HCT – Extra 7 The Great Ying Zheng’s Dream (4)

Qin Shihuang’s recent “nonsense” actually produced some results.

The imperial estate’s farmers planted some fast-growing herbs and flowers to test the effects of “fertilizer accumulation,” and the results were excellent.

After Qin Shihuang confirmed the farming methods he learned in the dream from his uncle were indeed correct, he summoned all his sons and brought them to farm together, personally teaching them the agricultural knowledge he had learned.

Meng Yi found this completely absurd.

Since when does an emperor personally teach his princes to farm? Such things should be left to farmers—the emperor only needs the farmers to do the work.

Qin Shihuang also knew it was absurd. But he was a man who believed in the existence of immortals, someone who once called himself a “true man” and sought immortality. He had learned knowledge in his dreams that worked in reality—surely this could be considered knowledge bestowed by immortals? Since it was knowledge given by immortals, naturally he needed to personally teach it to his sons.

But his sons clearly did not understand what was in his mind, and none of them were buying it.

The princes all covered their noses with their sleeves, staring at the mud splashing on their robes and shoes, unable to hide their disgust.

Among them, the liveliest one—Hu Hai, who was always playful in front of Qin Shihuang—was already whining to him, saying it was too smelly and too dirty, that he wanted to go back, that farming was something only lowly commoners did, and they, the princes of Qin, could not degrade themselves like this.

In the past, when Hu Hai talked like this, Qin Shihuang never minded.

When Hu Hai was young and treated his servants like horses to ride on, or livestock to whip, Qin Shihuang didn’t care either.

Back then, slaves were not considered more noble than livestock, and commoners were only slightly above slaves—barely worth anything in status.

Because of his own childhood experiences, Qin Shihuang had a deep attachment to the word “nobility.” Under normal circumstances, he would have agreed with Hu Hai.

But this time, Qin Shihuang glared coldly at him instead. “If you don’t wish to do it, then forget it.”

Hu Hai froze.

He had never seen his father speak to him so coldly, instantly becoming too frightened to move.

Although Hu Hai appeared naïve and fearless in front of Qin Shihuang, that was all an act. It was something he learned from his teacher Zhao Gao to please his father.

Now that Qin Shihuang glared at him, his legs went weak, his heart panicked, and he kept glancing nervously at Zhao Gao.

Zhao Gao quickly lowered his head, cursing Hu Hai’s stupidity in his heart.

Why are you looking at me now?! Do you want the emperor to suspect me?!

Fortunately, Qin Shihuang didn’t overthink it.

He wasn’t suspicious at all—if anything, seeing Hu Hai shrink back made his heart soften.

Hu Hai had been pampered from birth, had never endured hardship, and had never even gone out of Xianyang for training. So it was perfectly normal that he couldn’t stand farm work. Qin Shihuang planned for Hu Hai’s future to be that of a wealthy and idle member of the royal clan, so naturally he was not disappointed that Hu Hai couldn’t bear hardship.

Qin Shihuang was just about to comfort his most pampered youngest son when a bold voice suddenly rang out.

“Since my younger brothers have never farmed, let them rest. I can farm. I’ll do it.” Before Qin Shihuang even noticed, Fusu had already removed his jade accessories and handed them to the attendants behind him.

Qin Shihuang frowned. “You’ve farmed before?”

Fusu replied, “When I served in the army, I helped with the garrison fields.”

Qin Shihuang glanced at the rest of his sons, who were secretly relieved, and felt a deep disappointment.

He said coldly, “Since you are unwilling, Fusu will stay. The rest of you may go.”

Hearing this, Hu Hai immediately perked up and hurried away.

The other princes were not as foolish as Hu Hai—they hesitated, wanting to stay, but the smell of the fields was too unpleasant, and the mud made their pampered skin crawl as if itching.

Even if they forced themselves to stay, they couldn’t pretend to look pleased. They might as well leave together. Since they weren’t leaving alone, their father wouldn’t blame them too harshly.

As they left, all of them secretly glanced at Fusu, who was already changing his clothes.

Even though Fusu often angered their father, at times like this, it was nice having an older brother to take the brunt of it.

Fusu changed into short, practical clothing, rolled up his sleeves and tied them, and wrapped only cloth around his waist for protection.

Qin Shihuang suddenly recalled a piece of “contaminated memory” he had seen in the dream—his uncle had called this thing a “thong.”

Fusu had only recently been beaten and still had medicinal plasters on his back, but he could move freely.

And just as he said—he really did know how to farm.

Although he hadn’t done it in a long time, after a farmer gave him a few instructions, Fusu quickly adapted and began working with proper technique.

Qin Shihuang stood on the ridge pointing here and there. Sometimes Fusu listened, sometimes he stubbornly argued back—until Qin Shihuang explained clearly and convinced him. Only then would Fusu follow the instructions.

Whenever Qin Shihuang persuaded him, Fusu would look at him with eyes full of admiration, admiration nearly overflowing from his face.

Qin Shihuang enjoyed that expression so much that he didn’t reprimand Fusu for contradicting him.

Indeed, as his uncle had said, that word—“argue”—was quite accurate.

“Father even knows how to farm! Amazing!” After planting the seedlings, Fusu wiped his sweat in astonishment.

Qin Shihuang grunted coldly and said, “Wipe the mud off your face.”

Only then did Fusu realize that when he wiped his sweat, he smeared mud everywhere.

After excusing himself, he washed off the mud and changed back into elegant robes, again appearing as the dignified Prince Fusu admired by all.

Qin Shihuang then took Fusu to visit the newly built water-powered mill.

By now, there were already methods for grinding millet into flour. Stone mills were not uncommon in noble households.

But despite wheat being another grain, few people thought of grinding wheat.

“Probably because wheat is commoners’ food. Commoners don’t have stone mills, and nobles don’t eat wheat grains. So no one ever thought stone mills could grind wheat.” Fusu marveled. “Does wheat flour taste good?”

Qin Shihuang waved his hand, and someone brought over a bowl of thin noodles.

The noodles were made exactly like in his dream—boiled, then cooled in spring water, making them pleasantly chewy.

The toppings were leek-flower sauce and meat sauce.

The hot sauces, once mixed into the noodles, made the whole bowl warm again.

Qin Shihuang then had someone heat a metal plate with lard and fry a golden egg to place on top.

With the first bite, the egg was crispy outside, soft inside, the yolk barely solidified, rich with oily flavor.

Fusu had just finished farm work and was starving, though he forced himself to remain polite.

Once Qin Shihuang said, “Eat,” Fusu immediately grabbed the clay bowl and dug in. Though he still maintained basic manners, nothing about his eating could be called elegant.

Because of age, Qin Shihuang’s appetite had decreased.

But seeing Fusu eat with such gusto suddenly made him hungry too—and he ate more than usual.

When his stomach warmed and filled with food, Qin Shihuang realized that his appetite hadn’t actually shrunk—he had simply become picky.

If his appetite were truly small, eating more would have felt uncomfortable. But now, he only felt content.

“It’s delicious!” After eating, Fusu exclaimed in delight. “If nobles also start eating wheat, more commoners will be able to farm it!”

Qin Shihuang sighed. “Yes. Most fields are still in the hands of old aristocrats from the Six States.”

The lands he had promised to his soldiers had still not been fully distributed.

Fusu hesitated. He felt he ought to give some advice. But the atmosphere between him and his father was so good today that even this stubborn young man couldn’t bear to break it.

How long had it been since he last shared a meal with his father?

Hu Hai always said he envied his older brothers for having responsibilities bestowed by their father. But they envied Hu Hai just as much—for being able to stay by their father’s side, to eat and play with him often.

“Say what you want to say.” Perhaps because he was full, Qin Shihuang was more tolerant of Fusu’s advice.

After choosing his words carefully, Fusu said, “Baiyue is too remote. Sending our meritorious soldiers to settle there after opening the fields… it doesn’t feel like a reward. It feels like exile.”

Qin Shihuang shot him a glare. “So you’re still against the continued investment into Baiyue.”

Fusu said, “Too many commoners have been conscripted. It’s already severely affecting agriculture.”

Qin Shihuang responded calmly, “Have you ever considered that the conscripted commoners are all landless?”

Fusu was shocked. “No land? But…”

Qin Shihuang said, “Most of the land is still held by the old nobles of the Six States. When I ordered them to register their holdings, they colluded with local officials, swallowing nearly all the commoners’ fertile land.”

Fusu stared in outrage. “How could such a thing happen?! Father, if you already knew, then why didn’t you—”

Qin Shihuang interrupted him coolly, “I only learned the full extent of the harm after it had already happened.”

Fusu looked at him in disbelief.

Qin Shihuang continued, “Since you often advise me, you should have realized—I am not without faults. I cannot control everything.”

Rubbing his brow in fatigue, he continued, “You point out problems, but have you ever thought about how to fix them? For example, with the land swallowed by the aristocrats—yes, I’ve known for years. But how do we remedy it? Tell me—how?”

“I…” Fusu’s lips trembled, mind completely blank.

Qin Shihuang said, “Do you know why I dislike your advising me? And why Meng Yi says your timing is wrong? Do you think timing refers to when you speak?”

His eyes carried genuine exhaustion. “Governing isn’t about pointing out problems. It’s about solving them. When a problem has been discovered but cannot yet be solved, that is precisely when it should not be exposed. Do you understand?”

Fusu lowered his head, utterly lost.

He whispered, “So… Father doesn’t refuse to fix it… Father simply can’t fix it yet?”

Qin Shihuang asked, “Do you think that whenever you point out a problem, I can always solve it just because I see it?”

Fusu didn’t answer—but his expression answered for him.

Wasn’t it obvious?

If even Father cannot fix something, then who in this world could?

Qin Shihuang half-joked, “I hope you and your brothers grow up quickly. Perhaps the things I can’t fix… you can.”

Fusu could not take this joke at all.

He nearly burst into tears. “Father… I… I can’t…”

Qin Shihuang firmly clapped his shoulder, stopping him from finishing the sentence.

“Fusu, do you know what I dislike most about you?” he said. “When will you finally have the resolve required of a ruler?”

“You think being a loyal minister who speaks frankly is taking responsibility? A ruler is not someone who points out problems. A ruler is someone who solves them.”

“You can see Qin’s problems, but you throw them onto me, assuming I will handle everything. And after I’m gone? Who will you throw them to then?”

“You claim you’d rather not be Crown Prince and just remain a loyal minister. But look at your brothers—they’re even worse. Who exactly are you expecting to carry this burden for you?!”

For the first time, Qin Shihuang’s pain and disappointment were fully visible.

He normally would never reveal such emotions to Fusu.

He had never seen how normal parents interact with their children. So he didn’t understand how to interact with his own.

He was always restrained and strict with the sons he hoped to rely on—and indulgent toward Hu Hai.

Until he experienced the memories of young Ying Zheng in his dreams.

So this was what normal family interactions were like.

When a child walks, an elder holds his hand. When a child goes the wrong way, an elder corrects him.

Many things—he realized—all required was to simply say them aloud.

Whether expressing disappointment or expressing hope… he needed to speak. Only then would the other person understand.

【“Zheng’er, isn’t it better this way?”

“I don’t want to!”

“Then try it your way first. If it doesn’t work well, try your uncle’s method?”

“Hmph!”
…

“Well?”

“Hmph! Uncle wins this time! Next time Zheng’er will win!”

“Good, Zheng’er is smart. You’ll definitely surpass me. Uncle hopes you win every time.”

“Just wait! Zheng’er will do it soon!”】

Fusu left utterly dazed.

Meng Yi stood beside Qin Shihuang with his head lowered, not daring to interrupt his emperor’s thoughts.

After a long time, Qin Shihuang finally said, “Perhaps I should have told Fusu these things earlier.”

Meng Yi remained silent.

Qin Shihuang sighed. “But if I didn’t maintain the image of an emperor who never errs… Forget it. What’s done is done. Thinking of it now is pointless.”

He waved dismissively, washed briefly, and went to bed early.

He wondered what trouble little Ying Zheng would cause today.

When Ying Zheng opened his eyes in the dream, little Ying was sitting beside him—crying loudly, something he hadn’t done in a long time in these dreams.

His heart tightened in alarm.

It had only been ten days. Had his uncle and aunt abandoned little Ying because he was too naughty?!

“Waaahhhh! Uncle went to Changping! Uncle is going to be killed by Great-Grandfather! Waaaaahhhh! What do I do?! Zheng’er is going to lose Uncle!!!”

Ying Zheng: “?!”