Volume One: The New East in the Global Spotlight Chapter Four: The “Messiah’s” First Confrontation with the Powers that Be

As the eunuch commander announced, “Ministers, please enter for the audience,” the main hall’s doors—never particularly wide to begin with—were forced to admit two distinct processions, each filing in and taking their places on either side. On the left, it was clear these were princes of the former king’s generation, at least peers to Prince Jia’s father, the late King Daoxiang. Each bore themselves with the natural arrogance and grace that marked their noble birth, an air that brooked no doubt. Were it not for such inherent pride, these princes would never have deigned to attend this ceremony of surrender, handing Dai over to Qin. Yet, at this moment, it was impossible to tell whether they were scions of King Xiaocheng or even the older King Huiwen; only that, in Zhao—a nation still tightly bound by its ancestral clan traditions—these lesser-known royal kinsmen were likely of secondary birth, perhaps even grandsons of the kings, though not directly in line.

On the right stood men clearly older, their gazes deep and shrewd—only among such great families of foreign surname could rivals to the powerful royal clans emerge, those who could stand shoulder to shoulder with the nobility in the royal court. The last to enter were the Fei family, kin by marriage, yet Fei Zhong himself was nowhere to be seen. Zhao Congjian realized with a jolt that he’d miscalculated: The once-influential Fei clan had long since lost their standing, and Fei Zhong was likely present only as an attendant to Fei Shiqi, not even qualified to meet Prince Jia unless summoned privately. A cold shudder ran through Zhao Congjian’s teeth. He had underestimated the situation; it wasn’t necessarily that Miao Fengnian refused him entry, but rather that, for all his cunning, Miao himself was powerless, unable to manipulate events to suit Zhao’s interests. One day, he swore, he would found his own Eastern Depot—an intelligence service fit for the Warring States! For now, royal authority was far too vulnerable to attack.

A quick count revealed twelve ministers seated. An auspicious number: from ancient times to the present, twelve had held significance across all great faiths. Zhao Congjian fancied each of these men as representing their own clan, himself cast in the role of a Jesus before his time—born two centuries too early! No matter; having transmigrated to become Prince Jia, he would be the Messiah for the remnant people of Zhao. Until he could perform miracles, however, he would keep this revelation to himself.

“Ministers, present your counsel in turn!” The eunuch commander approached Zhao Congjian’s side, opening the proceedings with calm authority, though the undercurrent of menace was palpable. The most powerful current ministers were surely among those on the right, their standing suppressed by the monopolizing Guo Kai faction; those on the left had greater rank, but the royal clan clearly lacked truly seasoned statesmen. With standards for evaluation so ambiguous, these two groups would surely quarrel again in moments. Miao Fengnian—what an operator, Zhao Congjian mused. Only a man with experience in the inner court could orchestrate such intrigue.

“Uncle, last night I dreamt the King of Dai demanded my life!” Zhao Congjian turned toward the left, his gaze drifting as if unsure whom to address. This allowed him both to clarify their relationships and to tacitly acknowledge the royal clan’s superior status in crisis, satisfying their sense of honor. Finally, it would test the intelligence of the royal clan, pragmatically assessing the power structure he might build between clan and minister.

The princes exchanged uncertain glances. They had no inkling what secret lay behind this statement, but Zhao Congjian, fortified by his knowledge of history, felt he already had the upper hand in guiding the proceedings.

A young prince with a square-jawed face, seated at the end of the row, ventured cautiously, “Was it Crown Prince Zhang, the deposed heir of King Wuling?” The clan elder at the head of the table immediately frowned, displeased at the disruption of their newly established order. He hurried to correct the record: “Though Prince Zhang’s fate was tragic, he was never formally made King of Dai! That was the chaos caused by our lord’s misrule.” Then, fixing Prince Jia with a steely look, he continued, “Surely, you must mean the last King of Dai, whom our Zhao kingdom destroyed. Did this man speak further in your dream?”

A sharp tongue, Zhao Congjian thought. Not once did he refer to the prince’s rank, but instead alluded to the disgraceful deposition and succession that had favored Jia’s half-brother Qian, as if mocking or perhaps currying favor. Clearly, the royal clan was not to be underestimated in matters of power. Zhao Congjian, undaunted, shook his head and glanced toward the chief minister on the right.

The minister caught his meaning immediately, straightening from his kneeling posture to speak: “Your servant, Yu Boyan, believes sincerely that this is the cause of the recent earthquake in Dai Commandery, which weakened our Zhao state and left us unable to resist Qin, leading to our downfall and flight! All because, in the past, Zhao Jianzi murdered the King of Dai with a golden bowl, leaving him vengeful in death. Now, driven to exile, his spirit still haunts us. I urge that a temple and rites be established in the city to appease him!”

Hearing mention of Zhao Jianzi, Zhao Congjian was chilled, suddenly repelled by his own schemes—perhaps he truly would summon vengeful ghosts. But he was, after all, a staunch materialist of the modern age—what did he have to fear from such superstitions? He gave his assent, and at last both sides of the hall quieted. Now it was time to broach the topic of his savior.

“Is the governor of Dai present?”

“Your Highness!” Someone on the left interjected—at last, a royal had formally acknowledged his status! “Our late king, in his folly, deposed you and made the son of a concubine his heir. Now Handan has fallen, and the fate of the king is unknown. Please, ascend to the throne as our new sovereign, for the sake of the nation. Do not refuse!” With that, the assembly exchanged glances, and a chorus of uneven entreaties rose up.

Zhao Congjian wondered why no one would answer his question directly. If this “inevitable” entreaty was meant to divert the conversation, then while it seemed to grant him power, it would ultimately leave him as a figurehead. If the factions turned on each other, his fate would be sealed.

He would not suffer such equivocation—he would be the one to defy fate!

Suddenly, flustered and indignant, Zhao Congjian sat up straight and slammed his hands upon the table. “If the governor of Dai will not submit, what use is there in being a king without a land?”

The thirteen others in the hall were stunned by the commanding presence of their future ruler. None had expected this child king, installed as a mere ornament, to show such vision and boldness.

Their secret calculations, each aiming to seize power for themselves, were now threatened by the prospect of true unity and a vigorous restoration of the state. Though their personal ambitions were thwarted, the presence of a wise sovereign meant less pointless infighting, and many petty intrigues could be set aside.

But the royals kept silent, turning in unison to Yu Boyan, who had spoken first. It was only natural—they wanted to force the external minister to shoulder the blame for any prior conspiracies, exposing the subservience of outsiders before the clan.

Sensing the tension, another minister beside Yu Boyan, recognizing Zhao Congjian’s potential, came forward to share responsibility, spreading the embarrassment among all present: “Your Majesty may not know, but since our flight to Dai, we have debated at length the loyalty of the local officials. We agreed that unless hierarchy is made clear, those officials may become arrogant, consider themselves the true masters, and secretly align with mighty Qin—our destruction would be assured! Today’s plan was to reestablish court protocol, so the local officials were not invited. Please, Your Majesty, do not be angered or distressed!” He did not give his name, but his quick wit pleased both Zhao Congjian and Yu Boyan.

“From what I see, you are skilled in the art of balancing powers. Since the governor is absent, please go in person and summon the governor, commander, and chief administrator of the commandery to join us.” The next minister on the right responded promptly, hurrying out on tiptoe to carry out the order.

Zhao Congjian surveyed the room and continued, “In these dark times, when the order of heaven and earth is reversed, the lines between host and guest are blurred. Who can say that outsiders lack the loyalty to save the nation? We have come to Dai because we trust in the honesty and virtue of its people. Do not slight them.”

His forthright words made sense, though some resented the addition of three more to share power. In peaceful times, would local officials always take part in court affairs just because the court had moved to a new city? Though his decision overturned the consensus reached over days of flight, the new king’s authority was now established, and no one dared challenge it further. Some of the royals, frustrated, sought to restore their footing, hoping to limit royal power in the future.

A white-haired prince, second on the left, rose and cautiously asked, “If they later rebel, how should we respond?”

Zhao Congjian sensed the attempt to lay a hidden trap and replied firmly, “Trust those you employ; employ not those you distrust! Did King Wuling, when he adopted the riding attire of the Hu for campaigns against Zhongshan, Linhu, Loufan, and the Xiongnu, ever worry that the northern peoples, even if conquered, would be impossible to command?” Having answered this potential deathtrap for the future, his palms were slick with sweat. Should the questioning grow any sharper, he might not be able to parry with high-minded rhetoric—he had underestimated how daunting such occasions could be. These ministers were all seasoned veterans; he should not have assumed his modern perspective was superior to their own hard-won wisdom.

These ministers, having escaped the fall of the capital, were never going to be easily satisfied. Their energy should now be directed outward, not inward—otherwise, if these zealous royals bared their true ambitions, unity would be lost.

Then, in the midst of the silence, a voice raised an urgent new concern: “Rather than debating the loyalty of Dai’s officials, who among us can secure the allegiance of the Linhu and Loufan peoples for the sake of the state?”

This new topic came from Zhao Congjian’s own memory: after the fall of Dai Commandery, the Records of the Grand Historian make no mention of the western prefectures—Yanmen, Yunzhong, Jiuyuan—receiving fleeing nobles to continue the resistance. Could it be that these three commanderies, not as resource-rich as Dai, could not sustain the anti-Qin struggle? He needed to learn the true situation there for himself.