Wang Jian was among the most outstanding figures of the younger generation in the Qin army. To put it more bluntly—even arrogantly—one could say that among his peers across the Seven States under Heaven, he was the very best.
This battle would be his true opportunity to make a name for himself, the perfect moment to establish lasting fame—so much so that the upper echelons and powerful elites of every state would no longer be able to ignore this general of Qin.
Strictly speaking, within Qin there were in fact several generals who possessed even greater combat experience and more seasoned methods than Wang Jian—figures such as Meng Ao, Wang He, and Biao Gong. These men were all well-known commanders of Qin at present. Yet no matter how rich their experience or how keen their judgment, no matter that their personal reputations alone were enough to strike fear into the enemy armies of other states, they were ultimately defeated by one thing: their age. They were no longer young—indeed, they were already quite advanced in years.
—Heroes grow old; they are truly no longer suited for the high-intensity demands of the battlefield.
This time, facing the alliance of the five states, the fighting was bound to be fierce. Qin had to strike hard, to make those five states truly feel the blows—to feel the pain deep in their bones—and thereby deepen their fear of Qin even further.
Thus, the most suitable choice for this battle was none other than Wang Jian, now at the very peak of his youthful prime.
And also…
After that, Li Xi seemed to think of something. Looking at Ying Zheng, she added, “My king, how about adding Meng Tian as well, and letting him gain some experience on the battlefield?”
Hearing Li Xi say this, Ying Zheng immediately smiled, clearly harboring the same thought in his heart. “The Divine Maiden truly understands my intentions.”
Li Xi, likewise, curved her beautiful peach-blossom eyes into a smile, her brows and eyes gently arched.
Over in Zhao, Li Mu had only just made a dazzling debut, and for a time was bathed in glory, overshadowing all the martial generals under Heaven. But one must not forget—the previous general to be granted the title of Lord Wu’an was Bai Qi of Qin, who had spent his life in campaigns without ever suffering a single defeat. In his time, his reputation shook the world, and in later generations he would be known as the undefeated God of War, a “humanoid nuclear weapon.”
Now Li Mu had all the prestige he deserved, but surely it was time for the old Qin to have its moment in the spotlight as well. After all, among the Four Great Generals of the Warring States, all being in the same “group,” there was no reason that only Li Mu could debut in the center position while Qin’s Wang Jian could only stand quietly in the background, right?
And in this battle, it would not only be Wang Jian who would become renowned across the realm—Meng Tian too would step into the limelight, testing his edge and showing his initial brilliance.
At the same time, this battle was also Qin’s strike against the entire realm. Even if, at this moment, it was not Ying Zheng’s original intention, ever since Shang Yang’s reforms, the Qin army—those fierce soldiers who rejoiced at the very mention of war—had never once shrunk back from any conflict. Because—
—Qin would, in the end, claim dominion over all under Heaven!
The next day. The Qin court.
The youthful monarch sat upright at the high seat above. His long, narrow phoenix eyes, tinged with authority, were lowered as his gaze swept over his assembled ministers.
Only after surveying the hall once did his clear, cool voice slowly sound out: “Yesterday, I received a battle report. The Zhao general Li Mu dealt a crushing defeat to the Xiongnu, and the King of Zhao has allied with the rulers of Chu, Wei, Han, and Yan—the four states—to launch a joint campaign against Qin…”
As each word spoken by Ying Zheng struck the hearts of all present, the civil officials in the Qin court showed little change in expression. One by one, they weighed in their minds the advantages and dangers that this matter would bring. In contrast to these men of letters stood the military generals.
From the moment Ying Zheng’s first words fell, there was no shortage of hot-tempered generals in the Qin court who could no longer keep their expressions in check. Some were furious at the five states’ utter disregard for Qin—those “little brats daring to tug at a tiger’s whiskers.” Others, upon hearing that there would be a war to fight and merits to be earned, were so excited that they cracked their knuckles, itching to “smash the other states until they’re beaten senseless.” And there were also those long seasoned by the battlefield who, the instant they heard the news, began running calculations in their heads—how much grain and supplies this new campaign would consume, and how many times the civil officials who specialized in such matters would rap them on the head over it…
Yet no matter what kind of reaction the generals present in the Qin court showed that day, there was one absolute point of common ground: not a single one of them felt even the slightest trace of fear because of it.
—You want to go to war with us old Qin folk? Then let’s fight! When it comes to real blades and real action, the people of Qin have never been afraid!
Indeed, before Ying Zheng’s final sentence had even fully faded, someone among the generals immediately stepped forward and volunteered, “My king, I request permission to go to battle!”
The one who said this was none other than Meng Ao himself—a veteran who had rendered Qin meritorious service time and again. Though advanced in years, he was still hale and hearty. The old general’s voice was deep and powerful, and when he spoke, it carried a force as if it could swallow mountains and rivers. His whole bearing radiated an overwhelming aura of “I’m going to wipe out those little bastards of the five states.” Seeing the elderly man so eager to take the lead could not help but make several of the younger men present feel a twinge of shame, prompting them to reflect on whether they themselves had been too restrained and reserved.
Of course, everyone knew full well that Old General Meng was usually this hot-tempered.
The moment he left the battlefield, all that calm composure and self-restraint would be tossed aside in an instant—thrown away more thoroughly than face itself—making him a textbook irascible old man.
Hearing Meng Ao’s words, Ying Zheng responded with relative calm, gently placating the old general: “They are nothing more than a rabble, each with their own schemes, fighting separately. Why should the old general trouble himself to make this trip?”
As his words fell, the youthful monarch in his black royal robes turned his gaze. The eyes of his phoenix eyes settled on a young man within the ranks of the generals, and he called out a name: “Where is Wang Jian?”
At the call, a young man in armor immediately stepped out from the ranks and answered, “This subordinate is here!”
Ying Zheng fixed his gaze upon him and asked gravely, “Wang Jian, do you have the confidence to decisively defeat the allied armies of the five states who have joined together to attack Qin?”
The moment Ying Zheng’s words fell, Wang Jian at once performed a deep salute toward the youthful monarch above and replied in a clear, forceful voice, “Please rest assured, my king! Wang Jian stakes his very life on this—I will surely bring back victory for Your Majesty!”
“Very good.” Hearing this answer, Ying Zheng’s lips curved slightly.
That Ying Zheng chose Wang Jian as the commander-in-chief for this battle was, in fact, not particularly surprising. For there was one reality that could not be ignored: within the Qin army, there existed a distinct generational gap among the military commanders.
Figures like Meng Ao and Wang He, who had already served under several Qin kings and were now advanced in age, needed no further mention. And if one looked further down the line, Qin at present also had several youthful talents not yet twenty years old. Among them, one of the most representative—and later the most renowned—was, for example, Meng Tian.
Yet precisely in the middle age bracket, Qin found itself comparatively stretched thin. To be fair, Qin did have an outstanding general like Wang Jian—someone who, in the turbulent and talent-rich Warring States era, could be ranked among the Four Great Generals of the period, which alone was enough to attest to his caliber. But among commanders of Wang Jian’s age group, Qin truly had only him alone.
Perhaps this, too, was one of the major reasons why Zhao dared to unite the four other states—excluding Qi—in a joint alliance to attack Qin.
After that, those long, narrow phoenix eyes swept briefly over Meng Ao, who had already returned to the ranks the moment his name was called, before Ying Zheng spoke again: “Meng Tian.”
With that simple call of his name, the young man standing at the very back of the formation immediately hurried forward, his gaze filled with anticipation as he looked up toward Ying Zheng.
Under the eager eyes of the youth who had always remained by his side, guarding his safety, Ying Zheng lowered his gaze slightly and asked the armored少年 below, “Meng Tian, do you dare to serve as the vanguard?”
The instant he heard this, Meng Tian’s mouth spread into a broad grin. The youth then dropped to one knee, cupped his fists, and declared, “This minister will not fail my king’s expectations!”
After court was dismissed, as soon as he arrived home, Li Si caught sight of his younger sister in the courtyard, busy with some contraption she had gone out of her way to bring back from Yueyang—something he couldn’t understand at all what she was doing with. He immediately walked over and told the young girl about what had happened in the Qin court that day.
Li Xi had not gone to early court with Li Si that day—not because she lacked the资格 to participate in court deliberations, but because she was rather special. As the “Divine Maiden,” Li Xi enjoyed many privileges that other ministers did not. Being able to attend court whenever she wished—or skip it entirely—was just one of them.
The reason she had gone to court with her elder brother the day before was that it was Ying Zheng’s first day personally assuming governance, making it a particularly significant occasion.
Today was different. What was more, the matters to be discussed in the Qin court today were things she had already talked through with Ying Zheng yesterday, so there was truly no need to make another trip. It was better to stay home and continue working on things she had not yet finished.
After muttering through the day’s events, Li Si looked at Li Xi sitting in the courtyard, using a large pot to boil bamboo skins soaked in some unknown ingredients that had turned the broth pitch-black. As if something suddenly occurred to him, he asked his sister with some curiosity, “Come to think of it, if we go by your theories about fate and destiny, Qin really does seem to be favored by Heaven…”
“Hm?” Hearing this, Li Xi—who had been quietly listening to Li Si all along—tilted her head slightly and asked in an exceedingly cute manner, “What makes you say that?”
Li Si said, “Doesn’t A-Xi think that the timing of Zhao, Chu, Wei, Han, and Yan joining forces to attack Qin is simply too much of a coincidence? Not early, not late—yet the news came back precisely on the very day His Majesty began to rule personally. Had this news arrived even a little earlier, Qin would still have been troubled by internal concerns. But now, only after those internal worries were cleared away did the external threat arrive, as if it were deliberately leaving time for His Majesty to catch his breath.”
Hearing him say this, Li Xi could not help lifting her gaze toward him and teasing, “Since when did you start believing in things like that, brother? You Confucians emphasize ‘respecting spirits but keeping them at a distance,’ you know. What’s more, if that gentleman who opposes superstition about ghosts and gods were to find out—”
She deliberately drew out the last words, then blinked at Li Si and said playfully, “Your little sister can’t help but worry you might get beaten. In my memory, that gentleman revered Confucius, and his skills in the Six Arts—especially ‘charioteering’ and ‘archery’—were hardly lacking.”
Listening to his sister’s teasing, Li Si could not help but feel a bit helpless. “My teacher wouldn’t get angry over this. After all, my senior brother and I have long since strayed a bit from orthodox Confucian learning, yet aren’t we still the two disciples most valued by our teacher?”
By the time he reached the end of his sentence, Li Si seemed to have recalled some past memory, and a trace of amusement crept into his voice. Anyone could hear that earning Xunzi’s high regard was something he took great pride in.
Hearing her elder brother say this, Li Xi thought to herself: You and Han Fei didn’t just stray a little from Confucianism—you went way off course. “A tiny bit” doesn’t even come close. Though Xunzi was a great synthesizer of the Hundred Schools, at heart he was still a quintessential representative of Confucianism.
Yet the two most famous disciples he produced just so happened to be representatives of Legalism—especially one who was a consummate synthesizer of Legalist thought. Li Xi honestly felt rather curious to interview Xunzi sometime and ask what his feelings on this were.
“Speaking of which,” Li Si continued, “I wonder if you still remember—back when your brother was studying at the Jixia Academy, not only did my senior brother meet you, but our teacher saw you several times as well, and he liked you very much.”
Hearing Li Si say this, Li Xi tried to rummage through her memories. It did seem that such a thing had happened. Back then she had been quite young; though a bit simple-minded, she was well-behaved and easily won the affection of elders.
And the reason Xunzi liked her was also quite simple: the little girl possessed a child’s innocence, with a pair of pure, untainted eyes.
Thinking of this, Li Xi could not help touching her chin, looking at her own elder brother, and asking in a perfectly serious tone a question that sounded not very serious at all: “Brother, do you think that since Master Xunzi liked me so much back then, there’s a chance we could invite him to come to Qin?”
Hearing the girl’s question, Li Si immediately took a few steps forward, leaned closer to Li Xi, and lightly poked her on the forehead. “You—you’re at it again, thinking up some strange and curious ideas.”
Then he answered her earlier question: “As for that… I think it’s unlikely. Even my senior brother couldn’t get Master Xunzi to go to Han, so all the more so here. And even if, hypothetically, the teacher were willing to come to Qin, he couldn’t stay long. His principles of governance… aren’t really suited to Qin.”
“That makes sense.” Hearing Li Si, Li Xi could only temporarily set aside the idea of somehow “kidnapping” Xunzi to Qin. After all, it was still far too early; economically, politically, and culturally, things had only just begun, so there was no need to rush what came next.
Then recalling what her brother had just said, Li Xi continued, “But Brother, I don’t quite agree with what you said earlier—that once the internal troubles are gone, external threats immediately follow.” Her beautiful peach-blossom eyes fixed on her elder brother as she softly asked a counterquestion: “Are Qin’s internal troubles… really all completely resolved now?”
Li Si was not a dull-witted blockhead. Hearing his sister’s words, he paused for only a moment before realizing what she meant. He looked at Li Xi and asked, “You mean…” At that point, he deliberately lowered his voice before finally speaking the name he had been guessing in his mind: “Young Master Chengjiao?”
Hearing the name, Li Xi gently nodded, her gaze becoming distant. “I hope… I’m just being overcautious.”
Upon hearing this, Li Si could not help but say, “Let’s hope Young Master Chengjiao doesn’t do anything foolish.”
Then, just after he finished speaking, Li Si suddenly exclaimed, “Ah!”—his eyes catching the purple-black bubbles rising from the large pot in front of Li Xi. He hurriedly called out to his sister, “A-Xi, your pot!”
Hearing him, Li Xi waved her hand dismissively, as if it were no big deal. “It’s fine, normal stuff. Don’t worry, Brother.”
Listening to Li Xi and glancing again at the increasingly bizarre-looking pot, Li Si could no longer hold back his muttering. What on earth is my little sister brewing that comes out in a color like this? Is she trying to poison someone?
The key was, after she had done whatever strange thing to that pot, would it even still be usable?
Li Si thought to himself, since she needed a pot, he had lent her the one he usually used for cooking.
But his wild imagination was quickly cut short, because a palace attendant arrived to deliver an edict summoning him to the palace by Ying Zheng’s order.
When the boss sends an assistant, it’s natural for the worker to rush to the boss immediately and get to work.
So Li Si no longer dwelled on what his little sister might be up to. After thinking for a moment, he simply reminded her, “Be careful, little sister,” and then followed the palace attendant inside the palace—leaving Li Xi at home feeling completely puzzled.
—She was the Divine Maiden of Qin, and now in the capital of Qin—what could possibly be unsafe for her? Besides, with her skills, an ordinary person couldn’t harm her in the slightest.
Completely unaware that her brother’s warning to “be careful” had meant to watch out for the pot to avoid food poisoning, Li Xi, her head full of question marks, put out the bubbling pot, scooped the bamboo skins into a basin of clean water, and washed them thoroughly. Then she dug out a kitchen knife, and with several sharp clack-clack-clack motions, she chopped the bamboo skins—which had already gone through multiple rounds of “bathing”—into tiny pieces.
Finally, she found the well-hidden stone mortar in the corner and threw all the shredded bamboo skins in at once. Using her natural strength, she thoroughly ground them into a fine mash. She then brought the crushed bamboo shavings back to boil, turning the solid fragments into a liquid paste. By the end, Li Xi had practically “destroyed” every kitchen tool in the house. Had Li Si seen his little sister turning an unknown “poison” into a mess that dragged down his entire kitchen, he might have clutched his chest and teetered on the edge of fainting.
But by the time Li Si returned, he probably wouldn’t have any chance to know what had happened at home while he was away.
Because when Li Xi finished everything, she carefully cleaned all the tools she had “abused,” making it look as if nothing had ever happened at all.
At this moment, Li Si was inside the royal palace, receiving a mission from his sovereign.
Before him were several large chests filled with gold, silver, and jewels. Born into a humble family, Li Si had never seen so much wealth in his life and was momentarily stunned. He looked at the young monarch standing before him and cautiously asked, “Your Majesty, may I ask what this is for?”
Ying Zheng replied, “Li Si, you are to go to Zhao and meet someone.”
Li Si asked, “Who?”
Ying Zheng answered, “Guo Kai.”
He continued, “This man is a favorite of the King of Zhao. Previously, it was because of him that Lian Po did not return to Zhao—he stirred up trouble behind the scenes. He is greedy and has long been at odds with Lian Po. Now the King of Chu is trying hard to persuade the King of Zhao to appoint Lian Po, whom he has cast aside, as commander.”
Hearing this, Li Si immediately understood Ying Zheng’s intention. He performed a respectful bow to the young king before him and said, “Li Si receives the order.”
Ying Zheng did not want Lian Po—a battle-hardened, experienced general—to serve as commander of the allied forces. The reasoning was clear: Qin would not fear or retreat from whomever commanded the enemy, but the enemy commander’s skill would determine the upper limit of Qin casualties.
In this regard, the difference between a rookie commander and a renowned general was not merely a matter of rank—it directly affected the scale of losses on the battlefield.
Back in the Battle of Changping, even the legendary Bai Qi—renowned as a god of war and famed for his unmatched tactical foresight—once had Qin deliberately replace the seasoned and experienced general Lian Po with Zhao Kuo, a novice, as the commander on the front lines. The purpose was to accelerate the pace and progress of the war. All the more so today, Qin’s army was sending out Wang Jian, who was still in his prime youth and far from reaching the level Bai Qi had exhibited during Changping.
What puzzled Li Si, however, was that for such a matter, in principle, it shouldn’t have required mobilizing him—the newly appointed Chancellor of Qin. To put it a bit arrogantly… this seemed somewhat like making a mountain out of a molehill.
Seeming to sense Li Si’s inner confusion, Ying Zheng cast him a faint glance and then said, “What I seek is not merely to prevent Lian Po from commanding the allied forces of the five states this time, but to utterly dishearten him—so that he will never again don armor for any state or set foot on a battlefield. And…”
At this point, he seemed to recall something, pausing briefly before continuing: “Beyond Lian Po, I also want you to plant a seed in Li Mu’s heart—a seed of disappointment, toward the King of Zhao and the state of Zhao itself.”
Thinking of how Li Xi had earlier asked him whether he had feelings for Li Mu and wanted a general from Zhao, Ying Zheng snorted coldly. Can’t have Li Mu? If I don’t try, I’ll never know. Even if Li Xi says it’s impossible, even if he hates Qin, I’ll force it—whether a forcibly plucked melon is sweet or not, I’ll only know once I twist it off.
—So what if the people of Zhao hate Qin? So what if he himself is hated? Once he pacifies the Six States, unifies the Seven, and rules under Heaven, only Qin will remain supreme.
And if this “melon” turns out not to be sweet, if it becomes an obstacle to him, then… he will simply destroy it.
Hearing this, Li Si’s expression grew serious, and he immediately understood exactly what his king wanted.
It was like buying something on sale at a shop: the item you go for is what you want, but the thing that excites you even more is the gift that comes with it.
Yet even as Ying Zheng issued this difficult and challenging mission, Li Si did not shrink back. On the contrary, he felt a subtle surge of excitement. After all:
—If his king gave him only tasks that anyone in the world could accomplish, how could he further demonstrate his talent and secure his unique, irreplaceable position in the king’s eyes?
So the refined, handsome young man smiled confidently and said, “I will not fail to fulfill this mission, Your Majesty.”
Korea, New Administration.
The King’s Palace of Han.
A young man, dressed in elegant robes yet radiating a refined and poised aura, moved swiftly through pavilions and music halls. Passing by the musicians, he gestured for them to stop playing, then proceeded straight toward the man at the very front—also the highest in position—wearing the ceremonial crown of the king. Upon reaching him, the young man performed a formal bow.
Hearing his music abruptly stop, the King of Han’s expression clearly darkened. He furrowed his brows slightly and looked at the newcomer, speaking in a tone of accusation: “Han Fei, are you trying to rebel?”
Dropping the word “rebel” on him like a heavy hat, the king’s words were far from light.
Han Fei lowered his head and replied humbly and respectfully, “Han Fei dares not.”
Seeing his demeanor, the king first snorted, then spoke with a hint of sarcastic mockery: “Then tell me, our remarkably talented Young Master Fei, why did you barge into the palace without so much as a notice, and upon entering immediately stop my music? What is the meaning of this?”
“Your Majesty,” Han Fei said, cupping his hands and speaking slowly, “I have come specifically to advise you, hoping that my king… will not participate in the allied campaign against Qin.”
At this, the King of Han raised his eyelids, a trace of ridicule in his gaze, and sneered: “Not participate in the alliance? Your words are astonishing indeed. You casually suggest that I tear up our pact with Zhao, Wei, Chu, and Yan—so utterly faithless! If I anger the four kings, and they unite against Han instead, Han Fei—are you trying to become a traitor to your own country?!”
Under the king’s sarcastic questioning, Han Fei calmly analyzed the situation according to the most realistic and advantageous outcome, replying coolly: “If the four states try to send troops to destroy Han, Qin and even Qi would not stand idly by, allowing Zhao, Wei, Chu, and Yan to divide Han unchecked.”
“…” The King of Han was momentarily left speechless, caught off guard by the seriousness of Han Fei’s reasoning.
Then Han Fei continued: “But if the five states form an alliance against Qin, once they are defeated, Han will be in grave danger.”
Indeed, among the five states—Zhao, Wei, Chu, Han, and Yan—except for Yan, all the others share borders with Qin.
However, due to differences in national strength, if the allied forces of the five states were to be defeated, the state that would suffer the most tragic fate and face Qin’s fiercest retribution would be Han.
This is simply because Han is the smallest and weakest of the five states, making it the easiest target for Qin to strike with minimal effort compared to the others.
By the time the five-state alliance falls, the other four states would be incapable of offering aid to Han. Even if they wished to help, they would lack the power. While Qi remained uninvolved throughout this matter, and would likely not want to see Qin completely swallow Han, the so-called “distant water cannot quench the near thirst.” Qi was too far away; by the time its troops arrived, Qin’s campaign against Han would already be over.
Moreover, after all this, no state could accuse Qin of wrongdoing. When a great power attacks a small one, it is naturally something to be feared—today Qin can annihilate this tiny state, but tomorrow, might it set its sights on us?
Yet once the five-state alliance is defeated, Qin’s desire to destroy Han becomes legitimate and justified—Han itself delivers the proper reason for Qin to act.
Listening to Han Fei’s analysis, the King of Han’s face darkened. Then, as if recalling something, he bristled and retorted, “Everything you say is based on the assumption that Qin can win.” He looked at Han Fei with a sharp gaze and sneered, “Han Fei, what’s going on with you? Always trying to undermine others’ morale to diminish our own prestige… Could it be that Qin has bribed you?”
At this, his eyes suddenly carried a hint of suspicion. “Surely Qin hasn’t actually sent someone to corrupt you, has it?”
Han Fei, maintaining his composure and calm temperament even under the king’s harshest accusation, did not lash out. Instead, he remained poised and respectfully countered with a question that sounded hard to accept: “Even if Qin were to be defeated by the allied forces, would it then never have the strength to attack Han again?”
His voice was steady, merely stating a fact: “Only if the five states unite could they destroy Qin. Otherwise, if Qin merely pauses to recover and regains some strength, it could strike Han once more. And at that time, who’s to say the other states wouldn’t further aid Qin to enhance its victory?”
All the hustle and bustle under Heaven is for profit; all the conflicts and struggles are driven by gain. If today the states unite to attack Qin for their own benefits, then tomorrow they will surely turn to strike Han for profit.
Han Fei then lowered his head and urged once more: “Han Fei sincerely entreats Your Majesty—do not become a traitor to your country.”
“Wha—”
The moment Han Fei’s words fell, the King of Han immediately hurled a cup across the room. “Han Fei, how dare you! Do you think you have the right to question my decisions?”
If Han Fei had refrained from calling him “brother king,” it might have been fine—but that single address instantly reminded the king of how, since childhood, this younger brother had always been smarter than everyone else, outshining all, as if he alone were the favored prodigy of Han.
Yet, no matter how talented and capable Han Fei was, wasn’t he still born with flaws, ridiculed by others, bringing shame upon the royal family?
The King of Han thought, filled with resentment.
He mused, This brother of mine is truly impossible to deal with. Full of talent, able in every strategy, yet not a single word he speaks is pleasant to hear!
“What five-state alliance? Even if they win or lose, Qin will still send troops to annihilate Han? Why won’t he believe this nonsense?”
Indeed, Qin was strong, and its army formidable. Han was certainly the weakest of the Seven States. But Qin was not invincible—absolutely not undefeatable. That undefeated legend, General Bai Qi, the Martial Lord of Qin, was gone!
Moreover, the rising power was Zhao. Back when King Zhao Xiang of Qin first ascended the throne, Lord Mengchang led troops from Qi, Wei, and Han in a combined campaign that even breached Hangu Pass—something no one had done to Qin before. Now, with the five states—Zhao, Wei, Chu, Han, and Yan—united against the newly enthroned King of Qin, who was even younger than Zhao Xiang had been, could the outcome be any worse than Hangu Pass?
Ying Zheng was just a young boy, hardly someone to be feared.
Recalling the intelligence Zhao had sent earlier, Han thought: this new King of Qin, Ying Zheng, was supposedly so incompetent that he couldn’t even contest power with his chancellor Lü Buwei. A monarch of the realm, yet with no real authority—and now apparently in conflict with Lü Buwei! If Qin doesn’t strike now, when would they?
Thinking of this, the King of Han’s expression turned cold. He said impatiently to Han Fei, “Enough. Stop lecturing me with all these hypotheticals. As your elder brother, I have no desire to quarrel with you over your insolence today. Just go home and reflect on your behavior for a while.”
Hearing the King of Han’s words, Han Fei’s face could not hide a bitter doubt, but seeing that the king’s mind was already made up, he could only respond with a single word, “Yes.”
Yet in his heart, he could not suppress his worries about the future of his homeland.
Han was weak, far weaker than the other states. And yet the king, swayed and instigated by the King of Zhao, was utterly convinced that Zhao could contain Qin. He believed that by clinging to Zhao, he could rest easy forever, without considering the many risks and consequences, and would not listen to Han Fei’s counsel…
…Was Han truly a crumbling mansion with no one capable of saving it from collapse?
While Han Fei was sinking into despair over the possibility that Zhao’s manipulation of their king and the Five-State alliance might directly ruin Han’s future, on the other side, something momentous was also happening in Qin.
Qin, Xianyang. The royal palace.
“Grandmother, I’ve come to see you!”
The moment his feet stepped into the bedchamber of Xia Ji, the Dowager Queen and widow of King Xiaowen, Cheng Jiao immediately opened his mouth and shouted cheerfully.
Very quickly, his gaze landed on the kindly old woman he remembered so well.
The Dowager Queen waved to her little grandson. Cheng Jiao immediately ran over, rushing into her arms like a fledgling bird returning to its nest, and lifted his little face, asking, “Grandmother, have you missed me since I’ve been away from the palace so long?”
“Of course I missed you,” the Dowager Queen Xia replied gently, reaching out to stroke her little grandson’s head. “The child your grandmother cares for most is none other than little Cheng Jiao, whom she has watched grow up with her own eyes.”
Although both were her grandchildren, compared to Cheng Jiao, who had grown up before her eyes, Ying Zheng—who had been wandering in Zhao for nine years—was never very close to her. That child was like a wolf cub, wary of everything.
Even though Dowager Queen Xia fully understood that the suffering and hardships Ying Zheng endured as a child were actually in place of her own son, enduring what should have been his trials—if it weren’t for her extraordinary child being brought back to Qin by Lü Buwei, it would have been her son who suffered humiliation in Zhao after the Battle of Changping.
Because of this, she had wanted to grow close to Ying Zheng, but the child was truly hard to approach, covered in sharp spikes that allowed no one near.
Thinking of this, the Dowager Queen Xia’s eyes darkened with resolve, as if she had made a firm decision.
Then she lowered her gaze to the little boy in her arms and said gently, “Cheng Jiao, aren’t you thirteen years old this year?”
“Yes,” Cheng Jiao nodded first, then asked curiously, “Grandmother, why are you suddenly asking this?”
“Could it be…” Cheng Jiao blinked, his eyes filled with anticipation, “…that Grandmother is preparing some special gift for me?”
Hearing this, Dowager Queen Xia smiled gently and suddenly said, “Your brother, Ying Zheng, ascended to the throne when he was only thirteen.”
“Uh?” Cheng Jiao looked puzzled, staring at her. “Grandmother, what do you mean by that?”
The next moment, he saw the loving gaze of Dowager Queen Xia. Her voice was still as gentle as he knew it, yet the words she spoke sent chills down his spine: “Cheng Jiao… do you want to be king? To take Ying Zheng’s place?”
Indeed, Dowager Queen Xia had prepared a special “gift” for him—but this “gift” felt like plunging into an ice-cold pit. In an instant, his heart felt as frigid as the dead of winter.