HCT – Chapter 90 Pickled Vegetables and Smoked Sausages

After Ying Zheng came to his conclusion, he threw himself even more diligently into managing the affairs of Shu Commandery, aiming to use it as a “test field” to put his ideas into practice.  The term “test field” was something he’d picked up from his uncle.

During this time, Zhu Xiang harvested the first batch of regenerating rice. Heaven favored them—this harvest avoided the usual rainy and foggy weather, and Zhu Xiang successfully gathered a yield at least five times greater than the current standard rice output.

Zhu Xiang felt a bit guilty for wronging Lin Zhi over his dark expression, thinking he shouldn’t have made him eat so many dishes he didn’t like.

To express his apology, Zhu Xiang used the well salt from Shu and flavored it with Sichuan peppercorn and chili to make sausages. After smoking them with cypress wood, he sent them back to Xianyang along with a family letter, hoping to make amends to Lin Zhi.

Lin Zhi had no idea what Zhu Xiang was thinking. He assumed Zhu Xiang missed him and gleefully took the sausages to show off to Zichu, mocking that Zichu had nothing but pickled vegetables to eat.

Zichu read Zhu Xiang’s letter, which said, “Those who don’t take care of their health don’t get meat—only pickled vegetables,” and was speechless for a long time.

Once news of the astonishing grain yield spread, the farmers who had participated in the experimental fields were stunned. The powerful clans and wealthy merchants of Chengdu quickly caught wind of it and offered Zhu Xiang large sums of money in hopes of purchasing seeds.

However, Zhu Xiang chose to distribute the seeds first to convict laborers working on government farmland, not even giving them to the commoners he cared about most.

In Zhu Xiang’s view, convicts or commoners—it was all the same. His concern was with the broader group known as “the people,” so his choices were made with the greater good in mind, even if it made him seem a bit cold.

Qin had a vast labor force of convicts performing agricultural and other duties for the empire. These convicts were responsible for government farmland, which was the main grain supply for the commandery—essentially a remnant of the old slave system. Ironically, these convicts often lived better lives than commoners.

Zhu Xiang knew that the King of Qin would soon launch another military campaign. For Qin, the Guanzhong region was its core, with the strictest civil control. The regions conquered later were more loosely managed in terms of both population and administration. For now, the King of Qin only needed these new territories to provide food and manpower for large-scale wars—long-term stability wasn’t a priority yet.

Shu Commandery, being remote and isolated, wouldn’t threaten the King’s rule even if unrest broke out. So the King would undoubtedly demand large quantities of grain from Shu.

Grain from government farmland went directly to the state granaries. If they could stockpile enough, they wouldn’t have to increase taxes on the commoners. For the convict laborers, switching to rice farming wouldn’t affect their interests. And since government farmland was entirely managed by officials, Zhu Xiang could oversee it more easily.

He hadn’t initially considered using government farmland because the seeds hadn’t yet been proven effective—it wouldn’t have been appropriate to use public land for an unverified project. 

Even though Li Bing would have agreed, convincing others would have been difficult, and Li Bing would’ve had to take responsibility if anything went wrong—it would’ve been a hassle.  Moreover, Zhu Xiang didn’t have many seeds at the time, so there was no real need to use government land.

After wrapping up spring planting, Zhu Xiang submitted the official documents to Li Bing. Li Bing didn’t even open them—he returned them untouched, saying he was too busy and exhausted to read.

Seeing Li Bing’s response, Zhu Xiang had a sudden urge to go to the construction site and beat him up.

He wrote to Li Bing again, urging him to properly review the documents. He wouldn’t be staying in Shu for many years and would eventually return to Xianyang. If Li Bing dumped half of the Commandery Administrator’s responsibilities on him now, there would definitely be a period of chaos when he left and Li Bing had to take back full control.

Li Bing thought Zhu Xiang made a good point—so he entrusted his second son to Zhu Xiang.  “Let him learn. When you leave, he’ll temporarily take over as Commandery Administrator.”

Zhu Xiang nearly tore up the letter. True, local officials often brought capable sons to help manage duties. Especially in remote places like Shu, where the Commandery Administrator wielded almost feudal-level power, local governance often relied on family.

But—how old is your son? He’s just a twelve- or thirteen-year-old boy!

Li Erlang, a bit embarrassed, said, “Lord Changping, I may not be that old, but isn’t that young stand-in Administrator even younger?”

Sitting in a large, elevated chair, Acting Commandery Administrator Ying Zheng raised his head and gave Li Erlang a fierce glare. What’s your problem with me being Acting Administrator? Hmph!

Zhu Xiang replied, “My Zheng’er isn’t like ordinary people.”

Even knowing Prince Zheng’s identity, Li Erlang still refused to back down. “I’m at least better than a six- or seven-year-old child!”

Zhu Xiang snapped his fingers. “Zheng’er, show him the gap between you two. Let him feel the cruelty of reality.”

Ying Zheng said, “Alright.”

Li Erlang: “?”

Ying Zheng first competed with him in reciting legal codes, then tested him on knowledge of Shu Commandery, then on accounting from the ledgers, handling documents, resolving difficult lawsuits…

Li Erlang dramatically collapsed to the ground in an OTZ pose—a little figure kneeling and flopped over: “How is this possible?!”

Zhu Xiang sighed regretfully. “Reality is cruel like that.”

Ying Zheng crossed his arms. “Hmph.”

Zhu Xiang squatted beside the devastated Li Erlang and poked him. “Convinced now?”

Li Erlang’s eyes brimmed with tears. “Yes, I’m convinced.”

Zhu Xiang said, “Li Bing sent you to me, and it wouldn’t be proper for me to send you back. For now, you can be Zheng’er’s study attendant for a while.”

Li Erlang had no idea what being Ying Zheng’s study attendant truly meant. Feeling defeated and despondent, he nodded in agreement, like a rooster that had lost a fight—crestfallen and deflated.

He had never been this obedient, even in front of Li Bing. Losing to a child had been a huge blow to his pride.

Seeing Li Erlang being so well-behaved, Zhu Xiang was rather puzzled. He had heard from Li Bing that Erlang was notoriously unruly and assumed he would be an uncontrollable brat. But this kid seemed quite obedient.

“Tell me, are you fascinated by the wandering knights of Yan and Zhao?” Zhu Xiang asked.

Li Erlang perked up immediately. “Lord Changping must know all about the knights of Yan and Zhao! I heard you were rescued from Handan thanks to the bravery of Zhao’s wandering knights!”

Zhu Xiang laughed. “Are you referring to that group of aged farmers from near Handan who charged the city with their farm tools to rescue me?”

Li Erlang stared, dumbfounded. “What?”

Zhu Xiang explained, “Assaulting Handan was a serious crime, so the villagers left the younger men behind and sent the elders who volunteered to come save me. They were indeed chivalrous, but not quite the kind of ‘wandering knights’ you imagine.”

Seeing Li Erlang’s stunned face, Ying Zheng frowned. “Didn’t Uncle Li Bing tell you? The so-called wandering knights are those who use martial skill to seek fame and fortune from the nobility. You’re the son of an official—through regular recommendations, you can become an official yourself. What are you hoping to gain from being a knight?”

Li Erlang recalled all the knightly tales he had heard and suddenly didn’t know how to respond.

Zhu Xiang said, “There is value in the chivalric spirit described in books. If you stick to that spirit, no matter what post you hold, you’re still a true knight. That spirit isn’t exclusive to the wandering kind. Even they don’t want to remain as wanderers forever.”

He patted Li Erlang’s shoulder. “Work hard. If you can bring benefit to the common people, that’s living out the chivalric ideal.”

Li Erlang didn’t know why, but his eyes stung with emotion. “Understood, Lord Changping.”

Zhu Xiang said kindly, “Your father and I are friends. You can just call me uncle.”

Li Erlang lowered his head, ears turning red. “Un… Un… Lord Zhu Xiang!”

He just couldn’t bring himself to say it! This was the world-renowned Lord Zhu Xiang!

Ying Zheng snorted and sneered at him with disdain. Coward.

Zhu Xiang didn’t push the matter further. They weren’t close yet; there would be time to grow familiar.

The fact that Li Bing always mentioned Erlang, and never gave up on teaching him despite his mischief, meant the boy had talent. He was sharp and physically capable.

While he couldn’t match Ying Zheng, who was like a walking cheat code, the way Xiaozheng was gradually becoming satisfied with Li Erlang showed that the boy was indeed exceptional.

After losing to Ying Zheng, Li Erlang treated him with the utmost respect. Though technically a study attendant, Zhu Xiang felt more like Erlang had become Xiaozheng’s little follower and pupil.

Xiaozheng taught him to use an abacus, taught him how to handle documents with charts and tables, then handed off all the clerical work to Erlang for sorting, only to check over the results later himself. He ran Erlang ragged, day by day, until the boy looked increasingly haggard.

Zhu Xiang couldn’t help laughing and told Ying Zheng to assign some of the work to others instead of dumping everything on Li Erlang.

Ying Zheng muttered, “But he’s the most efficient. Everyone else still treats me like a kid, even though they know I’m competent.”

Zhu Xiang ruffled Xiaozheng’s hair. “Sigh, His Majesty originally said he’d send the Meng brothers to be your companions, but that promise still hasn’t been fulfilled. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be so alone.”

“They wouldn’t be friends, they’d be subordinates,” Ying Zheng corrected. “The King of Qin has no friends—no one can stand on equal footing with the king. They’re not my uncle.”

Zhu Xiang was puzzled. He had tried to raise Xiaozheng in a normal way, so how did he end up with such a solitary outlook?

Maybe not solitude—maybe it’s a sense of supremacy?

Only those he recognized were true friends. Zhu Xiang didn’t argue with him or force him to make friends. “If you say they’re not, then they’re not. But if one day you meet someone you can entrust your back to, don’t let your status hold you back. Having someone you trust is a joyful thing. And if you don’t find such a peer, it’s okay—your uncle is your friend.”

Ying Zheng responded perfunctorily, “Okay.”

Zhu Xiang sighed again. Why hadn’t the Meng brothers come to keep Zheng’er company? The child was clearly so lonely.

But Ying Zheng, who wasn’t lonely at all, understood the Qin King’s concerns, though he didn’t want to explain it to his uncle and make him feel sad.

It was simple: Meng Wu had grown close with his uncle. If Meng Wu’s sons became his companions, then the Meng family’s ties to him would become too strong. Even if the king trusted his brother-in-law, he couldn’t extend that trust to the Mengs indefinitely.

The former King of Qin still acknowledged his talent and considered him a strong candidate for succession. If the Meng family’s children bonded with him too early, it would guarantee the Mengs held influence through multiple reigns.

After all, the Mengs weren’t Qin nobility or kin; they had come from Qi. The king didn’t trust them enough to allow deep childhood friendships.

He believed that once Xiaozheng was older, any companions sent to him would be subordinates, not friends—and thus, there would be no strong emotional ties.

Ying Zheng felt the old Qin king was overthinking things and underestimating him. Even if the Meng brothers were with him now, he would still treat them as subordinates, not friends.

But what could he do? He was just a child. The elders underestimated and worried about him too much—he could only endure.

Zhu Xiang wrote to Li Bing, praising how sensible Li Erlang had become, and even questioned Li Bing’s earlier criticisms of the boy.

Li Bing stared in disbelief at the letter. Taking a rare break from the construction site, he returned home for a few days to observe this supposedly transformed second son.

“I lost to a kid that young. What pride do I have left to rebel?”

“And Lord Zhu Xiang praised my chivalrous spirit and keeps complimenting me! That’s completely different from you, Father! You’re always tearing me down!”

Li Erlang, still a little rascal in front of his father, stood with hands on hips and chin raised, talking back.

Li Bing immediately had the urge to smack him.

“Is this how you treat your father?!”

Li Bing had another big argument with his son, then returned to the construction site with peace of mind.

If he had known that Zhu Xiang could tame Erlang so easily, he wouldn’t have let pride stop him from asking for Zhu Xiang’s help sooner.

After that, Zhu Xiang continued to guide rice cultivation, expanding the scale of rice farming on state-owned land. Li Bing continued opening up the mountains; Ying Zheng continued handling various other affairs; and Li Mu began preparing to train the troops.

Although Li Mu had come to Shu with Zhu Xiang and Li Bing, he wasn’t merely a military officer in charge of just Shu Commandery. He was more like the commander-in-chief of the “Southwest Military Region,” with authority over the stationed troops in Ba Commandery and Qianzhong Commandery. He was not under the jurisdiction of the local governors, though his main base and military settlements were located in Shu Commandery.

After all, Shu had plains, while Ba had few large tracts of arable land. Qianzhong Commandery was still very chaotic—though counties had been established, it remained in a state of constant warfare. So the military district was mainly stationed in Shu.

When the King of Qin appointed people, he entrusted them with both power and trust.

Even though Li Mu was still a young general, thanks to his achievements in repelling the Xiongnu, as well as the recognition he received from Bai Qi, Zhu Xiang, and Lian Po, the King of Qin decisively appointed him as the general to guard the south, granting him the authority to seek out battle opportunities and train soldiers on his own initiative.

Before leaving Xianyang, the former King of Qin summoned Li Mu and told him that if the kingdom were to attack Chu in the future, Li Mu would be made the leading general. He encouraged Li Mu to familiarize himself with the climate and geography of the south as soon as possible.

If Qin were to attack Chu, transporting food and troops by water would be the most efficient route.

There were two water routes to Chu: one followed the Han River near the Qinling Mountains—Qin’s main invasion path; the other followed the Yangtze River downstream. This was precisely why the King of Qin valued Shu Commandery.

Although Shu was separated from Chu by Ba and Qianzhong Commanderies, following the Yangtze River downstream made that distance negligible.

Shu had plains and iron mines—its grain output and iron production were both excellent—making it an ideal place for stationing troops in preparation for attacking Chu.

Of course, there were downsides to attacking Chu via the Yangtze. The river was dangerous, and at the time, shipping conditions in the Chengdu Plain were not ideal.

But the King of Qin was a risk-taker. He believed opening up the Yangtze River route would be crucial for invading Chu and Yue.

Li Bing’s proposal gained support from the court for exactly this reason.

After transforming the Chengdu Plain’s irrigation network, the Min River—a Yangtze tributary—could directly connect with Chengdu, allowing travel from the city straight to the Yangtze and then downstream to Chu and Yue.

This indeed became reality.

After the Dujiangyan irrigation project was completed, Chengdu became the largest transportation hub in the southwest. A Tang dynasty poem described it as “A thousand ships from Eastern Wu moor at the gates,” capturing the flourishing scene of merchant ships from the middle and lower Yangtze frequently arriving there.

The grain from the Chengdu Plain was also transported via the Yangtze to Qin’s southern front during the unification wars, becoming one of the most important pillars of Qin’s wartime logistics.

Under Zhu Xiang’s suggestion, Li Mu not only trained cavalry but also commissioned research into more powerful warships. He installed ballistae on the ships and trained soldiers skilled in swimming to drive them and launch direct attacks from shore.

These warships also had greater carrying capacity, making them efficient for transporting provisions and soldiers alike.

Li Mu was now itching for an opportunity to drill the troops.

As luck would have it, the southern tribes suddenly went on a rampage, harassing the borders of Shu Commandery. Li Mu took his newly formed cavalry to meet them in battle, broke through their vine armor with fire attacks, and returned with a pile of heads as military merit—conquering several tribes in the process and having them pay tribute to the King of Qin.

After sending the tribal leaders and maps to the King, the King was overjoyed and gave Li Mu even more support.

Tasting success, Li Mu became a little eager to take a peek at the lands of Chu.

So he led his fleet to Qianzhong Commandery, under the pretext of guiding military settlements, and dispatched people into Chu territory to gather intelligence.

At present, Chu still had Lord Chunshen, so it wasn’t particularly weak. But Li Mu, having once fallen victim to a scheme of sowing discord, immediately noticed Chu had fertile ground for just such a plot.

Lord Chunshen was not of royal blood—he wasn’t even from Chu’s traditional high nobility. Among the four famous nobles of the Warring States era, he alone wasn’t of royal lineage.

Chu was an extremely “traditional” country, its upper echelons dominated by great aristocrats. The king’s power was limited. That was why Wu Qi had died so tragically back then—when he threw himself onto the previous king’s corpse, both he and the corpse were shot into pincushions.

Lord Chunshen was a man of resolve. Though he hadn’t reformed the country, he had done several practical things for Chu.

But as everyone knew, in a country where power was carved up by nobles, trying to get things done would inevitably offend those nobles. Lord Chunshen had made many enemies.

Though the king trusted him, he had no heir. That cast a shadow over Lord Chunshen’s future.

It wasn’t just Lord Chunshen who was anxious—the king himself, who favored Chunshen deeply, was also desperate. He kept toiling in the harem, and Lord Chunshen even offered him many women.

Finally, one of the women Chunshen offered became pregnant. It seemed things were looking up for him. But then came whispers—likely spread by nobles backing the royal clan—that the child wasn’t the king’s but Chunshen’s.

When Li Mu heard that rumor, his expression turned odd.

He remembered when he was in Xianyang, there were rumors about Zheng’er—saying he wasn’t Xia Tong’s son, but Lu Buwei’s. That Lu Buwei had passed off a pregnant concubine to Xia Tong.

But seeing how close Xia Tong and Ying Zheng were, and how Lu Buwei’s influence around Xia Tong had gradually been replaced by Zhu Xiang, it really didn’t seem like how a biological father would be treated. So the rumor had slowly died down.

However, Li Mu suspected that it was the King of Qin who had intervened behind the scenes to quash it.

Because later, when a new rumor spread—that Ying Zheng wasn’t Xia Tong’s son, but that Zhu Xiang had swapped in his own son to replace the young prince—the King had many people killed in response. While killing them, he said he had already given them a chance.

To the King of Qin, it was acceptable for him to personally test Zhu Xiang and Ying Zheng. But when it came to the royal bloodline and the future legitimacy of the Qin throne, no one else would be allowed to fabricate stories and erode that authority.

Now, this latest scandal in Chu bore striking similarities to what had happened in Xianyang. It seemed that no matter the country, there were only so many types of rumors—yet someone always ended up falling for them.

Li Mu sighed for a while, then sent people to infiltrate Chu, spreading the rumor that the child carried by the pregnant woman in the Chu royal palace was actually Lord Chunshen’s. At the same time, he also spread a counter-rumor: that the child was indeed the King of Chu’s, but the royal clan of Chu intended to seize the throne. They were deliberately spreading false rumors, waiting for the King’s death so they could take the throne from his son.

What Li Mu’s agents spread was the absolute truth.

However, when this truth reached the King of Chu’s ears, although he knew it was likely the case, he still felt deeply upset.

He summoned Lord Chunshen and said angrily, “Why are they so arrogant? Are they trying to provoke me?!”

Lord Chunshen was also baffled.

He wasn’t the one spreading the rumors. He still harbored hopes of enjoying a peaceful retirement and didn’t want to tear apart relations with the great nobles who were the pillars of Chu.

Lord Chunshen believed that as long as the King’s son could succeed the throne smoothly and he himself served as regent or advisor, the new king would hold power securely. Then, his own future would also be secure. Therefore, all he needed to do was wait. There was no need to confront the noble opposition in Chu with swords drawn.

He had assumed that once the nobles saw his “goodwill,” they would back down and suppress the rumors about him.

Unexpectedly, after a brief lull, the rumors surged again—this time even worse, now including talk of a plot to usurp the throne.

The only people who could get such rumors into the King’s ears were either Chu’s own great nobles, or the state of Qin.

But at present, Qin had turned its military attention to the Central Plains. They had recalled their major generals stationed in the south and sent a young junior general, newly arrived from Zhao, to guard the southern frontier. It was clear that Chu was no longer a military target for them.

Moreover, within Qin, the Chu relatives of the royal consort held high positions. They hadn’t sent any messages warning of danger, which further proved that the King of Qin had no intention of attacking Chu.

If it wasn’t the King of Qin, then it had to be internal sabotage.

Why would the great nobles of Chu send news of a coup directly to the King? Were they trying to get themselves killed? But the King didn’t have the power to kill them anyway. If it wasn’t a show of force, what else could it be?

The more the King thought about it, the angrier—and more alarmed—he became. “Are they… are they really planning a rebellion?”

Lord Chunshen replied calmly, “Though we can’t eliminate them, they also don’t have the ability to rebel. As long as Your Majesty and I stand united, there’s no need to fear them.”

The King was soothed by Lord Chunshen’s composure and relaxed slightly.

Indeed, if those nobles truly had the ability to rebel, they wouldn’t be focusing on his heir—they’d have staged a palace coup already.

Lord Chunshen continued, “But they are indeed provoking Your Majesty. Perhaps it’s time to teach them a lesson.”

The King immediately said, “Lord Chunshen, what do you suggest?”

Lord Chunshen said, “Why not invite them to a banquet and, during the feast, express Your Majesty’s concern about the rumors? Ask them to help resolve the matter.”

Though mediocre, the King was not a fool—he had once served as a political hostage and had learned a thing or two. He immediately understood the underlying message.

Summoning the nobles was both a warning and a chance for them to back down—a way to express displeasure while also giving them an exit.

The King agreed at once and found an excuse to invite the various nobles to send representatives to a banquet.

Li Mu’s agents then spread a new rumor: the King was furious and intended to trap all the nobles attending the banquet in one fell swoop.

The nobles were thrown into panic.

After the King repeatedly insisted that the child was truly his and continued to firmly support Lord Chunshen, they had temporarily quieted down and ordered their agents to stop spreading rumors.

Whether they would resume those rumors depended on several things: when the King died, what kind of talent and personality the heir had, and when Lord Chunshen would die.

If the King and Lord Chunshen both died and the new King couldn’t command respect, they would resume the rumors, assassinate the monarch, and stage a coup. But if the King and Lord Chunshen lived long enough to solidify the new King’s rule, they’d remain loyal ministers.

Who would have thought that even after they backed off, the rumors didn’t die down, and new ones emerged—rumors that reflected their exact intentions.

Now they were terrified. They suspected Lord Chunshen had changed his mind, lost patience with them, and was spreading rumors to kill them off.

So when the King invited them to the banquet, already suspicious and uneasy, they immediately believed the rumor that the King would kill them there.

They secretly mobilized troops from their fiefdoms, fortified their cities, and sent letters apologizing to the King, claiming they were too ill to attend.

The King was stunned to receive these polite refusals and flew into a rage. Ignoring Lord Chunshen’s attempts to calm him, he sent envoys to sternly reprimand them.

The political situation in Chu immediately began to spiral downward.

In Qianzhong Commandery, the young general Li Mu—despised by the Chu people—watched the chaos unfold and said to Zhu Xiang, “Why are schemes of sowing discord always so effective?”

Zhu Xiang replied with confusion, “You’re asking me that? Shouldn’t you be asking why I came to Qianzhong?”

Li Mu looked even more puzzled. “Do I need to ask? If you want to do something, just tell me—I’ll help. Why would I need to ask?”

Zhu Xiang: “…”

For a moment, he didn’t know whether to be touched by Li Mu’s trust and support, or exasperated by his personality.

Zhu Xiang answered Li Mu’s earlier question first: “It’s not that such schemes are always effective—it’s that wherever they can be used, there’s already a crack. Without a crack, how could you drive a wedge? And once the crack exists, they’d fall out even without outside meddling.”

Li Mu sighed again. “Alright, you’re right.”

Seeing that Li Mu still didn’t ask why he came, Zhu Xiang couldn’t hold it in anymore. “I heard you had pacified the bandits in Qianzhong and figured the land here should be re-cultivated. I came to test a new planting method.”

Li Mu replied, “Huh? Farming? Go ahead, do whatever you like. But you left Zheng’er alone in Chengdu—is that okay?”

Zhu Xiang said, “Li Bing has returned to Chengdu to recuperate due to overwork. With him there, Zheng’er will be well taken care of. Besides, Zheng’er is still young. The Yangtze’s current is swift—it’s dangerous to travel by boat.”

Li Mu said, “Even if Zheng’er is fine, if you want to test new seeds, can’t you do that in Chengdu too? Why come all the way to Qianzhong?”

Zhu Xiang replied, “Didn’t you say in your last letter that Qianzhong’s farmland is abandoned? And that the people from Chu still use slash-and-burn and flooding methods, so even replanting won’t yield much? The Chengdu Plain has already completed spring sowing and doesn’t need much guidance. I thought you might need me here.”

To put it bluntly, Zhu Xiang had suddenly found himself idle in Shu Commandery. After reading Li Mu’s letter saying the fields in Qianzhong were neglected, he couldn’t resist the urge to find new land to farm.

In fact, Zhu Xiang had also wanted to go to Ba Commandery to give guidance on farming. The terrain of Ba Commandery was full of towering mountains and steep ridges—perfect for experimenting with terraced fields.

However, the governor and the local elite of Ba Commandery were rather “xenophobic,” and it would be troublesome for Zhu Xiang to deal with them. He wasn’t about to go courting hardship.

Li Mu told him that Qianzhong Commandery was located in an area frequently at war with the state of Chu. Chu wanted to reclaim its ancestral land, so it had been launching sporadic raids on the region. Thus, Qianzhong was effectively in a wartime state, and the governor’s authority there was far weaker than that of the stationed general. Li Mu could make decisions there on his own. Naturally, Zhu Xiang happily boarded a boat and made his way to Qianzhong.

Li Mu was speechless. “I meant to say that sailing on the Yangtze is still rather dangerous. You shouldn’t place yourself in harm’s way.”

Zhu Xiang replied, “I only travel in good weather and during daylight. I’m going with a convoy—how would that be dangerous? As long as the whole fleet doesn’t sink, if a single boat has a problem, we can mount a rescue immediately.”

In short, Zhu Xiang simply couldn’t sit still.

Qianzhong Commandery had complex terrain: towering mountains in the west, perfect for building terraces; in the east, it bordered the Yunmengze Plain, ideal for cultivating rice and developing mulberry-fish ponds. It would be a waste not to make use of it.

Though Li Mu wanted to rebut Zhu Xiang, the man had already arrived. Refuting him was pointless now. He could only sigh and let him do as he pleased.

At least helping Zhu Xiang with farming in Qianzhong might further numb Chu’s vigilance.

Originally, Li Mu had intended to keep Zhu Xiang’s presence in Qianzhong a secret. But Zhu Xiang’s white hair was far too conspicuous. The moment he arrived, the news spread through every street and alley: “Lord Zhu Xiang has come to teach farming!”

Zhu Xiang touched his hair and said to Li Mu, “Next time I go out, should I dye my hair black with ink first?”

Li Mu glanced at him. “You’re only thinking about that now? I thought you were deliberately flaunting your head of white hair, like some otherworldly being.”

Zhu Xiang said seriously, “To be honest, I am flaunting it. This white hair of mine is really quite good-looking!”

Li Mu: “…” He would never again feel any bitterness or resentment over Zhu Xiang’s white hair.

Zhu Xiang chuckled, “Do you think Chu will send someone to see me? Lord Chunshen once tried to recruit me, after all.”

Li Mu rolled his eyes at him. “You think I’m planning to attack Chu and would still let Chu envoys come meet you?”

Zhu Xiang: “Huh?! What?! You’re going to attack Chu?!”

Li Mu: “…”

Zhu Xiang: “…”

The two fell silent for a long moment.

Zhu Xiang was the first to speak, pressing a hand to his forehead. “Hey, you—well—Chu is still quite powerful right now. Lord Chunshen’s governance is pretty solid. Isn’t launching an attack now a bit reckless?”

If he had known that Li Mu came to Qianzhong not just to suppress bandits but with actual plans to attack Chu, he definitely wouldn’t have come at this time.

Li Mu said, “Didn’t I already use a rift tactic? You didn’t realize I wanted to start a war?”

Zhu Xiang gave a wry smile. “Just because you used a rift tactic doesn’t mean you’ll start a war. Look at how the King of Qin used so many rift tactics on Zhao, even got you and Lord Lian over to Qin, and still didn’t start a war with Zhao.”

Li Mu said, “I just want to try it. A few small skirmishes to train the troops.”

Zhu Xiang didn’t know what to say.

He didn’t feel it was his place to comment on military affairs. Besides, Li Mu was one of the Four Great Generals of the Warring States—he didn’t need Zhu Xiang hovering by his side micromanaging. He could only bemoan his bad luck and ask Li Mu to take it easy.

Li Mu was puzzled. “Take it easy how?”

Zhu Xiang hesitated. “Don’t end up at the gates of Shouchun—or worse, actually capture the city and force Chu to move its capital again. With the small force you’ve got, you wouldn’t be able to hold it even if you took it.”

Li Mu was stunned for a moment, then burst out laughing.

When Li Mu used his rift tactic against Chu and started maneuvering for military exercises, he had already sent a swift horse to deliver a report to the King of Qin.

He was used to the differences between Qin and Zhao. Though the King of Qin trusted his generals in the field, he was also highly suspicious. Unlike in Yanmen Commandery under Zhao, where he could make decisions large and small without consulting the monarch, here in Qin he had to report each major decision to keep the King reassured.

Li Mu had adapted to this change in mindset, partly because Zhu Xiang had practically nagged him into it.

Sometimes Li Mu thought: Zhu Xiang treated the King of Qin with such impudence, seemingly unafraid of him at all—but at the same time, he was more wary of the king than anyone, always suspecting that he might turn on them. It was truly contradictory.

Still, Zhu Xiang’s concerns were just a bit troublesome. If it made Zhu Xiang feel better, Li Mu was willing to oblige.

When the King of Qin in Xianyang received the report, he sat in stunned silence for a long time.

“Wasn’t Li Mu supposed to be training troops on the southern frontier? Why’s he suddenly thinking about attacking Chu? With that few soldiers, does he really think he can pull it off?” the King of Qin asked Crown Prince Zhu.

Crown Prince Zhu: “…” Even if you ask me, how would I know?!

The King of Qin took a deep breath. “Is Li Mu really okay? Has he let a small victory go to his head and lost his sense of reason?”

Crown Prince Zhu replied, “Li Mu has never let victory cloud his judgment and lead to defeat. His record in battle makes me feel he’s trustworthy.”

The King gave the crown prince a sidelong glance. “Do you trust everyone that Zhu Xiang approves of?”

Sweat beaded on the crown prince’s forehead. He quickly explained, “It’s not that I trust everyone Zhu Xiang approves of. It’s just that those who are on good terms with Zhu Xiang happen to all be talented and sincere individuals.”

The King stared at him for a long moment, then said mildly, “Fair enough.”

He reread the letter Li Mu had submitted and said, “If he’s confident, then let him do it. He doesn’t have that many soldiers anyway. As long as he doesn’t lose Qianzhong Commandery, even if he fails, I won’t blame him.”

The King thought that would be the end of the matter.

Little did he expect that just a few days later, another urgent letter arrived.

Thinking Li Mu had suffered a defeat, he anxiously opened the letter—only for his expression to go momentarily blank.

Crown Prince Zhu asked nervously, “Father, what happened?!” Surely Li Mu hadn’t just betrayed his trust right after he’d spoken up for him?

The King of Qin opened and closed his mouth a few times before speaking in a strange tone: “Zhu Xiang… Zhu Xiang didn’t know Li Mu was planning to attack Chu. Because he was too bored, he went to Qianzhong Commandery to give guidance on farming.”

Crown Prince Zhu: “…Because he was too bored?!”

What kind of ridiculous reason was that?! Zhu Xiang, do you want to get punished?!

The King of Qin took several deep breaths, as if rereading the letter again, and said, “Yes, because he was too bored. Zhu Xiang said the spring plowing in Shu Commandery was already done, and Li Bing had Zheng’er to assist him, so he had nothing to do. Since the bandits in Qianzhong had been dealt with and the area urgently needed help with replanting, he went there.”

Crown Prince Zhu couldn’t help but slam the table and shout in front of his father: “Reckless! Absurd!”

The King of Qin looked at his son, who actually dared to slam the table in his presence, and swallowed the reprimand he was about to deliver.

He could see that his son was truly angry.

“Alright, alright, Dazhu. You know what Zhu Xiang is like. Don’t get so worked up you damage your health,” the King tried to soothe him. “Li Mu and Zhu Xiang are close. He won’t let Zhu Xiang come to harm. Don’t worry.”

The crown prince, realizing he had lost his composure in front of his father, was filled with anxiety. He hadn’t expected the king to comfort him instead—leaving him momentarily speechless.