Chapter Two: My Teacher, Li Si

Take Han Fei, for example. His knowledge had deeply integrated materialism and the practicalities of imperial centralization. For someone who had learned from the feudal era to grasp such forward-thinking ideas that transcended his time—could he truly be human? This is not to say that Legalism was without merit. The foundation laid by several generations in Qin was built on a mindset of learning whatever was necessary, perhaps with an eye toward eventually inheriting the throne.

Li Si and Han Fei came from the same school, which allowed Li Si to better implement the “legacy” Han Fei left behind. Thus, Li Si became a highly effective minister in Qin. In other words, for an empire to be strong and survive, it must have politicians.

“I heard that during yesterday’s court session, the Minister of Justice and the Chancellor argued again in the main hall?” Li Si gave an awkward smile, bowed once more, and replied, “The Chancellor and I differ in our approaches to governance, which is why we debated before His Majesty.”

Fusu gazed into the flames burning in the brazier and smiled, “In truth, continuing the practice of feudal enfeoffment is not necessarily a good thing.”

Li Si nodded, “Your Highness is absolutely right, yet Chancellor Wang Wan remains the Chancellor of Qin, supported by many at court.”

At this time, Li Si was still only the Minister of Justice, a position subordinate to the Chancellor, but one that controlled laws and punishments, akin to the Ministry of Justice.

“Wang Wan is a conservative man, along with his retainers, colleagues in Qin, and those veteran ministers who oppose you,” Fusu said again.

Li Si lowered his head once more, showing even greater respect.

Fusu continued, “Qin’s strength began with reform. There is no need to retrace the old path of feudal enfeoffment. The current Emperor should lean more toward the county system. Minister of Justice, you should stick to your convictions; in doing so, you fulfill my teacher’s wishes.”

Li Si bowed deeply.

Outside Gaoquan Palace, the palace attendants saw Prince Fusu and Minister Li Si talking through the night until dawn. Only when Empress Dowager Huayang was to be buried did Li Si finally leave.

Three months after Empress Dowager Huayang’s burial, in the spring of the following year, the climate in Guanzhong remained bitterly cold.

Li Si, Minister of Justice of Qin, stepped out of his residence, heading toward Xianyang Palace.

He instructed the guests beside him, “Everyone in the realm knows Prince Fusu has quite a virtuous reputation.”

A guest replied, “Many have also heard that Prince Fusu enjoys reading the works of Prince Han Fei of Han. Perhaps even the renowned scholars of Han’s old territory will learn of this.”

The esteemed figures the guest referred to were likely people like Zhang Liang.

Wang Wan had not attended court at Zhangtai Palace for a month. The First Emperor tacitly accepted the Chancellor’s absence and increasingly relied on Li Si.

Years earlier, the new faction led by Li Si had clashed fiercely with Wang Wan’s old faction.

Wang Wan believed governance should still follow the traditional enfeoffment system, assigning the Emperor’s sons to various territories as vassal lords to govern.

Because of this, Li Si’s faction always opposed Chancellor Wang Wan, leading to endless disputes at court.

In the end, however, the First Emperor chose Li Si’s advice, adopting the county system rather than enfeoffment.

Recently, Prince Fusu had taken up fish breeding, and in recognition of his filial piety, the First Emperor granted him Gaoquan Palace to reside in during his mourning for Empress Dowager Huayang.

During his mourning, the prince spent his days raising fish or reading, avoiding contact with dignitaries like Wang Wan or the old nobility from the Six States. He remained within Gaoquan Palace, seldom venturing out.

Li Si arrived at Gaoquan Palace and explained his purpose to the palace attendants. After confirmation, he was allowed entry.

Led by two eunuchs to the rear courtyard, they came upon an artificial rockery with water flowing down it, guided through a bamboo pipe into a pond.

The pond was shallow enough to see fish swimming beneath the surface.

Seeing the prince reading by the pond, Li Si stepped forward and bowed.

Fusu smiled and had some pastries brought over, then asked, “I heard Chancellor Wang Wan has fallen gravely ill and cannot attend court, though many have visited him.”

“Chancellor Wang is a man of great virtue and prestige. If he says he is ill, it is likely true, though the illness is not severe,” Li Si replied solemnly.

Noticing Li Si’s respectful stance, Fusu continued, “I’ve also heard that His Majesty accepted the Minister of Justice’s advice and intends to implement the county system throughout Qin.”

Li Si responded, “I owe gratitude to Your Highness for your counsel two months ago, which gave me the confidence to present my memorial to the Emperor.”

Li Si was deeply committed to Legalist thought, and it was inevitable that the First Emperor would adopt his suggestions.

Since it was Li Si’s memorial, it followed that he would be entrusted with greater responsibilities. Whether Wang Wan would retain the Chancellor’s seat remained uncertain.

To outsiders, it appeared that Prince Fusu and Minister Li Si were colluding to unseat Chancellor Wang Wan.

One wonders how the First Emperor would feel upon hearing such rumors.

Fusu asked, “Is it true that Xiang Yan is still in exile and that another King of Chu is being established?”

Li Si smiled, “People like Xiang Yan are of no concern.”

“When will General Wang Jian’s troops return?”

“I... do not know.”

Li Si lowered his posture further; he could share certain matters with the prince but dared not speak lightly about General Wang Jian’s affairs, even if he knew.

Seeing the prince silent, Li Si added, “His Majesty has decreed that I shall instruct Your Highness from now on.”

Fusu looked at the fish in the pond and said, “I have also received the Emperor’s edict. I look forward to your teaching, Master.”

Li Si smiled knowingly and bowed hastily.

To be addressed as “Master” by the prince warmed Li Si’s heart and filled him with joy. A studious prince was certainly a blessing for Qin.

The new tutor left with hurried steps, understandable since the coming years would be the pinnacle of his career.

The pond behind Gaoquan Palace housed ordinary fish, some of which the prince occasionally had caught and eaten. Fusu loved both raising and eating fish.

He sat down again, returning to his books. In Xianyang Palace, there were countless volumes—some confiscated from the Six States, others written by Qin ministers.

Reflecting on those meritorious ministers of Qin, most did not meet a good end.

Figures like Zhang Yi, Shang Yang, and Bai Qi come to mind.

Typically, the reigning Qin kings held absolute veto power over all matters; no policy could proceed without the king’s approval.

This tradition persisted even now. Take Wei Ran, who wielded power for over forty years. When the king decided to remove him, Wei Ran dared not utter a word of complaint.

Bai Qi, too, was executed on the king’s command—no chance to flee.

To serve Qin meant your fate had to be exceptionally strong.

Even in the historical records, Li Si himself did not end his life well.

Though the Qin Empire now appeared unprecedentedly powerful, looking around revealed a populace impoverished and the fertile Guanzhong region still underdeveloped.

The Zhenggu Canal was excellent, but still insufficient. The entire northwest and central plains awaited cultivation and development.