Chapter Forty-Seven: Give It a Beautiful Name

The Qin people possessed a predominantly pragmatic folkways, which made every state decree issued by Great Qin direct and straightforward.

Some said that Great Qin intended to unify the script, and thus summoned the erudites of the six states to Qin, only to subsequently "confine" them.

Following that, when Great Qin implemented the decrees for the unification of the script and the carriage tracks, no one dared to voice opposition.

At least, the voices of large-scale dissent dwindled, and the erudites of the six states were kept enclosed within the city of Xianyang.

This deprived the majority of opposition factions across various regions of their core leadership.

Fusu held the reins of his horse as he walked along the Luo River, the warhorses by his side pacing leisurely.

The tranquil Luo River mirrored the silhouettes of the procession walking along its banks.

The Luo River formed a stretch of the Yellow River, and when the Yellow River was calm, it possessed a truly magnificent beauty.

This massive migration was still ongoing. Fusu gazed at the elongated procession, stretching endlessly beyond the limits of sight; it seemed that from the direction of Hangu Pass, migrants were still continuously arriving.

Six commanderies and dozens of counties from the Central Plains had been mobilized, bringing a total of two hundred thousand impoverished commoners into the passes.

To prepare for this migration, Zhang Cang had begun making arrangements as early as the autumn of the previous year. Officials from the Prime Minister's Residence continuously issued orders to the various counties, until this migration officially commenced in February of the current year.

Yet, Fusu could not bring himself to agree with a certain statement written by the retainers of Lü Buwei in the *Master Lü's Spring and Autumn Annals* back in the day.

That statement went as follows: "To obtain ten fine horses is not as good as finding one Bo Le; to acquire a thousand miles of territory is not as good as gaining one sage."

Fusu suspected that Lü Buwei at the time... was most likely turning green with envy at the sight of Xunzi, who was then the most renowned scholar at the Jixia Academy.

Since he could neither recruit Xunzi nor find any way to deal with him, this was the conclusion Fusu reached regarding the biases held by Lü Buwei, a mere merchant, while presiding over the compilation of the *Master Lü's Spring and Autumn Annals*.

With different stances came different thoughts. Fusu believed that in this unadorned agricultural era, farming constituted the most vital foundation, and fields yielded grain solely through human labor and cultivation.

Myriads upon myriads of people were precisely what Great Qin needed above all else.

Did Great Qin lack sages?

What Great Qin lacked right now was substantial food that could genuinely fill bellies. Great Qin was desperately short of food.

It also lacked the population required to cultivate more fields.

As a prince of Great Qin, he was still worrying over how to feed the populace.

Fusu was truly anxious. If an acre could yield even a few more peckfuls of grain, he would truly thank the heavens. Having a few more acres of farmland in Guanzhong would be an immense blessing.

Therefore, looking at this long line of migrating commoners at this moment, a surge of strength renewed within his heart; this world was not entirely hopeless.

Whether it was Legalism, Mohism, or the teachings of Xunzi and Han Fei... even Lü Buwei’s *Master Lü's Spring and Autumn Annals*, as long as three or five sentences within them proved useful for statecraft, Great Qin could adopt and employ them. As long as they were effective, Fusu harbored no prejudices regarding which school of thought they originated from.

A month later, the migration did not officially conclude until March.

The weather had warmed slightly, though another light snow had fallen just yesterday.

Right in the middle of early spring, the heavens had unleashed yet another flurry of light snow, dampening the spirits of many corvée laborers who feared it would delay their farming.

Inside a small cabin by the canal, Fusu perused the books sent by his teacher, Zhang Cang. Zhang Cang was still presiding over the migration work in Luoyang and would likely remain stationed there for an entire year.

To ensure the migration proceeded smoothly, Zhang Cang had to stay in Luoyang to direct it, and in the aftermath of the migration, he had to remain there to handle the fallout.

Fusu picked up another scroll of documents. By the light of an oil lamp, he discerned that this document had been sent from Xianyang, bearing the seal of the Prime Minister's Residence. Upon closer inspection, it turned out to be a military report from Tu Ju.

Tu Ju had marched all the way south, capturing over three thousand stronghold residents in the mountains, while Jian Lu had officially begun excavation on the Ling Canal.

Fusu calculated for a moment. Judging by Jian Lu's pace, he should have reached the Xiang River by now.

Jian Lu and Tu Ju had agreed that all captured stronghold residents would be handed over to Jian Lu to excavate the canal.

Fusu was well aware that Jian Lu, far away in the southwest, faced even greater hardships than himself. Not only did he have to contend with the local miasma and unfamiliar climate while directing the canal construction, but he also had to worry about the commanding general Tu Ju and the morale of the troops.

In his reports, Jian Lu described Tu Ju as a rash and reckless general.

Yet Jian Lu also declared that regardless of whether Tu Ju could pacify the entire southwest, he, Jian Lu, would dig this canal through.

Fusu understood the Prime Minister's intent. Prince Fusu possessed considerable experience in building bridges and canals, and the Director of Waterways Jian Lu was an official subordinate to the Lesser Treasury.

Prince Fusu currently held the post of Assistant Administrator of the Lesser Treasury, naturally placing him in direct charge of Jian Lu's canal excavation affairs. According to Qin law, Prince Fusu, as the Assistant Administrator of the Lesser Treasury, presided over the canal excavation work across all regions and bore primary responsibility.

Fusu penned his reply to Jian Lu, conveniently bestowing upon him the name "Ling Canal."

He also dispatched a letter to Li You, hoping he would lend his full support to the situation in the southwest.

As long as Sichuan remained stable, Jian Lu and Tu Ju would have no worries in their rear.

Fusu continued writing in the document, explaining that the so-called Ling Canal was a waterway guided by divine spirits.

He wondered whether the name Ling Canal would be accepted by the people of the present day. Regardless of whether they accepted it or not, Fusu remained determined to call it the Ling Canal.

Having finished writing several official documents, Fusu handed them to Dong Yi nearby, instructing, "Have someone send these out."

Dong Yi nodded and went to execute the task.

The cabin by the canal was now much larger than before, housing three or five minor officials who sat together writing up case files.

Fusu, having sat for a whole day, rested his eyes and massaged the bridge of his nose. He had to control the time spent reading documents.

Otherwise, sooner or later, he would become nearsighted.

Stepping outside the cabin, Fusu stretched his waist and back, casting his gaze toward the distant scenery. Squadrons of corvée laborers were digging the canal, hauling mud out of the vertical shafts to reinforce the river embankments.

The clerical officials inside the cabin had all been arranged by the Prime Minister to assist, and Dong Yi was one of them.

Amidst a loud shout, the distribution of today's meal commenced. Each person received three flatbreads, baked by the women of Jingye County, who had been busy since the first glimmers of dawn.

The hungriest among them were the newly arrived impoverished commoners from within the passes. Most wore ragged clothes, but at least here they could obtain food. Consequently, men and women, youths of thirteen or fourteen, and elderly folk who still retained some strength had all turned out.

As for children under the age of ten, they had all been dropped off in Jingye County.

Those children raised in Jingye County would not starve. Recently, Shusun Tong had grown increasingly fond of children; the old gentleman believed that the more children Jingye County had, the better.

Fusu walked along the roadside, watching groups of impoverished commoners sitting together, gnawing on warm flatbreads.

"If they lack farmland, they have no choice but to labor for wealthy households."

Fusu overheard the old general's remark.

Xin Sheng observed, "Zhang Cang has a keen eye. Though most of these people are emaciated, they are all in good health."

Fusu asked doubtfully, "Could it be that Teacher handpicked them?"

"Naturally."

"I thought only Zhang Han would do such a thing."

Xin Sheng suddenly smiled and said nothing more.

The migrated population came in entire households, each consisting of roughly three to five members. In total, there were about forty to fifty thousand households here.

Many of these people actually constituted temporarily cobbled-together families. Mostly, it was a case of a wife losing her husband, a child losing a mother, or both parents being gone so an elderly person led their grandchildren to join forces with another household.

Even a slight bit of effort would reveal that at least seventy percent of these groups were makeshift arrangements. For the sake of simplicity, county magistrates across various regions had largely turned a blind eye to such practices.

His teacher hadn't bothered with it either, as long as the laborers were healthy.

However, none of that mattered now; Fusu was about to reassign their household registers, granting every one of them a brand-new status.

Master Lüli had once expressed his hope that Great Qin would cherish all people under heaven.

The old gentleman truly possessed a compassionate heart.

The laborers ate while even concealing half a flatbread; they were simply allowed to do so.

Once the documents were sent to Sichuan, it would likely take another two months or more to receive a reply. The last time a reply was received from the southwest had been back in the late autumn of last year.

During the bitter winter, the army deep in the southwest had lost contact for an entire winter, only regaining communication now.

Fusu thought to himself, hoping the next letter would arrive sooner.

With these corvée laborers who had migrated into the passes, the progress of the canal excavation work was astonishingly swift. In little more than ten days, the Jingye Canal, connecting the upper and lower reaches of the Luo River, would be officially completed.

Because of this, Fusu had lived by the river since the winter of last year, right up to the present.

Tian An was roasting two fish. He had dug a simple pool nearby specifically for raising fish, keeping the ones he caught inside it.

A plump, large catfish was currently being roasted.

Fusu had not expected that the Guanzhong section of the Yellow River nowadays would still harbor such hefty catfish. Such fish possessed abundant layers of fat, making them a top-tier choice for supplementing one's meat intake.

Tian An drizzled a thoroughly ground scallion-and-ginger juice over the fish meat, remarking, "My lord, this kind of fish has a heavy earthy and muddy taste."

Fusu sat by the stove, watching the fish fat drip into the fire, and asked, "How are matters at court recently?"

Tian An possessed formidable connections. Whenever news stirred across the court and the wild, he invariably caught wind of it beforehand, and only after he knew would the news spread throughout Xianyang.

"Reporting to my lord, His Majesty summoned the Prime Minister last night."

"Last night?"

"Yes."

A summons in the middle of the night was rarely a trivial matter.

Tian An turned the fish over and continued, "The First Emperor inquired of the Prime Minister how the people of the six states were faring, and whether he should go out to take a look."

"An eastern tour?"

Hearing this, Tian An hesitated for a moment before saying, "His Majesty did not mention an eastern tour, but merely asked about the condition of the people of the six states."

Tian An placed the roasted fish onto a platter, then sliced it into sections. As he cut, the fish skin tore away along with the meat, letting brown juices seep over the snow-white fish flesh inside.

Tian An sprinkled some salt and pepper, placing two citrus fruits to the side. "My lord, it is ready to eat."

The citrus fruits had once again been sent by Li You. Fusu remarked, "I rather envy Li You. He has an endless supply of fruit over there; I wonder if he eats fruit in place of grain."

Tian An smiled and said, "The Prime Minister's son is blessed with good fortune."

After the great flood back then, so many people had died, and Li You had buried countless corpses, yet he had returned as if nothing had happened, save for suffering a fair bit of psychological strain.

"His fate is indeed very good."

With that, Fusu picked up a piece of fish meat, tucked it inside a flatbread so the juices soaked into the dough, and crushed the fish meat into the bread.

Oil, salt, fat, protein, and carbohydrates were now all accounted for.

Fusu took a large bite and chewed slowly.

The first spring rain of Guanzhong did not arrive until late March. The rain fell in a continuous drizzle, driving many corvée laborers to take shelter inside the vertical shafts. Pathways wide enough for people to walk on flanked both sides of the underground canal, and the laborers took refuge there. The workforce present now was twice what it had been previously.

Moreover, the accents spoken had multiplied: some spoke the dialect of Qi, others the language of Yan or Zhao. These voices carrying regional accents all blended into the chaotic murmurs echoing within the canal.

Fusu received another letter from the Prime Minister, listening to the patter of the rain relentlessly drumming against the rooftop.

In the letter, the Prime Minister stated he would dispatch another one hundred officials to assist Fusu in establishing townships and organizing household registers for the migrated commoners.

After reading it, Fusu laid this bamboo slip aside, gazed out at the rainy scenery outside the window, and took a sip of hot water.

The remaining minor officials inside were still writing furiously.

Recently, Tian An had been in very high spirits. Standing under the eaves, he watched Xin Sheng return wearing a bamboo rain hat and a coir raincoat.

"Is the old gentleman in high spirits?"

Tian An smiled. "The old general is in a very cheerful mood."

Xin Sheng walked beneath the eaves, removed his rain hat, seated himself nearby, and said, "I went to take a look. Just three more miles of digging, and this canal will be completely cleared."

Tian An remarked, "That is truly wonderful news."

Xin Sheng asked in turn, "What has you looking so pleased?"

Tian An lowered his voice and said, "My lord has more and more capable ministers gathering around him. I am happy for my lord; in the future, his retinue of ministers will only grow."

Xin Sheng gazed out at the rain-filled sky, smiling without a word.

"Dong Yi."

Hearing the Prince call a name from inside, Dong Yi, standing on the other side behind the house, hurried inside with brisk steps.

Shortly after, Dong Yi emerged again, vaulted onto his warhorse, and rode off through the rain.

Xin Sheng glanced at Dong Yi from afar and sighed, "My lord should have more young people around him."

Tian An nodded.

Inside, a massive map was unfurled before Fusu, followed by a long, heavy sigh.

Due to a few instructions from the Prime Minister, he would likely need to remain here for another year.

Governing the state and nation was difficult. Ever since the winter of last year, Fusu had encountered an increasing number of intractable problems, each harder than the last.

This was no simple matter of building a bridge or constructing a single county.

The Prime Minister had entrusted him with an immensely weighty mission: to re-establish villages and counties south of Mount Shangyan.

Fusu frowned and fell silent for a long while, his mind operating at high speed as memories concerning county-level planning flashed rapidly through his brain.

He lifted his brush and began circling territories on the map.

The rain poured down all day long, and Fusu labored throughout the entire day.

The following morning, as the rain finally ceased, Fusu vaulted onto his horse and galloped south along the canal, with Xin Sheng and his troops escorting him all the way.

Fusu pointed across the river and asked, "Is that Li Yi?"

Xin Sheng nodded.

Fusu personally spurred his horse forward again, racing along the banks of the Luo River.

The spring sunshine lacked intense heat; because dawn had just broken and the rain had only recently stopped, the entirety of Guanzhong remained damp.

The azure sky resembled a pure blue sapphire, dotted with white or grayish-black clouds.

The people had no idea what Prince Fusu was doing; he simply rode everywhere, looking here and there.

This made the local county magistrates and township chiefs very nervous. They craned their necks and inquired among one another, terrified that Prince Fusu might arrive before they had time to welcome him.

For several days running, Xin Sheng accompanied Prince Fusu in surveying the land, inspecting population registers, and reviewing county gazetteers.

After accompanying the Prince for five days, Xin Sheng saw him sitting on the cart shaft today, recording something—apparently the quantity of arable land—which reminded him of the map he had seen earlier.

Connecting these events, Xin Sheng realized a momentous affair: the Prince intended to establish commanderies and counties.

After a brief surge of excitement, Xin Sheng calmed down again. The Prime Minister was Prince Fusu's teacher; how could such a teacher reserve the credit for others? Naturally, he would bestow all the glory upon his disciple.

As for how much capability the current Prince Fusu possessed and what kind of realm he could build this region into?

These matters were hardly worth worrying about, because Prime Minister Li Si would undoubtedly arrange personnel to handle the aftermath.

Everyone knew that once the Jingye Canal was dug, this region would grow prosperous. A prosperous county required extensive development, and having the Prime Minister hand this task over to the Prince was the most fitting arrangement imaginable.

Though these days were hectic, Fusu maintained an optimistic mindset, sharing cheerful banter with Shusun Tong and Zhang Han, who had come to visit him.

Zhang Han cradled a child in his arms—the child he shared with Lady Dong.

Fusu remarked, "No wonder Dong Yi volunteered to petition for coming here."

Zhang Han replied, "Many members of the Dong family came to visit."

Recalling that Jingye County now housed over two thousand children, Fusu asked curiously, "With so many children, can you possibly manage them all?"

Shusun Tong chuckled good-naturedly and said, "My lord, this matter is quite simple. The commoners newly migrated into the passes hand their children over to Jingye County to be raised. I distributed the children among various households within the county, three children per household. Once those corvée laborers finish digging the canal and settle down, they can reclaim their children, provided they pay off the grain debt. To take back a fostered child from the county, they must produce ten peckfuls of rice; after all, raising children in the county consumes grain as well."

Fusu popped an almond into his mouth, suddenly feeling that this old fox Shusun Tong had never been one to suffer a loss ever since entering Jingye County.

"Does my lord feel that ten peckfuls of rice is too little?"

"It matters not to me. If the village lacks enough grain to eat, I shall hold you accountable."

Shusun Tong laughed softly, an outcome he had fully expected.

He stopped stroking his graying beard and instead said in a low voice, "Some of these children lost their parents long ago, or were passed from pillar to post through several families. Not everyone is willing to take their children back."

Zhang Han said, "My lord, rest assured. Where these children came from and who sent them are all recorded by the county. Even if no one claims them, when they grow up, one need only check the county gazetteers to know."

Upon second thought, Zhang Han added, "You truly don't look like a Confucian scholar."

Shusun Tong smiled. "In the past, I always associated with fellow disciples or other Confucian scholars. But nowadays? Not a single Confucian scholar is by my side."

Zhang Han remarked, "You even let Mao Heng leave."

Shusun Tong replied, "He wanted to leave in the first place."

Zhang Han observed, "I suspect Mao Heng has already starved to death out there."

Shusun Tong wore the expression of an old urchin as he smiled and said, "With Mao Heng's learning, he need only find some aristocrat who loves the *Classic of Poetry*, and he will never have to worry about food and clothing for the rest of his life. General Zhang Han need not fret over him."

Seeing that the two of them were about to bicker again, Fusu averted his gaze, refusing to look at them, and instead rose, walked to the other side of the cabin, and sat down.

Busy though he was, Fusu always maintained an optimistic mindset. He watched the groups of commoners sitting together eating their evening meal. Though he could not fully understand their accents, the laborers broke into unfamiliar folk songs.

Hearing their rough and unpolished singing voices, Fusu smiled once more.

If a desolate and barren land could be slowly built up through his own bit-by-bit efforts, that would surely be a deeply fulfilling endeavor.

Every appointment made by the Prime Minister was correct. Digging canals, establishing villages and counties, constructing roads—were these not the exact duties of the Assistant Administrator of the Lesser Treasury?

Everything was proper and justified, and the Prime Minister's appointments held not a shred of nepotism.

Fusu intended to bestow upon this place a most beautiful name: Weiwei Commanderie.

In truth, the designation of Weiwei was already used among the Qin people, but the formal establishment of a county named Weiwei would not happen until five hundred years later.

Today, as dawn was just breaking, Fusu and Great General Xin Sheng were at the riverside early, practicing with heavy halberds.

The Yellow River reflected the figure of Prince Fusu practicing with his heavy halberd.

Xin Sheng repeatedly corrected the Prince's posture.

The movements were simple, yet the heavy halberd was truly weighty. Fusu practiced until he was drenched in sweat before finally finishing.

"Old General, have the laborers go till the fields today, and let Dong Yi lead the team."

"My lord, the spring plowing season is still early."

Fusu wiped away his sweat and continued, "Divide the fields first. Those without military merit have only the right to use the plots; private ownership is forbidden. All plots shall be recorded in land registers belonging to the respective counties, and the counties shall report them to Xianyang."

"My lord, the counties have not yet been established."

"The farmland shall belong to me for now."

Xin Sheng nodded. Since the farmland belonged to the county, and the county was now successfully established, it naturally belonged to the Prince.

Seeing squads of corvée laborers leaving the canal, Zhang Han, who was eating his morning meal, asked doubtfully, "What is happening?"

Shusun Tong, slurping his noodles, cast a prolonged glance. With his chopsticks still in hand, he raised his head to study the sky and remarked, "The canal is about to be finished. The Prince no longer needs so many hands, so he is dispersing the workforce ahead of time."

Zhang Han slurped down another satisfying mouthful of noodles and nodded, agreeing, "Ah, the Prince has always acted thus. He never waits until the rush of spring plowing to till the fields, and long before the drought season arrives, he will instruct us in advance to store water in the cisterns."

Seeing his bowl was empty, Shusun Tong wanted a bit more and went to scoop some from the pot. The fire in the stove was still burning, and the water in the earthenware pot was still boiling. Rummaging with his chopsticks, he discovered there were no noodles left in the pot.

He looked over at Zhang Han's bowl, where noodles were piled high.

Noticing Shusun Tong's gaze, Zhang Han swallowed the noodles he was chewing and asked, "Are you not getting enough to eat?"

Shusun Tong set his bowl and chopsticks down, lowering his voice. "I have enough."

"Good!" Zhang Han nodded heavily and slurped down yet another satisfying mouthful of noodles.

Shusun Tong sighed inwardly, vowing never to share a meal with this fellow again—truly.

Noticing another group of unfamiliar officials arriving at the site while someone was questioning them, Shusun Tong said, "They are most likely officials sent by the Prime Minister to assist Prince Fusu."

Zhang Han finished his noodles in two or three bites, then strode forward to question the newcomers.

Shusun Tong looked at the boiling water still churning in the earthenware pot. Drawing a dried-out flatbread from his bosom, he soaked it in the broth until it turned into a mushy paste, then scooped it up, let it cool, and slowly enjoyed his meal.

Before long, Shusun Tong saw Zhang Han leading those officials over to the Prince's side.

Though he could not hear what they were discussing, Shusun Tong noticed that the expressions of the officials sent from Xianyang appeared thoroughly troubled.