Routine Studies and the Zhao-Wei Alliance
Having fully delegated all practical operations to Nogucheon for the next phase, I devoted myself entirely to settling into daily life. The routine was bearable, thanks to the household members who went out each day in search of any work that might cover our living expenses. The state of Zhao showed no interest in blocking us from taking such menial jobs. On the contrary, they seemed rather pleased to watch us bow our heads to Zhao citizens in exchange for scraps of employment. Their original plan had been to crush us and thereby restore Zhao’s wounded pride, so in the end everything had unfolded exactly as they intended.
In any case, the luxurious lifestyle we had enjoyed under Lord Pingyuan’s patronage was now impossible. Gone were the days of tender mutton dishes and steaming rice imported from Chu. Instead we made do with millet that I still couldn’t quite stomach and thin, underseasoned soup. Yet we survived. The profits from the currency exchange scheme Nogucheon and I had devised would require more time to materialize. In the interim, with little else to occupy me, I offered to help with chores, only to be firmly rebuffed by the household. They insisted that a noble royal like myself performing menial labor would trample the very pride that sustained them—the pride of serving a royal house even in exile.
So I focused on my lessons with Han Jing. There was no longer any time for procrastination. To survive in Zhao, to earn money, I needed to master at least the Zhao script. I set aside the classics and the anecdotes of past kings, queens, generals, and ministers, giving absolute priority to learning the characters themselves. As a result, Ying Zheng’s position grew somewhat awkward. Everyone in the household was busy, and my own days were consumed by lessons with Han Jing, leaving me little time to look after her.
“So let’s study together, then.”
“Study characters?” Ying Zheng looked at me with a faintly dubious expression. The look in her eyes seemed to ask, Wait, you actually don’t know how to read?
“Umm… Dan. Can you… not read?”
“Huh?”
“Aha! Since I already know the characters, I’ll teach you. That solves everything.”
Ying Zheng puffed out her small chest, visibly delighted to have found something she could do. Is this real… Was I actually less educated than her?
I acknowledged, of course, that there is no age limit to learning. After all, I had made the same argument when I first approached Lord Pingyuan. Still, the idea of learning my letters from Ying Zheng left a strange taste in my mouth. It felt like a reversal of our relationship, however small, and the sensation was oddly unsettling.
“That doesn’t sound so bad,” Han Jing observed. “Learning alongside a peer might bring fresh motivation.”
Even you, Han Jing…
Besides teaching me, Han Jing had plenty of other duties. It made more sense to appoint Ying Zheng as my character instructor and free him for higher-priority tasks.
“Before that, I must verify whether Her Highness Ying Zheng possesses sufficient knowledge to instruct you, my lord.”
Though I had brought her here myself, to outsiders she was little more than an extra mouth to feed. Nevertheless, Han Jing consistently addressed her with the proper respect. No matter that she was a branch member of the royal line, a royal was still a royal. It was exactly the sort of fastidious pride one expected from someone born to an ancient noble house.
“Fine by me. Test me all you like.”
Ying Zheng was brimming with confidence. It seemed she really had taught herself to read. The examination was simple dictation. Han Jing would call out a character and she would write it down. Each time he spoke, her small hand moved across the bamboo strip without hesitation, gripping the brush with surprising dexterity. When Han Jing finally stopped, Ying Zheng set the brush down at once and looked at me triumphantly.
“Hmph. What do you think?”
She spoke as if showing off to Han Jing, who was examining her work. His reply was merciless.
“Failed.”
“What? Why!”
Han Jing spread the bamboo strips across the floor for us to see.
“Every one of these characters belongs to the Qin script. We are in Zhao. The characters used here are Zhao characters. What possible use could Qin writing have?”
“Ah……”
Han Jing let out a small sigh and muttered, “His Lordship also knows the Yan script. Come to think of it, you wrote in Qin characters last time as well, my lord. The two of you really are alike.”
The words were clearly sarcastic, yet Ying Zheng didn’t seem offended. She simply giggled, offering no defense. Still, perhaps embarrassed, she added in a small voice, “It’s because the only books at home were from Qin…”
Her father had come to Zhao as a legitimate hostage from Qin, so he probably saw no need to learn Zhao characters. Even so, to have taught herself without a tutor was impressive. I had known she was clever, but this exceeded my expectations.
“You learned all by yourself? That’s amazing.”
“It’s nothing. I think it’s even more amazing that you know both Yan and Qin characters, Dan.”
We traded compliments like two people bowing to each other in endless deference. Unable to watch any longer, Han Jing quickly produced a book written in Zhao characters and opened it.
“Since things have come to this, both of you will study the characters from now on.”
I understood the necessity, yet studying had never been something I enjoyed. But Han Jing’s next words instantly transformed both my attitude and Ying Zheng’s.
“In my judgment, whoever passes the test first will be granted the role of instructor.”
Han Jing later told me that my concentration that day surpassed anything he had ever seen.
Time passed, and the long-awaited news finally struck Handan like a thunderbolt. Zhao and Wei had formed an alliance, pledging to stand together against Qin. Soon afterward, Zhao proposed measures to support Wei. Direct military aid was minimal; the agreement focused primarily on supplying materials and weapons.
A predictable outcome.
The Zhao-Wei alliance existed to compensate for each other’s weaknesses. Zhao suffered from a severe shortage of manpower—the inevitable consequence of the Battle of Changping. Having lost four hundred thousand able-bodied men, Zhao needed an ally who could help replenish its depleted forces. Wei, though also greatly weakened and possessing a similar number of available troops, suffered most of all from a lack of high-quality commanders. With Bai Qi dead, Zhao still possessed Lian Po—the greatest general alive, recognized throughout the realm—while Wei had no one of comparable stature.
Thus, while Zhao could afford to maintain a firm stance against Qin by appointing Lian Po as supreme commander, Wei had been forced to bow its head to Qin after its recent defeat. For a state that had once dominated the world as its strongest power, just as Qin did now, the humiliation was unprecedented.
Therefore Zhao needed Wei to replenish the troops lost at Changping, while Wei needed Zhao to fill the vacancy left by the absence of a renowned commander capable of leading its armies. That was the structure.
My prediction might have been off, but events unfolded largely as I had foreseen. Once word spread that Zhao and Wei had joined hands, the shaken state of Wei quickly regained its composure. Then came even better news: the death of the Qin general Jiao.
The Three Jin—Wei, Zhao, and Han—rejoiced at Jiao’s passing. To those three states, Jiao had been every bit as loathsome and terrifying an enemy as Bai Qi himself. His achievements were so extraordinary that after Bai Qi’s death he had come to be regarded as Qin’s greatest living general. He had crushed Han, slaughtering forty thousand, and routed Zhao as well, killing ninety thousand. Nor did his record end there. He had completely destroyed Western Zhou and carried off the Nine Tripod Cauldrons, the very symbol of imperial authority. Still unsatisfied, he had invaded Wei and captured five of its cities. For an undefeated famous general, it was an absurdly sudden death.
In any case, with the alliance secured and their worst enemy dead, Wei was suddenly filled with vitality for the first time in years. And in proportion, Nogucheon’s own energy soared.
“My lord! It happened exactly as you predicted! The profit margin exceeds forty percent. Hahaha! Never in my life have I earned such a sum in so short a time. Even after we split it according to our agreement, the amount will still be enormous!”
The smile never left Nogucheon’s face. Even his usual solemn demeanor seemed unable to contain his excitement at the prospect of sudden wealth.
“That newcomer from Wei, Di Zhang, is being praised as remarkable, but in my eyes he doesn’t come close to you, my lord. What man in this world could have conceived the same idea as you? Don’t you agree?”
“How can you call it my achievement alone? It was only possible because of your skill.”
This was no empty modesty. Nogucheon’s talent really had been crucial to our success. Despite having less time than expected, he had converted a substantial amount of currency and maximized our returns.
“Haha, you flatter me. Now, how would you like me to deliver your share of the profits?”
“Ah, about that.”
I had not come to see Nogucheon merely to collect my money. I had another purpose in mind.
“There is something I wish to discuss regarding how we should use my portion of the profits.”