The Company

Chapter 37: The Green Ritual Tablet

Fusu's eyes were fixed on the bamboo scroll in his hands, yet his mind was completely elsewhere.

He lifted his head once more to gaze at the motionless palace doors, struggling to suppress his fluctuating emotions.

Today was the day that young man would come to pay his respects to him.

Though the Emperor had said nothing, Fusu understood - this was a talent his father had personally selected, prepared specifically for him.

Yet having already granted the youth the title of Senior Minister, only to quietly assign him here as an attendant reader, such abrupt promotion and demotion might well breed resentment in the young man.

Fusu lowered his head, fingers tracing the bamboo scroll as a faint smile touched his lips.

Indeed, this was another test from his father. If he could win over this young man, he would gain a valuable ally. If he failed, his father would deem him unfit to inherit the throne. To be king, one must possess the ability to command subordinates - otherwise, how could one be worthy of the title "monarch"?

After all, his younger brothers had always been watching him with covetous eyes.

"Young Master, Senior Minister Gan has arrived." The low, gentle voice of attendant Gu Cun came from beyond the palace doors.

Fusu realized he hadn't heard any rustling of garments before Gu Cun spoke - meaning the attendant had been standing outside for some time, deliberately delaying the announcement.

Excellent. Truly worthy of being the attendant who had raised him since childhood, perfectly understanding his intentions. Fusu lowered his eyelids to conceal his amusement, straightened the bamboo scroll on the table, then pushed back his sleeve to select a brush gifted by General Meng. Dipping it in ink made from black litharge, he raised his wrist and began writing slowly on the scroll.

Unlike the stiff, awkward writing with bamboo strips dipped in lacquer, the rabbit-hair brush flowed like clouds and water across the surface. Fusu already foresaw what revolutionary changes this brush would bring to calligraphy history. The script he now wrote differed from the uniform thickness of seal script, varying in form with each stroke of the brush tip.

In high spirits, Fusu copied a few lines from "Rites of Zhou - Grand Minister of Rites" before saying leisurely: "Admit him."

"Acknowledged." Gu Cun's response came from beyond the hall before he departed.

Soon, Fusu heard the clear, melodious sound of jade pendants approaching from outside the hall.

As recorded in "Book of Rites - Interpretation of Classics": "In walking, there should be the sound of jade pendants; in the carriage, the harmony of bells." A gentleman of status must wear jade. From the approaching sound of jade ornaments, one could tell the person moved at an unhurried pace, showing no impatience despite the long wait.

Fusu's hand holding the brush paused briefly, but he didn't set it down. Even when the visitor entered the hall and bowed deeply in greeting, he offered no response.

The hall grew silent again as the visitor stood waiting. The jade pendants fell silent, and listening to the other's steady breathing, Fusu calmly finished writing the entire scroll.

Excellent. He appreciated intelligent people most.

Only when the last bamboo strip was filled with characters did Fusu finally set down his brush. Satisfied with his calligraphy, he slowly lifted his head.The youth standing ramrod straight in the hall gradually came into his view. Though called a youth, he was not quite one yet—his stature barely taller than a young child, appearing around eighteen or nineteen. Not yet of age to tie his hair, he wore the luxurious robes of a high minister, like a child playing dress-up in adult clothes. Yet his youthful face was filled with composure and pride, a sight almost comical.

Fusu raised a hand to rub his temples, using the gesture to conceal the smile on his face. This youth indeed had reason to be proud. At just twelve years old, he had undertaken a diplomatic mission to the State of Zhao, enabling Qin to gain the Hejian territory without mobilizing a single soldier. Such capability—even Fusu, who held himself in high regard, could not confidently claim to match it.

“Sit,” Fusu said, gesturing toward a low table nearby. The youth bowed slightly and took his seat with neither humility nor arrogance.

“Minister Gan, do you hold any grievances against me?” Fusu asked, curling his lips into a faint smile as he spoke bluntly. The youth’s grandfather, Gan Mao, had once served as the Left Chancellor of Qin but was forced to flee due to political strife, eventually dying in exile in Wei. Fusu was keen to know what sentiments this youth harbored toward Qin.

He needed to determine whether this youth could be tamed. If he were a wolf cub that could never be loyal, Fusu had no time to waste on him.

“I hold no grievances,” the youth replied calmly, his gaze fixed downward as if deep in thought.

“Then starting tomorrow, you will attend me daily at mao hour (5–7 a.m.). Any objections?” Fusu deliberately slowed his speech. Though not much older than the youth, Fusu had been most influenced by his father, the king, since childhood. In many ways, consciously or not, he emulated his father. Though his tone carried no sharpness, it exuded an undeniable pressure and authority.

“As you command, Your Highness,” the youth responded formally, without the slightest hesitation. In fact, after readily agreeing, he stood up and walked over to Fusu’s side, saying respectfully, “I can begin serving you today, Your Highness. Your calligraphy is exceptional.” His words, almost flattering, were delivered with natural ease. Without ceremony, he seated himself beside Fusu, picked up a bamboo scroll from the table, and began examining it with appreciation.

Fusu was momentarily speechless at the youth’s audacity. He had intended to assert dominance, but the youth seemed to have a clearer grasp of the situation than he did.

“Your Highness is transcribing the ‘Grand Minister of Rites’ chapter from the Rites of Zhou,” the youth remarked, demonstrating his erudition after reading just a few lines. He then shifted the topic, asking, “Is Your Highness reflecting on its meaning?”

Fusu looked up and noticed the youth’s gaze fixed on the cabinet behind him. Without turning, Fusu knew exactly what had caught the youth’s attention: a green zhen gui scepter, resting atop a noble black silk cloth inside a Brocade Box.

“Using a green jade scepter to pay respects to the East,” the youth recited in his clear, childish voice, reading from the bamboo scroll. “Jade is used as a token to pacify the states. The king holds the zhen gui scepter. Zhen means ‘to pacify,’ thereby bringing stability to the four quarters.”

Only after filling the last bamboo slip with characters did Fusu set down his brush. He gazed contentedly at his handwriting before slowly raising his head.The youth standing ramrod straight in the hall came into his view. Though called a youth, he had not yet reached that age—his stature was merely taller than that of a child with unbound hair and yellow mouth, appearing around eighteen or nineteen. This boy, not yet of hair-tying age, was dressed in the luxurious official robes of a high minister, like a child who had stolen an adult’s clothes. Yet his childish face was filled with composure and pride, a sight that almost provoked laughter.

Fusu raised a hand to rub his brow, using the gesture to conceal the smile on his face. This youth indeed had reason to be proud. At just twelve years old, he had undertaken a diplomatic mission to the State of Zhao alone, enabling Qin to acquire the Hejian region without mobilizing a single soldier. Such capability was something even Fusu, who held himself in high regard, could not confidently claim to match.

"Sit," Fusu gestured toward a nearby table. The youth bowed slightly and took his seat with neither humility nor arrogance.

"Minister Gan, do you hold any grievances against me?" Fusu asked bluntly, a slight smirk playing on his lips as he regarded the youth. The boy’s grandfather, Gan Mao, had once served as the Left Chancellor of Qin but was forced to flee due to political strife, eventually dying in the State of Wei. Fusu was keen to understand what sentiments the youth harbored toward Qin.

He needed to determine whether this youth could be tamed. If he were an unruly wolf cub, Fusu had no patience to indulge him.

"I hold no grievances," the youth replied with unwavering calm, his gaze fixed downward as if in meditation.

"Then starting tomorrow, you will attend the palace at mao hour each day to serve as a study companion. Any objections?" Fusu’s voice slowed deliberately. Though only a few years older than the youth, his greatest influence since enlightenment had been his father, the king. In all matters, he consciously or unconsciously emulated his father’s demeanor. Though his tone lacked severity, it carried an indescribable pressure and authority.

"I shall obey the Young Master’s decree," the youth responded formally, without the slightest reluctance. In fact, after readily agreeing, he stood and strode to Fusu’s side, remarking respectfully, "This humble official can begin serving as a study companion today. The Young Master’s calligraphy is exceptional." His words, bordering on flattery, were delivered with natural ease. Without ceremony, he seated himself beside Fusu, picked up a bamboo scroll from the table, and began examining it with admiration.

Fusu was momentarily speechless at the youth’s audacity. He had intended to assert dominance, but the boy clearly understood the situation better than he did.

"The Young Master has transcribed the 'Grand Minister of Rites' chapter from the Rites of Zhou," the youth observed, demonstrating his erudition by identifying the text after reading only a few lines. He then shifted the topic, asking, "Was the Young Master inspired by some sentiment?"

Fusu looked up and noticed the youth’s gaze fixed on the cabinet behind him. Without turning, Fusu knew exactly what had captured the boy’s attention.

Resting solemnly on a piece of revered black silk within the Brocade Box was a green-hued zhengui scepter.

"With the green gui, we reverence the East," the youth’s clear, childish voice recited from the bamboo scroll. "Jade is used as an unworked gem to rank the states. The king holds the zhengui. Zhen means to pacify, thereby bringing stability to the four quarters."

The zhengui—adorned with seal characters representing the four stabilizing mountains (the character, which cannot be typed here and is not found in dictionaries, has a radical meaning "jade" rather than "bamboo"), measures one chi and two cun in length. When the Son of Heaven, wearing his ceremonial crown, holds the zhengui, it symbolizes the pacification of the four quarters. The green zhengui could be said to represent the ritual authority of the Son of Heaven.The young man's gaze uncontrollably shifted from the bamboo slips to the green zhengui once again. He could almost discern from the seal-script patterns carved upon it that this was the green zhengui passed down through generations of Zhou dynasty emperors.

Why would such an important green zhengui be with Prince Fusu? Could it be that the Qin king obtained it from somewhere and bestowed it upon him?

As this thought occurred to the youth, his clear pupils contracted slightly. Did this mean the Qin king had already designated his successor?

Fusu didn't turn around, nor did he look at the expression on the young man's face. He had deliberately placed this green zhengui here, using it to demonstrate his legitimate and bright future to the youth.

Although his father's act of granting him the green zhengui was likely just another imperial test - such as making his younger brothers green with envy and anxious enough to scheme against him - this didn't prevent him from borrowing the authority of this ritual object to bolster his own position.

Fusu picked up another blank bamboo scroll, slowly spreading it on the desk, then took up the rabbit-hair brush again. He asked casually, "What is gui and what is nie?"

"Gui consists of two 'earth' characters. Nie derives from 'wood'. Using the methods of earth-gui and water-nie to measure land depth, track sun shadows, correct the four seasons, and seek the earth's center. Displaying gui and setting up nie, observing stars and surveying land - these are the foundations of establishing a state."

After a moment's hesitation, the youth answered methodically. Gui and nie were common objects long ago, but they were essential tools for surveying and measuring land before building a city. Over time, they acquired supreme symbolic meaning, even leading to terms like jade-gui and golden-nie.

Fusu's brush began writing on the bamboo scroll, but this didn't prevent him from multitasking. He continued asking, "Then what is guinie?"

This time the youth didn't answer immediately, knowing that a single term often carried deeper meanings - like measurement, balance, or marking lines. Watching Fusu's elegant writing, he pondered briefly before cautiously responding: "Laws and rules."

Without blinking, Fusu pressed on aggressively: "Then what are laws? What are rules? Are they what the ruler says? What the wise say? Or what the sages say?"

The youth was stunned by such a tricky question. Though he could easily expound on this topic for over half an hour, he knew the prince didn't want such perfunctory answers.

When no sound came from beside him after a long while, Fusu was satisfied with the youth's reaction. Still not looking up, he said lightly, "The minister may return today. Please be punctual tomorrow at mao hour."

Though spoken softly, these words carried irresistible authority.

Only then did the youth realize he had overstepped. The prince had said he would begin trial readings at the palace starting tomorrow - he had no right to be sitting here today.

Instantly, cold sweat soaked through his fine robes as he respectfully bowed and took his leave.

Fusu never looked up at the youth as he retreated from the hall. Only when he finished writing on the last bamboo slip did Fusu set down his brush and release a long sigh.

Planting a seed of doubt in the other's mind - today's performance had been quite successful.

Sooner or later, this seed would take root, sprout, and eventually grow into a towering tree that could never be uprooted from the heart.Fusu touched his smooth chin, the feigned composure on his still-youthful handsome face completely crumbling, revealing a smug expression.

No wonder he had rehearsed several times.

Although Fusu was reading military intelligence reports, most of his attention remained on the boy organizing bamboo scrolls beside him.

This youth, outwardly respectful yet inwardly profoundly arrogant, had been his study companion for some time now. The more Fusu interacted with him, the more astonished he became at the boy's profound knowledge, and the more curious he grew about his teacher's origins. Whenever he recalled the recent palace rumors spreading like wildfire, even knowing someone had ulterior motives, Fusu felt deeply unsettled.

Ultimately, if one truly wished to make someone a confidant, there was no need to conceal one's thoughts in their presence.

But how should he broach the subject?

Fusu pretended to browse through the military intelligence in his hands. These reports were delivered by fast horses to Emperor Qin Shi Huang, who would order copies made and immediately sent to him. This wasn't because they expected the still-youthful Prince Fusu to offer extraordinary insights, but to gradually cultivate his administrative capabilities.

Just as he couldn't resist shifting his gaze from the intelligence-filled bamboo scrolls to the boy beside him, Fusu suddenly noticed the youth had turned his head—their eyes met directly. Fusu suppressed the urge to look away, steadily meeting his gaze.

The boy's youthful face remained impassive as he spoke indifferently: "If Your Highness wishes to inquire about the palace rumors, please feel free to ask."

Such an opportunity was exactly what Fusu desired. Setting down his bamboo scrolls, he asked in a measured tone: "I've heard you were once a retainer of the criminal Lü Buwei—is this true?"

The boy's thin lips curled contemptuously as he slowly replied: "Your Highness actually believes this? How old was I when Chancellor Lü passed away? How could I have been his retainer?"

Fusu naturally knew such rumors were absurd, but where there's smoke, there's fire. He seized the chance to pursue his longstanding question: "Your grandfather once left Qin, his fiefdom confiscated—where did you reside then?" Fusu weighed each word carefully, fearing any offense.

Despite such caution, the boy's expression stiffened at the question. His hands hanging at his sides secretly clenched into fists as he lowered his eyelids, concealing his emotions. "After grandfather's departure, the Gan family collapsed like a falling tower, beyond redemption. I was fortunate to be adopted by my master, hence my current standing."

"Master?" Fusu raised an eyebrow, openly displaying interest in the boy's mentioned teacher. Anyone who could mentor a child into becoming a senior Qin official must possess extraordinary brilliance themselves.

The boy pressed his lips together as if hesitating, finally speaking with difficulty after a long pause: "My master... was indeed among Chancellor Lü's followers—but merely an idle person seeking elixirs and medicines."

Fusu froze, realizing the rumors actually had some connection. Only then did he notice the boy consistently referred to Lü Buwei as "Chancellor Lü"—clearly, while having no direct involvement, this youth was certainly not one to disparage the fallen.

Observing the boy's tense expression beneath his wooden demeanor, Fusu couldn't help smiling: "No matter. Chancellor Lü's three thousand followers mostly filled numbers anyway." Then he realized his gaffe—hadn't he just implied the boy's master was an unqualified follower?Sure enough, he saw the young man's expression darken. Fusu decided it was best not to press further about his master, though knowing such a person existed was enough—once reported to his father the king, they would surely find him. Fusu shamelessly pretended their previous conversation had never happened, having learned through his father's countless lessons that those in power needed skin as thick as city walls.

"Are you your master's only disciple?" Fusu swore he only asked to break the stifling silence in the hall, not to extract information.

The young man's expression had returned to normal as he answered respectfully with measured formality: "Before my master came to Qin, he had another disciple. I've heard him mention this senior apprentice several times, though we never met. That elder brother should be in Zhao."

Fusu's peripheral vision caught the military report in his hand, and he chuckled lightly. "Zhao has become history." With that, he extended the bamboo scroll toward the young man.

Qin had taken advantage of Zhao's consecutive natural disasters to launch another attack. Lord Wuan Li Mu led troops to resist. Having guarded the border for years and defeated Qin forces multiple times, Wang Jian avoided direct confrontation, instead employing a stratagem of alienation against King Qian of Zhao. Li Mu's achievements overshadowed his ruler, and King Qian had long been wary. When the alienation plot emerged, King Qian moved to strip Li Mu of military authority. With Qin's main force pressing at the border, Li Mu refused to relinquish command, citing the principle that generals in the field may disregard orders from the court. This further unsettled King Qian, who ordered Li Mu's secret arrest and confiscation of his tiger tally.

"King Qian destroys his own arm! Lord Wuan's loyalty is foolish indeed." Fusu tapped the table with his index finger, contemplating whether to save this peerless general. But his father had likely considered this too. Of the four great generals in this Warring States era—Bai Qi, Wang Jian, Lian Po, and Li Mu—Qin and Zhao each possessed two. Yet Bai Qi was dead, Lian Po aged, leaving only Wang Jian and Li Mu. Now it was probably too late—Li Mu's prestige in Zhao likely surpassed King Qian's, and once the king moved against him, it would be with thunderous force.

Even someone as foolish as King Qian would understand the danger of delay.

Fusu's gaze fell upon the young man beside him, who happened to look up after finishing the scroll. When their eyes met, both knew the other was similarly silenced by contemplation of this great general's impending doom.

None would call Wang Jian despicable—the alienation stratagem had been perfected since ancient times. They served opposing camps, and Wang Jian had merely bribed the treacherous minister Guo Kai with gold and jewels, sparing Qin soldiers from battle—a great achievement. Had King Qian trusted Li Mu as deeply as King Zheng of Qin trusted Wang Jian, this would never have occurred.

The young man seemed despondent as he traced the bamboo grooves, sighing softly: "What are laws? What are rules? Are they spoken by rulers? By the wise? Or by sages?"

Fusu started, surprised the youth still remembered these words from their first meeting.

"Rules divide into heavenly principles and human principles. Clear springs flow from high to low, sun and stars rise east and set west—these are heavenly principles beyond mortal influence. We cannot hope to change them."Fusu turned around, picked up the box containing the Qingzhen Gui behind him, and placed it on the table. He reached out as if to touch the surface of the Qingzhen Gui but restrained himself, withdrawing his hand and clenching it into a fist. He was not yet the king, so he had no right to lift that Qingzhen Gui.

"How many troops to command, how much tax to levy, how much currency to mint—these are the rules of human governance."

"And thus, the rules should be as the sovereign father decrees."

Fusu took a deep breath, looked down at the Qingzhen Gui before him, and said calmly, "This world has been in chaos for too long. Someone ought to establish new rules."

He did not voice it aloud, but the young man understood his implication.

The state of Han had fallen, the state of Zhao was on the brink of collapse, and Qin's unification of the six states was imminent.

The rules of this world ought to be set by the one who stands supreme above all!

Fusu sat calmly in the hall, awaiting the latest battlefield reports. Jing Ke’s assassination attempt on the King of Qin, though not fully executed, had provoked the king’s fury and sent shockwaves across the land. King Zheng of Qin dispatched General Wang Jian to lead an army against Yan. The fall of Yan’s capital, Ji, seemed imminent.

Even though nearly a year had passed, Fusu still shuddered with fear whenever he recalled the critical moment in the main hall of the Xianyang Palace.

Jing Ke had presented the head of Fan Yuqi and a map of the Dukang region of Yan as tribute to the king. No one had anticipated the hidden dagger revealed when the map was fully unrolled. Amid the chaos—with the king’s decree forbidding ministers from carrying weapons at court—the king held a sword, and many officials desperately rushed to intervene. Yet, it was only after Jing Ke had been slashed eight times that he finally collapsed.

Fusu touched his right wrist. At the time, he had instinctively tried to rush forward, but the person standing behind him had gripped his wrist tightly. He never imagined that such a slender frame could harbor such formidable strength.

Even as Jing Ke was dismembered, the other never released his hand.

Fusu smiled bitterly. Perhaps he was the most despicable one. How much force could a teenager muster? If he had truly wanted to break free, could he not have done so?

In that fleeting moment, he had considered too much.

If his father had indeed been assassinated, he would have ascended the throne—surely the youth had realized this in that instant, which was why he refused to let Fusu take the risk.

Afterward, the youth deliberately went before the king to confess his fault, taking full responsibility for Fusu’s failure to step forward and protect the king, willingly accepting punishment.

Yet Fusu could offer no explanation, no defense.

He could only remain silent.

The familiar chime of jade pendants echoed from outside the hall doors. Before the other could speak, Fusu called out, "Bi Zhi, come in."

"Your Highness, Yan’s capital, Ji, has fallen. King Xi of Yan and Crown Prince Dan have fled to Liaodong, hiding beyond the Yan River. King Xi then beheaded Crown Prince Dan and presented his head to the King of Qin." The youth’s clear voice rang out even before he entered the hall, clearly eager to deliver the news.

Fusu frowned. Though he loathed Crown Prince Dan to the core, he recognized that their opposing allegiances justified the prince’s actions. Assassinating the most pivotal figure in the enemy camp to dismantle a crisis was the most straightforward, albeit brutal, political solution. Had Crown Prince Dan succeeded, even if Fusu had ascended the throne, Qin would have descended into chaos.

After all, he was too young, and Qin, already a towering target, had become the focus of collective hostility. If his father had perished, even the conquered states would have immediately risen in rebellion, their embers rekindled.

Such a visionary talent, dying at the hands of his own father, King Xi of Yan, was truly lamentable. Fusu recalled his encounters years ago with Crown Prince Dan, who had been a hostage in Qin. Now, everything had changed, and his gaze darkened with reflection.

Everyone must die, yet in this world of such vibrant splendor, who would not cling to life?

Thinking of his father’s recent meetings with alchemists, Fusu sighed deeply. He never expected that his own tutor’s master was an alchemist. Though the man had stayed in the palace for only a year before wandering off to explore the world, perhaps Fusu’s unintentional recommendation had set in motion events that now—and in the future—threatened to spiral out of control.Though it was but a momentary daze, a thousand thoughts had already raced through Fusu’s mind, yet not a trace of change showed on his handsome face.

He had grown accustomed to concealing his thoughts in front of others—it had gradually become an instinct, even when facing his closest attendant and study companion.

And the young man before him had also slowly transformed as he matured. No longer did he always wear a stern expression, stubbornly clinging to his pride. Instead, his features had softened, replaced by a kind and amiable smile. At first glance, anyone would see a handsome young man who exuded an approachable warmth. Yet Fusu knew that this youth, much like himself, had learned to don a mask, burying his thoughts deep within his heart.

Taking the bamboo scroll handed to him by the young man, Fusu carefully read it once more. When he looked up, he noticed the youth staring intently at the green ceremonial scepter placed on the desk. Raising an eyebrow, Fusu asked, "Bi Zhi, is there something amiss?"

Since he had last brought the box containing the scepter to his desk, Fusu had never returned it. In private moments, when no one was around, he had even secretly touched its cool surface a few times.

The young man bit his lower lip, hesitated for a moment, and finally spoke: "According to Qin law, no court official is permitted to carry weapons within the hall. All guards armed with weapons must remain below the hall and are forbidden to ascend without an imperial decree. Yet the rule established by the King of Qin nearly cost him his own life. How, then, should such rules be established?"

Setting down the bamboo scroll in his hand, Fusu quietly pondered amid the curling incense smoke rising from the burner.

This question had clearly lingered in the young man’s heart for a long time. Having broached the subject, he continued eloquently: "As mentioned in the military reports, aside from Crown Prince Dan of Yan, all the nobles and ministers of Yan were spared. Similarly, when Han, Zhao, Wei, and Chu were conquered, there was no indiscriminate slaughter. The King of Qin’s actions demonstrate benevolence and righteousness. Now, with only the state of Qi remaining, the unification of the realm is within reach. Yet I fear that the nobles of the six conquered states will not accept this fate and will inevitably become a source of trouble in the future." Pausing briefly, he added with resolute clarity, "The throne is painted with blood. The King of Qin should make it clear to those people: either submit or face death."

A flicker of deep contemplation passed through Fusu’s eyes. He had vaguely pondered this issue before. However, his father refrained from widespread slaughter—a stance that Fusu, having studied under the great Confucian scholar Chunyu Yue, largely agreed with. The core of Confucian thought, as proposed by Confucius, revolves around "benevolence, righteousness, and propriety"—three principles Fusu firmly upheld. Knowing that debates with the young man were common, Fusu recognized this as today’s topic of discussion. As he reflected carefully, a smile touched his lips, pleased that the youth had begun to learn the art of questioning.

Only by questioning all the rules that exist in this world can one establish the rules within one’s own heart—a sign of growth.

In every person’s heart lies their own green ceremonial scepter.

Some may completely replicate the form of others’, while others prefer to carve their own.

The attendant Gu Cun entered the hall quietly, presenting two bowls of steaming lotus seed soup. He placed them gently on the desk and retreated without a sound.

Watching the steam rise from the soup, Fusu slowly stirred it with a spoon, observing the tender white lotus seeds floating and sinking in the lacquered bowl. With a faint smile, he said, "Bi Zhi, take a seat. Are you familiar with the Battle of Changping led by Bai Qi?"The young man was taken aback for a moment, then nodded and sat down beside Fusu. In private, they never stood on ceremony regarding status, so the youth naturally picked up another bowl of lotus seed soup. Without minding the heat, he personally took a sip before placing the tasted bowl in front of Fusu.

This wasn't an act of presuming on favor, but rather testing for poison on Fusu's behalf.

Although the young man had performed this action countless times, Fusu couldn't help but mock himself inwardly.

A study companion? More like a poison tester, isn't it?

Naturally, such precautions had already been taken by other attendants before the food was presented. But the young man could never set his mind at ease. No matter how Fusu tried to persuade him, it was useless. He always insisted that since childhood, he had studied various skills under his master, including considerable knowledge of herbs and poisons.

The more Fusu thought about it, the more distracted he became. It wasn't until the young man had finished more than half of his own bowl of lotus seed soup that Fusu snapped out of it and continued their previous conversation: "Bai Qi ranks first among the four great generals of the Warring States period, all because of the Battle of Changping. In this campaign, Bai Qi crushed the Zhao army, burying alive over 400,000 surrendered Zhao soldiers, shocking the entire world. Although this greatly enhanced Qin's prestige, it contributed nothing to the cause of unification."

Throughout his life, Bai Qi led troops to hundreds of victorious battles, annihilating more than a million soldiers from the six states and capturing over ninety cities of various sizes. He never suffered a single defeat in his lifetime, and was revered as a god of war by the people of Qin and even other states. It could even be said that Bai Qi was practically a deity in Qin, surpassing even the Qin king in some aspects. That Fusu dared to question Bai Qi's strategies would surely cause an uproar if word got out.

Seeing the young man pondering with his bowl in hand, Fusu didn't elaborate further. He knew the youth would surely grasp his meaning.

Sure enough, before long, the young man sighed softly and said, "So that's how it is."

Fusu nodded with satisfaction. While Bai Qi's slaughter of over 400,000 surrendered soldiers had indeed caused Zhao's sudden decline after the Hufu Cavalry Shooting reforms, it also made the other six states feel solidarity in facing a common enemy. If those 400,000 surrendered soldiers had known they were doomed to die, who would have willingly laid down their weapons? Even in death, they would have tried to take others with them. Thus, for a long time afterward, whenever Qin attacked other states, they encountered extremely fierce resistance.

"No wonder..." the young man murmured, finally understanding why King Zheng of Qin refrained from killing nobles and ministers after conquering each state - it was all for the sake of unification.

"Although my father's approach may create short-term risks, if our powerful Qin continues to thrive, the remaining clans of the six states pose no real threat," Fusu said calmly, his words carrying an air of composure.

Though concern still lingered in the young man's eyes, he said nothing more. Instead, he silently finished his bowl of lotus seed soup sip by sip before looking up and smiling at Fusu: "The soup is safe to consume."

Only then did Fusu pick up his spoon and take a sip of the now-cooled soup. Outwardly indifferent, he was actually quite displeased inside.

Was this kid deliberately preventing him from eating hot food? Was he messing with him on purpose?

Standing at the archery range, Fusu first accepted the bone archer's ring his study companion handed him, slipping it onto his thumb. Then he took a yew-wood horn bow and a white falcon-feathered arrow. He stood with feet shoulder-width apart, turned his left shoulder toward the target, slightly narrowed his eyes, and focused his mind while calming his breath.He raised his hand, nocked the arrow, hooked the string, and drew the bow. Each movement flowed with seamless grace and effortless precision, his elegant motions a pleasure to behold, every gesture radiating an unmistakable aura of nobility.

"Swish—" The arrow shot toward the bullseye, piercing clean through the target. Even without checking, Fusu knew the force was just enough for the white arrowhead to barely emerge from the back of the target.

"White Arrow," the youth behind Fusu handed him another bundle of arrows.

Fusu picked up three arrows, firing them in rapid succession without pause. Each struck true, the arrows so closely linked they appeared as a single continuous shot.

"Linked Arrows," the youth's tone carried admiration, though his gaze swept coldly toward the timid little boy standing by the target, a silent warning in his eyes.

Fusu took up another arrow, nocking it and holding the pose for a long moment before finally releasing it slowly.

This arrow arced high, its tail and tip not aligned horizontally. It flew steadily, unhurried, yet still struck the bullseye perfectly.

"Plunging Shot," the youth's voice held unconcealed reverence. He could manage the first two archery techniques, but this Plunging Shot was the most challenging. While White Arrow and Linked Arrows relied on speed to minimize wind interference, Plunging Shot required precise angles and accurate wind judgment—perfection he himself had yet to achieve.

"Retreating Foot," Fusu remarked lightly, his peripheral glance brushing past the boy who had edged slightly closer before calmly withdrawing his gaze.

Retreating Foot: When a subject shoots with their lord, they should not stand side-by-side but retreat one foot. The youth stood precisely one foot behind Fusu, mimicking his movements exactly as he drew and released. The bowstring twanged crisply, the arrow flying straight to embed itself in the bullseye.

"Well done," Fusu praised with a faint smile.

The youth respectfully stored his bow and stood ready, presenting Fusu with four more arrows.

Among the six arts of a noble, archery comprises five techniques: White Arrow, Linked Arrows, Plunging Shot, Retreating Foot, and Well-Arrayed. Well-Arrayed meant firing four arrows consecutively. Fusu set aside his bow as the youth observed the four arrows perfectly arranged in a well-character pattern—up, down, left, right—centered on the target.

"Young Master's archery is exquisite. Bi Zhi admires it deeply," the youth said, then gestured for a guard to retrieve the ten arrows from the target. But before the guard could move, the watching boy darted forward, straining on tiptoe to pluck each arrow before scurrying back with them.

Noticing this, Fusu smiled slightly and took another quiver, handing it to the youth. "A noble contends only in archery. They ascend with bows raised, descend to drink, and even in contention remain noble. Bi Zhi, your turn."

The youth curled his lip, refraining from pointing out that his master was stating the obvious. Instead, he deliberately raised his voice, clearly intending for someone to hear.

Gripping his boxwood horn bow, the youth exchanged positions with Fusu. Just as he prepared to shoot, Fusu reached over to adjust his posture, guiding him on where to apply force, how to hook the string, and how to achieve powerful, accurate shots.

The youth's brow twitched imperceptibly. Though his skills might not match his master's, he was no beginner—was this really necessary?Reflecting on recent lessons, Fusu's resonant voice during recitations likely had something to do with the little boy always eavesdropping beneath the windowsill.

Yet it was an unspoken understanding throughout the palace that Young Prince Huhai was forbidden by the King of Qin from studying literature, practicing calligraphy, or training in martial arts. While the Crown Prince's actions didn't technically violate the king's decree, they could still be used against him if discovered.

"Young Master... you're breaking the rules," the youth whispered through clenched teeth as Fusu leaned over to correct his posture.

"Rules? Who gets to define rules?" Fusu's lips curved into a mocking smile. Having outgrown his blind admiration for his father, he now questioned every imperial decree. Though open defiance remained impossible, subtle acts of disobedience were within reach. With so many eyes watching in public, Fusu offered no lengthy explanation, merely stating quietly: "He is my brother."

The youth fell silent, maintaining a stiff expression as Fusu continued using him as a teaching demonstration.

The boy clutching arrows nearby stealthily edged closer.

Seated in the military tent, Fusu polished his bronze-jade-hilted sword that had accompanied him for years while occasionally glancing at the young man lost in thought nearby.

"Bi Zhi, return to Xianyang. I have General Meng looking after me here - there's nothing to worry about." Fusu spoke calmly, his attention fixed on the rhombic patterns etched into the blade.

Time flowed like water. The former youth had matured into a young man, his father had ascended from king to emperor, and he himself had been elevated from prince to crown prince. Yet when with Bi Zhi, his self-reference shifted from the formal "I" to the more intimate "we". Stroking the sword with a faint smile, Fusu understood his study companion's inner conflict.

Today's letter from Xianyang brought news of the critical illness of the King of Yiyang from the Gan family, summoning his son home. But Bi Zhi hesitated to leave Fusu alone in Shang Province.

Seeing the young man's continued silence, Fusu sighed. "This is ultimately my fault. Had I obeyed the Emperor, I wouldn't have been exiled here, dragging you along with me."

"You honor me too much, Crown Prince." A bitter smile touched the young man's handsome features. After the First Emperor returned to Xianyang Palace, during a banquet, Chunyu Yue had expressed disapproval of the commandery-county system, advocating instead for the feudal system based on Zhou rituals. Li Si's rebuttal and the Emperor's displeasure led to Chunyu Yue's dismissal. As his disciple, Fusu's vehement opposition in a memorial resulted in his assignment to Shang Province as army supervisor for General Meng Tian's forces.

Fusu's gaze fell upon the green zhengui jade tablet resting quietly on the desk. With contemplative melancholy, he mused: "Then what constitutes law? What defines rules? The words of sovereigns? The wisdom of sages? Or the teachings of saints?"

The young man remained silent, his fine eyebrows deeply furrowed.

Fusu emitted a cold laugh. "Rules exist for some to follow and others to break. But those without the power to break them who dare challenge authority will be crushed to dust."

"Crown Prince..." the young man called out anxiously, concern washing over his face.

Waving a dismissive hand, Fusu composed himself. "While you're in Xianyang, Bi Zhi, keep watch on the capital's developments for me. Being trapped in Shang Province leaves me blind and vulnerable."The young man's face flickered with various emotions before finally settling into a sigh. He bowed his head in a devout salute and said, "Your Highness, please take care."

Fusu nodded, knowing the young man only addressed him as "Your Highness" when his attitude was exceptionally solemn.

Watching the young man retreat from the military tent until his figure vanished from sight, Fusu couldn't help but feel dazed.

This study companion, personally sent by his father, had been by his side, inseparable, for many years.

The span of his life spent knowing this person had already surpassed the time he had lived without knowing him.

A faint smile tugged at Fusu's lips. After wiping his sword clean, he sheathed it and casually picked up the green Zhen Gui tablet from the desk.

Curving his index finger slightly, he flicked the cold surface of the gui, listening to the crisp, jade-like sound it emitted. Fusu murmured to himself, "Old friend, now it's just you and me."

Fusu opened his eyes, inhaling the subtle and elegant fragrance of Moon Scale incense as he stared at the plain white ceiling, unable to snap out of his reverie for a long time.

It was only then that he realized the farewell in the military tent had been his final meeting with Bi Zhi.

Is it truly so difficult to defy fate? He had failed, and Huhai had failed as well.

"Elder Brother, you're awake?" Huhai, who had been keeping watch by Fusu's bedside, leaned forward with concern as soon as he saw Fusu open his eyes.

"Mhm," Fusu responded briefly, closing his eyes once more before gradually regaining his senses.

Huhai extinguished the Boshan censer burning with Moon Scale incense nearby, then opened the window and turned on the air conditioner to refresh the room's air. His crimson eyes reflected deep worry as he looked at his elder brother. Moon Scale incense, primarily made from the imperial spice of the Tang Dynasty, was blended with an extra portion of sand ginger, patchouli, and lovage, creating a peculiar fragrance capable of influencing dreams. However, its use came with minor side effects, making one's emotions particularly susceptible to influence.

Fusu took a deep breath of the cool air, feeling slightly more alert. He had been using Moon Scale incense repeatedly to sleep lately, hoping to influence Bi Zhi's dreams and help him recall the past. Bi Zhi must have relived those dreams alongside him just now, right?

Yet Fusu sighed and closed his eyes. No matter how much Moon Scale incense he used, the span of life he could recall remained painfully brief.

Indeed, what right did he have to resent anything? Bi Zhi's life had spanned over two thousand years, while the time Fusu had spent with him was merely an insignificant dozen or so years in comparison.

"Elder Brother?" Huhai pressed his lips together and called out worriedly.

Fusu waved his hand, indicating he was fine. After a long pause, he slowly parted his lips and said, "Send that green Zhen Gui to him."

Huhai was taken aback by these words. Though his elder brother hadn't specified who "him" referred to, how could Huhai possibly mistake it?

Despite the countless questions swirling in his mind, Huhai nodded and replied, "Yes, Elder Brother."

The Doctor, his rabbit ears perked up in curiosity, stared at the green Zhen Gui inside the delivery box. The Boss had just explained to him how precious this item truly was. Recalling the incident of retrieving the pardon token at the previous auction, the Doctor asked in confusion, "Boss, don't you think Fusu is actually helping you stabilize the Yin Suppression Universe Formation? Not only did he not obstruct you from retrieving the pardon token, but he's even sent you the eleventh imperial antique now!"The Boss gently stroked the cool jade surface of the Qingzhen Gui. These past few days, memories from distant years had repeatedly resurfaced in his dreams, making him intensely nostalgic for this ritual jade tablet. His consciousness barely registered what the Doctor was saying.

Only when the Doctor repeated the question did the Boss let out a wistful sigh and murmur with melancholy, "Because he knew I would struggle to decide whether to bury the twelfth imperial antique underground. As for the rest... he simply allowed me to have them."

"The twelfth Emperor's antique? You've already found it? What is it?" the Doctor eagerly pressed.

The Boss lowered his gaze and touched the Red Dragon Robe he was wearing.

At first, the Doctor didn't understand what it meant, but when he suddenly grasped the implication, he was utterly stunned.

Mini Theater

Huhai: "Elder Brother, why do you always appear sitting down most of the time?"

Fusu: "..."

Huhai: "Ahem, never mind. I'll order takeout for you. What would you like to eat today?"

Fusu: "Crab Roe Soup Dumplings, Crystal Shrimp Dumplings, Barbecued Pork Buns."

Huhai (pulling out his phone): "So Elder Brother has always been a homebody."

(End of Chapter)