Chapter Three: Li Si’s Determination to Improve

It had been two months since great-grandmother passed away, and two months since I last saw the Emperor, my father.

The Emperor was very busy—occupied with the monumental task of governing the realm, unifying the six states, abolishing the feudal system, an unprecedented endeavor in history.

Over the past decade or so, the great Qin had annexed the six kingdoms. Now, Qin faced the challenge of ruling the unified land, confronting various unprecedented issues.

Another month passed, and the cold northwestern winds still blew relentlessly. The bustling city of Xianyang appeared as a vast expanse of black and gray. Most people wore garments in dark hues, and even the rooftops and streets were dominated by somber shades.

After observing the traditional two-month mourning period, Fusu received his father’s permission to leave the palace.

At this time of year, stepping outside revealed people digging up freshly sprouted wild vegetables in the fields, some busy tilling the soil in preparation for planting.

Meng Tian, in his thirties, stood by quietly, watching as Lord Fusu disembarked and engaged in conversation with a few idle farmers.

The young lord spoke cheerfully with one elderly farmer, while Meng Tian remained stern-faced, alert to their surroundings, protecting the lord’s safety.

Fusu exchanged some grain for a scroll of bamboo slips with the old farmer and inquired about farming techniques.

A minor official hurried over to Fusu’s escort and handed him a scroll.

Before the official could approach closer, Meng Tian took the scroll himself. “My lord, this was sent by Chancellor Li Si.”

Seeing the old farmer had walked away, Fusu unfurled the scroll and read about the current affairs of the court—such as implementing the commandery and county system and redistributing farmland.

Li Si was an ambitious man. Perhaps he was also one who would stop at nothing to achieve his goals.

As Fusu’s tutor, Li Si never missed an opportunity to advance progress. Whenever new decrees needed to be enacted, he would send an additional copy to the young lord.

The strategies recorded in the scroll resembled those many reforms championed by Shang Yang during Qin’s transformation—mobilizing the entire population to participate in the construction of the state.

A few lines mentioned the Great Wall, specifically the repair of the northern walls near Yan and Zhao.

In the still-chill plains of Guanzhong, a northwest wind howled, rustling garments noisily.

Fusu gazed out over the vast Guanzhong plain. In this strictly hierarchical land, every patch of earth was cultivated. Enchanted by the beauty, he stood lost in thought until the sunset dipped below the Yellow River’s horizon, then returned to the Xianyang palace.

That night, after a bowl of millet porridge, Fusu intended to rest briefly.

In truth, he was still unfamiliar with Meng Tian and had only exchanged a few words with Li Si. He had yet to truly belong to this era, to become a real part of this time.

What else could he do but be cautious, learn patiently, and gradually become a true Qin man—Prince Fusu of the great Qin.

In time, he would help build the vast northwest. Any achievement would honor his identity and responsibilities.

In his dreams, Fusu found himself once again in a forest of steel and concrete. He was then a university student named Zhao Qin, walking down the noisy corridor of an apartment building. Behind doors, he could hear neighbors’ troubles, couples’ quarrels, children’s laughter.

Following the corridor, he arrived at the home of an elderly professor.

No sooner had he sat down than the drunken professor spoke.

“Little Zhao, I saw a terracotta warrior unearthed from the ruins of Xianyang city. This warrior was unlike ordinary Qin soldiers. I was the first to see it before oxidation, and it looks remarkably like you.”

“Professor Chen, you’ve had too much to drink.”

The professor continued, “I’ve read your thesis. Your analysis of the feudal system’s history lacks depth, lacks sharpness.”

Zhao Qin poured more wine for the professor and asked, “Isn’t being too sharp a flaw?”

“Ha,” Chen snorted. “Qin’s abolition of the feudal system sparked the resistance of the old nobility from the Six States because the First Emperor sought to abolish feudalism, select officials from the common people, and redistribute land. In doing so, he made enemies of all the old nobility’s middle class and above.”

Chen burped and went on, “Those who once held noble status and owned means of production—once stripped of all that, they would fight you to the death.”

Zhao Qin wiped the sweat from his brow, feeling the heat from the wine.

“Qin… such a pity…”

Chen, who enjoyed studying folk legends, began to recount the story of Lady Meng Jiang.

He said, “The cries of Lady Meng Jiang at the Great Wall were not for Qin’s cruelty, but to mourn the wronged Prince Fusu, whose death moved her to collapse the wall in sorrow.”

This folk tale links the First Emperor, the Great Wall, and injustice—pointing to Prince Fusu.

So even if banished to Shang Commandery to supervise Meng Tian’s army building the Great Wall, commanding 300,000 frontier troops, with that military power, reclaiming the realm would be possible.

Zhao Qin watched the professor’s hand rest on his shoulder, his words slowly echoing in his ears.

“You must understand, involving the masses in state construction during the feudal era was extremely difficult. Better to be a man who overturns the world than to watch chaos reign.”

“You must be one who can sit at the table and eat, yet also one who can overturn it. Hesitation is not the way of a true Qin man. Rather than waiting for the old nobility to rebel, sweep them away and let Shang Yang laugh in hell.”

Chen’s voice grew faint as the surroundings blurred. Suddenly, Zhao Qin gasped for air and opened his eyes to find himself still in the High Spring Palace. The wooden and brick palace was silent.

The nearby stove still burned, making him sweat. He wiped his brow and painfully steadied himself.

Fusu could no longer recall if, before he passed out that day, the professor truly said to let Shang Yang laugh in hell—such words…

“My lord, the chancellor has sent a book.”

Fusu regained his composure, exhaled, and nodded. “Bring it here.”

Since their last meeting, Li Si had rarely come to High Spring Palace in person—most likely to avoid suspicion.

Yet, every day he sent many official documents and decrees.

Fusu, eager to learn, studied Li Si’s explanations of each edict. The first priority was to establish the Three Excellencies and the Nine Ministers, implying that Prime Minister Wang Wan was truly finished.

One piece of news revealed that Xiang Yan had installed a new King of Chu in the southeastern borderlands of old Chu territory. Qin forces moved to eliminate them, and Xiang Yan died in battle.