Chapter 46: Impoverished Commoners Entering the Pass

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Fusu was quite curious about Tian An’s past. Ever since the Dowager Empress Huayang was still alive, he had already been residing in the Gaoquan Palace. In Fusu’s memory, Tian An had never spoken of his earlier years, such as when he first met General Xin Sheng.

Whenever asked about his past, the old man would only recount his experiences in Gaoquan Palace, never mentioning his youthful days.

Since Fusu could remember, the old man had always appeared with white hair in the palace.

Setting his book aside, Fusu looked suspiciously at the two elderly figures walking away, then withdrew his gaze and continued attending to the matters before him.

After the whipping was over, the day’s construction work resumed.

Whether it was General Zhang Han or General Xin Sheng, they were commanders in the army, but with lax military discipline, they could not effectively manage the troops.

Therefore, their methods of maintaining order were largely the same.

Compared to the old generals’ ways of command, Tian An’s approach was also commendable. It was easy for him to obtain updates on Sima Xin’s condition, as someone would personally bring news to him.

After pondering these things, Fusu sat upright and took up his pen, needing to carefully document the progress of the fortification repairs for tomorrow’s report to the Chancellor.

When the Xianyang Bridge was first constructed, only a few hundred laborers were involved.

Fusu’s expression was stern, yet before him stood over thirty thousand people. The division of labor, management, and logistics were all extremely heavy tasks.

Therefore, Fusu recalled the Chancellor’s arrangements at the time.

It wasn’t until nightfall, when the laborers who had worked all day rested—especially those sleeping under wooden shelters, their snores rising and falling—that Fusu walked beside the freshly dug canal, mulling over the Chancellor’s earlier words about fostering retainers.

If Lord Fusu were able, like Lü Buwei in the past, to support three thousand retainers to assist him, perhaps he wouldn’t have to personally oversee the digging of this canal now.

With so many laborers, the work seemed arduous, and only then did he realize the severe shortage of manpower.

Frowning in thought, standing under the moonlight, Fusu imagined that perhaps the Chancellor was just as anxious at this moment, likely aware of the manpower needs of Lord Fusu.

Hearing footsteps approaching from afar, Fusu looked up and saw the old general Xin Sheng on patrol.

Xin Sheng stepped forward and said, “My lord.”

Fusu replied, “Thank you for your hard work, General.”

“It is nothing, merely my duty as a subordinate.”

“Fusu still has much to learn from the general about military discipline.”

Xin Sheng chuckled, “If you want to learn about military discipline, you should seek out Wang Jian. My skills are nothing special—it’s only a few tens of thousands of laborers. Back in the day, I commanded over a hundred thousand troops; managing these laborers is no great challenge.”

“General, were you acquainted with Tian An before?”

“Hmm,” Xin Sheng nodded. “We met during the campaign against the State of Yan. Tian An assisted in transporting provisions to the army, and that’s when I first met him...”

Fusu sat by the fire beside the canal to warm himself, while Tian An pulled noodles and prepared the evening meal.

As the old general recounted the past, Tian An appeared more solemn than usual—perhaps worried Xin Sheng might reveal something he shouldn’t.

Soon, a bowl of noodles was ready. Fusu ate while listening to the general’s stories.

It happened after Jing Ke’s assassination attempt on the King of Qin. Xin Sheng had followed Wang Jian’s campaign against Yan, but the rear supplies were insufficient. Tian An produced 100,000 dan of grain and handed it over to Xin Sheng, and thus they became acquainted.

During the telling, Xin Sheng did not know where Tian An had procured such a vast amount of grain.

When the story ended, Xin Sheng ate the noodles heartily.

Fusu considered the old general’s words, glancing at Tian An standing nearby with a smile.

Tian An was, of course, loyal and highly capable.

Fusu sat quietly by the fire, pondering the many points that warranted further scrutiny in the general’s tale. Why had Tian An suddenly appeared in Yan? How could a eunuch like him transport 100,000 dan of grain to Yan?

There were glaring inconsistencies.

Fusu looked at the old general beside him, then at Tian An smiling and gazing up at the moon.

Suddenly, Fusu asked, “Tian An, have you always managed the affairs of the Dowager Empress Huayang’s estate?”

Tian An slowly nodded.

Satisfied with the answer, Fusu departed.

By the fire, Xin Sheng continued eating noodles. He glanced at the receding figure and whispered, “Has the lord really seen through it?”

Tian An replied, “The lord is an extraordinarily clever child.”

“Well then...”

“General, rest assured. When I am too old to care for the lord, I will hand over everything left by the Dowager Empress Huayang to him.”

Xin Sheng nodded, “This young lord is formidable.”

To have a successor who observes so meticulously is a great pressure on all ministers.

Especially one who can discern lies and concealments through subtle details.

It is difficult to conceal one’s true self before such a ruler.

In other words, one cannot disguise oneself; the ruler will tear through all pretenses and mock you.

To serve such a person as a subject is an immense burden.

Yet Xin Sheng felt a strange sadness welling up—not because he felt old, for he was glad to be old.

What saddened him was that such a king would have no friends or confidants; likely, he would endure loneliness all his life.

For when the world is muddled, he alone remains clear-headed.

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He worried that Lord Fusu would suffer loneliness in the years to come.

“Did you see it long ago?”

“When the lord was still a child, not yet ten, he was frighteningly precocious. Even then, Dowager Empress Huayang worried he would be persecuted because he was too intelligent. What made it especially difficult was that the child was extremely cautious and spoke only the truth to me and the Dowager Empress.”

Xin Sheng was briefly choked by a mouthful of noodles and hurriedly drank some soup.

Tian An continued gazing upward, as if recalling scenes from long ago.

It was in a grand hall filled with warm sunlight. Lord Fusu was playing with a small cart he made himself. Dowager Empress Huayang sat beside him in elegant robes under the sun. She gently patted his back. Though she was ravaged by illness, she laughed with the child.

The image gradually blurred, even the starlit sky before Tian An became hazy, and he realized tears were streaming down his face once again.

Xin Sheng finally swallowed the food causing him to choke and asked, “What did Dowager Empress Huayang leave for Lord Fusu?”

Exhaling warm breath in the cold air, Tian An said, “In the future, I will hand over everything left by the Dowager Empress to the lord.”

How much legacy had Dowager Empress Huayang truly left to Lord Fusu?

What was certain and already talked about was that Lü Buwei’s inheritance had been entrusted to Lord Fusu—except that the three thousand retainers had been disbanded.

Even the First Emperor had entrusted things to Lord Fusu.

The many secrets involving the Qin palace made Xin Sheng cautious about asking further, despite his close relationship with Tian An.

Even if Tian An wished to say more, would he dare?

Tian An was deeply loyal to the First Emperor, who was busy with state affairs and conquering the Six States.

Since Lord Fusu became sensible, he had been raised almost entirely by Tian An and Dowager Empress Huayang.

In truth, which royal family of the states did not possess estates?

During the prolonged wars between Wei and Qin, the princes of Wei had estates in Qin, and Qin had estates in Chu.

Was Dowager Empress Huayang’s wealth solely from supplies inherited from Chu or a gift from the King of Qin?

It was just like the princes and lords of the states each having estates in various places before Qin unified the Six States.

Dowager Empress Huayang also had estates in the Six States, and these were her private properties.

It was common for the offspring or wives of the lords of the states to have several private estates.

Thus, Dowager Empress Huayang’s private estates had remained in Tian An’s hands all along.

Moreover, all of the Dowager Empress’s private property during her lifetime had been managed by Tian An.

That explained how it wasn’t Tian An who took 100,000 dan of grain from Qin to Yan, but rather that grain was already stored in Yan, having been purchased and stockpiled by Dowager Empress Huayang in advance.

Tian An merely brought out the grain prepared by the Dowager Empress.

If she could produce 100,000 dan of grain then, who knew how much legacy the Dowager Empress had hidden elsewhere in the Six States?

At dawn the next day, before it was fully light, a clerk arrived before the small hut by the canal, whispering, “My lord, the Chancellor has sent me to collect the canal records.”

After calling out, the clerk waited outside.

After a long while, the door opened. Fusu saw the visitor and said, “Please wait a moment.”

The official remained outside.

Inside, Fusu gathered more than ten bamboo scrolls from the table, all written the day before, wrapped them carefully, and carried them out.

The clerk took the heavy bundle, slung it over his horse, mounted, and returned to Xianyang.

The surroundings were still dim, with only the stove by the hut burning—Tian An was preparing breakfast. A few armored soldiers had already begun their patrol around the canal.

Fusu picked up a ceramic jug, found the water warm, washed his face, and felt much more awake.

In Qin, officialdom was governed by strict rules and systems. Fusu had to record the canal’s progress daily and report to the Chancellor every day; he could not leave his post without an order.

Just like when constructing the Xianyang Bridge, one had to remain at the site until completion.

“My lord, would you prefer noodles or porridge?”

“Either is fine.”

“You will be busy again today, perhaps walking along the canal. Noodles are better—they keep you full longer. Porridge makes you hungry before noon and you’ll lose strength.”

Fusu nodded, giving permission to arrange it as he wished.

Before long, smoke rose in the distance—the women were preparing meals for the laborers.

After half an hour, Tian An scooped out the noodles, added some shredded ginger, and mixed them.

He then took a flatbread from the stove and poured mutton soup into the noodle bowl before serving it to the lord.

Fusu took the bowl and chopsticks, ate a few bites, and asked, “Is there celery?”

“Yes,” Tian An brought steamed celery.

“You should eat as well.”

“Ah,” he replied.

The master and servant sat eating together by the house.

Fusu looked toward Shangyan Mountain in the distance and asked, “How much celery is left planted?”

Tian An said, “Many were killed by the frost earlier, but as the weather warmed for half a month, fresh celery sprouted again. They have been delivering it to you.”

Shouts came from the canal as the laborers resumed digging. Carriages of grain were transported from Xianyang to the site.

Fusu also received a reply from the Chancellor sent from Xianyang.

The letter was simple: before spring plowing, the canal must be dug through to irrigate the fields. The yield from the ten thousand qing of land would determine the situation in the north. Fortunately, there were supplies from Shu in the south.

Fusu put down the letter, his expression darkening.

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There had been no snow in Guanzhong for half a month, and likewise in the north.

Meng Tian was deeply worried about the northern situation.

Thus, whether the grain along the Jingye Canal would be abundant concerned the morale of the people in Shang County.

After reading the letter, Fusu’s gaze returned to the canal under excavation.

Xin Sheng arrived, carrying a long spear, smiling, “I am not good with your new weapon, my lord. I am skilled with the long spear; I can teach you.”

Fusu said, “Very well, thank you, General.”

By the canal, Fusu imitated the old general’s movements, wielding the long spear. The technique was simple—if one had enough strength, one could strike down an opponent before they could react.

Fusu swung downward; the spear struck the ground heavily, digging a small pit.

The cold wind blew, and sweat dampened Fusu’s back.

Xin Sheng said, “I must still oversee the canal construction. Shall we stop for today?”

“Thank you for your guidance, General.”

The spear was heavy; Fusu thought his arms would ache come morning. After loosening his shoulders, he began the day’s work.

One hand held a scroll, the other a pen, recording how many people moved earth, dug wells, and excavated the canal.

Soon, a fast rider arrived, handing over a bamboo scroll. “My lord, this was sent by Inspector Zhang.”

Fusu took the scroll and read. It contained many records. Master Zhang Cang believed it would take at least six more months to complete the Jingye Canal—four months if they worked day and night.

After receiving the scroll from the master, Fusu looked toward the fields. Although it was not yet spring plowing season, and still cold winter, some were already tilling the soil.

Fusu instructed Tian An, “Have Zhang Han bring two thousand men here to assist with the canal digging.”

After a pause, he added, “Order Zhang Han to oversee the canal excavation in Linjin County, replacing Inspector Zhang Cang, and have Zhang Cang immediately organize the migration of people into Guanzhong.”

The Jingye Canal construction continued. From the initial thirty thousand, several rounds of conscription had increased the labor force to fifty thousand.

Fifty thousand farmers were digging the three hundred li canal, repeatedly swinging their wooden hoes, hauling baskets of earth from the shafts.

A month passed, and the canal was still under construction. It was February in Guanzhong; the weather was warm yet chilly, with large temperature differences between day and night. People still wore thick clothes in the morning.

That morning, Sima Xin woke early, humming an unknown tune. He opened the sheepfold to let the flock out. With green grass now growing, the sheep could move about; they had stayed indoors all winter.

He then brought out much fodder and went to the other side of the county office, where the stables held three warhorses. These horses were used for urgent dispatches or pulling carts.

Normally, the horses stayed here, unused.

After finishing, Sima Xin exhaled warm breath into the cold air, swept the county office grounds, then opened the door and walked to a small river, scooping water to splash on his face.

The air was cold, fog lingered, and the river steamed.

“County magistrate! County magistrate!” The county steward came running, “Many people are coming from the east!”

Hearing this, Sima Xin wiped the water from his face and ran along the river.

After some distance, he reached the Yellow River, where he saw groups of people escorted by soldiers coming from the direction of Hangu Pass.

“The county magistrate, what is this...?”

Sima Xin said, “They are migrants.”

The steward was shocked.

Migration was not unfamiliar to Sima Xin—it was quite common in recent years.

Now that Lord Fusu was overseeing canal construction and large tracts of land needed cultivation, these migrants were manpower. With manpower, the land could be cultivated, and migrants entering Guanzhong would receive the grain from the fields they farmed, at least securing land to till.

Sima Xin stood guard at the key road of Ningqin County, watching the long procession, noticing most were poor.

The procession was so long it stretched beyond sight, arriving continuously from dawn until dusk—a whole day—and still not finished.

Counties behind Hangu Pass grew anxious. They had seen similar scenes before, when Qin marched eastward—only then, it was endless armies leaving Hangu Pass, the procession lasting days and nights without end.

Now, to the unknowing, it might seem like a massive army was entering Hangu Pass, causing great tension.

In the following days, each morning saw groups of poor people marching from Hangu Pass toward Guanzhong, continuing for over ten days.

The steward whispered, “County magistrate, why are there still so many?”

Sima Xin counted roughly each day and estimated nearly fifty thousand had entered Guanzhong.

“County magistrate?”

The steward called again. Sima Xin replied, “Where did Zhang Cang find so many poor people?”

Seeing the magistrate did not answer directly, the steward wisely crouched silently nearby.

These people were poor—some wore straw sandals, others had none, some were barely covered.

Watching them long enough, Sima Xin understood why Zhang Cang migrated so many poor people into the region.

Because Zhang Cang was a disciple of Xunzi, whose teachings Sima Xin had also studied, and as a native of Liyang, he often heard of Li Si’s policies.

Since Li Si was a Legalist and Zhang Cang studied under Xunzi, they understood only the poor would cultivate the land well and be willing to serve Qin.

As for the wealthy or even middle-class households, Zhang Cang never considered them.

Years ago, Lü Buwei compiled the Lüshi Chunqiu, stating: “To stop boiling water, removing the fire is the way—the root cause must be cut off.”

Sima Xin thought of the relationship between rich and poor and recalled Lüshi Chunqiu, feeling as if Lü Buwei’s shadow lingered still.