Chapter Fifty-Two: Blades and Fire

A cool breeze blew into the room as Fusu continued to study the documents in his hands. The reports from Cheng Miao detailed the living conditions of the two hundred thousand laborers currently under their charge.

Weinan lies in the eastern part of Guanzhong, a region blessed with an excellent geographical position. Fusu believed that this land could easily sustain a population of a million.

Yet, for now, it appeared barren and desolate.

Among Cheng Miao’s writings, one matter caught Fusu’s attention—it was quite intriguing. The First Emperor not only sought linguistic unification but also aspired to justice throughout the realm.

That day, the First Emperor had a lengthy discussion with Li Si. Afterwards, he penned the four characters “Justice Under Heaven.”

He revised the old standard set by Lu Ban, changing the weight from thirteen taels per jin to the Qin standard of sixteen taels per jin, meaning half a jin equaled eight taels.

Fusu recalled that this system—the half-jin, eight-tael measure—would endure for over two millennia.

He smiled at Cheng Miao’s simple recounting. Cheng Miao was a straightforward man; thus, even when relating rumors, his words remained plain and direct.

The text also mentioned the Emperor’s decree forbidding merchants from cheating in weights or measures.

That was justice under heaven.

How classic a topic it was—so similar two thousand years apart.

Sitting by the Yellow River in Tongguan, Fusu reflected on how the current First Emperor and Prime Minister Li Si were still pursuing their grand ideals, still engaged in the monumental task of transforming the realm.

In truth, this era was not burdened by excessive trivialities. The people were somewhat simple-minded, lacking many of the convoluted entanglements that later ages would suffer.

Though life was hard for many, there were those who tirelessly pursued their dreams.

Every age has its blessings and burdens. The people of this time may have lived simply, but their material resources were scarce.

Thunder rumbled outside; it seemed another storm was approaching.

“Is the young lord here?” a voice called from outside, followed by a guard’s inquiry.

Tian An glanced out and said, “Young lord, Shusun Tong has arrived.”

Fusu nodded. “Let him in.”

As soon as Shusun Tong entered, the rain began to pour. Fusu gestured for Tian An to bring a bowl of hot water.

Shusun Tong gratefully drank it all at once, then bowed. “Thank you, young lord.”

Fusu looked out at the heavy rain through the large window. Tian An disliked big windows, claiming they let in the chill, but Fusu preferred them.

Shusun Tong bowed again. “I wish to recommend someone to you, young lord.”

Fusu replied, “I am indeed short of capable men. Pray tell, whom do you recommend?”

Shusun Tong straightened his back, signaling the seriousness of his recommendation. Though the young lord claimed a shortage of personnel, he had not actively recruited others. Now, Shusun Tong was the sole guest.

Taking a deep breath, Shusun Tong answered, “I recommend my good friend, Mr. Fusheng.”

Fusu recalled the elderly scholar who had borrowed books long ago and returned them only after much delay. Among the scholars of Qi and Lu, there was also a somewhat younger man named Funian, known to be more radical, aligned with the likes of Chunyu Yue.

But Mr. Fusheng rarely participated in court affairs and seldom took part in official debates despite being a scholar from Qi and Lu.

Fusu bit into a peach. “Mr. Fusheng is quite advanced in years, isn’t he?”

Shusun Tong bowed again. “Only about ten years older than myself.”

Fusu nodded. “Mr. Fusheng may teach at the Jingye Canal school.”

Shusun Tong bowed once more.

“Let him wait until the rain stops before leaving,” Fusu added, then picked several scrolls from a nearby shelf. “Please deliver these to General Zhang Han.”

Shusun Tong gathered the scrolls into his satchel and dined here before departing when the rain eased.

On the road from Tongguan to Huayin County, the rain had lessened but not ceased. Sima Xin, wearing a bamboo hat dripping with water, watched a donkey cart leaving Tongguan, on which sat Shusun Tong.

He gazed toward the distant Tongguan and muttered, “The old nobility of the Six States…”

Before he could finish, a county official hurried over, calling out, “Deputy Magistrate! Someone from Xianyang has arrived.”

Sima Xin turned with displeasure, curious who would trouble him now. Seeing the visitor was a censor, he promptly saluted. “Sima Xin pays respects to the censor.”

The censor handed over a document. “The Prime Minister has learned that the current magistrate of Huayin County neglects his duties. Henceforth, the post is entrusted to you.”

Sima Xin respectfully accepted the document.

The censor added, “This is a letter requested by Young Lord Fusu from the Prime Minister.”

Sima Xin bowed again. “I accept the order.”

With that, the censor mounted his horse and departed.

Sima Xin stood for a moment, then smiled. The young lord had not slighted him.

He inhaled deeply, then exhaled slowly, the bitterness inside him dissipating. He recalled the various annotations his lord had made on the book returned to him.

Turning, he hastened back to the county office.

To most officials in Huayin County, Sima Xin’s current position inspired envy.

Having risen step by step from Liyang, he had nearly given up several times, feeling Qin did not appreciate his conscientiousness. Yet now, Young Lord Fusu had recognized him.

Those county officials who had followed Sima Xin from Liyang understood and sympathized deeply.

Back at the county office, Sima Xin once again examined the book given by his lord, noting the small annotations made by Fusu himself.

Henceforth, whatever standard Fusu set for Huayin County, that would be the county’s rule.

Sima Xin instructed, “Summon a few scholars to teach the children; have the able-bodied laborers cultivate more land and build more houses; the village roads must be kept clean…”

The new magistrate wasted no time issuing orders, as if determined to transform Huayin County into a place as well-organized as Jingye County.

After meeting with the young lord, Shusun Tong returned to his residence in Jingye County.

An elderly gentleman had long been waiting there. Shusun Tong invited him inside with a smile. “Please, have a seat, sir.”

Fusheng asked, “Has the young lord agreed?”

Shusun Tong nodded.

Fusheng sighed deeply.

That sigh held great meaning.

“Sir, do you not wish to associate with the likes of Chunyu Yue?” Shusun Tong inquired.

Fusheng sighed again. “I came here seeking refuge, hoping Young Lord Fusu might offer me shelter for a while.”

“They have always opposed the First Emperor. This old man prefers not to be threatened by them.”

“Is it because of the ‘half-jin, eight-tael’ measure?”

Fusheng lowered his head in silence.

The two had entered Qin together and witnessed many things. Their circumstances differed, as did the company they kept.

Fusheng spoke softly, “I had hoped to hear more of their classical teachings, but these people do not speak of the classics.”

In Shusun Tong’s impression, Mr. Fusheng was a devoted book lover. He had once borrowed a volume from Young Lord Fusu and had cherished it for a long time.

Such a bibliophile could hardly endure the company of radicals like Chunyu Yue.

Seeing Shusun Tong’s relaxed demeanor, Fusheng asked, “You must have seen through their true nature early on, which is why you left?”

Shusun Tong waved his hand. “Not really. I simply like it here.”

Fusheng looked toward the door; the sky remained heavily overcast.

Shusun Tong fetched water from a bucket by the door, poured it into a clay pot, and placed it on the stove. “This is the rule here: no drinking raw water.”

“Raw water?”

“Water must be boiled before drinking.”

“Why?”

“I do not know, but the children here follow this rule strictly. They rarely fall ill or suffer stomach aches.”

Seeing Fusheng’s silence, Shusun Tong continued, “Sir, teach here. The young lord has consented.”

Fusheng gazed at the flames flickering beneath the pot and murmured, “The young lord seems never to associate with the likes of Chunyu Yue.”

Shusun Tong explained, “Perhaps the young lord simply chooses not to.”

Fusheng was about to ask more.

Shusun Tong interrupted, “The young lord’s study is next door. Feel free to read there whenever you like.”

“Is that so?”

Shusun Tong added, “Actually, the young lord doesn’t understand the old nobility of the Six States and does not wish to.”

Fusheng nodded in agreement.

The young lord had never courted the old nobility and, being busy with his own affairs, did not inquire about them. At least, that was Shusun Tong’s observation.

He led the elderly scholar to the study next door and opened the door to reveal a wall lined with bookshelves, filled to the brim with volumes.

Shusun Tong said, “The young lord cares only for the people’s welfare. If those old nobles were to disturb the hard-earned peace, they would surely incur his wrath.”

Watching the scholar enter quietly, Shusun Tong spoke softly, “Young Lord Fusu is not the First Emperor. He is not particularly kind. When the First Emperor unified the Six States, he invited their nobles into Qin. Were it Fusu facing rebellious nobles, he would likely answer with sword and fire.”

Fusheng settled into the study and quietly began reading.

The old scholar often spent entire days engrossed in books. Shusun Tong let him be and donned his bamboo hat, stepping back into the fine rain.

The mulberry trees on the hill thrived, some even bearing small mulberries.

Zhang Han, carrying a hoe, walked at the hill’s base, followed by a pack of half-grown puppies.

Whenever Shusun Tong saw these dogs, he felt at ease. Zhang Han had trained them well—they guarded the village vigilantly.

Recently, Fusu had read many books. Tian An was organizing these volumes, all brought from the former residence of Lü Buwei in Xianyang.

Fusu was steaming zongzi cakes made from glutinous rice from Chu, Jiangmi rice from Hedong, jujubes from Lantian, and red beans from Shu.

While steaming, he examined a scroll of mathematical calculations, also brought from Lü Buwei’s former home. Some of these texts dealt with the Spring and Autumn period; others were more obscure.

In his leisure moments, Fusu would peruse them. This particular scroll was a somewhat esoteric treatise on calculating the solar terms.

No author’s name was recorded, but it was likely penned by one of Lü Buwei’s three thousand guests.

His tutor, Zhang Cang, was insightful in mathematics. Besides his teacher, Fusu considered himself among the better mathematicians of the age.

Moreover, Fusu possessed a skill the scroll’s author lacked: knowing the year’s twenty-four solar terms, he could deduce calculations in reverse.

Throughout history, scholars debated endlessly over the number and method of calculating solar terms.

Earlier, Fusu had thought that governing a county required managing productivity and moral education.

Now, charged with governing a commandery, he felt the weight of his responsibilities multiply.

“Young lord! Young lord!” Tian An hurried in. “The red bean paste is ready.”

Fusu tasted it and nodded. “Good. It could be smoother, though.”

As they spoke, both glanced outside. The carriage sent by the First Emperor to take them back to Xianyang still waited.

Fusu sliced a piece of the zongzi cake, spread red bean paste over it, and sampled it himself, nodding with satisfaction. As he ate the warm cake, he mumbled, “Indeed, as long as the ingredients are good, it tastes wonderful.”

“Try some,” he offered.

Tian An sampled a piece, eyes wide with delight, nodding repeatedly.

Fusu packed the remaining zongzi and paste into a food box, lifted it, and boarded the carriage bound for Xianyang, with Tian An driving.

The road from Tongguan had improved greatly since their arrival, having been repaired for two months and now smooth.

The carriage passed Huayin County, crossed a bridge, and headed straight for Xianyang.

Fusu thought it must be the Dragon Boat Festival now. “Do you think the people of Chu eat zongzi?”

Tian An still held his horsewhip. “Young lord, what is zongzi?”

“You don’t know?” Fusu frowned in thought.

“Old servant’s knowledge is limited,” Tian An replied.

Upon arrival at Xianyang, Fusu disembarked from the carriage, which had jolted him all the way.

He helped Tian An down. “At your age, you shouldn’t drive so fast.”

Tian An laughed, his wrinkles crinkling his eyes. “Forgive me, young lord.”

They hurried toward Zhangtai Palace.

To the palace guards, Young Lord Fusu seemed to have grown overnight—not only taller but transformed in presence, exuding a resolute aura befitting a military commander.

Though dressed plainly, seasoned officers could tell he had undergone rigorous training; beneath his robes was a strong, muscular frame.

Such a young lord needed only a glance to make many young ladies blush.

Fusu led the way, Tian An carrying the food box behind him.

Inside Zhangtai Palace’s main hall, Li Si stood aside, bowing. “Young lord.”

Fusu accepted the food box from Tian An and entered. “Teacher, I made some food. Let us eat together.”

Li Si hesitated.

Fusu added, “There’s plenty; if we don’t finish it, you and Father can eat it.”

Seeing the First Emperor nod, Li Si understood and replied, “Very well.”

Fusu opened the box, spreading red bean paste over a whole cake, then cutting it in two. “This larger piece is for Father; the smaller, for you.”

A plate of zongzi topped with red bean and jujube paste was set before them. “I wonder if it’s too sweet. Father, please taste.”

Li Si took his portion and ate quickly, savoring it. “Delicious.”

Ying Zheng sampled a bite, thoughtful, then nodded in approval.

Fusu naturally helped clear the plates used by his father and teacher.

Li Si sat down again.

Ying Zheng studied his son, now sharper-eyed after half a year apart. “Have you been training with Xin Sheng recently?”

Fusu nodded. “Every morning. The old general says to use the sword, but I prefer the long spear and heavy halberd. It’s tiring, but one grows used to it.”

At this, Ying Zheng glanced at Li Si.

Li Si received the look and solemnly asked, “Will Weinan’s tribute of grain be delivered on time this year?”

Fusu answered, “Yes.”

Li Si continued, “Your Highness, the craftsmen you requested can be granted.”

Ying Zheng nodded again.

Fusu bowed. “Thank you, Father.”

Li Si added, “The Upper Commandery is short on grain and fodder. With Weinan’s supplies, the northern border can finally breathe easier.”

Ying Zheng said sternly, “Fusu, the matters between Wang Jian and Li Si do not concern you.”

“I shall repay all grain supplied by Teacher and the old general,” Fusu replied.

Ying Zheng nodded once more.

Li Si hurriedly bowed. “I dare not accept such thanks.”

Ying Zheng did not look at Li Si again.

The message was clear: handle it as you see fit.

Li Si bowed. “I take my leave.”

Fusu tidied the food box. After Li Si left, without needing his father’s prompting, he sat down to organize the palace documents and began reviewing the pending reports.

“Many say relocating two hundred thousand people into the Guanzhong empties ten out of every nine households. This is not good.”

Fusu paused writing, then replied, “Father, those relocated are poor peasants from the Six States with no land or homes. How can their settlement cause such emptiness?”

Ying Zheng said, “I must consider this carefully.”

Fusu looked up. “Father, the states once struggled to govern their own lands. Now that Qin has unified the Central Plains, managing all the lands of the Six States—that is, the entire Central Plains—is extremely difficult.”

Seeing his father’s expression grow firmer, Fusu lowered his head and resumed reviewing documents.

The hall fell silent once more. Outside, the sky shifted from blue to red, then from red to gray-blue, and finally to pitch black.

Fusu set down his brush and rose to sort the piles of documents on the desk.

Looking back, he saw his father with a hand pressed to his temple, eyes closed in rest.

Fusu called a palace guard. “Send out these urgent documents immediately.”

“But…” the guard hesitated, glancing at the resting emperor, unsure without permission.

“Do not trouble me with such matters again. Do not delay the border troops’ affairs,” came a stern voice from behind.

Fusu glanced aside to see his father had awakened.