Volume One: The New East in the World’s Spotlight Chapter 007: The Dai Commandery Estate — The Return of Righteousness

As the situation shifted unpredictably, beads of sweat broke out over Miao Fengnian’s face—something rarely seen in a calm, emasculated court eunuch. He recalled vividly the day when the Qin army forcibly gathered all members of the Zhao royal clan into the palace for detainment, and he, by sheer luck, managed to help Prince Jia escape by climbing over the wall. At the time, the prince had seemed unremarkable—introverted and taciturn—utterly unlike the man he appeared to be today. Even on the journey to Dai, there had been no hint of the potential now displayed. What could account for such a change? His current bearing, if described as that of a wise ruler, would only capture the lower limit of his aptitude; indeed, he radiated the majestic aura of a true statesman.

“Perhaps even Lord Jian and Lord Xiang of Zhao faced attacks from their ministers in earlier times, but they resolved conflicts so adeptly that their reputations soared,” Miao Fengnian mused absentmindedly.

The left faction was clearly displeased with Zhao Congjian’s remarks. Having been collectively reproved, they could not immediately give vent to their anger. The leading minister, humiliated, drove his sword point-down into the floor, refusing to back down. He retorted forcefully, “Zizhi has also heard: when elders and juniors know their place, clans are at peace; when heaven and earth are distinct, superiors and inferiors are properly ordered. As loyal servants, we must serve our lord with utmost devotion. But this mere servant, Feng Yi, who claims to ‘dutifully observe his responsibilities,’ actually harbors treacherous intent! He dares question the dignity of our court—should such insolence go unpunished?” With that, he turned away toward the doors, breathing heavily.

What outrageous conduct! The assembly saw it all—a man drawing his sword in the hall, attempting unsanctioned punishment, yet the incident was glossed over by the very perpetrator. Truly, the martial Zhao clan was as headstrong as ever.

Zhao Congjian had no wish to quarrel further. His gaze fell on Feng Yi, who lay battered and bruised on the ground, unaided, and he spoke softly, “Guo Kai, as prime minister, needed the support of Han Cang; who else formed his faction? And as for the treacherous minister, did not Lord Chunping echo his every word? It appears, if I do not ascend the throne, I myself may one day bring ruin to Zhao, just as they did.”

His words were chilling, sending a wave of discomfort through the hall. If even the sovereign mocked himself thus, how might the princes and nobles ever defend their reputations in the future?

Consider Lord Chunping—brilliant among the royals, naturally overshadowing the others. By birth, had he not been forced to live long as a hostage in Xianyang, this legitimate heir, both chancellor and crown prince, would have been the obvious choice for succession. His virtue was unblemished, yet because Handan refused to submit to Qin, he was ‘abandoned’ and the royal succession shifted to his brother, King Daoxiang, inciting internal strife. Upon Chunping’s return, rumors abounded of his secret mischief. It was even said that Ying Zheng, the Qin ruler, often referenced their shared ancestry and, in open court, supported Chunping’s claim to the Zhao throne, calling for renewed amity between the two states—thus undermining the resolve of many anti-Qin factions within Zhao.

At this point, the royal family’s contest, which began in the side chamber, had run its course. It was time for loyal ministers of non-royal blood to enter the stage. Zhao Kuai subtly nudged Yu Boyan’s foot, signaling him to take up the conversation and ‘share the burden’ for their sovereign.

“Your Majesty, I beg you to forgive the ministers’ impetuousness!” Yu Boyan declared. “Since all here seek the restoration of Zhao, there can be no innate enmity. I ask that everyone return to their seats and hear Feng Yi’s words to the end! Whoever dares defy authority again should be dragged outside the county office and beheaded in public, his body exposed for ten days, as a warning to all!”

Fei Shiqi, nearest the door, upon hearing this, hurried through the crowd to help Feng Yi to his feet. As an old official from humble origins, he felt a kinship for the scholar who dared speak truth to power. Besides, it was in his family’s and his grandson’s interest to see the speech concluded properly. Yet Feng Yi, with dignity, brushed off assistance, strode to the center of the hall, and began without waiting for the others to be seated:

“I, Feng Yi, have cherished the study of letters and ritual since youth. But, seeing no prospect of advancement in Zhao, I squandered my fortune to befriend the elite of Handan and purchased the post of assistant magistrate in a county of Dai. Years slipped by before I was promoted to deputy magistrate at age forty-six. Yet, in the martial borderlands, civil officials are always sidelined. Today, to encounter so many princes and ministers is my fortune, though the nation’s misfortune. Before a wise ruler, I dared to offer counsel. Unexpectedly, my words offended, disrupting your plans, bringing ridicule and a beating, impeding our deliberations and damaging the dignity of the state. Such is my inadequacy. I request demotion to my former post and your Majesty’s indulgence!” With that, he moved to depart.

Miao Fengnian snapped from his reverie—this fellow delivered his speech and now wanted to leave, even daring to act aggrieved! No matter, this was still a court, and no outsider would be allowed such presumption, especially at the climax of these proceedings. If things went as Feng Yi wished, his own authority as presiding officer would be lost. He immediately rebuked, his eunuch’s voice cutting through the hall, “Stop! Silver-tongued flatterer! Are you not afraid your head will hang from the market pike? You dare ask for a post as magistrate? If you do not finish your thoughts today, you will not even be allowed to live as a commoner!”

The right-hand ministers returned to their seats, though they did not kneel, fixing Feng Yi with sharp, unyielding stares, supporting the eunuch’s demand that the royal kin also retake their places. Prince Zhi sheathed his sword slowly, and, under the weight of the atmosphere, the other princes reluctantly knelt as well. Seeing this, the county captain, eager to please, shouted to his colleagues, “Feng Yi, you are bold indeed! Always showing off your learning, safe only because the capital lies far to the south and the governor favors you. Do you think we, the military officials of Dai, would not teach you a lesson if we wished?”

At this, Feng Yi, one foot out the door, hesitated. Even if not for his own pride, for the sake of the governor who had long appreciated him, he could not but deliver a resounding argument.

The governor, seeing his captain so heartlessly turn, flushed with anger and interjected, “Feng Yi, do you really mean to be a traitor? Must your family forever stir up trouble in Zhao with their words?”

Zhao Congjian, as if awakening from a dream, suddenly realized: Feng Yi’s ancestor was none other than Feng Ting, who had surrendered Shangdang to Zhao—so he had brought upon himself another ‘bait of lost states.’ He bitterly regretted his choices, fearing that, at this critical moment, a new ‘righteous argument’ would once again spell ruin for the nation—potent medicine may cure, but its poison is all the stronger!

The assembly now drifted toward an unpredictable future. For a moment, it seemed as if everyone’s vision elongated, as if time itself had stretched. The afternoon sun was mild, but as its slanted light fell upon Feng Yi, he appeared shrouded in radiance, like a figure illuminated by holy light, his face and form rendered almost unseeable. His features were indistinct, bruises hidden, but his words, spoken from the shadow of his moving lips, were unshakably resolute. Zhao Congjian felt as if a spirit had possessed the man, with all eyes drawn to him, momentarily eclipsing his own Messianic presence.

“Your Majesty, forgive my presumption! I believe that, in these times, all hinges upon the state’s integrity. Since King Wuling declared himself king, our illustrious rulers expanded our lands a thousand leagues, inaugurating new systems for Zhao. Fusing the ways of agriculture and herding, they forged a force of cavalry and infantry as fierce as tigers and wolves, conquering on all sides, always victorious. Among the great states, only Qin, Chu, and Zhao were so acclaimed. Yet our nation stood out not for harsh punishments nor vast territory, but for its outstanding generals and elite soldiers.

If we cede our lands to Qi, retreating to defensible territory and shunning rivalry, would we not already be a lost state? By adopting the dress of the Hu, our ancestors drove away the Loufan, Lin Hu, and Xiongnu tribes. Are these peoples not now vanished, their people absorbed by Zhao, prospering south of the Great River, multiplying, securing the land with mountains and rivers as barriers? Yet, ever and again, the tribes cross the river, coveting their old lands. If the border officials fail in their duty, these tribes will submit by day and graze by night—such is their rise and fall. The rapidity of their fortunes is owing to the convenience of mixed customs. Even Zhongshan, though once lost, was restored—let this be our first lesson.

Yet, it was also King Wuling, in old age, obsessed with war and conquest, who expanded into foreign realms, making alliances with the Hu at the cost of abandoning the rites of the Zhou. Why stray so far from the ways of Duke Zhou? In decrepitude, he arrogated the title ‘Lord Father,’ seeking to rule over two kings at once. A nation cannot abide two sovereigns—the Jin court’s example is well known. He harmed the worthy Prince Zhang, abused his power, indulged the dancer Wu Wa, and disrupted government. The instability of the queen’s position, as in the story of King Daoxiang, has wearied the Zhao people ever since King Huiwen’s time! Our capital is a center of civilization yet coveted by the Hu; we grasp after foreign lands without distinguishing between Hu and Xia, and so, ultimately, lost our southern territories. We failed to learn from the disaster of Changping, suffered immense losses, neglected alliances with Yan, Zhao, Wei, and so, besieged in Handan, found no aid and fell—there is little to lament. Without restoring Zhou ritual, still mired in Hu customs, we fail to emulate Yan’s reforms under King Zhao, whose state remains secure. Though Yan seized Qi and later lost it, he expanded northward against the Donghu, gaining a thousand leagues, and still endures—let this be our second lesson.

Now, King Qian is captive, witness to the wisdom of the Qin king, who, after destroying Han, exiled its royal clan. Today, he will not, as the people hope, simply install Lord Anping; instead, our royals are gathered in the palace as hostages, segregating the clan and preventing revolt, ready to resist after the fall of Yan, Qi, and Wei. In all likelihood, the relocation of our royal family will be completed within months. Recall Chu’s loss of its capital: its people fled east, to Chen and Shouchun, yet the state endures in its new capital, its temples and altars intact—even Qin could not extinguish it. Let this be our third lesson.

Consider the fall of Qi: seventy-two cities reduced to one, held by Yan for three years, yet the state was restored by the unity of its people and their leaders. The key was winning the hearts of the people and uniting the gentry in common purpose—let this be our fourth lesson.

With these four lessons, I boldly propose:

Announce to all officials and people your accession. Let the ceremony be grand, proclaiming the nation’s majesty—not a hasty decision made in a private chamber by a handful of courtiers. Assume the title of King of Dai, not King of Zhao, to thwart Qin’s evil designs; enshrine Prince Zhang in the temple, marking the distinction between Zhao and Dai; establish King Wuling as temple lord, emphasizing the kinship of Zhao and Dai; henceforth, use only the title ‘king,’ abolishing the confusion of ‘lord’ and ‘king’ together; assign a posthumous title to the captive King of Zhao, spread the news throughout Zhao lands, feign his death and absence of an heir, severing the people’s longing for sacrifice and remembrance.

Place ministers in command of troops, garrisoning the western borders—at Yanmen, Yunzhong, and Jiuyuan—without stripping them of office, so they remain vigilant, deter surrender to Qin, and block the Xiongnu, Loufan, and Lin Hu from raiding south. Dispatch light cavalry to harry the Qin army, establishing the authority of Dai, summoning brave men and exiles to join our cause.

Send envoys to Yan, explaining the principle of ‘lips and teeth’—that one’s loss is the other’s doom—pursuing marriage alliances to resist Qin together. Send others to Wei, repairing relations, renewing the old alliance of the Three Jin, and secretly plotting to shelter men who would revive Han, sowing chaos in Qin’s heartland. Send others to Chu, renewing ancient friendship, urging them to declare independence in the South, supporting their king as overlord, giving him authority over the vertical alliance, and seizing opportunities to threaten Qin’s southern borders.

Send letters to Qin, seeking a temporary truce, feigning a desire for peace, claiming it is the late King Daoxiang’s will to follow the precedent of the ‘Lord Father,’ installing Prince Jia as King of Dai, feigning that it is being blocked by traitorous ministers, declaring the king of Dai as overlord, with no intent to reclaim Zhao’s old territory—thus assuaging Qin’s fears and buying time for future plans.

If these twelve measures are carried out, our state will surely rise again!”

As Feng Yi concluded his impassioned oration, his face was flushed, and the sunlight was swallowed by clouds—the ‘holy light’ vanished. His forehead was now covered in sweat, beads gathering and dripping to the floor, soaking half a plank, as if he had wet himself.

“You insolent scholar, twisting empty arguments and false ideals! It is men like you, with your affected virtue, who brought Zhao to ruin! Is it Zhao you wish to restore, or Dai? Must the royal clan all change their surnames—have you the gall for that?” Prince Qian, lacking eloquence and depth, seized upon the wording of Feng Yi’s proposal, hoping to suppress the outsider and return the discussion to the intended path of a noble-led republic.

Yet Zhao Congjian, having heard the speech of a local official with long grassroots and frontier experience, now possessed a comprehensive understanding of the nation’s condition. But he was soon preoccupied by a deeper question:

“How do entrenched human beliefs become so rigid and immutable?”