

He had ruled for so many years—even the Crown Prince and Lord Ying concealed fear in their eyes when facing him. So why was Zhu Xiang so unflinching?

After another long silence, seeing that Zhu Xiang remained unwavering, the King of Qin let out a deep sigh. “Lately, there have indeed been too many little games being played. I’ll put them in their place. Don’t act out of spite. Zheng’er is still a child; he cannot endure such a long journey.”

Zhu Xiang replied, “With me there, Zheng’er will not be worn out. As I stated in my memorial, unifying the realm is not difficult for Qin—it is governing it that presents the true challenge. The Central Plains and the lands east of the Pass share similar customs, making governance easier. But the southern regions of Chu and Yue are vastly different in culture and environment—disorder is most likely to arise there.”

He shifted slightly—his legs were starting to go numb.

“The foundation of the state is grain; for the people, it is food. If the south is stable and the common folk live without upheaval, the key lies in clothing and food. Your Majesty’s prestige is profound—only with your reputation can I safely travel south with Zheng’er to experiment with ways of improving the lives of the rice-eating, fish-soup-loving southerners. As long as their lives are better than before, they will not cling to the past, no matter how different their customs may be.”

Zhu Xiang continued, “Shu is isolated and has rebelled several times. Only the prestige Your Majesty has built over decades of rule can protect Zheng’er and me on our journey.”

The King of Qin’s expression shifted. Truthfully, Zhu Xiang had already convinced him when he first submitted the memorial.

Though Qin had held control over Shu and Chu for years, those regions remained unstable. Qin laws were difficult to enforce, and the areas were loosely governed, often breaking into uprisings.

With Zhu Xiang’s talent for pacifying the people, perhaps he truly could resolve a long-standing concern.

But Zhu Xiang wanted to take Zheng’er with him…

“You may go,” the King of Qin said again, “but Zheng’er may not.”

Zhu Xiang spoke bluntly, “Zheng’er is young, but already attracting attention. I worry for his safety. Keeping him away from court for a few years is in his best interest. Before I leave, I ask Your Majesty to grant me one more request.”

The King frowned. “What is it?”

Zhu Xiang drew a deep breath and kowtowed, forehead touching the ground. “I wish to challenge all the practitioners of arcane arts in Xianyang—to expose their lies and deceit!”

The King of Qin stiffened, suddenly standing up. The chair scraped against the floor with a harsh screech. “Zhu Xiang! Have you also believed the rumors—that I would harm Zheng’er?!”

Zhu Xiang quickly responded, “It is precisely because I know Your Majesty would never harm Zheng’er that I dare make this request!”

He pounded his fists on the floor, raised his head, and sat up straight. “Just because these so-called practitioners claim that using a child’s urine is harmless, does that mean we should forgive them?”

“Whether it’s urine, hair, or nails, all that talk of yin and yang energies—they do not treat people as people, but as materials for alchemy!”

“Common folk who exchange their children to survive a famine are already in desperation—yet even they understand this crosses a line. These practitioners, hiding under the name of immortality, claim today that children possess vital energy, and tomorrow that women contain pure yin essence. Before a wise ruler, they ask only for hair or nails. But before a foolish one, they dare demand flesh, bones—even hearts!”

Zhu Xiang’s face flushed deep red with anger, his breath ragged.

“I know everyone seeks immortality. That’s why these frauds, originating in Yan and Qi, have swept west into Qin, cheating and deceiving as they go.”

“War-torn times bring enough suffering—why let this plague of alchemists compound it? I am but a lowly man, with no intention of provoking anyone. All I wish is to guide farming practices—if one more peasant can live, that is enough.”

“But they should never have set their sights on Zheng’er!”

His eyes blazed. “I am no sage. But if anyone touches my family, I’ll fight them with my life—and make sure they regret it.”

“Killing one will not stop the rest. I must destroy their foundation, sever their lineage.”

“Even if the arcane arts do not disappear, I’ll reduce them from nobles’ honored guests to gutter rats, surviving only in the shadows. Wherever they go, upright people will denounce them.”

“If there are truly immortals in this world, then I am the most deserving of divine favor,” Zhu Xiang said, rolling up his sleeve and extending his arm. “Let them try it—drink my blood and flesh, and see if it grants immortality. Let’s see if I bleed to death. And if I die—whether heaven will smite the realm in vengeance.”

The King of Qin glared at him. “Are you threatening me?”

Zhu Xiang replied, “Your Majesty, you are Zheng’er’s great-grandfather. Though it may be presumptuous to speak so to a king, in my heart, you are my family—my elder. I am only angry at the arcane charlatans for perverting morality and harming the innocent.”

“Across the Seven States, wise minds already abhor such sorcery. If Your Majesty commands me to denounce them—the alchemy, the spirits—the Seven States will only hold you in greater reverence. One who fears neither death nor ghosts is a true sovereign.”

The King was momentarily stunned, his heart filled with unspeakable emotion.

He often felt this way when facing Zhu Xiang.

He knew the Crown Prince Zhu once murmured in private that kings are still human, and so are crown princes. All humans long for love and kinship—but they trust no one.

Yet Zhu Xiang, with the heart of a child, inspired trust.

In this world, perhaps only Zhu Xiang dared say, I regard you as my family, my elder.

And only Zhu Xiang believed that regarding you as family was a greater honor than revering you as sovereign.

Court officials often said Lin Zhi acted too madly. But in the King’s eyes, Zhu Xiang was the truly mad one.

His hand rested on the hilt of his sword, fingers flexing open and closed.

In Zhu Xiang’s view, the King’s favor meter flickered—appearing, disappearing, reappearing again and again.

“Zhu Xiang, are you not afraid of death?” the King asked.

“I am, Your Majesty,” Zhu Xiang answered. “But every man has moments when he must face death without fear.”

The King took a deep breath. “Just because the arcane practitioners targeted Zheng’er—though they didn’t dare harm him and failed to accomplish anything—you’d still risk death for this grudge?”

Zhu Xiang said, “As Mencius wrote, ‘Life is what I desire, and righteousness is also what I desire. If I cannot have both, I choose righteousness over life.’ Protecting my family is my righteousness. If harm has already come, regret will be too late.”

The King withdrew his hand from his sword hilt and called loudly, “Zheng’er, come out!”

Crown Prince Zhu stumbled out from behind the curtain, clutching little Ying Zheng tightly.

He had just spent the entire time holding the boy and covering his mouth, terrified out of his wits—his heart had nearly leapt from his throat. Even walking, his legs were unsteady.

“Prince, Zheng’er?” Zhu Xiang was first surprised, then gave a bitter smile. “Sorry, I must have frightened you.”

“It’s alright, I’ve always known you to be such a resolute person.” The Crown Prince felt a warmth in his heart upon hearing Zhu Xiang’s words.

Ying Zheng climbed down from the Crown Prince’s arms, his little hands trembling slightly.

He bit his lips repeatedly until they bled, suppressing the tremors in his body. Then he walked over to Zhu Xiang’s side, knelt before the King of Qin, and said nothing.

The King of Qin asked, “Zheng’er, is there anything you want to say to me?”

Ying Zheng lifted his head, his eyes equally bloodshot. “Uncle said that I’m still young and should be learning how to weather the storms of life under the protection of my elders. Zheng’er has nothing to say and will follow the words of my elders.”

The King of Qin said, “You are a prince of Qin.”

Ying Zheng replied, “Even if I am a hostage prince, the youngest to leave Qin is at the age of hair-tying. I am still only a toddler.”

Children under nine are called “chuitiao” (lit. dangling hair), and fifteen is the age when boys begin tying up their hair. What prince of Qin ever had to face danger from less than a year old?! And which Qin prince was targeted by the king’s pressure just because he drew too much attention at age five or six?!

Even with his dream-self guiding him, Ying Zheng had never imagined that revealing his intelligence at this age would lead to such consequences!

“Zheng’er has been a hostage since birth; abandoned by both his mother and father at one year old; at three or four, his uncle was almost killed and had to hide with his aunt everywhere; and now, he’s not even at the age when Qin princes start their education…” Ying Zheng took a deep breath and kowtowed. “I beg Great Grandfather to uphold justice for me!”

Crown Prince Zhu’s tears rolled down at Ying Zheng’s words.

He knelt and said, “Father, let Zheng’er go to Shu with Zhu Xiang and just be a child for a few years. Qin has you, me, and Xia Tong — it’s not Zheng’er’s turn to worry. Let him wait until he comes of age before he starts to shoulder responsibilities.”

The King of Qin said blandly, “Zhu, you are not suited to be king.”

Crown Prince Zhu gave a guileless smile. “No, Father. I may indeed be different from you, but there are many types of kings. I believe I can still be a good one. To be a king is simply to ‘protect the nation and love the people.’ I can do that.”

The King of Qin said, “This is the first time you’ve promised me that you can be a good king.”

“Yes,” Crown Prince Zhu answered.

Looking at his son, whose face was equally aged and weary, the King of Qin suddenly lost all interest in further questioning.

“Do as you wish. I won’t interfere anymore.” The King of Qin waved his sleeve. “I’m tired and will rest for a while. During this time, the Crown Prince shall govern in my stead.”

“As you command!!”

“Uncle, Zheng’er is tired, I don’t want to walk, I want a piggyback ride on your shoulders.”

“Can’t I just carry you on my back?”

“No.”

Sigh. Zhu Xiang hoisted the suddenly willful Ying Zheng onto his shoulders, holding onto his short little legs. “Were you scared?”

“How could I be?” Ying Zheng arrogantly hugged Zhu Xiang’s head. “Great Grandfather and Uncle both underestimated me.”

Crown Prince Zhu laughed cheerfully. “You’re just a little kid right now — it’s only natural to underestimate you.”

“Hmph.” Ying Zheng rested his chin on top of Zhu Xiang’s head and snorted angrily.

Crown Prince Zhu, hands behind his back, said, “Once you go to Shu, I’ll have nowhere to stay.”

Zhu Xiang replied, “You’re still welcome at my house. Xue will remain in Xianyang.”

Crown Prince Zhu stopped in his tracks, surprised. “You’re actually leaving Lady Xue behind?!”

Ying Zheng smacked his uncle’s head with his chubby hand. “Aunt is coming with us!”

Zhu Xiang chuckled softly. “I asked Xue to come with me, but she said she would stay in Xianyang. There needs to be someone at home to handle affairs and care for the elders. More importantly, she’s currently leading a group of noble ladies in founding a women’s weaving workshop, researching how to produce cotton fabric. She believes staying in Xianyang is more beneficial than going to Shu with me and Zheng’er. I respect her choice.”

When Zhu Xiang told Xue he wanted to take Zheng’er to Shu, she had a sleepless night before refusing to go with them.

Xue admitted that though she missed Zhu Xiang and Zheng’er deeply and longed to stay by their side, she also gradually realized the heavy responsibilities the two carried — and wanted to shoulder some of the burden for them.

She was Zhu Xiang’s wife and Zheng’er’s aunt.

After interacting with the noblewomen of Xianyang, she came to understand their lifestyle.

When officials are posted elsewhere, the women left behind in Xianyang are not just caretakers of the family. They must also pay attention to court politics, maintain connections with influential women, manage household businesses, and oversee estates and shops — to grow their family’s wealth rather than relying solely on their husband’s salary and rewards.

Xue was now responsible for leading efforts to improve textile production. Although Zhu Xiang didn’t need additional prestige, who would mind more?

She heard people say that because Zhu Xiang knew how to farm and had saved countless lives, he was treated well by rulers of various states. If she could help him spread cotton cloth, saving even more people, their whole family would be safer.

Xue was a very traditional woman. She had no great ambitions, let alone any so-called progressive thoughts. She even believed that without Zhu Xiang and Zheng’er, she wouldn’t be able to survive.

She was simply acting as a wife and a mother — stepping out of her husband’s protection to remain in Xianyang, this “battlefield,” and becoming the support behind her husband and child who were heading to Shu.

Xue’s transformation was a gradual shift from a common woman of pre-Qin times to the matron of a noble household.

But Zhu Xiang was still immensely pleased — Xue had finally found something she wanted to do.

“I’ll take care of Zheng’er, and you take care of the elders,” Zhu Xiang embraced Xue. “Take care.”

Xue’s voice trembled, but her tone was firm. “Alright!”

Zhu Xiang shared this with Crown Prince Zhu and Ying Zheng, smiling happily. “Maybe in the history books, besides Zheng’er and me, Xue will also be remembered.”

Ying Zheng puffed up and said, “Leave it to me!”

Crown Prince Zhu poked his chubby little leg. “You’re still too young for that. Zhu Xiang, you’ve got yourself a good wife.”

Zhu Xiang smiled. “Of course. If not for her, I would’ve died sick in bed long ago. Your Highness, shall we have a lamb hotpot today?”

Crown Prince Zhu immediately replied, “Yes!”

Zhu Xiang paused. “Should I inform His Majesty?”

Crown Prince Zhu said, “I’ll send someone. You go on ahead and get things ready.”

Zhu Xiang nodded. “Alright. Let’s go, Zheng’er, let’s pick out a lamb!”

So, he went to the part of the palace where sheep were raised and asked Ying Zheng to point out a few lambs. Then, swaggering, he led the little lambs away.

When the King of Qin, who was sulking in the palace, heard that not only had Zhu Xiang disobeyed him, but after doing so even took away his lambs, he was so furious he overturned a table—then changed clothes to go eat lamb.

He would stay angry, sure, but hot pot lamb must still be eaten.

Still, someone who just defied him and then dared to invite him over to eat lamb hot pot—Zhu Xiang was truly insane. Compared to Zhu Xiang, Lin Zhi was far inferior.

When Zhu Xiang’s elders heard of his plan, although they thought over it and believed Zhu Xiang wouldn’t be in danger, they were still frightened.

When they saw Zhu Xiang return with a few palace lambs, saying that the King of Qin and the Crown Prince were coming to eat hot pot, they were speechless.

And when they heard Zhu Xiang had threatened the King of Qin and even declared he would uproot the entire foundation of the fangshi (occultists), they were even more speechless.

How did Zhu Xiang manage to threaten the King of Qin one moment, then invite him to dinner the next?

Bai Qi, thinking of the events at Changping, sighed, “Zhu Xiang, is your fear of death just you shouting you’re afraid while running around seeking death?”

Xunzi clenched his fists in anger. “You didn’t even recite a single line of the speech you prepared before meeting the King of Qin, did you?!”

Other elders were either scolding or trying to break up the quarrel. The household was in chaos.

Han Fei, who was inexplicably seated at the junior table, was overwhelmed.

He stammered to Meng Wu, who had arrived punctually to freeload a meal, “I—I think I shouldn’t be here!”

Meng Wu, puzzled, replied, “Zhu Xiang and Xunzi both asked you to help look after Zheng’er. If not here, where else would you be?”

Han Fei was shocked. What does taking care of Zheng’er have to do with this?!

Covering his mouth as he yawned, Lin Zhi tilted his head toward Zichu and said, “Xia Tong, in a family spanning several generations, you’re the only one missing. Reflect on that.”

Zichu, who had been bedridden from illness and needed help just to come out for dinner, turned his head and silently noted down a grudge against Lin Zhi.

Li Mu quietly watched the scene, pondering what he would do after entering Shu.

By the time the old King of Qin arrived, the hot pot was ready and the meal was about to begin.

In front of each person was a pot of spring water with only ginger, garlic, and scallions added. The dipping sauce, made from chive flowers and ground sesame, could be mixed with meat paste, bean paste, or other condiments. Thinly sliced lamb was briefly swished in the boiling water and then dipped to eat. The tender lamb had no gamey smell and was incomparably delicious.

The old King of Qin looked up at Zhu Xiang.

Zhu Xiang responded with his usual calm smile.

“Not bad,” the King of Qin said.

Zhu Xiang smiled and replied, “Thank you, my lord, for the praise.”

Everyone felt as if a heavy weight had been lifted from their hearts.

Lian Po tossed aside the beard he had torn out and began to eat heartily.

A few days later, a high platform was erected in the Xianyang Academy, though it didn’t look like a debate was about to take place.

The scholars pointed and whispered at the alchemy furnace atop the platform, their expressions filled with doubt and curiosity.

Rumors had spread that Lord Zhu Xiang intended to expose the tricks of the fangshi, but most students found it hard to believe.

Even if Lord Zhu Xiang was amazing, could he really see through all the mystical arts of the fangshi? If it were that easy, would fangshi still be so highly valued by all the kings and nobles?

Besides, behind the fangshi stood nearly a thousand years of shamanic traditions—divination, astrology, and witchcraft—that were even given official ranks during the Zhou dynasty.

Every monarch today had shamans by their side to divine omens, observe the heavens, predict wars, and decide when to go to battle.

Fangshi emerged from these traditions, catering to aristocrats’ desires by consuming “six qi”, seeking immortals, refining pills, and pursuing longevity.

During the war between Qin and Chu in King Huiwen’s reign, he even invited shamans to cast curses. Located outside the passes, Qin had always been a hotbed for shamanism.

Thus, when fangshi arrived in Qin, even though the King of Qin was skeptical of alchemy, he still treated them generously.

Now, as the Warring States era neared its end, the other schools like Mohists and Agriculturists had faded, stripped of political relevance, and became mere technical professions.

Only the fangshi school flourished. If they had political agendas, they might have joined the ranks of Confucians, Daoists, or Legalists.

While the students respected Lord Zhu Xiang, how could one man declare war on an entire school?

They were puzzled, but also excited.

Nothing stirred the blood like a lone warrior facing down an army.

The blackboard and lab tables were set up.

Zhu Xiang arrived atop the platform with Qin soldiers. His black robes fluttered, hair white as snow—like a banished immortal from legend.

He did not give any rousing speech or berate the fangshi’s absurdities as they expected.

He ignored their rhetoric and merely urged them to show their best skills.

Though only a few days had passed, the fangshi had prepared.

They took turns showing off their “miracles” from immortal encounters:

They conjured fire from nothing—Zhu Xiang did too.

They put talismans in water to reveal text—Zhu Xiang placed blank paper in water to reveal a landscape painting.

They condensed water into floating ice and summoned mist—Zhu Xiang wrote formulas on the blackboard while Ying Zheng cheerfully played with the ice, drizzling jam on it before eating it.

Panic set in. They gritted their teeth and presented “golden elixirs” that changed color and stones turned to gold—Zhu Xiang used metallurgy to explain how bronze and silver could be made, demonstrating how different metals reacted and changed colors.

Zhu Xiang said, “Ask any craftsman and they’ll know these things.”

He asked, “Anything else?”

The fangshi’s faces were ashen. They longed to argue, but Zhu Xiang refused debate—only demanded proof. With Qin soldiers glaring and nobles, scholars, and even commoners from Xianyang watching, they didn’t even have the breath to speak.

“No more?” Zhu Xiang asked. “I still have more.”

He lit a sky lantern—now known as a Zhu Xiang lantern—which floated upward. He explained its floating mechanism.

He invited students to replicate the experiments and mimic the fangshi’s tricks.

He taught flame color reactions and used black powder to create thunder-like explosions, crafting the earliest fireworks. “Long live the King of Qin! May Qin prosper for all eternity!”

He brought chickens, ducks, and rabbits on stage and discussed control experiments with cinnabar and other alchemical materials. He invited imperial doctors and folk physicians to observe if the symptoms matched their patients.

He fearlessly stated, “Boy urine is useless. Do your own experiments. Human flesh and blood are also ineffective and cause madness. This is a law of biological evolution—meant to prevent cannibalism…”

With a pointer in hand, Zhu Xiang stood like he once had in a university lecture hall.

No grand rhetoric. No debate. Just knowledge passed from teacher to student.

The King of Qin rested his chin on one hand, fingers of the other tapping his knee.

He’d said he’d rest and let the Crown Prince rule, yet here he sat.

“Spread the reason for Zhu Xiang’s rage,” he said calmly. “Rumors say fangshi refine pills from children. Zhu Xiang is enraged and has sworn to destroy the fangshi’s lineage.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Expel these fangshi from Qin. Proclaim that the King of Qin does not believe in immortality.”

“Yes!”

“What are immortals?” Zhu Xiang glanced at the setting sun. “Were those who discovered fire immortals? Were those who tasted herbs immortals? Who controlled floods—were they immortals? If immortals ignore disasters and only grant longevity to the rich and powerful, then those immortals deserve to die.”

He tossed aside the chalk.

“From now on, if any fangshi claims to possess immortal arts, let him come find me in Qin.”

“If he dares not, then immortality is a lie.”

He ordered the paper lanterns lit—each one rising into the dusk, like fireflies in the twilight.

Even the fangshi gazed up in awe and sadness.

“If there are immortals,” Zhu Xiang said before leaving, “then I must be the one closest to an immortal in this world.”

“In Zhao, no matter how I struggled, I couldn’t save the common people. My black hair turned white. All I could do was curse the foolish king in my heart and under my breath.”

“Do I look like an immortal?”

Zhu Xiang removed his hairpin—his white hair cascaded down.

“Don’t mistake the common folk’s self-rescue for the grace of immortals.”

Afterward, the fangshi left Qin. Zhu Xiang went to Shu.

The rulers of the six states were shaken and expelled fangshi from their courts.

Yet none of the fangshi dared curse Zhu Xiang.

Though Zhu Xiang exposed their tricks, in their hearts… they believed he was the immortal.