“Where is your elder brother now? Would it be convenient for me to meet him?”
“I dare not say no. It would be my brother’s great fortune to receive your visit, madam. However, he has taken on work and is currently not in the village.”
Zhao Yuanxi was somewhat disappointed, but there would be other opportunities.
After seeing off Lady Zhao, Chu wiped sweat from his forehead that wasn’t actually there. This noble lady appeared kind, but her aura was overwhelmingly imposing—likely even more formidable than the local magistrate.
He tugged at Chu’s sleeve and pointed to an extra bag in the corner. “Husband, this was left by that lady.”
The eldest child among them bounded over, opened the bag, and exclaimed joyfully, “Father, Mother! It’s foxtail millet!”
“It really is foxtail millet! Husband, that lady is truly kind.” Though He hadn’t objected when Chu brought guests home for a meal unannounced, that didn’t mean she hadn’t been concerned about their food stores.
Now, however, she felt guilty for not having been more hospitable to the lady.
Remembering the task the lady had entrusted to him, Chu murmured, “Indeed! She is truly a good person.”
When Zhao Yuanxi returned to Liyang Palace and stepped out of the carriage, a full moon hung high in the sky. They say the moon carries thoughts of loved ones. Without modern entertainment, seeing the moon at night really could make one feel melancholic.
But then she reconsidered: in her modern life, she had few relatives—her parents had passed away early, she had no siblings, and by her thirties, she still had no partner. She was practically alone. Beyond her unfinished research projects, there was truly nothing that occupied her thoughts.
However, in this world, she did have a son—and what a son! Thinking of who her son was, Zhao Yuanxi couldn’t help but laugh.
Not bad at all!
If she could hear her dear son call her “Mother,” she’d probably float straight up to heaven.
“Achoo—!” Ying Zheng sneezed violently, nearly dropping the bamboo slips in his hand.
The elderly eunuch attending him presented a cup of hot tea and asked with concern, “Is Your Majesty unwell? Should this servant summon the imperial physician?”
“It’s nothing. Did the Queen Dowager accept the people I sent today?”
“She did accept them, but—”
Ying Zheng showed an expression of understanding and sneered, “What has that woman done now?”
The elderly eunuch knelt on the floor. “The Queen Dowager took them to the fields today, saying she was going to farm.”
His voice grew progressively weaker, tinged with confusion.
“Farming?” Ying Zheng was taken aback, taking a long moment to process the meaning of the words. Yet he still found it difficult to associate farming with that woman.
Ying Zheng scoffed. Forget farming—even getting that woman to wash her own clothes or prepare a meal would be challenging.
He didn’t believe she genuinely intended to farm, suspecting instead that she was scheming something malicious. As if struck by a thought, his expression darkened.
“Has Chancellor Lü shown any unusual behavior?”
The elderly eunuch, who had once been Lü Buwei’s close confidant, Lü Le, trembled. “The Chancellor has been feeling unwell recently and hasn’t stepped out half a step.”
Since the King of Qin had eliminated Lao Ai and formally taken control of Qin’s governance, Lü Buwei had become increasingly restrained, and lately hadn’t even been attending court assemblies.
“If the Chancellor has grown old, then let him return home to rest properly. Bestow upon him the title of Marquis Wenxin, with residence in Hejian, and grant him a fief of one hundred thousand households.”
Zhao Yuanxi remained unaware that her little butterfly wings had fluttered just enough to expel Lü Buwei from Xianyang ahead of schedule.
Even if she had known, she would probably have cried out in protest—those were all Zhao Ji’s deeds, what did they have to do with her, Zhao Yuanxi? She was just dutifully tending to her farmland.
Though it was already late, Zhao Yuanxi was still awake, sketching on silk with a charcoal pen.
The Qin state had no paper yet; writing was typically done on cloth or bamboo slips.
Zhao Yuanxi was drawing diagrams of the Quyuan Plow and waterwheel, relying on her memory to roughly outline the structures.
Crude as they were, the general concepts were clear. She had done her best; the rest would be up to the craftsmen.
After finishing, she tossed the charcoal pen aside and collapsed onto the mat. Staring at her sun-darkened hands and the mangled piece of cloth on the table, she sighed dramatically, “Once you start working, there’s just no end to it!”
Not only did she have to worry about farming, but writing tools and paper also needed to be prioritized!
She couldn’t stand scribbling with a charcoal stick on cloth anymore—and as for using the restroom, Zhao Yuanxi didn’t even want to mention it. It was nothing short of a nightmare!
The next day, Zhao Yuanxi had Gao Sheng prepare the carriage early to return to Lüge Dock.
But just as she stepped out, a little child suddenly bumped into her leg.
Zhao Yuanxi hadn’t expected a child to dart out from the side. Unable to control the force in her leg, she sent the child tumbling backward.
The child rolled a few times on the ground but, fortunately, was bundled in thick clothing. Rubbing his head, he pouted in grievance, eyes reddening as if about to cry.
Zhao Yuanxi cut short his act, preemptively pointing at her own knee. “Little one, were you running so fast just to bump into me on purpose?”
The child, whose thoughts had been guessed, was stunned.
This wasn’t what his uncle had said would happen! Shouldn’t his grandmother have helped him up first, asked if he was hurt, and then comforted him?
Ziying looked at Zhao Yuanxi in confusion, growing fearful, and instinctively searched for his uncle.
But aside from the two palace attendants behind him, his uncle was nowhere to be seen.
“G-Grandmother!” The child was so frightened he started hiccupping, tears falling in big drops. He looked utterly pitiful.
Grandmother? Her grandson?
Although Zhao Yuanxi possessed Zhao Ji’s memories, she only knew the story from Zhao Ji’s perspective.
She didn’t know the specifics of how events unfolded or the exact circumstances.
Just like now—Zhao Yuanxi knew she had grandsons but wasn’t sure which one this little child was.
As the Queen Dowager of Qin, only two were qualified to call her “Grandmother”: Fusu, the eldest son of her nominal son, and Ziying, the son of Chengjiao, the younger son of her late husband.
Fusu stayed with her nominal son and wouldn’t be here, so this was likely Ziying, Chengjiao’s son.
Lord Chang’an Chengjiao had rebelled two years earlier and died in Tunliu. His young son Ziying, though pardoned by King Ying Zheng of Qin, was still implicated and exiled from Xianyang.
“Are you Ziying?”
Ziying sniffled and nodded obediently.
Thus, as the first historical figure Zhao Yuanxi had encountered in this world, little Ziying became the recipient of her utmost enthusiasm.
Zhao Yuanxi crouched down, pinching the soft cheeks of young Ziying, unable to contain her excitement.
A living little ancestor!
Though not an ancestor from her own world, who was to say this one wasn’t a little ancestor too?
Zhao Yuanxi wasn’t good at history, but she still remembered the story of the “Hongmen Banquet”: “The Duke of Pei wished to rule Guanzhong and appointed Ziying as his chancellor.”
Ziying, the King of Qin, was also the last ruler of the Qin state.
When the Qin state was on the verge of collapse, Ziying stepped forward and killed Zhao Gao.
Unfortunately, the empire was already crumbling, and the Qin state at that time was beyond the ability of a mere King of Qin to save.
Sima Qian, the Grand Historian, evaluated Ziying as follows: “Ziying’s sense of righteousness in life and death was complete.” This was already quite high praise.
A child who was both diligent and pitiful.
Zhao Yuanxi rubbed the child’s head, her gaze softening. “What brings you to me?”
Ziying didn’t know why the Grand Mother had called his name, but it suddenly made her seem more approachable. His initial fear dissipated slightly, and after hesitating, he finally murmured, “Ziying wishes to see the Grand Mother.”
Zhao Yuanxi smiled without pressing further, slowly rising to her feet. But when her gaze turned toward the distance, her expression turned icy.
She was already under house arrest by the King of Qin, yet someone still sought to use a child to approach her. Did others still see some remaining value in her?
If that person had shown up himself, Zhao Yuanxi might have thought more highly of him. But using a child? That was simply despicable.