Chapter Twenty-One: The Outcome

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Shusun Tong was still pushing the small millstone, glancing once more at the pile of bamboo slips Zhang Cang had brought. Zhang Cang remained standing nearby, seemingly determined not to leave until his materials were examined.

Supporting his weary lower back, Shusun Tong looked on with suspicion, suddenly realizing that Zhang Cang, like Li Si, was a disciple of Xunzi. Since when had Zhang Cang come to so staunchly support Prince Fusu?

Prince Fusu, Chancellor Li Si, and Imperial Inspector Zhang Cang—when did these three come to stand together?

Before entering Qin, Shusun Tong had heard of Prince Fusu’s wisdom and had been calculating the current situation…

For some reason, his unease only deepened.

This growing sense of unease likely began the moment he first met Prince Fusu; from that moment, a subtle anxiety had taken root.

Shusun Tong moved to the desk and opened a bundle. As the string came undone, several bamboo slips tumbled out. He picked up one and examined it carefully.

Outside, the cold wind still blew, patches of unmelted snow lingered in the corners and by the roadside. Zhang Cang watched the village children playing nearby.

Inside, Shusun Tong studied the bamboo slips for quite some time.

Zhang Cang looked out the window and said, “The prince also said that if you are unwilling to teach these children, I can come instead. In the future, I, Zhang Cang, will teach the children here.”

Upon hearing this, Shusun Tong placed the bamboo slip on the desk. “These are all accounts of the old Qin people.”

Zhang Cang was preparing to leave and added, “Thank you for your efforts.”

Shusun Tong bowed. “Since it is the prince’s order, I shall do my utmost.”

It was merely telling the children stories of the Qin people; Shusun Tong considered this no great challenge, especially since the stories were good ones.

When the new year arrives, people begin to wonder when the grain rains will come. Everyone looks forward to an early start to spring plowing.

Fusu rode away from Xianyang city in a carriage, arriving south of the Wei River, where there was a woodland garden called Shanglin Garden.

At this time, Shanglin Garden was modest in size; it was not until the reign of Emperor Wu of Han that the garden would be expanded.

For now, Shanglin Garden was like a small park.

Though it was already February, the cold wind persisted. No birds or beasts were visible, and thin ice still coated the waterways.

Tian An sat on the carriage shaft and quietly said, “My lord, recently the Minister of Official Supplies has inquired about Shang Yanshan’s cooking methods; the Minister of Imperial Household asked about the length of your garments; and the Minister of the Treasury asked about who should be assigned to build the bridge over the Western Wei River.”

“The start of the new year has everyone busy,” came the prince’s voice from inside the carriage.

Tian An smiled. “It looks like it will rain today.”

“No matter, we can shelter from the rain in Shanglin Garden.”

By now, Qin’s bureaucracy was relatively clear and orderly. Compared to the former Six States, Qin had perfected the principle of specialists performing specialized tasks, advocating professional production.

During the reform waves across the Six States, only Qin had implemented this system most completely.

Qin’s officials were chosen strictly for their expertise, such as the Zheng people who built the Zhengguo Canal.

In contrast, the other states often appointed relatives or nobles to key positions.

From the perspective of selection, having specialists handle specialized work was crucial.

Qin’s policy, treating officials as teachers, demanded that they possess practical skills and the ability to handle real governmental affairs.

Today, Fusu had come to meet another hydraulic expert of Qin named Jian Lu.

Jian Lu had been ordered to repair Shanglin Garden and, upon hearing the prince’s arrival, had waited outside the garden.

The carriage drew near, and Jian Lu saluted, “Your servant, Jian Lu, pays respects to the prince.”

Fusu stepped down, smiling, “No need for formalities.”

Jian Lu added, “I was ordered to repair Shanglin Garden and, upon hearing the prince would come, I waited here.”

Fusu looked up at the heavy clouds. “Let us go inside to talk.”

Jian Lu saluted again and followed the prince into Shanglin Garden.

In fact, Shanglin Garden had borne many names through the ages. It had always been the place where the Qin kings cultivated land. After Shang Yang’s reforms, only this patch of land remained.

There was nothing particularly beautiful about the garden—just a few acres of fields, some trees, and a small stream.

Jian Lu was constructing levees here to prevent the fields from flooding during heavy rains.

They entered a dusty residence beside the fields. Tian An’s brows remained tightly furrowed; he disliked the environment, as every breath seemed to draw in dust, dampening his good mood.

“Bring the plans.”

At the prince’s command, Tian An handed over a rolled cloth.

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Jian Lu wiped the table with his sleeve, which became covered in gray dust. He smiled lightly, “My garments can be changed and washed; it matters not.”

From a political standpoint, a Qin prince who was also a disciple of the chancellor was a precious political asset.

No one in Qin dared offend such a prince. As the eldest son and student of the chancellor, even if not all-powerful, he certainly relied on great authority.

Many matters required only a word from him to prompt action from many people. This was Fusu’s initial taste of power.

Of course, he felt this sensation would only grow stronger.

Seeing Jian Lu smile, Fusu spread out the map. “This is a map of the Western Wei River.”

Jian Lu frowned as he studied the river’s course.

Silence fell inside the room. Outside, rain began to fall mixed with hailstones, which grew heavier until only hail pattered on the roof.

Fusu marked a spot on the map. “Master Lu, do you also think it best to build the bridge here?”

Jian Lu hurriedly saluted. “I am unworthy of the title ‘master’ from your highness.”

This was the man who built the Ling Canal—at least that was Fusu’s secret knowledge. Accustomed to calling him master, he was thrilled to meet such a living expert and spoke without thinking before correcting himself.

“I have seen your documents in the Imperial Inspectorate; you have experience building waterways and bridges, and you have worked alongside the Zheng people.”

“Master Lu’s shallow opinion is undeserving of the prince’s praise.”

Fusu gathered the map and handed it back. “I know you have few friends at court, but I am close with the Minister of the Treasury. The ministry can send help to build the Western Wei River bridge.”

Upon hearing 'our,' Tian An noticed Jian Lu’s expression grow increasingly uneasy.

Fusu said, “After the Grain Rain, I will arrange for the ministry’s men to meet with you.”

“I obey the command.”

After settling this, Fusu prepared to leave. The hail continued but had lessened.

“Prince, forgive my frankness, but I worry he may find the task too great.”

“Deputy Chancellor Feng has a discerning eye. He retained Jian Lu’s documents and ordered him to repair Shanglin Garden…”

Fusu thought further that Feng Quji, the deputy chancellor, would surely recommend Jian Lu to the First Emperor at the right time.

Tian An wore a straw hat, letting the hail strike him as he drove the carriage with a smile. The prince had spent a full month studying documents in the Imperial Inspectorate; even Cheng Miao had gained weight during that time.

After reading the documents for a month, the prince’s understanding of governance deepened; he knew precisely what to do and whom to involve.

The prince was a quick learner; skills that took others long to master, he grasped swiftly.

Moreover, his month at the Inspectorate was spent without fail, braving wind and snow.

At times, he would sit alone all day in silence, quietly perusing documents.

Tian An’s eyes moistened; the prince reminded him of Duke Xiao of Qin, the resolute and steadfast ruler who once returned.

The freezing rain ceased by noon, leaving a thick layer of ice on the ground.

After returning to Gaoquan Palace, Fusu sent a letter to Zhang Cang.

Near evening, someone delivered Zhang Cang’s reply.

Fusu was picking fish bones from a roasted fish to pass the time when Tian An brought the letter. Only then did he open the bamboo slips.

“Prince, the fish will turn fishy once cold,” Tian An said.

Fusu looked at the bamboo slips. “Feed the fish.”

Tian An laughed and lifted the plate, tossing the roasted fish into the fish pond.

The people of Gaoquan Palace rejoiced; the prince’s long-awaited plum blossoms had finally bloomed. Originally due last winter, they only flowered this February.

Though late, they had finally blossomed.

The great task of building the Western Wei Bridge had finally found its foundation.

Qin had a custom of holding a grand spring court assembly. During the long winter, the court was suspended, and the assembly resumed only after the Grain Rain solar term.

This tradition persisted to the present day. Although spring warmth had yet to arrive, freezing rain came first.

Such weather was worrisome; it must not delay the farming season.

Qin people were accustomed to lives of farming and war, eagerly awaiting the end of the harsh winter so they might return to the fields.

Today, a contingent passed Shang Yanshan. From afar, Zhang Han saw the size of the carriage and saluted immediately. Such an entourage, guarded by General Meng Wu and Wang Ben, could only be the First Emperor.

The carriage was three to five li from Shang Yanshan.

Soon, a troop of cavalry galloped forward, led by General Meng Wu and Deputy Chancellor Feng Quji.

Zhang Han bowed respectfully at the side, allowing Meng Wu and Feng Quji to enter the village.

The army neither took the village’s grain nor questioned Shusun Tong and Li You, who bowed their heads in respect. Only the deputy chancellor inquired about a group of children.

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Shusun Tong blinked hard—this deputy chancellor of Qin was truly questioning children.

Under the worried gaze of the prince’s servants, the children answered the deputy chancellor’s questions with great composure.

Listening to their confident replies, even Shusun Tong thought he must have truly taught three hundred outstanding disciples. Yet, the teachers were not only himself but also Li You and Zhang Cang.

The First Emperor’s carriage was stationed north of Shang Yanshan.

Feng Quji rode up to the carriage and saluted. “I have inquired.”

“What has Fusu done there?”

“The prince assigned Shusun Tong and Zhang Cang to teach those children.”

“Teach? Ha ha ha…” laughter came from inside the carriage.

The First Emperor chuckled, “Shusun Tong is a descendant of Confucius’ disciples; Zhang Cang is a student of Xunzi. Fusu placing these two together is interesting indeed.”

Feng Quji said, “I asked the children what they learned. They said they learned ‘Moving the Wood to Establish Trust.’”

“‘Moving the Wood to Establish Trust’?”

“When Shang Jun reformed the state, he ordered that whoever could carry a log to the north of the city would receive a hundred gold coins. At first, no commoners believed him. When one man actually carried the log there, Shang Jun rewarded him with the hundred gold coins. From then on, the people trusted Shang Jun.”

Silence fell inside the carriage; Feng Quji believed the First Emperor already knew this story.

Because it was true, passed down among the Qin people over a hundred years ago.

Before the First Emperor could speak, Feng Quji continued, “I asked the children why they were told such stories. They said Qin law clearly distinguishes reward and punishment; merit must be rewarded. Officials in Qin must gain the trust of the people. Only by winning the trust of thousands and tens of thousands of commoners can Qin law stand.”

“Officials must have responsibilities. Words must be trustworthy, actions resolute. Officials must execute with resolve. Without the people’s trust, how can one govern?”

“Sigh, this vast world—how many Shang Juns can there be?”

The First Emperor sighed, and the officials and generals outside solemnly saluted.

“Return to the palace. I want to see those stories myself.”

Meng Wu shouted, “Return!”

This large escort had been out for only half a day before hastily returning.

One story had dissuaded the First Emperor from his plan to view the spring scenery.

On the return journey, someone had already delivered the stories from Shang Yanshan.

Along the way, Ying Zheng flipped through the stories and asked, “Are those children all Fusu’s servants?”

Feng Quji replied, “I asked; they are the prince’s servants.”

“Hmm… I gave them to him.”

Ying Zheng recalled that it was because Li Si, bothered by the scholars from Qi and Lu, urged Fusu to open a household to recruit notable talents. But that matter had quietly faded away.

Reflecting further, Ying Zheng belatedly realized how much Fusu had already accomplished.

Fusu was unaware of his father’s experiences that day.

At this moment, Fusu stood in the old residence once belonging to Lü Buwei. Everything was worn; the house was dilapidated with leaks, and puddles remained on the floor. Tian An and others were inspecting the place, checking what needed repair or replacement.

Before Fusu stood a man named Mao Heng, also a disciple of Xunzi.

He had studied alongside Han Fei and Li Si in the same era.

Mao Heng had an uncle named Mao Sui—the very Mao Sui who famously volunteered himself.

“Heng pays respects to the prince and wishes to serve you,” Mao Heng said in a loud voice.

“Wait.” Fusu gathered his thoughts, hesitated, then said, “Mao Sui is your uncle?”

“Exactly.”

“In the past, Mao Sui allied with the Chu nobleman Chun Shen Jun Huang Xie. Your uncle swore blood brotherhood with the King of Chu to jointly resist Qin.”

Mao Heng fell silent, frowning.

Fusu whispered, “With such a history, you still wish to serve? You and Qin should be sworn enemies.”

…

Note: Jian Lu was in charge of building the Ling Canal; some call him Shi Lu, but here the author uses Jian Lu.