Chapter Nineteen: We Are All Disciples of Xunzi

Xunzi had many disciples—perhaps even he himself did not know exactly how many. If everyone who read his works considered him their teacher, then in just over two thousand years, his disciples would surely be spread across the world. With followers everywhere, their numbers would indeed be countless.

It is only natural for a disciple of Xunzi to hold such an ideal.

Three hours after Shusun Tong’s departure, a military report arrived from Shangyanshan. Fusu examined the urgent dispatch: Shusun Tong had reached Shangyanshan smoothly, accompanied personally by General Zhang Han, who had escorted him into the village.

General Zhang Han was a man filled with unwavering loyalty. Fusu hoped that someone like Zhang Han could influence Shusun Tong for the better.

The next day, Chancellor Li Si arrived at Gaoquan Palace with Zhang Cang. Tian An personally greeted them, smiling as he said, “The young lord has been spending much time reading lately, nurturing both himself and some bamboo and pine trees.”

Li Si followed Tian An and asked, “I heard the young lord sent Shusun Tong to Shangyanshan?”

“Yes,” Tian An nodded. “The young lord selected three hundred disciples for Shusun Tong. Grateful beyond words, Shusun Tong went there in person to teach.”

Li Si did not concern himself with the details; since it was the young lord’s arrangement, there was nothing to question.

At first, upon entering the palace, the number of attendants and maids did not seem excessive, but the closer one approached Gaoquan Palace, the more people there were. This gave Zhang Cang a strange feeling—there were so many palace servants here, perhaps because this was once the residence of Empress Dowager Huayang?

Zhang Cang kept his head lowered, observing with his peripheral vision. The palace attendants seemed cheerful, each appearing to live comfortably.

The harmony and laughter within Gaoquan Palace puzzled Zhang Cang—how could so many palace servants live so joyfully?

Following behind the chancellor, Zhang Cang overheard a conversation between the chancellor and an old eunuch, discussing matters concerning the young lord.

Inside the hall, Fusu was reading a scroll, with two pots of plum blossoms placed beside him.

To the palace maids, it seemed the young lord thought this winter was too cold for the plum blossoms to bloom, so he had brought the half-person-high plum trees indoors.

The young lord must be anticipating the blossoms; indeed, everyone at Gaoquan Palace awaited their flowering with him.

As long as the young lord was happy, all within Gaoquan Palace shared in that joy.

Fusu studied the writings of Confucius, understanding his subtle historical narrative style. Later generations, upon reading stories told in this manner, would become utterly captivated.

“Chancellor has arrived,” someone announced.

Fusu looked up and smiled, “Teacher, have you eaten?”

Li Si bowed respectfully. “I still long for the young lord’s fish soup.”

“Very well, today we shall have fish soup.”

Before Li Si could introduce the person beside him, the young lord pulled him along to prepare the fish. Though a bit nervous, Li Si felt the bond between master and disciple deepen.

Zhang Cang was left alone in the hall, silently facing the two plum trees.

They appeared freshly dug from the soil. Zhang Cang sighed; being introduced by the chancellor to meet the young lord was already an honor.

He thought he should ask for nothing more, but then noticed a pile of bamboo slips nearby—classical texts by various philosophers, including Confucius and Mencius.

Zhang Cang picked one up and began reading on the spot.

When voices sounded again, he looked up to see the young lord and chancellor returning, followed by palace maids carrying pottery bowls.

The two plum trees remained before him.

Fusu smiled, “Teacher, Inspector Zhang, please take a seat.”

Each of the three was served a bowl of fish soup, a pot of fish meat, and a flatbread—today’s morning meal.

Fusu said, “Inspector Zhang, please try it.”

Li Si, sitting opposite, lifted the bowl and savored a sip of the fish soup.

Zhang Cang hesitated briefly, but the bowl was at his lips. He swallowed the soup in one go, even chewing on the ginger slices within.

Li Si remarked, “Since the start of summer, Chunyu Yue and Zhou Qingchen have repeatedly advised that the young lord should have another teacher besides me, that he should not listen to only one voice.”

While the chancellor spoke, Zhang Cang kept his head lowered, eating. He handed his bowl to a eunuch, who promptly refilled it.

Zhang Cang continued chewing the flatbread, tasted the fish soup with meat, and even wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

Tian An stood nearby. This inspector, recommended by the chancellor, appeared to be a simple, honest man who only knew how to eat.

“I brought Zhang Cang to meet the young lord to ask him to teach him,” said Li Si.

Hearing this, Zhang Cang, who was stuffing flatbread into his mouth, suddenly froze, stopping mid-chew and looking at Li Si with innocent disbelief, as if to say, “You never told me before.”

Li Si introduced, “This is my schoolmate Zhang Cang, who loved reading from a young age and studied under Xunzi alongside me.”

Fusu bowed, “I hope to receive much guidance from you, teacher.”

Hearing this, Zhang Cang hurriedly swallowed his food and, somewhat flustered, bowed deeply, “I dare not accept the title of teacher from the young lord.”

Zhang Cang looked to be about thirty years old. Fusu said, “I often read Han Fei’s works. Though I have never met Han Fei, I consider him my teacher. Now, the chancellor is also my teacher.”

Zhang Cang remained bowed, head lowered in respect.

“Since I read Han Fei’s writings and have the chancellor’s guidance, I too am a student of Xunzi.”

Zhang Cang continued to bow, his mind in turmoil.

Li Si said, “Young lord, Zhang Cang is erudite and well-versed in the classics of the various schools of thought.”

Fusu added, “Then I hope to receive your guidance henceforth.”

“I dare not instruct the young lord,” Zhang Cang replied.

As afternoon approached, Li Si recalled he had many matters awaiting at home and did not mention Li You, as if forgetting he had such a son.

After breakfast, Li Si took his leave with Zhang Cang.

Fusu saw them out, exchanging a few pleasantries.

Prompted by the chancellor’s glance, Zhang Cang hurriedly bowed, “May I ask, young lord, are you reading the Spring and Autumn Annals of Confucius and the works of Mencius?”

Fusu nodded knowingly, “Xunzi once said, ‘The ruler is the boat, the people are the water.’ Mencius, on the other hand, said, ‘The people are the most valuable, the state next, and the ruler the least.’”

Zhang Cang slightly nodded.

“Though our teachers, Xunzi and Mencius, lived nearly a century apart, their views on governing the state and its people align closely.”

At this, Fusu explained further, “I am a prince of Qin; learning requires diligence, to read much and ask many questions.”

Zhang Cang bowed once more, “After I review the texts, I shall provide answers for the young lord.”

At last, Li Si smiled satisfied and left with Zhang Cang.

Returning to the hall, Fusu tidied the scattered books on the desk. One bowl of fish soup had gained him a teacher—a truly worthwhile exchange.

Tian An helped clean up quietly, saying, “The chancellor wishes to support the young lord. By introducing his schoolmates, and eventually his network, to the young lord, Li Si will pour all he has into him.”

Li Si was a man of great loyalty, especially to the First Emperor. This loyalty stemmed from his lifelong ideals and convictions.

Now that the First Emperor’s eldest son, Prince Fusu of Qin, could continue Li Si’s ideals, he naturally would give him everything.

Today it was introducing schoolmates; tomorrow Li Si would entrust even his life to the young lord.

Seeing the young lord silent, Tian An feared he had spoken improperly and stepped back to bow.

Fusu placed the bamboo slips on the shelf and patted Tian An’s back, “When the late Grandmother was ill, only you tirelessly attended to her inside and out. Now that she has passed, in this palace of Xianyang... aside from my father, you are the one closest to me.”

“Besides me, to whom else can you say these things?” Fusu whispered. “It’s alright; do not worry about saying the wrong thing. In my heart, you are my elder.”

Tian An turned away, wiping tears with his sleeve.

Night fell, yet the two plum trees remained inside the hall. The young lord had no intention of moving them; all within Gaoquan Palace awaited their blooming together.

Deep into the night, when Xianyang Palace fell silent, Tian An entered the First Emperor’s bedchamber.

The candles burned brightly. The First Emperor was reading military reports from the north: after Meng Tian’s arrival, several Xiongnu tribes had been driven off, and the relocation of settlers to the frontier was proceeding steadily.

Tian An silently picked up bamboo slips that had fallen to the floor.

“Did Li Si visit Fusu today?”

“The chancellor came with Zhang Cang to see the young lord.”

Ying Zheng nodded, “How has Fusu been lately?”

“Your Majesty, the young lord is well. When he was a child, Empress Dowager Huayang said he was the most gifted child she had ever seen—he did not play with other children, often lonely but very sensible. Since the empress dowager passed, he has seemed even lonelier. Though lonely, the young lord is extremely strong and wise.”

Ying Zheng briefly looked up, his gaze leaving the bamboo slips. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I understand.”

With those simple words, Ying Zheng withdrew his gaze and returned to the military reports.

Tian An glanced at the First Emperor, tears still in his eyes.

Within Xianyang Palace, the First Emperor and Prince Fusu shared the same plight—both lonely and strong.

The next day, palace maids washed the young lord’s clothes and hung them to dry in the rear hall.

Passing by, Fusu overheard their quiet chatter—that Tian An had visited the First Emperor late last night and then wept long before the late Empress Dowager Huayang’s spirit tablet.

Tian An was a man full of deep feelings—tender and kindhearted.

Fortunate was the clear weather. Early in the morning, Tian An energetically ordered hundreds of palace servants at Gaoquan Palace to begin a thorough cleaning, moving everything movable outside for washing, and then spreading the young lord’s desks, chairs, and large boxes of books out to dry.

“Move quickly! If we don’t dry them now, they’ll mold after the twelfth lunar month.”

Bundles of bamboo slips were carried outside, laid on the ground, hung on steps, or suspended under eaves—wherever they could be dried.

At such times, Gaoquan Palace was not a place to linger, with so many items scattered outside.

With nothing pressing, Fusu visited the Inspector’s Office, adjacent to the Chancellor’s residence. The deputy prime minister, Feng Quji, usually oversaw this office, which was his domain.

Since he had accepted Zhang Cang as his teacher—even if the ceremony was informal—he now had a teacher, earned for the price of a bowl of fish soup.

It was during a morning recess; usually, the office was empty. Zhang Cang was not there. Fusu pushed the door open and found another man inside.

The man wore official robes. Sunlight streamed through the door crack. His beard and hair were disheveled, his eye sockets sunken, as if he had not slept well for some time.

Fusu confirmed no one else was there before stepping inside.

The man bowed, “I am Cheng Miao, greetings, young lord.”

Fusu replied, “No need for formalities. Have you eaten?”

“I... brought some rations with me,” Cheng Miao hesitated.

Fusu took a freshly baked flatbread from his sleeve and handed it over. “This was just made today, still warm.”

Cheng Miao said, “I dare not accept, young lord...”

“Just a flatbread, no big deal.” Fusu explained, “I came today to find my teacher Zhang Cang, but he is absent. Cheng Inspector, do you know him?”

“We are friends.”

“I have a letter to send; I hope you can deliver it to him.”

“I will obey.”

Fusu found a seat in the office, picked up a relatively new bamboo slip, and wrote down his reading questions to send to Zhang Cang.

Cheng Miao respectfully accepted the slip.

Meanwhile, Fusu browsed official documents. The Inspector’s Office was a special institution in Great Qin—more like an archive storing confidential files.

Fusu read aloud, “Father intends to build a bridge on the Western Wei River. I need some books on bridge construction.”

“This is why I asked about my teacher. Please forgive me, Inspector Cheng.”

Cheng Miao remained deferential, holding the flatbread carefully. It still smelled of fresh wheat, enticingly fragrant.

These documents were written by frontline officials of Great Qin.

Reports from local areas reached Xianyang, and then officials were dispatched from Xianyang back to the regions.

Unlike the sorted and summarized files found in the archive, these were raw reports from frontline officers. Studying them was like observing the workings of the state’s machinery.

The documents of the Inspector’s Office held great educational value.

Nearby, Cheng Miao stood in a corner, stroking his mustache, eating the flatbread with a dazed look—perhaps wondering what to say, what to do, and why the young lord had not yet left.