The Thatched Hut
"Th-this... This is outrageous!"
In front of the so-called warrior assigned to us, Han Jing trembled from head to toe. I had expected something like this, yet seeing the reality with my own eyes still left my heart in knots.
Calling it a "warrior's residence" felt far too grandiose. The lodging given to us was nothing more than an ordinary thatched hut, no different from what common peasants lived in. I vaguely recalled that before roof tiles became common, even high officials and kings had lived in such homes. But tiles were already widespread in this era, so there was no excuse.
At least it was reasonably well-maintained. It looked like the house of a middle-class family with some modest means among the commoners.
When I lived in Yan, I had a magnificent palace with grand tiled roofs. The moment I set foot in Zhao, it's a thatched hut... Is this what they call becoming a pauper overnight?
Given the circumstances between our two nations, a hostage exchange and ceasefire had been arranged, but expecting decent treatment was clearly too much. That was the nature of hostage life. I clicked my tongue bitterly.
While I resigned myself to reality, Han Jing could not. Coming from a respectable scholarly family, he had lived in a fine home, if not quite a palace. Unable to accept what lay before him, he flew into a rage.
"There must be some mistake! No matter that our countries were enemies until recently, how can they assign us this shabby thatched shack and dare call it a warrior's residence! I will go at once and set this right!"
"Don't bother. It won't do any good even if you go."
We had grown close during the long journey to the capital of Handan. Just as I spoke to him without formality, Han Jing raised his voice in return.
"Young master!"
"I'm not deaf. Stop shouting. Weren't you the one always warning me not to draw attention?"
"That is true, but..."
"For now, let's stay quiet and observe the atmosphere."
The rift between Yan and Zhao ran deep at the moment, which explained the poor treatment of their hostage. But if a genuine alliance formed later, surely our living conditions would improve. No matter how you looked at it, we were in the weaker position. Complaining would only make things worse, so I chose to view the situation with cautious optimism.
"Let's check inside first. We've brought the maids with us, so if it's too cramped, we can always build a separate structure."
"Sigh... Understood."
Hostage or not, I was the sole legitimate heir of the current King of Yan. It wasn't only Han Jing who had been sent along; the maids responsible for my daily needs had come too. Once I accepted the situation, Han Jing could no longer protest. His loyalty was the real thing, no matter what else.
"Young master, there is an annex. We won't need to build anything additional."
"Zhao has shown some consideration, at least."
"They wouldn't want to neglect us completely and give our country an excuse to break the agreement."
Han Jing grumbled, his anger still simmering.
"Let's unpack properly first and think later. They said they would provide food and firewood separately, didn't they?"
I rolled up my sleeves and strode into the thatched hut.
"Ah! Young master, please leave such tasks to the servants..."
"What are you talking about? We're all going to live here together. It's better if we do it as a group. Come on, Han Jing, help out. The sooner we finish, the sooner we can rest, right?"
Aside from the substandard residence, our life as hostages afterward proceeded remarkably smoothly. Zhao made no particular attempts to interfere, and they even assigned guards to prepare for any emergencies. Though they called them guards, they were essentially surveillance. The intention was likely to prevent any harm to me that might give Yan an excuse to invade again. For my part, it allowed me to live in relative comfort.
But problems were not entirely absent.
"Those bastards have reduced the food supplies again."
Day by day, the provisions Zhao gave us kept shrinking.
"Again?"
"Yes. They claim it's unavoidable because the Qin scoundrels keep provoking incidents along the border, increasing military consumption."
It was a cunning ploy. By providing a plausible excuse for the reduction, they stifled any protest. The real issue was that this was not the first time.
They're boiling the frog alive, raising the temperature little by little.
The previous amounts could be stretched with careful rationing. But now it had become difficult to provide even two meals a day for the entire household.
Yet if I raised the issue, it was obvious that not only Zhao but even my own country of Yan would ask what the problem was. In this era, commoners were little more than slaves. The very character for "commoner" (民) derived from the image of stabbing out an eye with a blade—to blind the left eye of slaves and crush any will to rebel or flee.
While it had not reached the level of outright slavery anymore, they were still not treated as full human beings. They were not "people" (人), but "commoners" (民). To me, they were fellow humans I had to care for, but to other nobles they were insignificant creatures. So what did it matter if they went a little hungry? There was enough for me and Han Jing to eat. Zhao would simply claim they had fulfilled their duty.
"It's not only the food. The firewood has been reduced as well. Winter will be here soon. I'm worried whether we'll even be able to heat the kang."
The kang was a heating system used north of the Yellow River. As part of the same East Asian cultural sphere, it resembled the ondol that would later appear on the Korean peninsula. Unlike ondol, which warmed the entire room, the kang only heated the sleeping area.
Naturally, using the kang required lighting a fire, which meant firewood was essential. Since the fire was lit from beneath or beside the kang rather than from an external stove, the type of fuel mattered greatly. Back in the Yan palace, we had used a luxurious kang framed with fine stone and timber, finished with refined yellow clay, burning the best oak without restraint. I had never worried about such things then.
Now it was crudely formed from dirt and stone, so its efficiency was poor. If firewood ran short, we might have to endure the coming winter in brutal cold.
"This is troublesome."
It truly was. Clothing, food, shelter—the three fundamentals of human existence were all being undermined. Food was dwindling, our beds were growing colder, and while our clothes were still serviceable for now, they would wear out eventually and create yet another problem.
"For the time being, we'll use the money and valuables we brought. We'll also request additional funds from our home country."
"But if we do that..."
"I know. Zhao will use the excuse that we seem to have resources and cut their support even further."
"As expected, you are perceptive. Yet knowing that, how can you...?"
"Enough with the flattery, Han Jing. I know it's not ideal in the long term, but we have no choice right now. We can't tell the servants to starve."
If our home country of Yan provided proper support, we could ignore Zhao's provisions and live comfortably on our own. The question was whether they would allow it. Zhao would hardly welcome Yan using us as an excuse to meddle, and they might insist on non-interference with the hostage.
It was not without reason that when the current King of Chu had been a hostage in Qin and escaped by disguising himself as a charioteer for a Chu envoy, the King of Qin had flown into a rage. To send someone as a hostage was to entrust their very life and death to the other nation.
Of course, exercising that right came with a price the exercising nation would eventually have to pay.
In any case, with Zhao acting this way, our only immediate option was to dip into our own funds as a temporary measure. After sending Han Jing out, I roughly calculated our remaining resources.
The reason I managed the finances instead of Han Jing was not simply because of my higher status, but because I was best suited for it. This was the Warring States period, when the Central Plains were divided among seven powerful states known as the Seven Heroes, along with numerous smaller nations. With so many countries came different currencies.
A nation's currency represented its value, so exchange rates formed between them and fluctuated dynamically. Unlike the real-time linkage of the twenty-first century, the range of fluctuation was narrower and the cycles longer, but it was still far from a fixed rate.
Han Jing was versatile and served as my tutor in the classics, but when it came to economic matters, I held the advantage.
After all, I majored in business administration in my previous life.
Honestly, if I had known things would turn out like this, I would have studied history or archaeology instead. Still, it was fortunate I could put the knowledge to use at all. And if I truly ascended to the throne of Yan someday, the specialized knowledge from my major would surely prove valuable.
Of course, that assumed I survived and returned safely to Yan.
In any event, the best solution would be for relations between Yan and Zhao to improve while we endure, leading to better treatment for us... but honestly, that seems unlikely.
As long as Yan refused to return the Chang spear, Zhao would undoubtedly view us as a potential enemy. Once Yan settled its royal succession and stabilized internally, it would begin plotting how to carve up Zhao's territory. Such was the nature of the Warring States era.
"In the end, we must find our own way to survive."
The words slipped out as my worries deepened. To think that at nine years old—an age when I should simply be eating well and growing strong—I would be burdened with such concerns. Yan, Zhao... they're all the same. Damn it all.