Foundations of Governance
Chunshingun had departed, yet new ties still remained. The man who entered alongside Chu Yan looked somewhat younger than either Gu Jing or Chu Yan. Even so, he was old enough to be my father. Gu Jing’s first impression, with the deep-green hair common among the people of Chu, brought bamboo to mind. Though long years of seated living made it difficult to keep one’s back straight, Gu Jing’s posture was perfectly upright. His bearing was immaculate, his expression composed, revealing no trace of private emotion—an exemplar of the upright scholar.
Instead of an introduction, Gu Jing opened with a question. “All the world is turbid, yet I alone am clear. All men are drunk, yet I alone am sober. Therefore the world casts me out. Do you know these lines?”
“They are Qu Yuan’s words.”
“Indeed. He was my uncle.”
Qu Yuan had been a high official of Chu, favored by the king and distinguished in many endeavors, only to fall from grace through the envy and jealousy of those around him. It was the familiar limit of a capable official unskilled in politics. Yet the name Qu Yuan did not end there. Though an official, he won renown across the land in another field: as the greatest poet of his age. His celebrated verses were known even in the Central Plains, greatly elevating Chu’s national reputation, long dismissed as a barbarous realm beyond the Zhou order. So famous was he that even someone of my modest learning knew Qu Yuan’s name and several of his lines.
Gu Jing was that Qu Yuan’s nephew. Now it was clear why he had come all the way from Chu to distant Yan. “My uncle, disillusioned with the world, chose to return home.”
“And seeing that, you came to Yan, Lord Gu Jing?”
“Precisely. And I, too, followed my uncle’s path exactly.”
After King Yan Zhao’s death and King Yan Hui’s accession, Gu Jing turned his back on Yan and returned to his homeland of Chu.
“If you wish to employ me, Your Highness must become an unshakable great tree that does not sway in the wind.”
King Yan Zhao had done exactly that. When the then-crown prince, King Yan Hui, slandered Yue Yi, the king defended Yue Yi instead and flogged the prince for his false accusations. Yue Yi and the other talents of the Golden Platform served King Yan Zhao as they would their own lives.
“If I offer you unwavering trust, what can you give me in return?”
“When King Yan Zhao discussed the great trends of the world, he consulted Guo Wai; on military matters, Yue Yi; on diplomacy, Su Qin; on timing, Chu Yan; and on matters both civil and military, Ji Dan. After a lengthy account of King Yan Zhao’s skill in employing men, Gu Jing introduced the field he himself had handled. “And when it came to governing the state, he consulted with me.”
“Governing the state.”
“Yes. Cultivate the self, order the household, govern the state, and bring peace to the world. Though I cannot achieve peace throughout the realm as Yue Yi or Su Qin did, I can lay its foundation by governing the state.”
To cultivate the self, order the household, govern the state, and pacify the world. The familiar maxim felt strangely different when spoken aloud. It sounded almost like a rebuke: how dare one speak of pacifying the world when one has mastered neither self-cultivation nor household order nor state governance. Yes. Every achievement has its proper sequence. Rushing only leads to failure.
Anyway, for the time being the world will move according to Chunshingun’s lead. In the meantime, I will strengthen Yan.
“May I hear your esteemed views?”
“Governing the state means establishing laws.”
Law. Ever since Shang Yang, Qin had risen as the strongest state under heaven, proving that Legalism best embodied the principles of statecraft. Thus governing the state began with establishing laws.
“I do not understand the grand currents that encompass the world. I can only draft statutes for governing the state.”
Law was not merely punishment for crimes. It contained the path to enriching the state and strengthening the army: tax collection for a wealthy state, conscription for a strong army. In modern terms, tax law and military service law. Not only criminal and civil codes, but the fundamental institutions for ruling a country, when grounded in law, operated far more stably.
“The laws of Yan today were made by my hand. Yet law is like a net. With use, some parts become too tangled, others too frayed, and it no longer functions as intended. Therefore law must change at the proper time.”
Gu Jing’s words were a clear answer to how one should regard the law. Qin viewed law as immutable. Even after unification, it retained the same statutes used during the Warring States period. Moreover, it applied those laws even more harshly to regions and peoples from the other states. Perhaps it had been righteous vengeance. Could the brilliant Zheng truly have failed to realize that law must change? If he knew yet left it unchanged, it was deliberate retribution—blatant tyranny.
In the future I knew, Zheng had become even more obsessed with revenge. The terror born of that cycle of vengeance would drive him to crave immortality. What a dreadful future. It was an outcome in which no one was happy. Even Zheng, who achieved his revenge, would lose his reason to the fear of his own death and stain his once-brilliant intellect, bringing about his own ruin.
To prevent that predetermined future, I had to grow stronger. Strong enough to turn Zheng, who would turn away, back toward me; strong enough to stop him from pushing me aside and rushing forward.
“As it happens, the post of Minister of People is vacant.”
If the Three Excellencies—the Grand Tutor, Grand Preceptor, and Grand Guardian—were the highest advisors, serving as the Son of Heaven’s mentors, then beneath them the Six Ministers and Five Offices handled practical affairs. The Minister of People, belonging to the Five Offices, oversaw land and populace; he was, in effect, the chief administrator of domestic affairs.
“Will you accept the post, sir?”
When I clasped my hands and bowed respectfully, Gu Jing likewise inclined his body. “I accept with reverence.”
§
While Yan concealed its political struggles behind a smokescreen and quietly refined its legal codes and technology, a furious uproar echoed through the court of Xianyang, capital of Qin—the mightiest state under heaven.
“Does that mean we simply stand by and watch Qi withdraw from the Vertical Alliance?”
“Their so-called Coalition Army is coalition in name only. On the surface Han leads it, but in truth Chu is in command! If we raise an army, do you truly believe the Three Jins will open a path all the way to Qi?”
From her throne, Ying Zheng looked down upon the ministers shouting at one another. Though she was the king, they paid her presence no heed whatsoever. The ones they watched were the regent Lu Buwei and the Queen Dowager Zhao Ji, who held court from behind the screen. How could they win favor with those two? Their eyes rolled as they raised their voices.
“What does it matter whether it is the Three Jins or Chu! Our previous defeats were solely because of that woman, the Lord of Xinling—never because Qin was weak! Our stratagem of sowing discord within Wei is working perfectly. Even if they form a Coalition Army, do you think they can stop us without the Lord of Xinling?”
Qin was no mere bear of brute strength. It possessed cunning. At times it hid its claws and spoke of reconciliation; at others it sowed discord within the other states with sweet temptations. Qu Yuan had called them a “tiger-and-wolf state,” and the description pierced to Qin’s very essence.
Having twice tasted bitter defeat at the hands of the Lord of Xinling, Qin immediately changed its approach. Though Meng Ao could not compare to Bai Qi, he was an outstanding general, and the Qin army under his command was the finest under heaven. Yet even he had been defeated; Qin understood all too well that pride would not suffice—they needed another plan.
They spread rumors that the Lord of Xinling sought the throne of Wei, rescued the retainers of Lord Xinling who harbored grudges against him, and had them slander and accuse him before the King of Wei. In addition, Qin agents within Wei were instructed to visit the Lord of Xinling and offer congratulations on his accession, leaving the already-suspicious King of Wei no choice but to doubt him. The operation to remove the Lord of Xinling proceeded smoothly and now stood on the verge of stripping him of his post as Wei’s General-in-Chief.
Under such circumstances, what Coalition Army could there be?
“Even without the Lord of Xinling, we must not forget Lian Po, that old man of Zhao.”
“Lian Po…”
A renowned general whose military strategy, stripped of political considerations, surpassed even the Lord of Xinling’s. In the reign of the mighty King Zhaoxiang of Qin, only Bai Qi could have matched him.
“Attacking Chu is no solution either. They have built a fortress at Min Pass, creating defenses comparable to our Hangu Pass.”
After Qin seized the Chu capital Ying in an invasion from Ba-Shu, Chu constructed a fortress at Min Pass, the strategic point between Ying—now a Qin stronghold—and Geyang. With the northern route from the south blocked, any attack on Chu would have to pass through the territories of Han and Wei. The situation had returned to square one.
When discussion circled back to the necessity of dealing with the Three Jins first if they wished to prevent Chu from pressuring Qi, Cai Ze, who had remained silent until now, finally spoke.
“Everyone is overcomplicating this. The principle is simple.”
“Oh? Does the Lord of Gang have a clever plan?”
“Wei is preoccupied with its own affairs, and Yan is busy with the father-son struggle. Han is hardly a state worth mentioning anymore. Zhao alone prevents us from advancing easily, yet conversely, their coalition rests solely on Zhao—it is mere bluster. Chunshingun is eloquent; he will try to shackle Qi through debate.”
All eyes turned expectantly to Cai Ze, who had instantly discerned Chunshingun’s scheme. Yet the solution he offered was thoroughly deflating.
“Just leave them be. Qi withdrawing for a time? The balance of power between states is ever-changing. It will suffice if Qi is absent when they eventually form their Coalition Army.”
Cai Ze presented this rather irresponsible suggestion—that they simply let matters take their course—then discreetly bowed toward Ying Zheng.
“What does Your Majesty think?”
Ying Zheng narrowed her eyes. Neither Lu Buwei nor Zhao Ji—Cai Ze had pointed to her. What was his intention? Was this another test?
How tiresome.
Political strife. The very thought made her shudder. Even after becoming king, she had no sanctuary. If any existed, it was in old memories: a place far smaller and shabbier than the palaces of Xianyang, yet infinitely more precious. That would be it. Yet she herself had left that place.
I will take it back.
Yes. She would take it back. The location did not matter—whether the residence in Handan of Zhao or the palace in Xianyang of Qin. So long as that person was there. To achieve that, her first priority was to secure a proper domain here in Qin.
Cai Ze, I will grant what you desire. In return, I will use you as my piece.
Meeting Cai Ze with a cold gaze, Ying Zheng nodded.
“Do so.”