HCT – Extra 9 The Great Ying Zheng’s Dream (6)

Wang Ben and Meng Yi were on edge, afraid that the First Emperor would once again bring up going to Zhao to dig up graves and mutilate corpses—yet they soon realized his mood had shifted again.

For the past few days, his brows had been tightly knit. Now they had relaxed, but his expression looked… strangely listless.

Fusu simply built a little hut beside the fields and lived there.

Amazingly, the First Emperor also changed into a short, practical outfit and went into the fields with Fusu.

Wang Ben and Meng Yi: “…”

Is His Majesty… normal, or not?

At least the First Emperor was no longer asking them bizarre “hypothetical” questions, which allowed the two men to breathe a sigh of relief.

Just when they thought he had finally let them go, the First Emperor suddenly announced that he wanted to go on an inspection tour. Fortunately, he only planned to travel around Guanzhong and not too far.

This time, he even brought Fusu along.

Fusu looked around everywhere, unable to sit still. He was astonished—his father was actually taking him out on a journey!

Meng Yi felt comforted. It seemed the Crown Prince still had hope of inheriting the throne. Because the First Emperor trusted Zhao Gao and Li Si, the two remained in Xianyang this time.

But to Zhao Gao and Li Si, this was definitely a sign they had fallen out of favor! Yet since the Emperor was still alive, they didn’t dare even whisper to each other, only silently panicking and wracking their brains on how to regain favor.

“Your Majesty, didn’t you say you weren’t going to Zhao?” Meng Yi asked in a trembling voice. After spending another day dreaming, the First Emperor lazily replied, “I have changed my mind.”

Meng Yi was nearly in tears. “You really cannot dig up the Zhao kings’ ancestral tombs.”

The First Emperor said, “I won’t. I’m only going to Handan to take a look.”

Since he said so, Meng Yi could only believe him.

Wang Ben hadn’t expected that at his age, he would still get to accompany the Emperor on a journey.

In truth, he would pass away around the following year, but the death of an elderly man often came quickly—so for now, his body was still strong.

He had marched this road before with his army. Revisiting old paths, he had been excited at first. But after traveling for a while, his heart grew heavy.

When he once led troops through this region, the land was ravaged by war, the people destitute.  Yet more than ten years had passed, and the land was still withered. Fields that should have been fertile were choked with overgrown weeds.

The First Emperor changed into the garb of an ordinary scholar, with Fusu dressed as a guard, and knocked on the door of what seemed a relatively well-off household in a village. An old man opened the door. The Emperor glanced inside—the house had no young or strong men.

After asking for a bowl of water, he skillfully began inquiring about the family’s situation. Not only Fusu but even Meng Yi and Wang Ben—who knew the Emperor well—were startled.

Since when did the Emperor speak so naturally with commoners? And in a Zhao accent?

The old man assumed he was an old Zhao retainer who had returned to Zhao, so he spoke honestly: “How could there be any strong men left at home? They all went to help the Qin Emperor build his palaces.”

The First Emperor’s expression remained calm. “I came from Xianyang myself, planning to return to Zhao. I heard the Qin Emperor conscripts only convicts, landless drifters, and nearby laborers so as not to disrupt farming.”

The old man scoffed. “He says it won’t disrupt farming—so it really won’t?”

The First Emperor pulled a small pouch of dried fruit from his sleeve and offered the old man one. “Please, take your time.”

Seeing there was food, the old man began talking freely.

He spoke of how local officials issued loans that forced many into becoming convicts;
how even then there weren’t enough laborers, so each household still had to send someone;
how some people seized the chance to steal good farmland, framing others to send them off to build palaces so they could occupy their land.

He sighed, saying that laborers had to bring their own clothing and rations, and if they were late, they could be executed. Life was unbearably hard.

The First Emperor stopped Meng Yi and Fusu from arguing back, saying, “I see. That Qin Emperor really isn’t worth a damn. Even without war, life is still just as hard.”

The old man nodded, then shook his head. “No war is still better. At least I can stay here waiting for my children to return. If they can come back, they’ll still have a home to return to.”

The First Emperor left the rest of the dried fruit with the old man. Without speaking to Meng Yi or Fusu, he walked toward the next village.

In every sizable village they reached, the First Emperor would sneak away from the caravan with his companions to visit the local elders.

Meng Yi—who knew him better than anyone—was utterly baffled. Where did the Emperor learn to disguise himself and sneak around like this? And his newfound ability to chat casually with commoners!

The Emperor used to avoid speaking to commoners altogether—he wouldn’t even meet their eyes. Because of his early life, he valued rank and dignity to an extreme degree.

How had he changed so drastically in such a short time?

Each day the Emperor spent on his inspection, young Ying Zheng’s journey also continued. The Emperor was heading toward Zhao, while Ying Zheng moved toward Qin. Their paths crossed midway—then they went their separate ways.

In his dreams, the First Emperor “saw” how the people of Zhao escorted his uncle for thousands of miles, even following him all the way until he settled in Changping.

He saw Lord Xinling and others come to bid farewell; he saw his great-grandfather welcoming his uncle with drums. Oh—and he even saw himself, little Ying Zheng, daring to tug on his great-grandfather’s beard.

So that’s what Great-Grandfather really looked like—quite different from his portrait. In paintings he appeared solemn, but in the dream the great-grandfather who held young Ying Zheng on his knee was shockingly gentle.

He also saw the legendary Lord of Martial Valor, Bai Qi.

The First Emperor thought, When I return from Zhao, I should rehabilitate Bai Qi.

He went to Changping. In his dream, Changping was already being built into a grand commandery city, but the real Changping before him was barren.

He approached the Zhao border. There were no longer any defensive fortresses—only faint traces of the great wall Zhao once built for defense.

He walked along the very road the Zhao people took to send his uncle off, heading toward Handan. The farmlands along the way were largely abandoned, burdened by excessive labor conscription—completely unlike what he had imagined.

Ying Zheng stood on a ridge, watching the scattered farmers toil away in the fields. And he asked himself:

You traveled every year to inspect the realm—so why did you never see this?

He remembered his uncle’s words. Scholars stand too high to see the farmers bowing over the soil. Yes. He had stood too high. Even when passing by fields and farmers, he had never spared those humble people crawling in the dirt a single glance.

The grain was grown by farmers.

The labor draft was borne by farmers.

The army was recruited from farmers.

Grain, labor, and troops were the very foundations of Qin. Yet when he thought about securing Qin’s rule, he had only thought of the scholars of the world.

Did he make a mistake?

He didn’t know.

He could not see his own future, but with the ten-to-one difference in the flow of time, he could see Ying Zheng’s future.

By the time he wandered his way to Handan, two months had passed.

On Ying Zheng’s side, twenty months had already gone by.

Lord Changping, Zhu Xiang, had already found his footing in Qin and had quarrelled with King Zhao of Qin several times.

His own father, Zichu, was now living in his uncle’s home.

Heh—so it was true. That “friend” of his uncle, Xia Tong, was his father all along.

Because his father had met his uncle in advance, he immediately recognized his mother the moment he saw her, and without a trace of hesitation accepted her, becoming in-laws with his uncle.

Thus, in Ying Zheng’s timeline, his father had accepted Lu Buwei’s financial support several years early, leaving Qin ahead of schedule.

Guiding his mother to abandon him at his uncle’s doorstep was also something his father had arranged.

His father simply hadn’t expected that his mother, out of fear of his special nature, would end up abusing him.

Ah—no, not him, but Ying Zheng.

Ying Zheng’s mother, back when she was in Zhao, had at least treated Ying Zheng fairly well—much better than she treated Ying Zheng.

His father and uncle even got into a physical fight in court.

After that, they would often fight at home too.

Cai Ze, in Ying Zheng’s timeline, wasn’t cautious at all. He frequently sighed at how his father and uncle were like two useless roosters pecking at each other.

Lord Wu’an and Lord Ying actually stood side by side, hands behind their backs, watching his father and uncle as if watching a comedy.

He had never seen his father laugh so happily.

During the three years they spent together, his father’s brows had always been furrowed, as if weighed down by endless worries.

“There really is a jujube tree here.” Ying Zheng could not find the courtyard where Ying Zheng had lived, but he did find a large jujube tree.

It stood at the entrance of the village, stones erected around it for protection, as though the villagers worshiped it as a guardian spirit.

Ying Zheng asked the locals about the history of the tree.

To his surprise, it truly had something to do with Lin Xiangru.

It was said that the spot where the jujube tree grew had once been Lin Xiangru’s country residence. In his later years, Lin Xiangru would often stay there for short periods.

After his death, the residence was torn down, Zhao perished.

Everything disappeared—except the jujube tree. The tree was older than the oldest elder in the village, and thus the villagers revered it as a guardian.

Ying Zheng stroked the trunk and said, “The jujubes from this tree are very sweet.”

The old man mistook him for a Handan native returning after many years and smiled, “Yes, the jujubes on this tree are especially sweet—sweeter than all the trees in the nearby areas. When the fruits ripen, that’s the happiest time for the village children.”

Ying Zheng recalled the scenes in his dreams.

Back then, even though he was still a child, his uncle had been so “childish,” styling himself the king of children, and thus always took him along with a whole group of kids to pick jujubes.

Uncle Lin would climb to the highest branches, his two hairy legs dangling in the air, and would get scolded by his uncle for being “indecent.”

Ah—no, not him, but Ying Zheng.

Ying Zheng braced his forehead.

Dreaming day after day… he was starting to confuse dream with reality.

“Was there someone named Lin Zhi in the Lin family?” Ying Zheng asked.

The old man said, “The Lin family… that was many years ago. I was young then and didn’t have the ability to meet the noblemen of the Lin household.”

Ying Zheng thanked him.

Meng Yi, Wang Ben, and Fusu had already gone numb.

An emperor actually thanking a commoner—yes, they were beyond numb now.

Ying Zheng restored his identity as the First Emperor once he arrived in Handan and summoned the descendants of Zhao’s old scholars.

Fortunately, he really did find a descendant of the Lin family.

“Lin Zhi… indeed, I had an uncle by that name, but when my grandfather passed away, my uncle retreated into the mountains. Before leaving, he said he couldn’t shoulder the responsibility of the Lin clan, that it would be unfilial, so he removed his own name from the family register.”

The speaker was Lin Zhi’s nephew. As a child, he had met the youngest uncle, Lin Zhi, and remembered him as someone who loved playing with children.

“That was a long time ago. Young Uncle should have passed away by now.”

The First Emperor said, “I see.”

I’m already old… Uncle Lin must certainly be gone.

Even Cai Ze had long passed away.

He rewarded the Lin descendant and asked if he was willing to serve as an official.

The man smiled bitterly and declined, saying he lacked the talent and learning.

Meng Yi thought the emperor would be furious, but to his surprise, the First Emperor calmly bestowed gold and let the man leave without making things difficult.

Another night, another deep sleep.

The First Emperor dreamed that Lian Po and Li Mu had also joined Qin.

He hugged a wine jar and got thoroughly drunk. But since he had already dreamed once today, he didn’t dream again.

Ying Zheng truly didn’t know whether he should envy Ying Zheng… or envy his great-grandfather.

His great-grandfather smiled so hard his eyes were practically gone!

Tsk.

…

“My lord, the issues mentioned by the commoners truly exist.”

Li Si rushed over and handed the collected reports to the First Emperor.

The First Emperor flipped through them with a cold expression. “Wang Ben.”

Wang Ben knelt. “Your servant is here!”

“I command you to don your armor once more and campaign for Great Qin.”

“As you command!”

Stationed in Handan, the First Emperor oversaw everything while Wang Ben led the local garrison and raided households one by one according to the list, executing the guilty.

As expected, remnants of the six states took advantage of the chaos to stir rebellion, but they were quickly crushed beneath the edge of Wang Ben’s blade.

Even leading only local Qin troops, Wang Ben effortlessly shattered their resistance.

With the First Emperor still alive and commanding, the remaining nobles of the six states didn’t dare to respond to the rebels being arrested.

“Construction of the palace city—halt. The Great Wall—halt as well.” The First Emperor said. “Release half the convicts and register them as commoners. Recompile the household records. Relocate people to Yunmeng Marsh to open farmland, exempt all taxes and labor conscription for two years.”

“As for the confiscated lands, distribute them first to the Qin soldiers owed reward. If that’s still not enough…” the First Emperor sneered, “I refuse to believe only the Zhao territories dared to act in my name.”

The ministers who had rushed from Xianyang dropped to their knees trembling.

Was Qin about to make another massive move?

Would war rise again?

But could the First Emperor’s body withstand it?

Just when the remaining nobles of the six states were about to be forced into revolt, an imperial decree suddenly eased their fears.

The First Emperor would reopen Xianyang Academy and establish schools in every commandery, summoning scholars from across the land to study.

Each year, these academies could recommend students to Xianyang Academy. Starting next February, the First Emperor would personally examine the academy students for three years straight, selecting officials from among them.

【“Zheng’er, what makes Qin superior to the six states is that its military merit system and guest minister system give commoners and scholars a path to rise. Remember this well.”

“After Qin unifies the world, the military merit and guest minister systems essentially disappear. So you must find another system allowing commoners and scholars to become officials.”

“Do you mean the academy system you and Great-grandfather mentioned?”

“Well… that depends on you. Your uncle may not always be correct.”

“Zheng’er knows—Uncle is wrong most of the time!”

“That’s not exactly true…”】

The First Emperor tapped his fingers on the desk. He needed to return to Xianyang and personally supervise the reopening of the academy.

Chairs you could sit on with your legs dangling were indeed much more comfortable than kneeling.

“A path upward…” the First Emperor murmured. “I neglected this. In the past, the scholars of foreign states willingly came to Qin as guest ministers—that alone proved they held little loyalty to the six states. As long as I allow them to serve as officials… so that’s it. So that’s the key.”

Uncle, Ying Zheng has learned yet another lesson today.

Xianyang Academy had been closed at Li Si’s recommendation. Now, with its reopening, Li Si grew visibly thinner from fear.

When the First Emperor summoned him privately, Li Si thought his political career was finished.

To his astonishment, the First Emperor only asked if Xunzi had indeed been his teacher, then inquired extensively about Xunzi.

“Does Master Xun still have other disciples?” the First Emperor asked.

Li Si desperately wanted to say no, but he didn’t dare. He could only claim that he and the other disciples of Xunzi did not get along.

“I see?” The First Emperor gave him a long look and dismissed him.

He sat alone for a long time, then laughed at himself.

“Li Qing… so you, too, are not entirely loyal to me.”