HCT – Extra 10 The Great Ying Zheng’s Dream (7)

Qin Shihuang had already guessed that Li Si was not as loyal as he appeared, yet he did nothing about it.

He had far too many subordinates whose loyalty was questionable. Whether they sought power, fame, or wealth—so long as they were useful, that was enough. He judged people by their deeds, not their hearts. Li Si was extremely useful, and since he had not betrayed him, Qin Shihuang would continue to use him.

Even so, Qin Shihuang couldn’t help feeling vaguely displeased.

His mood only improved when he saw Fusu imitating him—disguising himself as a wandering swordsman and speaking with commoners.

Meng Yi also breathed a sigh of relief and said, “The Crown Prince has finally grown up.”

Qin Shihuang said coldly, “At his age, I had already begun conquering the Six States.”

Meng Yi laughed. “Who could compare with Your Majesty?”

Qin Shihuang snorted, but soon after, he gifted Fusu the short sword he always carried and even praised him a few times.

Fusu was overwhelmed by the unexpected favor. How long had it been since his father had last praised him?

Seeing how Fusu was overjoyed—so happy he nearly lost all sense of direction—from just two casual compliments, Qin Shihuang felt strangely uncomfortable.

He had simply recalled the dream in which the uncle constantly praised young Ying Zheng. When others criticized the uncle for spoiling the boy, the uncle would say children needed proper praise in order to grow with motivation. Qin Shihuang had wanted to give it a try.

Perhaps—just this once—his uncle was right.

He often praised Huhai and had praised his other sons. Only Fusu, as the eldest, carried too many expectations. Fusu could never meet his requirements, so he had… indeed not praised him for a very, very long time.

Was there really nothing praiseworthy about Fusu?

Of course not.

Otherwise, Qin Shihuang would not be constantly troubled over who to make Crown Prince.

He felt Fusu lacked the talent for the position, but among his more than twenty sons, Fusu was—astonishingly—the best.

Sigh.

Why didn’t he have a son like Ying Zheng?

Qin Shihuang thought and thought—until he suddenly laughed.

Taking himself as his own son—he really had some imagination.

He continued watching Ying Zheng’s joyful life in the dream, and gradually he went from envying Ying Zheng… to envying Ying Zheng’s father.

How fortunate that world’s father was.

He watched as the father fooled around with Lin Li and his uncle, while Minister Cai cleaned up after them—and occasionally got dragged into the chaos. When Li Mu later joined them, even he was forced into the mischief.

Li Mu—the Zhao general Qin Shihuang had removed using sowed discord—so this was what he had looked like in his youth?

Qin Shihuang didn’t even know what Li Mu looked like in old age. He only remembered the name “Li Mu” deeply.

Right—Li Mu’s son, Li Bo, held the position of Chamberlain in Qin court. The man had shown no talent, so after observing him for a while, Qin Shihuang had lost interest.

Watching this younger Li Mu feign incompetence only to be exposed by the uncle’s ill intentions, Qin Shihuang began to suspect:

Could Li Bo also be concealing his abilities?

Perhaps Li Bo still cared for Zhao?

But among all the former six-state scholars in Qin, how many of them did not long for their old homeland?

During a dull moment on the road, Qin Shihuang dragged Meng Yi aside to ask strangely random questions.

Qin Shihuang: “Meng Qing, can a person’s hair turn black again after turning white from grief and rage?”

Meng Yi mentally called out to the recently departed Wang Ben for help. “…If his emotions recover, perhaps.”

Qin Shihuang: “But what if someone has already entered a life of wealth and safety, yet his hair remains white?”

Meng Yi: “…Your Majesty, who exactly are you talking about? Someone I know? Without understanding the person’s condition, this minister cannot say.”

Qin Shihuang: “It’s hypothetical.”

So Qin Shihuang narrated the “hypothetical” experiences of Zhu Xiang from his dream and asked Meng Yi to give an answer.

Meng Yi… Meng Yi had absolutely no way to answer that!

What kind of hypothetical involved a Zhao scholar earning merit in Changping only to be suspected and executed by the Zhao king, then Bai Qi marching to Handan to trade the city for the scholar, thousands of Zhao people escorting him to Qin…

Deep breath in.

Slow breath out.

Your Majesty

 The “hypothetical” you asked a month ago—how is it suddenly continuing with more plot?!

Your Majesty, are you going to abandon Legalism and become a novelist yourself?!

But the emperor was still the emperor. No matter how much Meng Yi complained inwardly, he had to answer.

“If one’s hair turns white repeatedly from a king’s suspicion, from the starvation of one’s villagers, from the persecution of friends, and even after long recovery it does not turn black again… the damage must have reached the heart and lungs. He likely… does not have long to live, so—”

Before he could finish, Qin Shihuang slammed the table.

“Impossible! Unc—… That worthy man’s body must be fine!”

Meng Yi had no idea why the emperor was suddenly furious, but he could only repeatedly apologize.

Qin Shihuang, anxious and irritated, paced back and forth with his hands behind his back, then threw Meng Yi a cold look before storming off, leaving Meng Yi scratching his head in embarrassment.

What on earth was wrong with His Majesty?

Getting angry because of a fictional sage?

Meng Yi was socially astute. He realized Qin Shihuang did not want that imaginary sage to die early—though it made him internally curse. So he rushed to seek the emperor’s pardon and fabricated a new explanation: perhaps it was a natural omen—a sign the man was about to ascend as an immortal.

Qin Shihuang gave him a sideways glance, realizing Meng Yi was perfunctorily appeasing him.

But since he could not reveal the truth, he sighed and dropped the matter.

For several days, seeing that Qin Shihuang no longer approached him with “hypotheticals,” Meng Yi believed the torment had ended.

Who would have thought—shortly after returning to Xianyang, Qin Shihuang began preparing to “refine elixirs.”

Meng Yi: “??!”

Hadn’t they just executed a group of fangshi? And thrown several Confucians related to them into prison?!

Why was His Majesty refining pills again?!

Fusu held it in, and held it in… but finally couldn’t stand it and came forward stiff-necked to remonstrate.

Father! Fangshi are all frauds!

Great Qin is in peril, General Wang Ben is still fighting outside—why are you back in the alchemy chamber?!

“Fusu, come look at this.” Fusu and Meng Yi had barely entered when Qin Shihuang called him over.

Before him was a bronze basin. He gently stirred the water with a bronze rod, and soon, a chill rose from the basin.

Not long after—slush formed inside?!

“This… this is…”

Fusu was stupefied. “Father has truly mastered immortality arts? Oww!”

Qin Shihuang raised the bronze rod and knocked him on the head. “It’s not immortality. It’s trickery.”

He paused, his expression tinged with a melancholy that neither Fusu nor Meng Yi understood. “No… not trickery. It’s called physics and chemistry. The study of principles—of how things change.”

Meng Yi frowned. “A study? Something anyone can learn?”

“Yes. Anyone can learn it.”

He explained to them the principle by which water turns to ice.

In the dream, a fangshi had wanted to use young Ying Zheng’s urine as a catalyst to refine an elixir for the great-grandfather. Though rebuked, the act enraged his uncle.

The uncle prepared to “duel in magic” with the fangshi.

Ying Zheng happily followed behind, performing various “magic experiments” with his uncle.

A group of Mohists gathered around the uncle, studying the principles of things and the science of transformation.

Once the principles were understood, these “spells”—wood catching fire, water boiling or freezing, cloth staining with cinnabar—were as simple as anything in daily life.

It wasn’t the fangshi who were mysterious.

It was simply their own ignorance.

His dreams must have been divine signs—but within those divine signs, he saw the collapse of the miracles he had long pursued.

Qin Shihuang repeated the experiment many times and gathered craftsmen to innovate.

Though they lacked paper, he still used thin silk to craft a lantern that could fly into the sky.

【 “If divine beings exist, then I might be the person closest to one. But even with my black hair turned white, all I can do is curse the king’s foolishness in my heart.”

“Do I look like a divine being to you?”

Zhu Xiang removed his hairpin, letting his white hair fall loose.

“Do not attribute the self-salvation of the common people… to the grace of gods.” 】

Qin Shihuang murmured, “Yes… if uncle was not a god, who could be? But if he was a god—then gods are far too powerless.”

Uncle had always emphasized he was just a commoner—leading other commoners… to save themselves.

Self-salvation.

…

After releasing the sky lantern, Qin Shihuang stopped experimenting with “magic.”

Physics and chemistry were fascinating, but they were not his priority now.

He simply took up a brush and recorded the knowledge still fresh in his memory—knowledge he couldn’t use yet but which would certainly help Great Qin in the future.

While writing vigorously across the bamboo slips, he couldn’t help silently blaming Ying Zheng.

Why hadn’t he learned papermaking?

Little Ying Zheng once visited a papermaking workshop, but because the smell was foul and the room unbearably hot, he immediately shouted that he didn’t want to see any more.

He wasn’t going to be a craftsman anyway. As long as he had paper to use, why bother learning how to make it?

Qin Shi Huang was so angry that his teeth itched, yet he had no way to convey his true feelings to little Ying Zheng.

Even angrier!

If only there were paper—if only… sigh.

He thought of all the miraculous things in that dream—things he had never seen before.

Foods he had never tasted, spices he had never known, textile materials he had never seen before… Uncle, oh Uncle, were you truly not some kind of immortal?

But if his uncle was an immortal, then he was a terribly powerless one.

Little Ying Zheng and Zhu Xiang went to Bashu, and this chubby little child who wasn’t even as tall as Zhu Xiang’s waist somehow became the acting governor of Shu Commandery.

When Ying Zheng woke from the dream, he even began doubting whether those memories were real.

Even if the child could draw knowledge from his memories, Ying Zheng was still just a kid. Had he himself not personally taught Fu Su?

A child that young should barely be able to absorb knowledge—how could he be so mature?

Though to be fair, that maturity only appeared when he was away from his uncle and aunt.

Ying Zheng sensed that little Ying Zheng was strange.

But then Li Bing’s displayed ability drew his attention away.

Li Bing was dead, but his son Li Erlang was still alive. Ying Zheng hurriedly sent people to call the Li family back to Xianyang from Shu, where they had settled.

He had finally found someone he could use!

Ying Zheng was so pleased that he specially summoned Li Bo for a drink—scaring Li Bo so much that he fell ill after returning home and didn’t even dare request leave, forcing himself to keep working.

Ying Zheng laughed heartily and sent imperial physicians to treat him.

“Lord Li, don’t worry,” Ying Zheng half-joked. “I’ve simply discovered you’ve been hiding your abilities, so I intend to put you to good use. I know your heart is still tied to Zhao, but that’s fine. No matter how useless Fu Su may be, he’s still better than the Zhao king who forced your father to his death.”

Li Bo: “?!”

Prince Fu Su, in disbelief: “Father, how can you compare me to the Zhao king?! Your son is not that incompetent!”

Ying Zheng laughed again.

The corner of Li Bo’s mouth twitched. He—he really couldn’t laugh.

Wasn’t my father’s death precisely because of the Qin Emperor’s schemes? How can you—how dare you—… Forget it. You’re Qin Shi Huang. There’s nothing you wouldn’t dare!

Just as Li Bo was silently fuming, Ying Zheng stopped laughing and said:

“I greatly admired your father. If he had served Qin, I would have certainly taken him as my teacher. If you don’t wish to work for Qin, I won’t blame you. Raise your son well—let your son serve Fu Su. If a generation stands between you, you can still say you’ve repaid Zhao.”

Ying Zheng said calmly:

“Qin will not fall. The Six States will never rise from the ashes.”

Li Bo clenched his hands inside his sleeves and bowed deeply in silence.

“Father…” Fu Su’s voice trembled with disbelief. The meaning hidden in those words—could it be…

Ying Zheng gave Fu Su a small nod.

Fu Su immediately bowed, choking: “It is your son’s incompetence… your son has never managed to satisfy Father!”

Li Bo, forehead on the ground, peeked secretly at him.

Prince Fu Su was righteous, brave, and steadfast, but… with such excessive honesty, can he really be emperor?

Ying Zheng said, “Court Attendant Li is a great talent. You should take him as your teacher.”

A prince naturally had more than one teacher—just as little Ying Zheng did.

Fu Su immediately turned and bowed to Li Bo. “Please, Teacher, instruct me!”

Li Bo: “…??!”

So I can’t escape, can I?! Qin Emperor, you want a Zhao-hearted leftover of the Six States who’s been quietly coasting in your court to teach the Crown Prince? What exactly are you scheming?!

Ying Zheng watched Li Bo desperately hide his panic, struggle, and displeasure—yet still have to bow gratefully—and once again burst into laughter.

So perhaps loyalty didn’t matter. As long as they were useful, that was enough.

He had observed Li Bo for a long time; he believed that even if Li Bo disliked Qin, he would never corrupt Fu Su.

Because Li Bo’s integrity would not allow him to be a villain.

Hahaha!

Thus, Meng Yi welcomed a new colleague.

Meng Yi: “Congratulations.”

Li Bo forced a polite return greeting.

Meng Yi: “…” Fine, whatever. Whether you like it or not, you’ll be working with me anyway.

If His Majesty gets another sudden whim, I’ll drag you with me. Don’t even think of running!

Meng Yi lived each day in fear, worried Qin Shi Huang would have another unpredictable idea.

But after that, Qin Shi Huang remained quiet.

He was busy.

Suppressing the last embers of the Six States’ rebellions, drafting new land policies, recruiting the best minds nationwide, dividing more commanderies to reduce the governors’ authority… Qin Shi Huang often stayed awake through the night, only taking brief naps in his clothes.

He read so many bamboo slips daily that his hand swelled, and he had to hang it from his neck with cloth.

Li Bo had been forcibly made one of the emperor’s close attendants.

He and Meng Yi took turns serving at the emperor’s side, handing over documents and guarding the candlelight.

He was utterly exhausted, collapsing into bed the moment he got home, while Qin Shi Huang never stopped for a single day.

Li Bo became more silent and solemn at home.

His brightest son, Li Zuo Che, asked, “Father, why are you troubled?”

Li Bo smiled bitterly. “After serving the emperor closely… I’ve been wondering—can Zhao truly revive under such a ruler?”

He paused, his expression even more pained.

“And even if Zhao could be revived… would that really be a good thing?”

He closed his eyes and sighed heavily.

Li Zuo Che pondered. It seemed Qin Shi Huang was a charming and exceptionally capable ruler—capable enough to sway his father’s heart.

Li Zuo Che said, “Why trouble yourself, Father? If the world falls into chaos and Zhao rises again, we can help Zhao. If Zhao cannot rise, then we are Qin’s subjects. It’s that simple.”

Li Bo looked at his brilliant son and sighed again.

“That is true… ah, my lord… The Qin Emperor is preparing to make Fu Su the Crown Prince. And I… will be appointed as Fu Su’s teacher.”

Li Zuo Che: “…Does the Qin Emperor truly trust Father?!”

Li Bo said, “The Emperor said he does not trust my loyalty, but he trusts my virtue. That even if my heart is with Zhao, I would never mislead Fu Su.”

Li Zuo Che scratched his head. “Ah, well… that’s actually true. Father, maybe we should give up on Zhao. The Zhao king wasn’t great anyway—unlike… ow!”

Li Zuo Che yelped as Li Bo smacked his head, then fled, shouting for his mother.

This scene was soon reported to Qin Shi Huang by spies.

Though he reused Li Bo, he still had to remain cautious. He could not allow Li Bo to pass palace secrets to remnants of the Six States.

Keeping Li Bo close to his side was his test.

A test of whether Li Bo would live or die.

Li Bo had indeed hidden his talent well—too well. Someone like him must never be left for remnants of the Six States to use.

“This Li Zuo Che might become your personal attendant,” Qin Shi Huang said with a smile. “Your teacher’s life is saved.”

Fu Su bowed repeatedly, relieved.

Qin Shi Huang told Meng Yi, “Choose one of your or Meng Tian’s sons as well, to serve as Fu Su’s attendant.”

Meng Yi bowed. “Yes.”

Qin Shi Huang tapped his finger lightly on the table, then slowly stood and walked to Fu Su’s side.

He bent down and helped Fu Su up, his tone filled with earnest expectation—a tone he had never shown before.

“Fu Su, I am old. I don’t know how many more years I can hold down Great Qin. You must grow—quickly!”

Fu Su’s face was covered in tears. “Father will surely live a hundred years! Your son… your son will certainly fulfill Father’s expectations!”

Qin Shi Huang nodded in satisfaction. “You are finally willing to shoulder responsibility. What I dislike most is how self-effacing you are. A king bears the weight of the world alone—if you stay humble, perhaps someone else should carry it instead.”

Fu Su sobbed, “Yes! Your son understands! I will no longer be self-effacing! I will strive to solve everything myself!”

Qin Shi Huang patted his shoulder. “As the Crown Prince of Qin, you should have such resolve.”

In the thirty-sixth year of the First Emperor, he established Prince Fu Su as the Crown Prince and promoted Attendant Li Bo to High Minister, joining High Minister Meng Yi in assisting him.

The Crown Prince Fu Su was widely praised for his virtue, and the people rejoiced.

That year, a falling star landed in Dongjun, becoming a stone. Wang Ben was subduing bandits there and transported the star-stone to Xianyang, engraving “Great Qin Everlasting” upon it.

The First Emperor saw it as a heavenly omen and gifted the star-stone to Crown Prince Fu Su.

The world marveled—Fu Su had just become Crown Prince, and the heavens already offered a falling star as a gift. Truly, destiny favored him!

That same year, the planet Mars stopped at the Heart constellation; on his return from victory, Wang Ben fell ill and died. Qin lost its Marquis Tongwu. The First Emperor canceled court for three days and wept bitterly.

…

Ying Zheng drifted in the dreamscape and “saw” Wang Jian in his early middle age.

He tried hard to remember but could not recall Wang Jian looking like that—only the elderly general’s face remained in his memory.

A young Wang Ben flashed briefly in little Ying Zheng’s memories—appearing once and never approaching the child again.

Little Ying Zheng had paid him no attention.

With the brilliant middle-aged Wang Jian “old general” present, and with Li Mu as his teacher, little Ying Zheng would not have focused on the “next generation.”

Meng Tian had indeed become little Ying Zheng’s attendant, but Ying Zheng disdained him daily for being slow.

Ying Zheng, like little Ying Zheng, could reread the memories endlessly while watching them.

He kept watching that fleeting glimpse of the young Wang Ben, over and over, thinking back to Wang Ben’s growth—from young commander to another “old general.”

Before, his “old general” had been Wang Jian.

Now Wang Ben, too, had become an “old general.”

It wasn’t that Wang Ben aged too fast—it was that he himself had grown old.

He was old now.

Little Ying Zheng experienced many events afterward, many thrilling ones, but Ying Zheng watching felt no emotional waves anymore.

He still envied him somewhat, but he had grown used to it, thus felt no more jealousy.

Until King Zhao Xiang of Qin died.

When Ying Zheng woke, he went to pay respects to the great-grandfather he had never met.

“Great-grandfather, you had Uncle, you had Elder Lian, you had your teachers, and you had the Old General Wang,” Ying Zheng asked softly. “How did you endure? How did you restrain yourself from sweeping across the Six States to build an unmatched legacy?”

He closed his eyes.

Little Ying Zheng’s grief seeped into him, making him shed tears for the ancestor he never saw.

“I… your great-grandson… have so much to learn.”

Ying Zheng opened his eyes.

“Great-grandfather, I was wrong. I should not fear death.”

“I should not be so cowardly. I…”

His lips trembled; before he could finish, a sob choked his voice.

The sorrow was not his, yet he still could not stop weeping.

…

In the thirty-sixth year of the First Emperor, after establishing the Crown Prince, he ordered Fu Su to take over Li Si’s duties as Chancellor and assist in state affairs. Li Si moved back to the post of Chief Justice.

By then, the Six States’ rebellions had been quelled, and the realm was peaceful again. The First Emperor gathered scholars at the Xianyang Academy, reviewing them along with the Crown Prince.

The world knew—Qin Shi Huang had begun passing the reins of power to the Crown Prince.