Volume One: The Eastern Focus of the World Chapter 3: Tempting with the Pastry

A jumble of footsteps sounded outside the door. Zhao Congjian stood by, surmising that the two with steady steps, unlike the servants, must be the maternal kin—his family’s bulwark against being utterly taken advantage of by his paternal uncles.

During the Zhou dynasty, except for the rare cases like Quwo in Jin and Shang Yang’s reforms in Qin where princes’ political involvement was intentionally limited, in all other states, the royal princes were deeply involved in both domestic and foreign affairs most of the time. This political ecology, so different from the usual feudal autocracy, resembled the histories of European states. Comparing the two, it’s evident that when the nobility’s presence grows stronger, it is the royal family who first benefit. And when a truly professional, efficient bureaucracy free from royal interference is lacking, it’s unsurprising that legalist, reformist Qin, adopting a divide-and-conquer strategy, could steadily devour the other six states even before Ying Zheng’s ascension.

The footsteps stopped at the rear hall. An old man entered, followed by a middle-aged man with a father-son air about them. Both stood near six feet tall, trim and vigorous, their eyes bright with spirit. Gazing up at their shadowed faces in the daylight, Zhao Congjian felt an overwhelming sense of security.

How splendid! Zhao Congjian was quietly elated. In a time of national crisis, it is not the presence of powerful minds that one should fear, but the lack of capable hands to shoulder great tasks. As the saying went, “Brothers fight tigers together; fathers and sons go to war side by side.” It seemed he would not be sidelined by the royal ministers after all.

His instinctive worries after taking on the role of Prince Jia were not unfounded. In a nearby chamber, the exiled royal ministers, holding contrary views and having fled together to Dai, observed the eunuch Miao waiting outside but not entering. Meanwhile, a servant offering water and fruit shot frantic glances at the maternal kin, but dared not speak. The latter promptly excused himself, leaving the ministers to their suspicions—was Miao continuing as the treacherous chancellor Guo Kai's spy, playing both Qin and Zhao for his own benefit? The suspicion erupted in the silence, spilling into open complaint: “No wonder Miao Fengnian was willing to sneak Prince Jia, long confined in the palace, out so easily!” “How can we, as royal kin, tolerate a child ruler and treacherous ministers? We summoned everyone today precisely to ensure that the chancellor’s and general’s powers are firmly in royal hands!” “Exactly! Only with power returned to the royal house can Zhao be saved! Even if restoration fails, at least our consciences are clear!”

Other attending ministers looked awkward; they had risked everything—family, even clan extermination—to flee Handan and seek Zhao’s restoration. Yet now, the royal clan was intent on monopolizing any future victory. Was their sacrifice in vain? Their pent-up indignation quickly escalated into dispute.

Meanwhile, in the main hall, Zhao Congjian met his maternal kin.

“Your servant Fei Shiqi and my son Zhong pay respects to the Prince!”

Fei? Could his maternal grandfather be descended from the renowned Fei Yi? The name Shiqi suggested the family’s decline into commoners by this generation. Looking more closely, neither man bore the proud air typical of the maternal kin—likely, after Prince Jia was deposed as heir, they’d been forced into obscurity for quite some time. The reasons for their joining his escape from Handan remained unclear; why not test them?

“Uncle Fei, have you eaten? The journey has been arduous and I do not know if the county officers have provided for you well. I have some soup and noodles here, but my heart is heavy and my appetite poor—please, do not let them go to waste.”

After extending this olive branch, Zhao Congjian was privately pleased—until the two promptly knelt again!

For all the lofty ideals of the Spring and Autumn era, ancient etiquette truly had too many rituals! How vexing—

“Prince, mind your words! High and low must remain apart. Though I am your uncle, I cannot dine with the sovereign.” The old man’s resolve was clear, yet the younger, the maternal uncle, could barely mask his longing. A phoenix fallen on hard times is no better than a chicken. Zhao Congjian magnanimously helped them up and gestured for them to be seated, then, seemingly overcome, began choking up:

“People say fate determines rank. After being deposed, simply surviving was already a grace from the new ruler and the heavens. Who would have thought we’d escape Handan so perilously? Death would have been enough—why did you, uncle and cousin, choose to follow me?”

Embracing the role of a tragic artist, Zhao Congjian at last gave voice to his doubts. The two men knelt again, bowing deeply.

“We have received the state’s grace for generations; how could we not follow the prince? Moreover, when the ministers had not seen you for years and could not be sure of your identity, they instructed me to bring my family along. Now that the state is fallen, what good would hiding at home do?”

This answer assured Zhao Congjian of their loyalty. Yet another question arose: in ancient times, with the belief that more sons meant more fortune and stability, why was only one uncle present? Tears welled in the other’s eyes as he explained: all his other sons had been drafted into the army, fighting for the state, and had perished in the wars against Qin.

Zhao Congjian was deeply shaken. The states of Qin and Zhao shared a common ancestor some eight centuries prior, but now, their descendants’ conflict had claimed so many lives, both commoners and nobles, making peace impossible.

“When the state prospers, the people suffer; when it falls, the people suffer still,” he could not help but recite aloud. The uncle replied resolutely, “We nobles live on the state’s bounty; to die for our ruler is only right.”

Zhao Congjian gave a helpless smile. Did this old gentleman know nothing of the blessings of modern civilization? If only such efforts could be put towards universal harmony and love, the world would be a better place. For the countless commoners and slaves, did it really matter if the ruler or the nation changed? Perhaps what Guo Kai did in betraying the country was despised by the nobility, but for the people, it might have been the best path back to peace.

His stomach suddenly growled. Suppressing his hunger, he found himself less certain of war’s wickedness—it was, after all, just a violent expression of conflict. If a nation failed to build its strength and manage its affairs, leaving even a prince to hunger and freeze, then peace was truly a pipe dream. As for the flatbread before him, it was better left for his uncle, who had suffered so much more. He would soon need to attend the council; being a little hungry would keep his mind clear and his tongue from uttering “let them eat meat porridge.”

After some polite refusals, Uncle Fei Shiqi and Cousin Fei Zhong raised their sleeves with their left hands to cover their mouths, eating the bread with their right, while Zhao Congjian merely sipped the broth. The eunuch chief, observing all this, felt his admiration deepen for the prince who had endured so much confinement and surveillance in Handan—surely, Zhao’s restoration was not a lost cause.

As he left for the council, Miao Fengnian approached Zhao Congjian with a familiar air, straightening his clothes with a look of approval. The Fei family members shared in this sense of pride. The warmth in the air brought a flush to Zhao Congjian’s cheeks, so he seized the opportunity to change the subject: “I am not yet clear on the ministers’ intentions. Could you explain what is to be discussed today?”

Fei Shiqi immediately bowed and replied, “Prince, have no worries. In my view, the ministers who dared flee the capital and take refuge in distant Dai are truly intent on achieving meritorious deeds. They are no men to surrender their necks to the blade; they seek lasting glory. In the side hall, their talents may vary, but their courage and resolve are beyond question. Today’s agenda is to reestablish the proper ranks and restore court ceremony. As for your succession to the throne, there is no opposition.”

At this, Miao Fengnian’s heart skipped—had his secret meeting with the royals been noticed by the old man? Was this a veiled warning?

Zhao Congjian paid no mind to the subtle tension; inwardly, he mocked the exiled nobility’s obsession with power.

Humans are slaves to desire, and the Eastern Zhou was an age of contention: slaves sought freedom, peasants fought for land and home, scholars chased honor, nobles sought fiefs, ministers vied for power, lords coveted hegemony and territory, and the Son of Heaven longed for the restoration of ritual and respect. All strove, and thus chaos reigned.

Yet, if order could be established and interests properly distributed, chaos would dissolve unseen. “Orderly chaos” is not so fearsome, for as long as class society persists, all problems can be temporarily solved—a game of seven pots and six lids, endlessly shuffled.

As they reached the main hall, the heated argument from the side hall halted their group. Fei took the chance to say, “Your Highness, we excused ourselves to step outside, but now must return to the side hall. Please await the ministers in the main hall.” Zhao Congjian did not object; the political waters here ran deep, and without consulting the Fei family first, he would be lost. Even if the ministers soon entered, a smooth resolution was not guaranteed. In these games of elite power, if he failed to hold his own, what hope would he have for the future?

Miao Fengnian, however, only urged Zhao Congjian to his seat, unconcerned with other matters. To this seasoned eunuch, today was both his first brush with the true core of power and just another tedious, naked struggle among the elite. His sole duty was to preserve Prince Jia’s dignity in the coming debates; given Fei’s earlier hint, he might need to keep his options open.

Once Prince Jia was seated, the new eunuch chief strode to the side hall to summon the others. As his footsteps echoed in the short space between halls, Zhao Congjian’s anxiety tightened. The uproar from the side hall abruptly ceased, and he suddenly remembered his three true saviors.

“A ruler must remain firmly at the center, but today, I must seize the initiative,” Zhao Congjian resolved.