Chapter Twenty-Nine: The Weak Possess Great Power

Zhang Cang stood to the side, smiling as he watched the Crown Prince and Wang Ben exchange pleasantries.

Once Wang Ben and his attendants had departed, Zhang Cang produced a scroll and said, "This is a volume I have compiled recently."

Fusu accepted the scroll, curious, and remarked, "It is rare to see you compiling books, Teacher."

As he untied the cord binding the bamboo slips, Fusu’s eyes fell upon the words of Xunzi.

Zhang Cang explained, "These were the lessons our teacher left us when he instructed us in the past. I have transcribed some of them, thinking they might be of use to you, Your Highness."

As the Prince read through the text, Zhang Cang stood nearby, gazing out at the distant fields.

"Teacher."

"I am here."

Fusu pondered for a moment before asking, "Does this volume have a name?"

"I have yet to decide," replied Zhang Cang.

With that, the Prince ceased his questioning, and Zhang Cang remained standing behind him.

This year, Guanzhong was far more bustling than the last. If one walked along the Luo River, it was clear that more people were working the fields than in the previous year.

Zhang Han, holding a wooden hoe in one hand, stood with an air of authority at the edge of the field, directing the Prince’s servants in clearing the land. Nowadays, the people of every county were pouring their efforts into farming, growing grain, and raising families.

Seeing the Prince and Zhang Cang approach, Zhang Han stepped back in a hurry and bowed respectfully.

Fusu remarked, "Teacher, farming is no easy task, and educating the people is even harder. As Xunzi said, 'Without wealth, one cannot nourish the people’s sentiments; without education, one cannot order the people’s nature.' It is truly difficult."

Zhang Cang looked at the young Prince with eyes full of hope. "You feel it is difficult because you wish to undertake it. If you did not care, you would be like the others, seeing Xunzi's words merely as a standard of governance."

In the distance, Zhang Cang spotted a group of children sitting in the field, reciting poetry and classics under the guidance of Shusun Tong, who also regaled them with stories.

Thinking of the task of educating the people, Fusu felt more than just difficulty; he felt a sense of trepidation. "General Zhang Han!"

"This subordinate is here."

Zhang Han’s voice was as robust as ever.

Fusu asked, "General, do you find farming difficult?"

Zhang Han hesitated, lowering his head as if unsure how to answer. He simply replied, "I have had the children plant three hundred mulberry saplings at the foot of the mountain, and they have already begun to sprout new buds."

Fusu nodded, thinking to himself that General Zhang Han was a model of a loyal subject.

As he left Mount Shangyan, Fusu watched the groups of people returning home in the sunset. They walked together as families: the strong men of the household in front, followed by the women and the elderly, and behind them, the children, trailing along at a leisurely pace.

The people of this era were filled with ideals and aspirations—men like Li Si, Shusun Tong, and Master Luli. Master Luli was a compassionate man, so compassionate that he hoped the Great Qin would cherish all people under heaven. Having seen the eight hundred years of the Spring and Autumn period, he found it hard to believe that the world had finally been unified by Qin. The ordinary people walking home before them were surely also filled with their own ideals.

At night, the area below Mount Shangyan remained lively. While the adults who had labored all day rested, the children still burned with irrepressible vitality. Some fought with puppies, while others ran about, shouting at the top of their lungs. Their boundless energy was truly astonishing.

Li You was busy adding thatch to the roof of a hut, while inside, Zhang Han sat drinking a bowl of wine and eating mutton. With a thick beard on his chin, he sat cross-legged, then set down his bowl and rested his hands on his knees.

Though Li You and his father, the Chancellor, were at odds, they were still father and son, allowing Li You to pursue his studies without care. Zhang Han, however, felt his own situation was different—having lost his family early and living under others' roofs, he felt he had to strive to do everything well, step by step, to restore his family’s fortunes.

Seeing Li You jump down from the roof to go play with the other children, Zhang Han lowered his head, feeling a sense of loss. He knew he could not compare himself to Li You. He was desperate to start a family; he needed a good wife, one who could build a great clan with him from a humble beginning. There had been hope—a betrothal with the Dong household—but they had reneged.

Zhang Han rarely drank, only allowing himself a drop or two after his shift. Usually, Zhang Cang did not stay in the village, but when he did, he had to leave for Xianyang before dawn. Shusun Tong, who did not get along well with Zhang Cang due to their clashing philosophies, saw Zhang Han drinking and stepped inside.

"General Zhang Han," Shusun Tong greeted.

"Hmm," Zhang Han replied in a deep voice.

"It seems you have something on your mind, General?"

Zhang Han poured a bowl of wine for Shusun Tong and said, "Please."

Shusun Tong did not refuse, taking the bowl and drinking deeply. "May this old man hear what troubles you?"

"It is an old matter," Zhang Han said. "I have a betrothal."

Shusun Tong nodded slightly as he listened to the story of the Dong household, then laughed heartily. "If it is a betrothal, how can they renege? Furthermore, you are currently building irrigation canals for Prince Fusu; how dare they look down on you?"

Zhang Han lowered his head. "My family... well, it is not what it once was."

Shusun Tong studied him. "I can assist you with this, General."

"Truly?"

Shusun Tong smiled easily. "I have many friends in Xianyang."

Zhang Han stood and bowed. "I am in your debt."

The next day, Shusun Tong traveled to Xianyang by donkey cart and arrived at the Dong estate. As usual, he was warmly invited inside by the gatekeepers. He did not meet the master of the house, but instead met a young man named Dong Yi, who held a post as a military officer. After an exchange of pleasantries, Shusun Tong brought up the matter.

Dong Yi understood his intent and sighed, "After the army returned, many generals were granted titles, but as for Zhang Han..."

"Is it because he did not join the expedition against the State of Chu that you broke the betrothal?" Shusun Tong asked.

Dong Yi hurriedly explained, "Old sir, my sister had feelings for General Zhang Han when she was young, but my father did not wish for her to marry a man whose family had fallen into decline."

"Alas," Shusun Tong sighed. "Zhang Han is now supervising the construction of canals for Prince Fusu. It may seem insignificant now, but his future achievements will surely make your family view him differently. If you break your word now, you will inevitably invite criticism. But if you honor it..."

Shusun Tong lowered his voice. "Your family will not be marrying a daughter to a man in decline, but rather securing a connection that will adorn your door when Zhang Han rises to greatness. Otherwise..." He shook his head. "Just consider that I never came."

Dong Yi did not dare to be negligent and bowed. "I will inform my father."

By the time Shusun Tong returned to the village, Zhang Han had not yet received word. Three days later, while hoeing the fields, Zhang Han received news: Dong Yi had arrived in person with a letter from his father, and the two families agreed to hold the wedding after the autumn harvest. That night, a joyous Zhang Han spent his time pulling a plow through the fields.

At the foot of Mount Shangyan, Li You was eating an apricot and holding a basket of them. He offered two to Zhang Cang, saying, "Sent from Luoyang."

Zhang Cang took them but did not eat, his gaze fixed ahead. Li You looked at the sky; it was nearly night, with only a sliver of light remaining in the west, barely enough to see the white clouds above. Yet, at this hour, Zhang Han was still carrying a plow, working the field.

"Imperial Censor Zhang," Li You asked, "are we out of oxen?"

"We have oxen," Zhang Cang replied, "but they are resting."

Li You took a deep breath, squinting at the dim figure in the distance. "Is General Zhang Han not going to rest?"

Zhang Cang stood with his hands behind his back, calm. "His heart is full of joy. Let him plow a few more acres."

Li You took another bite of his apricot, chewing vigorously as he watched Zhang Han, speechless for a long time.

After the Grain Rain solar term, the temperature in Guanzhong rose rapidly. By the fifth month, the midday heat was enough to leave one drenched in sweat. Within the Shanglin Park stood a model of the West Wei Bridge.

Ying Zheng, dressed in loose robes, looked at the model and asked in a low voice, "How many laborers are required, and how long will it take to complete?"

Feng Quji, standing to the side, replied, "Sixty craftsmen and five hundred laborers have been prepared."

Ying Zheng looked at the model, on the side of which were written three characters: Xianyang Bridge. Fusu felt this was the only thing he could do as the Chief of Waterways—to name the bridge.

His Imperial Father and the Right Chancellor were discussing the construction. Fusu, fanning himself, sat lazily on a newly fashioned bamboo chair, feeling no urge to move.

"Brother!"

Hearing a childish call, Fusu glanced to the side and saw his brother, Gao, seven years his junior. Prince Gao was nine years old, wearing clothes that still seemed a bit too large for him, accompanied by two attendants.

"Brother, eat a melon." Gao held out half a melon with both hands.

Fusu took the melon, ate a bite, and nodded. "Very sweet."

Gao smiled foolishly, sitting nearby, clearly delighted. "I heard you love to read, Brother. I want to read, too."

Noticing the look of admiration in his brother’s eyes—the boy likely thought his older brother was a very capable man—Fusu chewed his melon, swallowed, and said, "Go to Mount Shangyan and seek out Shusun Tong."

"I will!"

Because of the heat, Gao’s cheeks were flushed red and somewhat dry. Fusu drank some cool water and instructed, "In the future, when our younger brothers and sisters are ready to study, you shall take them all to Mount Shangyan to become students of Master Shusun Tong."

Gao bowed in the manner of an adult, his voice still youthful. "I accept your command. Father and you govern the world; I will take care of our younger siblings."

Fusu smiled with satisfaction; his brother was quite sensible.

His Imperial Father was listening to Feng Quji, nodding occasionally. Soon after, Fusu saw Feng Quji introduce Jian Lu, who then explained the technical points of the waterworks to the Emperor. Everything was proceeding as expected.

Fusu looked again at the model. Jian Lu’s bridge design was indeed scientific, featuring boat-shaped cutwaters to reduce the impact of the current.

Gao, eating his melon, looked up and asked, "Brother, why does Father want to build this bridge?"

"To defend against the Xiongnu," Fusu replied.

Gao nodded as he continued to eat.

Geographically, the Xianyang Bridge would connect the east and west banks of the Wei River, allowing for the movement of troops and supplies, while also boosting trade. Merchants passing through would arrive directly in Xianyang, bringing prosperity to the city. If a checkpoint were established there, it would also serve to defend the capital. The foresight in building this bridge was truly profound. The people of this era were in no way inferior to those of later generations in their application and expansion of geography, military strategy, and commerce.

According to Jian Lu, Guanzhong had entered its dry season, which would last until the sixth month.

"Fusu, you must assist Chancellor Feng well."

"I accept your command, Father."

After seeing his father off, Fusu continued to fulfill his role as the Chief of Waterways, participating in the construction. The next day, with the arrival of the laborers and craftsmen, work on the Xianyang Bridge began.

This was the first time Fusu had actively participated in the construction of the nation. A bridge spanning the West Wei River would be born through his involvement—the Xianyang Bridge, which would influence the next two thousand years of history. How could he not feel invigorated?

In later ages, Du Fu would write of the miseries of war at the Xianyang Bridge; Wang Wei would write of parting; and Wen Tingyun would write of the misty rain of Guanzhong.

The summer in Guanzhong was hot and long. Laborers in hempen clothes stepped barefoot into the muddy riverbed. Each time Fusu witnessed the strength of the working people, his heart burned with passion.

From the riverbank came the powerful shouts of the men: "One! Two! Pull!"

With a mighty heave, the ropes tied to the massive pillars pulled them from the muddy riverbed, rising abruptly toward the sky. Though men were weak, like the Foolish Old Man who moved the mountains, the people of this land possessed the most powerful hands.

By the beginning of the sixth month, a rain fell, and construction was temporarily halted. The virtuous Prince Fusu carried a tray of freshly baked cakes, distributing them to those sheltering from the rain under the grass sheds. The people bowed as they accepted the cakes; some even attempted to kneel, but Fusu quickly helped them up.

Officials from the Censorate stood on the bank, recording the Prince's words and actions. These reports would soon circulate among the censors in the capital.

Fusu ate a cake as he looked at the bridge, which had reached a critical stage of construction. He had not seen Chancellor Li Si for two months, nor had he returned to Xianyang, choosing instead to remain by the West Wei River.

Fortunately, the rain was light and stopped the following day. Fusu sat in a newly built hut. Tian An stood outside, frowning at the clearing sky. Inside, Fusu reviewed the urgent reports sent by Zhang Han regarding the state of Mount Shang; there were no changes, save for the addition of Prince Gao.

Fusu settled his mind and continued to examine Jian Lu’s construction plans, whispering consultations with his teacher Zhang Cang, who served as the temporary Office Chief and Censor. Once the plans were finalized, they needed to be submitted to the Right Chancellor for approval.

By midday, the scorching sun shone once again upon the land, and the mud on the riverbed began to whiten and solidify with visible speed.