Chapter 596

Just as Heifu had guessed, at this very moment, Fusu — kicked out of the nest by Qin Shi Huang — was uneasily making his way toward the lands of Yan.

For this campaign on the Cang Sea, Qin Shi Huang had decided to mobilize fifteen thousand soldiers, plus another fifteen thousand civilian laborers from Yan. The soldiers were to be supplemented station by station along the way, so when they set out from Xianyang, Fusu had only five thousand elite troops from Guanzhong under his command.

But even with five thousand men, managing them well was no easy task. Although Fusu had served as an army supervisor and read quite a few military treatises, he was well aware of his own limitations. So after receiving the tiger tally, he humbly bowed to his deputy commander, the Four-Horse Chariot Grandee Yang Duanhe, and said:

"Fusu grew up deep within the palace and knows nothing of military affairs. The soldiers have not yet grown close to me, and the common people have no trust in me. My seniority and prestige are shallow, and I lack authority. I beg General Yang to offer me your guidance."

Grey-bearded and grey-haired, Yang Duanhe hurriedly returned the bow. "My lord is too modest. When we campaigned against the Xiongnu, my lord served as army supervisor and loved the soldiers like his own sons. Among troops and laborers alike, you have a fine reputation for benevolence — that is Humanity. When battle loomed, you steadied the formations for Generals Li and Wei, showing no trace of fear — that is Courage. And now, with your honored status, you journey far into foreign lands on His Majesty's behalf to punish assassins and traitors — that is Loyalty and Trustworthiness."

"Of the five virtues of a general — Wisdom, Trust, Humanity, Courage, and Strictness — my lord already possesses three. Though this old man is of little talent, I have fought for thirty years. Perhaps I can assist my lord. As for governing the army with strictness and employing troops with wisdom, if my lord can trust this old man, you may safely leave those matters to me…"

Yang Duanhe understood perfectly well why Qin Shi Huang had chosen him to serve as Fusu's deputy: the emperor valued his decades of experience and his rigorous command.

In short, when it came to marching and fighting, Old Yang could handle everything on his own. As for Fusu, he need only serve well as a symbolic commander embodying "Trust, Humanity, and Courage."

But Fusu was not content to be a mere puppet general. After leaving Guanzhong, he found time every day along the march to consult Yang Duanhe: the tricks of setting up camp, the ideal distance for a day's march, and the competence or foolishness of each company commander and five-hundred-man chief under them.

Seeing Fusu humbly seek his advice, Yang Duanhe held nothing back. In his view, this expedition was the emperor paving the way for his eldest son. If it succeeded, he himself might leap ranks to become a marquis, which would greatly benefit his descendants as well.

Though there was a risk of misreading the situation, Yang Duanhe had no choice. With a single decree, the emperor had bound him and Fusu together. From now on, their glory and ruin would likely be shared.

But for all his seeming obedience, Fusu did not heed Yang Duanhe in everything. For instance, in his treatment of the common soldiers, the young lord stubbornly insisted on wearing the same clothes and eating the same food as the lowliest troops, and sleeping on a crude mat. On the march, he would frequently descend from his carriage to walk on foot, chatting with the officers and soldiers as he went.

And whenever the army made camp, Fusu would tour the encampment to show his concern, personally inquiring into the digging of wells and building of stoves, the drinking water and meals, and the treatment of the sick and procurement of medicine.

When Yang Duanhe, unable to bear the sight, urged Fusu that this was unnecessary, Fusu replied:

"Fusu knows full well that he is no military talent and has little ability in commanding troops. But since I have received the sovereign's mandate, as commander-in-chief, I must see this matter through properly. Though General Yang handles the planning of marches and battles for me, if I want the soldiers to grow close and risk their lives willingly, I must do it myself. I can only use this clumsy method."

Fusu added that he had seen Wei Heifu do the same thing north of the border. When Commander Wei opened up military farms, he would even go down into the fields himself, laboring alongside the soldiers and carrying wheat.

"So he's learning from Heifu?"

Yang Duanhe said helplessly, "This is the method of governing troops used by Sima Rangju and Wu Qi. It's not exactly a clumsy method — it's just that, with my lord's honored status, you are demeaning yourself somewhat…"

Yet it was precisely Fusu's exalted status that made this approach astonishingly effective.

To the common soldiers of Guanzhong, the emperor's eldest son was a being as lofty as Heaven itself. Yet here he was, walking amicably among them, sharing their hardships. The men of Qin were simple and honest, and many a grizzled soldier was deeply moved.

However, though Fusu was benevolent, he did not repeat what he had done as army supervisor a few years ago, when pity for the troops and laborers' toil had led him to let the main force rest repeatedly. The thirty or forty li that had to be covered each day — even if a hundred men collapsed, it had to be completed!

He merely passed down orders that those severely stricken by heatstroke or exhaustion were to make camp on the spot and rest, with designated clerks gathering these men to form a rear guard. Those who had fainted lightly were to be carried in carts, and the weary could lean on the carriages and walk alongside. This way, no one would die abandoned by the roadside, nor would the march be delayed.

Needless to say, he had learned this from Heifu as well.

And so, within a matter of days, Fusu's fine reputation — "humane in character, trusting of others, and rousing of his soldiers" — spread throughout the army. By mid-third month, when the great army reached Handan, the five thousand Guanzhong troops had already accepted this young lord as their general.

But what Fusu did next stirred up a huge storm!

…

"Handan — the city where my imperial father was born."

On the fifteenth day of the third month, Lord Fusu stood atop the Congtai Terrace east of Handan city, gazing west over this great metropolis, "a capital between the Zhang and Yellow Rivers."

The city of Handan had its origins in the Shang dynasty. By the Spring and Autumn period, after changing hands several times, it became a Zhao clan holding. After the Partition of Jin, the state of Zhao moved its capital to Handan, which served as the Zhao capital for 158 years. It was famed as the richest city under Heaven, a renowned capital of the world, with flourishing industry and commerce and a vast population. At its peak, it held no fewer than forty thousand households and two hundred thousand people.

Precisely because it was a great metropolis, there was the story of a youth from Shouling in Yan who came specially to Handan to learn the local walk — such was the city's allure. Everything here — clothing, food, housing, and travel — set the trends of the age.

Fusu could imagine what his father had seen during those years as a hostage in Handan: the bustling markets, the open academic atmosphere, and even the swaggering young bravos strutting arrogantly through the streets.

But now, Handan seemed somewhat desolate, its former prosperity gone.

Handan had endured several sieges by the Qin army. Most critically, just before its fall, Wang Jian, Yang Duanhe, and other great armies had encircled the city. Though Zhao was doomed and the city had long run out of grain, its resistance had been utterly fierce. After all, two generations earlier, the Zhao soldiers who surrendered at Changping had all been slaughtered by the Qin. Every household in Zhao had a blood feud with Qin, so they broke bones for fuel and traded children for food, holding out for months before the city finally fell.

That siege and assault cost Handan dearly; tens of thousands died of wounds, starvation, or slaughter. A nursery rhyme circulated at the time:

"'Zhao cries the call, Qin laughs at all. If you think it false, see the earth grow white hair.'"

When Qin Shi Huang returned to Handan, he buried alive several hundred people who had feuds with his mother's family. Beneath his triumphant smile lay the wails of the Zhao people.

Not long after Handan submitted to Qin, an earthquake struck suddenly. Hundreds of houses collapsed, and thousands more died. Afterward, indeed, white hair sprouted from the earth.

Plagued by both natural disasters and man-made calamities, unlike the peacefully unified Linzi, even after more than a decade, Handan had still not fully recovered. The marketplace was desolate and its people impoverished. On top of that, someone in Julu Commandery had recently risen in response to the Qi rebellion, so Handan was under martial law, and relations between officials and commoners remained tense.

As for the Congtai Terrace beneath their feet, it had originally been built on a grand scale by King Wuling of Zhao. Because its many towers, pavilions, and terraces were "clustered together, not singular," it was named Congtai — the Clustered Terrace. It was said to have once featured sky bridges, snow grottoes, dressing pavilions, and flower gardens — structures of singular design and exquisite decoration that made it famous across all the states. But after war and earthquakes, all that remained now were broken walls and ruined ramparts, overgrown with wild grass.

After climbing the terrace and gazing out for a while, Fusu felt only a profound helplessness. As a child, he too had been enthralled by his imperial father's sweeping conquest of the six kingdoms, unable to understand why his uncle, Lord Changping, had rebelled.

But as he grew older and traveled more widely, he came to realize that unification did not seem to have brought any benefit to the common people of the six kingdoms.

He began to understand why, after his imperial father had spoken so many times of the glorious future of unification, his uncle Lord Changping had grown ever more despairing, why he had staked everything on a desperate fight.

"Perhaps… what my uncle fought for was truly more than just the throne of Chu…"

He stood on the Congtai Terrace for a long time, the wind ruffling the hair at his temples. Then Fusu shook his head and, with his personal attendants, returned to the main camp.

…

Compared to when they had first set out from Xianyang, the expeditionary army's camp had doubled in size. At Handan, five thousand conscripts from the various commanderies of the Zhao region had joined them, bringing their numbers to ten thousand.

Fusu made his rounds through the now doubled encampment as usual. The Qin soldiers from Guanzhong were already thoroughly familiar with Fusu, and they all held great affection for this heroic young lord with his kindly smile.

Before a campfire, three crossbowmen invited him to share a wild hare they had caught beneath the Congtai Terrace. Although the army ate communally, if soldiers managed to snare some game while out gathering firewood to supplement their rations, the officers would turn a blind eye.

Fusu gladly accepted. He tasted a piece of roasted hare leg, slightly charred and sprinkled with nothing but a little salt, then praised it lavishly, declaring it more delicious than the delicacies of the palace! The three crossbowmen flushed crimson with pride and puffed out their chests.

But when his rounds reached the camp of the Zhao conscripts, separated by a trench, Fusu was stopped.

His personal guards and officers urged him not to go inside to inspect, because it was "unsafe."

"The commander-in-chief is unsafe in his own camp? This is the greatest joke I have heard since I joined the army."

Stubbornly, Fusu ignored their dissuasion and led his men inside.

Unlike the orderly camp of the Guanzhong soldiers next door, Fusu saw tattered felt tents pitched crookedly, trenches dug with utter carelessness. Men of Zhao, dressed in clothes of every color and style, were likewise preparing their meals, gathering around steaming cauldrons to receive their food.

When they heard "the young lord has come," they did not show the same excitement as the Guanzhong troops. They merely turned their heads back coldly for a glance, saw Fusu's gleaming armor and graceful stride, and then lowered their heads.

In the eyes of this group, there was no excitement or confidence — only resignation and despair.

From their eyes, Fusu could see that, unlike the Qin soldiers who yearned to win merit on the frontier, the conscripts from Zhao had no desire at all to fight this war. They did not want to leave their homes and travel a thousand li to distant Liaodong and Joseon to fight enemies whose names they had never even heard.

Especially not fighting on behalf of the Qin — the very people who had slaughtered their families and friends and destroyed their cities and villages!

Walking forward under those cold, even hostile gazes, Fusu saw the food the soldiers were receiving.

It was gruel, and very thin at that. What each man got in his wooden bowl was probably less than a quarter of a dou, and it was full of unhulled grain husks — coarse brown rice…

For foot soldiers who march ten of li each day and must shoulder or hand-carry weapons, mats, and bedding, expending enormous physical strength, this simply cannot stave off hunger!

Eating such food, how can soldiers march and fight?

Fusu looked with some anger at the Commandant who had come running to pay his respects — this Commandant was, after all, a man from Guanzhong.

"The Statute on Food Rations states: convict laborers, bondmen and bondwomen shall receive a little over half a dou of coarse rice (one-third); civilian laborers shall receive half a dou of coarse rice; rank-and-file soldiers shall receive half a dou of polished rice (refined rice), and one-fourth of a sheng of sauce (one-quarter)! Most of these soldiers are rank-and-file troops — why are they given only thin gruel?"

The Qin soldiers on the other side ate the standard army provisions: half a dou of polished rice, plus sauce. To the young master, it stank to high heaven and was terribly salty, but at least it went down with the rice and wasn't so hard to swallow. Qin soldiers generally held noble ranks, so they were also supplied with vegetables like mallow and leeks.

But why, separated by just a single wall, did the Zhao soldiers eat so poorly?

The Handan Commandant, sweating profusely, explained that Handan's land was poor, its people had no taste for farming, and grain reserves were meager to begin with, normally relying on supplies shipped in from neighboring commanderies.

But the previous year, Qi had rebelled, Jibei and Linzi were utterly devastated, the neighboring Julu Commandery had also seen unrest, Taiyuan Commandery suffered crop failure and disaster, and several counties north of Handan were plagued by locusts. They had relied entirely on aid from Hedong and Henei just to scrape by. Now that the great army had arrived, adding ten thousand more mouths to feed, Handan Commandery had already brought out the very best of its remaining grain.

"In this lean season between harvests, we can only hope for the wheat to ripen in the sixth month. I must ask the young master to bear with it."

Fusu's anger vanished, leaving only a heart full of helplessness.

These matters — he not only knew of them, but had even used them to remonstrate with Qin Shi Huang. He had said that places like Taiyuan and Chen Commanderies suffered successive disasters, that the unrest in Qi had only just been quelled, and the common people's livelihoods had yet to recover. This was precisely the time to let the people rest and recuperate.

Yet at this critical juncture, Qin Shi Huang had stubbornly insisted on his own way, launching two campaigns, and even making Fusu serve as commander-in-chief…

Fusu could only raise his head to the heavens and sigh deeply: "The Imperial Father is so wise and brilliant — why can he simply not see it? This realm under heaven is no longer at peace! And to seek peace through incessant warfare is to drive south while pointing the chariot north!"

He sighed, but since he had received the appointment, he still had to steel himself and carry on.

The great army had eaten and drunk its way along the march, and the provisions carried from Xianyang and the Ao Granary were already exhausted. They could only rely on replenishment from the granaries along the route. It was no surprise that every place they passed was pushed deeper into dire straits.

And under such conditions of grain shortage, the gap between the Guanzhong men and the Handan men became starkly apparent. The Qin men of Guanzhong ate polished rice, while the Zhao men of Handan ate coarse rice and drank gruel. In the eyes of the officials and army officers, was this not only right and proper?

Those who govern a state do not worry about poverty but about instability; they do not worry about scarcity but about inequality!

"Zhao weeps, Qin laughs…"

The grating children's rhyme echoed once more in Fusu's ears. The cold stares of the Zhao soldiers bore into him, and this made Fusu feel that he had to do something.

Have the Guanzhong soldiers and the Handan soldiers even things out — eat rice in the morning, drink gruel in the afternoon? A few years ago, Fusu would truly have done just that.

But what he had seen and heard in recent years told Fusu that this was unrealistic. In his conversations with the Guanzhong soldiers along the way, Fusu could feel the pride they held, a sense of superiority over the former lands and surviving people of the Six States.

The Qin people were conquerors, men above men; the Six States were slaves of a fallen realm, lowly breeds. This sense of regional superiority was not an attitude that could be changed in a day or two.

And so, Fusu had someone bring him a wooden bowl. He held it in his hands, stepped forward, and passed it to the cook wrapped in sackcloth, revealing a smile.

"Give me a bowl as well."

The cook stared dumbfounded, glancing at the Commandant, but still did as he was told.

Fusu turned to face the assembled soldiers and had someone beside him repeat his words in the Handan dialect.

"The Handan granaries lack provisions, so the morning and evening meals are meager. I have wronged you, soldiers! As commander-in-chief, Fusu bears the fault!"

Having said this, the noble young master actually bowed deeply with clasped hands to the lowly Zhao soldiers.

This bow made the Zhao men look at one another in bewilderment. This young master, this Qin general — what was he trying to do? Yet still, no one returned the gesture.

Fusu restrained his furious personal attendants and spoke again in a loud voice: "But please trust Fusu. Once the great army reaches Mount Heng, reaches Guangyang Commandery, I shall ensure the local officials make up the army provisions in full, so that every soldier may eat his fill and suffer neither cold nor hunger!"

As he spoke, he took the wooden bowl filled to the brim with thin gruel and, under the astonished gazes of everyone present, drained it in one gulp!

"From this day forward, until every soldier in this army can eat his fill, Fusu's daily meal shall be a single bowl of thin gruel, the same as all of you!"

PS: Chapter 2 at 11:30.

(End of chapter)