Chapter 343: Leaving Home and Native Land

In the twenty-sixth year of the First Emperor of Qin, the Start of Summer had already passed, and the weather in Guanzhong grew hotter by the day. A new batch of several thousand migrants, having trekked a thousand li from the lands of Yan and Zhao, arrived at what they saw as a "foreign land and a strange country."

"We're finally almost there!"

When the Qin clerk shouted for them to halt, Zhuo Tie wiped away a handful of sweat and knelt by the Ba River. Not caring whether the water was clean or not, he scooped some up and drank it down.

It seemed heavier than the water in Handan, with an indescribable taste.

The taste of a conquered land? The taste of a foreign place?

He swallowed it down and turned his head. His five-year-old son stood beside him, mouth slightly agape, curiously studying Xianyang City on the far bank of the Wei River. His wife sat on the cart, eyes brimming with tears. She was a woman deeply attached to home, but having passed through Hangu Pass and arrived here, she had probably realized that they would never return to the state of Zhao.

Zhuo Tie was a man of Zhao, whose family lived in Handan and had smelted iron for generations. In his father's generation, they had finally shed their status as iron-office slaves and begun independently running a small iron shop within the city. Every day, they stoked the furnace to a roaring blaze, forging swords and halberds for wandering knights, repairing farm tools for peasants, and occasionally making iron molds for merchants and nobles who came calling, helping them secretly cast coins. They gained a modest reputation in the city.

This good life came to an abrupt end seven years ago. The pillar of Zhao, General Li Mu, was killed by the fatuous King of Zhao, Qian. This act of destroying their own Great Wall soon brought bitter consequences. Without Li Mu to stop them, the Qin army swept forward like splitting bamboo, quickly breaching Handan and capturing the King of Zhao.

The state of Zhao fell, and the sky above the heads of the Zhao people abruptly changed color.

The Qin army took over the four gates of Handan and began restricting entry and exit. Qin officials moved into the government offices and promulgated new laws and ordinances. The King of Qin even personally traveled to Handan and gave the order to bury alive the several hundred people who had mistreated him in his youth, along with their families.

Zhuo Tie had been watching the King of Qin's awe-inspiring carriage from the roadside at the time, but the thought that flashed through his mind was: For such a large carriage, how much metal and iron would be needed to make it sturdy?

Although every Zhao person harbored a secret hatred for the Qin people, life had to go on. Despite occasionally hearing things like "Prince Jia is reestablishing Zhao," or "the famous scholar Chen Yu is calling for anti-Qin righteous men to join him on Mount Heng," Zhuo Tie had always honestly continued his ironworking business.

Though it was not as easy to get by as before, he had at least scraped together enough betrothal gifts. After marrying his wife, they soon had a son. Over the years, their household wealth was not great, but it had surpassed a hundred thousand, making them a middling family. They could even eat meat once every few days.

But at the start of spring this year, a nightmare descended. First came an order to "collect all weapons under heaven." Every large and small metal and iron shop in Handan was searched, and more than half were shut down on the spot. The authorities were to confiscate all weapons circulating on the market and announced that from then on, all metal and iron shops would be taken over by the state, and the private forging of blades was forbidden...

Zhuo Tie's shop and craft became state property, his status akin to an iron-office slave, allowed only a fixed ration of grain each month. That was bearable, at least—better than becoming a convict laborer.

But in the third month, something even more terrifying happened!

The Emperor hurled another edict at Handan, demanding that the majority of the city's hundred craftsmen and merchants be relocated to Guanzhong!

Some people, fierce and unyielding by nature, resisted to the death, clinging to the trees in their yards as if holding a loved one's hand, refusing to let go. The Qin clerks and soldiers, vicious and malevolent, used whips and clubs to drive them away. When that failed, they drew their dagger-axes and swords, hacking off the branches people clutched, forcing them to begin the journey.

Merciless blades separated the wealthy households, artisans, and merchants from the trees in their courtyards. Gradually, the great trees of their home villages faded from view, and the walls of Handan slowly blurred. Wiping away tears, they began the long journey away from their homes, becoming true "relocated captives."

"Heaven in its awful majesty, sends down famine and death. We are stricken with hunger, our people all flee and perish. Our lands are all laid waste!"

A grandee of the Zhao royal clan sang this mournful song in grief and indignation, but before it could stir a response among the Zhao people, his voice abruptly stopped. The grandee's corpse fell forever outside the city of Handan.

"At least he could die on his native soil." The wealthy households, craftsmen, and merchants of Zhao silently watched the grandee's body as they passed by him one after another.

For craftsmen and merchants, their lives were already a state of unstable migration, so their resistance was not as great as that of the farmers.

The journey from Handan to Guanzhong was a thousand li and took over a month. Wealthy households could drive ox or horse carts, while middling families pushed human-drawn carts. The slaves and servants belonging to them were allowed to be kept, but were gathered together and made to walk with their hands bound behind their backs.

This was to prevent them from escaping. During the journey, there was no shortage of people who tried to flee, but all were caught and brought back, either killed on the spot or directly sentenced to be bondservants, forced to wear heavy wooden cangues.

"What difference does a sentence make? We are all the King of Qin's bondservants with our hands tied behind our backs anyway!"

Cheng Zheng, another young blacksmith also from Zhao, was full of indignation and constantly grumbled along the way.

Zhuo Tie merely told Cheng Zheng in a low voice to watch his words, silently eating his dry rations. How could he not be discontented? But he now had a wife and child, and their safety had to come first in everything.

"As long as my family can stay together, it doesn't matter where we are relocated."

They crossed mountains and rivers, passed through the densely populated land of Sanchuan, went through Hangu Pass—which the six states had once exhausted all their strength to breach without success—and journeyed all the way to the heart of Guanzhong, to Ba Bridge Station. Once they crossed the bridge, they would reach Weinan in Xianyang.

The Qin clerk said this was the last stop before their final destination, "Shanglin Park." They could rest here for the night, and the local authorities would deliver food.

Although the people being relocated were all from fairly well-off families and had made ample preparations for the long journey, their food supplies had rapidly depleted after entering the pass. Since the day before yesterday, these several thousand people had been forced to accept relief from the Qin authorities. The food was poor, sometimes only millet gruel, as thin and watery as plain water.

Yet, according to word of mouth among the relocated captives, the food delivered today was even worse—it was actually wheat, which even wild men and farmers disliked eating...

"The Qin people truly treat us as convict laborers!"

Cheng Zheng erupted again, slamming his fist heavily into the ground. At the same time, a wealthy man of the Wang clan from Handan stood up in his carriage nearby and loudly asked the Qin clerk, "Superior Clerk, may I purchase my own rice and grain to eat?"

The wealthy Wang did not lack money. Every time, by giving the station house a small benefit, he could request better food, and today he wanted to repeat this old trick.

He was not alone in this thinking; many people did not lack money. Gold would not depreciate, and a wealthy household would remain a wealthy household wherever it was relocated.

"No."

But today, the Qin clerk seemed to have a special task and was determined to make the relocated captives eat the distributed food. He refused the request with a stern face.

At the same time, he waved a hand, ordering the runners to carry over baskets of food for distribution. The migrants grew even more despairing. From the look of it, it was not even the barely swallowable wheat gruel, but wheat rice that would require much chewing?

Cheng Zheng's face had already flushed red, his patience pushed to the limit. If Zhuo Tie hadn't been holding him back tightly, who knows what rash thing he might have done.

On the other side, the wealthy Wang, also indignant that he should have to eat the same food as convict laborers, dogs, and swine, felt he had suffered a tremendous insult. He pointed at Ba Bridge and declared:

"I would rather die, starve to death, or jump off this bridge, than eat wheat rice!"

As he spoke, the wealthy Wang's potbelly was already rumbling with hunger. Although the station house could accept money to prepare special meals, they were only allowed to make a single portion each time. Making more would be a violation of the law.

At that moment, the food was distributed to their group. Zhuo Tie pulled Cheng Zheng forward with their wooden bowls, only to discover it was not wheat rice, but pieces of a wheat-yellow, cake-like substance, resembling gold cakes! Some even had scorched marks on them. They felt hard to the touch, and when he gently squeezed, the outer skin cracked open, revealing a slightly softer interior...

"Can this thing be eaten?"

Returning to their cart with three flatbreads, Zhuo Tie's wife looked at them with some suspicion. The people of Zhao and Qin shared a blood feud, and the Zhao people were never stingy in speculating about Qin's intentions with the utmost malice.

Back during the Battle of Changping, over four hundred thousand Zhao people had been deceived and killed, after all.

"Perhaps it's a Qin region food. Of course we've never seen it before."

Zhuo Tie, however, was quite broad-minded and gave a wry smile. "We're here now. Could the Qin people still poison us or something?"

His wife still shook her head. "The Qin people are coarse and vulgar. What good food could they have?"

"To stay alive, we have to eat it even if it's terrible."

Zhuo Tie smiled at his wife and son and took a demonstratively large bite!

He had prepared himself for something awful, but to his surprise, the moment he bit down, it was unexpectedly crisp, fragrant, and delicious!

He was instantly stunned, but his mouth did not stop. He kept chewing the wheat cake and swallowed it down, immediately feeling an intense sense of satisfaction—compared to the thin gruel and bean-leaf soup they had eaten these past days, this was the most filling thing he had eaten in half a month!

Like many people around him, Zhuo Tie was greatly astonished. Just as he was about to happily tell his wife and son that this was good stuff, he heard, not far away, the wealthy Wang—who had just moments ago been so self-important and noble, unwilling to eat wheat food—after being coaxed by others into taking a bite of the wheat cake, involuntarily shout out:

"So delicious!"

(End of Chapter)