HCT – Extra 6 The Great Ying Zheng’s Dream (3)

After the First Emperor privately offered sacrifices to his parents, his behavior became even harder to understand, leaving all the ministers uneasy and terrified.

First of all, it seemed that Prince Fusu had been subjected to corporal punishment.

This was huge news!

In the past, no matter how much Prince Fusu angered the emperor, the emperor merely scolded him a few times. This was the first time he had ever been beaten!

The First Emperor had never established an empress. According to the ritual laws of “if there is a legitimate wife, establish the eldest legitimate son; if there is no legitimate wife, establish the eldest son of the consorts,” Prince Fusu should by all rights have been the Crown Prince.

But with the First Emperor, there was no such thing as “by all rights.”

He was nearly fifty and still had not named Fusu as Crown Prince, which meant he was deeply dissatisfied with him.

The longer the emperor delayed, the further Fusu seemed from the position of heir.

Fusu himself seemed aware of this, so he worked even harder to shape himself into the model of a loyal minister. With his behavior, he seemed to be expressing to the emperor and to his brothers his true intentions—no matter who became emperor, he would assist them earnestly and become an exemplary imperial clansman.

By logic, since the First Emperor did not want Fusu as Crown Prince, he should have been pleased with Fusu’s attitude.

But clearly, one must never try to guess the First Emperor’s thoughts—the more you try, the more confused you become. Faced with Fusu’s attempts to shape himself into a minister, the First Emperor seemed even more displeased.

The First Emperor was getting old.

A man nearly fifty could not be certain he would live to next year. What’s more, the emperor loved touring the empire; even a young man couldn’t withstand such constant and exhausting travel.

Even Zhao Gao, one of the emperor’s most trusted confidants, secretly grumbled that probably only the emperor himself believed he still had many years left. Everyone else had already mentally prepared for his eventual passing.

If the emperor was dissatisfied with Fusu presenting himself as a minister, did that not imply that he still hoped Fusu might become Crown Prince?

Who was the emperor’s chosen heir, truly?

Could he not at least drop a hint, so everyone could choose sides in advance?

If he were to die suddenly, and the fragile Qin Empire had no legitimate successor, everyone would be in deep trouble!

The old nobles of the Six States were still watching like wolves!

The matter of succession was of utmost importance, and the emperor’s refusal to name a Crown Prince left everyone unhappy.

But this was the First Emperor—they could only endure their dissatisfaction.

Now that he had punished Fusu, did that mean Fusu had really been removed from contention?

Just as some people began to secretly rejoice, the emperor ordered Prince Fusu—who had already left the palace to establish his own residence—to move back into Xianyang Palace. He even appointed Meng Yi as Fusu’s teacher.

And according to the news from the palace, when Fusu was punished, the beating was not carried out by anyone else—it was administered personally by the emperor. The only “outsider” present was Meng Yi.

Uh… if the only outsider present was Meng Yi, then who leaked this news?

Meng Yi sighed.

The Meng family had served the First Emperor loyally for generations. Two generations had been his attendants, and his grandfather Meng Ao had died on the battlefield.

Their loyalty had earned them extraordinary favor from the emperor—their status was comparable to the Wang family.

The Wang family held two marquisates and outranked the Mengs, but Meng Yi and Meng Tian were more trusted by the emperor and held greater influence.

Both families had always remained above the struggle among the princes for the position of heir, loyal only to the emperor.

Now that Meng Yi had become Prince Fusu’s teacher, the exalted Meng family had unexpectedly entered the vortex of the Crown Prince struggle, shocking everyone.

But what could Meng Yi do? He hadn’t wanted this!

With Fusu’s rigid honesty, the Meng family being tied to him felt like a guaranteed disaster waiting to happen.

Although Fusu had been beaten, being beaten by someone else and being beaten personally by the First Emperor were entirely different.

Could it even be called a beating when done personally by the emperor? That was intimacy! That was favor!

Forget others—even Fusu was grinning widely.

“Is Father finally satisfied with me?” Fusu asked his teacher Meng Yi.

Meng Yi sneered, “He’s finally had it up to here with you!”

Fusu stammered, “But… I don’t think I did anything wrong.”

Meng Yi sighed. As he personally applied medicine to Fusu, he explained why they could not stop supporting the Baiyue campaign now.

If they had suggested stopping before the conquest began, the matter might have been discussable.

But the Qin Empire had already paid a tremendous cost and finally taken Baiyue. If Baiyue produced no results, the blow to the emperor’s prestige—and to the empire’s authority—would be immense.

The Qin dynasty was already teetering. The remnants of the Six States were restless, and everything was held together only by the sheer weight of the emperor’s personal authority.

Whether conquering the Six States, or the southern campaign against Baiyue and the northern campaign against the Xiongnu, the emperor had crushed all enemies with an aura of invincibility.

He absolutely could not show the slightest weakness, or his undefeated image would crack—and the remnants of the Six States would pounce like insects onto an open wound.

“You say your suggestion was correct, and perhaps it was. But correct words said at an incorrect time are wrong advice.” Meng Yi said. “I imagine your other teachers should have told you this.”

Fusu was silent for a long time before replying, “My other teachers did not tell me that the entire Qin Empire is being held together solely by Father’s prestige.”

Meng Yi said earnestly, “Perhaps they didn’t dare to say it outright. That is likely why His Majesty appointed me as your teacher. But, my lord, this is something you should have seen for yourself.”

Fusu replied, “I have seen it.”

Meng Yi asked, “Then why did you still—”

Fusu said seriously, “Right now, the Qin Empire relies entirely on Father. But Father will eventually grow old. What then? If Qin is to adjust its direction, only Father can do it. Whoever becomes the Second Emperor will not possess Father’s power to suppress the world alone. Chaos will be inevitable. So Father cannot cling to old rules and refuse to change. If even he does not move, how can we expect the Second Emperor to surpass him?”

Meng Yi’s ears twitched; he heard a faint thumping outside the door.

His lips twitched. “My lord, if you were not His Majesty’s child—no, if you were not his eldest son—you would have been exiled to the frontier long ago!”

Fusu said anxiously, “I know that. No one dares speak of Father’s old age, which is why I must say it. Speaking of aging in front of an elder is unfilial, but watching Father run from reality is also both unfilial and disloyal.”

Though the thumping at the door grew louder, Meng Yi found himself somewhat impressed.

As Fusu said, the emperor was aging. He should consider what would happen afterward.

But the emperor refused to acknowledge it. And who in the world dared to speak to him of such matters? Would that not be cursing him?

So what then—let him continue evading the issue?

Was this something that could be delayed?

After thinking it through, it seemed that only Fusu—armed with the “eldest son immunity medal”—could drag the emperor out of his self-deception.

“Rest for now,” Meng Yi said, though he agreed with Fusu. “As a minister, perhaps you are right. But I still advise you: before being a minister, remember that you are first a son.”

Fusu gave a bitter smile. “I understand.”

Meng Yi felt helpless. You understand, yet refuse to act accordingly?

How had His Majesty raised such a rigid child?

Meng Yi stepped out. Sure enough, the First Emperor was standing outside with his hands behind his back.

“You unfilial son!” the emperor growled, his face dark as thunder.

Meng Yi thought for a moment, then bowed deeply. “Congratulations, Your Majesty, on having such a filial son.”

The emperor’s eyes widened.

Meng Yi continued, “Even the most loyal ministers think first of their own safety before advising their sovereign. Your Majesty’s awe-inspiring might terrifies the world. Prince Fusu is the closest to the position of Crown Prince. I once thought he angered you because he failed to understand your intentions. But if he does understand and still chooses to act—”

Meng Yi took a deep breath and bowed again. “If he wished to follow Your Majesty’s expectations, with his position as your eldest son and your affection, the Crown Prince title would be within reach. Yet he is willing to forgo that, willing to risk your displeasure, just to fulfill his duty as a son. Such filial piety is rare in this world.”

The emperor’s expression gradually shifted, his eyes becoming deep and unreadable. “You believe he is right?”

Meng Yi said, “Your Majesty’s wisdom is unfathomable; I cannot guess your intentions. You must certainly be correct. Prince Fusu cannot perceive the height of your vision. He speaks only from his own understanding—doing what he believes he must do as a filial son, even if it means losing the succession, even if it means your disfavor.”

The emperor was silent for a long time.

Cold sweat streamed down Meng Yi’s back before the emperor finally spoke. “Rise.”

Meng Yi exhaled in relief.

The emperor dismissed his grave expression and said teasingly, “You claim you’re not like Fusu, that you fear for your own safety before speaking up. Yet I see little difference.”

Meng Yi straightened and said solemnly, “Thank you for your praise, Your Majesty.”

The emperor’s eyes showed a flash of helplessness. “I did not praise you… Forget it. I have a task for you, so I will not punish you for now.”

Meng Yi felt a headache coming on. What strange request would it be this time?

Others thought they understood the emperor’s odd behavior, but he dealt with the truly strange things.

The emperor kept discovering bizarre knowledge from gods-knew-where and insisting on testing it.

He had even uprooted every flower in the hunting lodge at the foot of Mount Li—just to experiment with farming?!

Talking about breeding crops, raising seedlings, and even dealing with filth—something he called “composting”!?

If Meng Yi weren’t afraid of dying, he would have called the imperial physician to ask if the emperor had gone mad.

“What is this…” Meng Yi stared in shock at the drawing the emperor had personally made.

The emperor looked proud. “A waterwheel-powered stone mill. Find craftsmen to build it. Tell them the idea was yours.”

Meng Yi said, “Yes.”

He hesitated, then asked, “If a waterwheel can power a stone mill, could it also power buckets for irrigation?”

The emperor replied, “It can. Build the stone mill first, then order the craftsmen to develop other tools.”

Meng Yi murmured emotionally, “If every household could use a stone mill, perhaps they could grow more wheat. Wheat yields slightly more than millet or beans, and can even be mixed for planting… Your Majesty!”

The emperor jumped slightly at his raised voice. “What now?”

Meng Yi asked excitedly, “You once asked whether the people could harvest twice as much—were you serious?!”

A complex expression crossed the emperor’s face.

A mix of nostalgia, sorrow, pride… and something like faint bitterness?

Meng Yi thought he imagined it.

The emperor answered solemnly, “Perhaps I was serious. But I do not know whether it can be done.”

After all—he had no uncle.