Chapter Twenty-Five: The Yellow River Has a Terrible Temper

Staring at the surging Yellow River, it is easy to be filled with deep emotion. Looking back over the past two thousand years, any emperor who aspired to be a wise monarch... has, to one degree or another, had to attempt to tame the Yellow River.

Yet, our Mother River... her temper is far too fierce.

After watching for a while, Fusu wrote a letter to Chancellor Li Si within the county magistrate's office. He wrapped the bamboo slips in a cloth bag, tightened the rope at the opening, and just as he handed it off, he instructed, "Inform every county along the road to Xianyang."

Zhang Han took the bamboo slips with both hands, nodded, and hurried away.

Back in early spring, the late-spring frost had been severe, and the Grain Rain had arrived with unusual haste—certainly not a good omen.

Fusu walked out of the office and followed the official road to the banks of the Yellow River, watching the water flow eastward. The weather remained overcast, and the muddy roads were ill-suited for the army's march.

"Where is General Wang?"

"Reporting to the Prince, the General is writing a letter home."

Fusu looked at the sky filled with dark clouds and sighed, "The old General's family affairs are quite complicated, too."

The atmosphere lightened somewhat, and Zhang Han nodded in quiet agreement. But as a cold wind blew and cleared his head, Zhang Han remembered his own position—Wang Ben was his superior general—and he hurriedly shook his head.

The wind by the Yellow River made their robes snap in the air. Fusu said in a low voice, "I only hope everything goes smoothly."

They had not yet reached Hangu Pass, and with the Yellow River threatening to flood, he worried about the old General’s temper. If the old man flew into a rage and refused to return, what then? Although he was a Prince of Great Qin, it was truly difficult to intervene in someone else's family matters. Furthermore, General Wang Ben held great prestige in the army; he was a pillar among the middle-aged generals, right at the peak of his career. The old General was only missing the title of Shangzhuguo (Supreme Pillar of State). If father and son were to fall out, there would be no telling how it might end.

"This subordinate will go check on the warhorses and grain," Zhang Han said. Seeing the Prince nod, he took his leave.

A scouting party of over ten riders departed from Ningqin County. As they traveled up the Luo River, a rider was dispatched to every county they passed to deliver the order.

In the city of Xianyang, Chancellor Li Si was reviewing reports on the spring plowing from various regions.

"Report! Chancellor, an urgent message from Prince Fusu."

Li Si looked up slightly and gestured, "Bring it here."

The messenger entered the Chancellor’s manor and presented the bamboo slips with both hands. The content was simple, covering only two matters: the peach blossom flood and the old General’s family affairs.

After midday, Li Si hurried to the Zhangtai Palace. By the candlelight, the First Emperor sat with a grave expression, reading the documents.

"Your Majesty, the Chancellor is here."

Ying Zheng rolled up the bamboo slips in his hand, looked toward the hall entrance, and said in a clear voice, "Enter."

Li Si performed the formal greeting, strode into the hall, and presented the slips. "Your Majesty, a letter from the Prince."

Ying Zheng set his own slips aside, took the ones from the attendant, and asked, "Where is Fusu now?"

"He should be at Ningqin."

"I recall that is not far from Hangu Pass; a fast horse can reach it in a day."

Li Si nodded and added, "It is said that the Prince has not lingered for leisure or banquets along the way, nor has he made any unnecessary stops. He is proceeding directly to Hangu Pass without delay."

After reading the urgent report, Ying Zheng remarked, "It says here that Zhang Han can predict the weather?"

"Reporting to Your Majesty, I have previously written an assessment of Zhang Han."

Ying Zheng nodded slowly. "What is your opinion?"

"I have reviewed the documents from the various counties in Guanzhong; there are indeed signs of the river backflowing. If the rain continues for two more days, it is feared the fields will be submerged."

Ying Zheng set down the slips and said in a deep voice, "Order the counties to keep a close watch on the river channels."

"As you command, Your Majesty," Li Si replied.

"Eat some loquats," Ying Zheng added.

"Thank you, Your Majesty."

Li Si left the Zhangtai Palace carrying a basket of loquats, his pace never slowing. The Chancellor bit into a loquat as he walked, chewing while calling over several minor officials to give instructions. With every sentence the Chancellor spoke, an official would dash away.

Two days later, a great rainstorm descended upon Guanzhong. It was sudden and torrential, as if the heavens were pouring water from a basin. The water levels in the rivers across Guanzhong rose once more, but fortunately, the counties had been prepared. Two days prior, Chancellor Li Si had ordered the reinforcement of river dikes to prevent flooding. Thus, the flood that should have inundated the fields was easily averted by the preemptive measures.

Zhang Cang and Shusun Tong, wearing bamboo hats and straw rain capes, stood by the irrigation canal. The heavy rain had forced a halt to the excavation of the well-channels at Shangyan Mountain. The rain lashed down, the large drops stinging as they hit. Shusun Tong held onto his hat and said, "I heard it was the Prince who wrote to the Chancellor, prompting him to prepare in advance."

Zhang Cang stared at a newly dug shaft that had just collapsed; it had not yet been reinforced, and the deluge had washed it away. He felt a sense of frustration, yet he knew there was no help for it—things rarely went perfectly. The new shaft had collapsed, and the newly planted mulberry saplings had been washed away. Still, it was fortunate that the work had been stopped in time and that no one was in the shaft when it fell.

Zhang Cang, wearing straw sandals, walked back through the mud. The ground was slippery, and Shusun Tong nearly fell; Zhang Cang reached out to steady him. They could hear the rumbling of the main channel of the Luo River. Upon returning to the village, Zhang Cang saw the children of every household staring out at the rain. Some peered silently through windows, while others sat at their doorsteps, watching the water cascade from the thatched roofs.

Zhang Cang sat under an eave, took off his hat and cape, and waited for the rain to cease, heedless of the mud on his ankles and sandals. Shusun Tong soon returned, hurrying out of the house with a bowl of hot ginger soup. "Drink this to ward off the cold."

Zhang Cang took the soup and said, "The children here are very sensible."

Shusun Tong stood to the side, sighing, "These children all know that if the fields are soaked, they will go hungry this year."

Zhang Cang nodded, sipping the tea. The mulberry trees had been washed away, but he was not discouraged—though Shusun Tong remained pessimistic.

On the third day, the rain finally stopped. As people walked out to their fields and saw that the channels had successfully drained the water, they breathed a sigh of relief. Shangyan Mountain was fragile; a single flood would have left the Prince’s three thousand servants starving.

"Imperial Censor Zhang, a dispatch from the court!" A cavalryman arrived at full gallop, handing over a scroll.

Zhang Cang opened the bamboo slips. The document mentioned an official named Jian Lu, whom the Chancellor had tasked with scouting the river channels in advance. After reading, Zhang Cang handed over his own report and instructed, "Deliver this to the Censorate."

The rider departed again. After the rain, the village was in disarray, and Zhang Cang assumed the other counties were in a similar state. As the sun emerged, the people of Shangyan Mountain resumed their work.

The heavy rain had trapped the party escorting the old General Wang Jian by the Yellow River for three full days. A thousand cavalrymen and their horses had nearly eaten the local magistrate into poverty; feeding a thousand men and a thousand horses was no small burden for a county with limited reserves.

"Reporting to the Prince and the General: the road ahead has been cleared. We may depart." Zhang Han stood outside the dwelling.

The rain had stopped only half a day ago; the land of Guanzhong remained sodden, and the Yellow River remained fierce. Fusu and Wang Ben were eating flatbread and river fish. Fusu said, "General Zhang Han, come and have some fish with us."

"As you command," Zhang Han replied.

By the Yellow River, there was no fear of hunger, as there was an endless supply of river food. Tian An sat by two stoves, still simmering fish porridge. Fusu remarked, "When traveling, one must eat well and sleep well."

Zhang Han took a bite of bread and nodded. "I shall obey."

Tian An added, "The Prince once said that sleep and food are the most important things in a person's life."

After the meal, Fusu rested for a short while, and then the party set off. The army finally moved on, and the magistrate and his officials watched them go with tears in their eyes.

The party continued toward Hangu Pass. They did not travel fast, following the river. Wang Ben rode beside the Prince’s carriage, his gaze fixed forward. He said in a low voice, "My letter home has been sent to Xianyang, yet no reply has come. I fear that my family affairs might delay the old General’s return to Xianyang. If my father refuses to enter the pass, I shall return to Xianyang to accept my punishment; it will have nothing to do with the Prince."

"We have not reached Hangu Pass yet, General Wang; there is no need to worry."

Wang Ben said, "I will go urge the vanguard to find a campsite for the night."

The party followed the river for another day, leaving only half a day’s journey to Hangu Pass. At night, the Yellow River water would occasionally spill over the banks and recede, repeating the cycle. Throughout the journey, the Prince had remained with the army, strictly protected, never making demands, and even cooperating by camping by the river. Moreover, he could dine and joke with the soldiers, which made the atmosphere much lighter for the men.

"Reporting to the Prince: I was born in the northern lands. I am a Yan man. My father joined the Qin army, and our family followed him to Xianyang. We Yan people are skilled at mounted archery, so I joined the elite cavalry."

"Great Qin’s heavy cavalry is used for breaking enemy lines," another soldier added.

The Yan man retorted, "So what! I can help the Prince fight the Xiongnu. Have you ever seen the Xiongnu? Do you know how the heavy cavalry fights the Xiongnu on the steppe!"

As they began to argue, Fusu continued eating his dried meat. He noticed that among the cavalry were older, white-haired Qin soldiers serving as centurions. They remained silent, unlike the boisterous younger soldiers, but these veteran warriors were all battle-hardened. It was a testament to the cruelty of war; Qin had exhausted its national strength to unify the six kingdoms, and yet there were still these gray-haired men in the ranks.

The next day, Prince Fusu woke early. He did not want to delay the march, and when the soldiers woke, so did the Prince. In court and among the people, there was much discussion about Prince Fusu. He had always been known for his benevolence and filial piety. Of course, he remained so, but in the last two years, having taken Chancellor Li Si as his teacher and grown close to the followers of Xunzi, he seemed to be aligning himself with their school of thought.

On the third day after the rain, the Yellow River finally calmed. Today, Fusu saw many cavalrymen moving along the banks, and lines of merchants and farmers heading west through Hangu Pass into Guanzhong.

Tian An sat on the carriage shaft and looked into the distance. "Prince, that is the Xiao Mountains ahead."

Fusu looked up at the green mountains stretching out. If one climbed to the top, one could surely see the ancient Xiaohan Road. Hangu Pass sat at the north of the Xiao Mountains; once the mountains were in sight, the pass was near.

Two hours later, at dusk, guards from Hangu Pass kept coming to inquire. Fusu sat on the carriage, looking ahead. In the crimson light of the setting sun, the towering, majestic pass stood nestled against the foothills. This was the place where the allied nations had joined forces to attack Qin and failed. Relying on Hangu Pass, Qin had held off the allied armies before marching east, invincible.

The commander of Hangu Pass was the old General Xin Sheng, who had led the destruction of Yan. The old general, his hair and beard white, was supported by a lieutenant as he approached and bowed. "This subordinate pays respects to the Prince."

Fusu hurried forward to steady him. "Old General, please, no need for such formalities."

Xin Sheng stood leaning on his staff. "Prince, General Wang is stationed here at Hangu Pass. I have already sent someone to inform him."

"I shall go see the old General myself; there is no need to trouble him," Fusu said.

Xin Sheng nodded. "Prince, please this way."

Whether it was General Meng Wu or this old general, the men who had once conquered the nations were now aged. Seeing this, Fusu felt that time spared no one; Qin had only just unified the world, yet the old generals were already growing old.

Fusu entered Hangu Pass. The fortress was built into the mountains. Looking up, he could vaguely see beacon towers on the distant ridges. Walking through the inner gate to the enceinte and out again, the path narrowed. Before Fusu could fully appreciate the scenery, he was led to the camp outside the pass.

The camp was by the river. Fusu saw that the men remaining here were all elderly Qin veterans, sitting in groups, their hair and beards white. Xin Sheng explained, "The younger men have gone into the pass to see their families, to farm and raise their children, so General Wang Jian only kept these old soldiers for company."

Before they even reached the main tent, Fusu heard a booming voice.

"Humph! King Wei of Qi? A rat!"

Hearing the old General’s roar, Wang Ben’s expression tightened. Seeing the Prince pause, he walked hurriedly into the tent, his face stern.

When the shouting ceased, the old General Wang Jian, looking as frail as a candle in the wind, was helped out by others, coughing twice. Fusu could tell that the coughs were likely feigned.