The Seal of Lord Pingyuan
As soon as I heard the question, I understood why Lord Pingyuan was asking it. At the same time, I could clearly feel just how highly he regarded me.
Looking back, I must have appeared to him like some kind of prodigy. A child sent at the age of nine to a foreign country with no foundation whatsoever. Yet instead of falling into despair or giving up, I had sought him out, spoken of a grand cause, and secured his support. Not long after, I willingly abandoned the comfort gained from a desperate gamble, all for the sake of my convictions. And even at the moment when everything seemed over, I had discovered a method no one could have imagined, raised new capital, drawn in the colossal figure of Lord Xinling, and built one of the most prominent merchant guilds in all of Zhao.
If one added to that the side matters—such as the close-quarters fight with Lu Gouqian and the resolution of the enemy general’s assassination—then from Lord Pingyuan’s perspective, it would have been impossible not to hold me in the highest esteem.
And now that same person was expanding his influence into his homeland of Yan, laying the foundation to ascend as King of Yan. All while keeping by his side none other than Zheng, who had become the legitimate eldest grandson of the Qin royal family.
If the me who became King of Yan and the Zheng who became King of Qin joined hands to strike Zhao from both sides, even a Zhao protected by its two great generals of the Jizhou faction would be hopelessly outnumbered. Moreover, both Zheng and I had more than enough motive and justification to attack Zhao. The hatred and persecution Zhao had inflicted upon us were by no means light.
“Lord Pingyuan…”
The eyes gazing at me trembled with desperate longing. Behind them lurked the guilt of having failed to protect me properly. Even as he regretted his own mistakes, he placed the future of his country above his personal feelings. That resolve was precisely what had driven the question he now posed to me.
Even though Zhao has tormented you, can you still embrace it with universal love and protect it?
It was Lord Pingyuan’s final question—the last expression of a gentleman who had remained detached even in the face of death, a manifestation of the patriotism he could not let go until the very end. Who could call such a thing ugly? Who could criticize it as pathetic?
The Lord Pingyuan before me had been born into Zhao’s royal clan, lived a life befitting that station, and devoted both body and mind to his country. Even at the edge of his life, refusing to abandon hope, the way he gathered up his own sighs and sought universal love was, paradoxically, noble.
“I made a promise to you, Lord Pingyuan. That once I return and become King of Yan, I will always remember the grace you have shown me and regard Zhao as a true friend.”
Lord Pingyuan had accepted my family even at the risk of losing ground to Lord Jianshin, fulfilling his final duty. Then it was my turn. My turn to repay his kindness.
“Therefore, your country is now my country as well.”
My answer to Lord Pingyuan’s question was simply an extension of the one I had given earlier when asked why I had taken in Zheng. The universal love spoken of by Mozi was not merely a matter between individuals.
The feudal lords love only their own states and do not love the states of others; thus they attack other countries without hesitation. Because the people of the world do not love one another, the strong oppress the weak, the rich despise the poor, nobles act arrogantly toward commoners, and the cunning deceive the simple. To resolve this, Mozi advocated universal love. Love another’s child as you would your own. Respect another’s parents as you would your own. Honor another’s country as you would your own. That was what universal love meant.
I do not particularly follow the Mohist school, nor do I worship Mozi’s words as absolute truth. In the beginning, my pursuit of universal love had been nothing more than a temporary measure to save Zheng. Yet as I met others, won their hearts, and shared my ideals with them, I had somehow drawn closer to the true teachings of universal love.
At my sincere answer, Lord Pingyuan’s face finally showed relief. The strength drained from the hand gripping my arm. As if he had squeezed out the last of his vitality, his voice when he spoke again was faint.
“Young master.”
“Speak, my lord.”
“There is something I wish to give you.”
I moved to support him so he could rise and retrieve the object, but Lord Pingyuan shook his head, saying it was unnecessary. I wondered whether it had been left outside or was something intangible, but his next action proved my guess wrong.
He reached to his waist, unfastened what hung there, and held it out to me.
“Lord Pingyuan, that is…”
“It is my seal.”
A seal is a stamp. Popularized in earnest from the Spring and Autumn period onward, the seal had become, by the Warring States era, the definitive mark of verification. Known as a token of trust, it was regarded as the very symbol of its owner. There were official seals representing government office and private seals representing the individual. The one Lord Pingyuan now offered me was the latter—a private seal.
It was the mark of Lord Pingyuan, Zhao Sheng. Carved from lustrous jade in the familiar columnar style still seen in modern times, it bore magnificent engravings. Yet the carving was not excessive; it possessed a refined elegance—splendid without being vulgar. The seal perfectly captured the dignity of Lord Pingyuan, the one among the Four Gentlemen of the Warring States called the Noble Prince, the most princely of them all.
To give it to me was tantamount to naming me his successor.
I hastily waved my hands in refusal.
“How could you give me your seal, my lord? You have grown children of your own. This is far too much for me. I cannot accept it.”
“Grant me my final request. This seal is both my last gift to you and the token of the vow I place upon you.”
Since it was a private seal rather than an official one, receiving it would not grant me his authority. I could not interfere in his fief or exert influence over the Zhao court. Yet precisely because it was a private seal, it became an even stronger symbol—that as a man, Zhao Sheng had chosen me as a successor more precious than his own children.
“If you possess this, my retainers will grant any request you make at least once.”
Mao Sui, Feng Qi, Zou Yan… Although Gongsun Long had left Lord Pingyuan’s side, many outstanding talents still remained in his household. Even if Zou Yan, with whom I shared a personal bond, might help, Mao Sui and Feng Qi would have no reason to assist me once the link called Lord Pingyuan was gone. But if I carried his seal, they would aid me for the sake of their old ties to him.
Mao Sui, who possessed martial prowess and judgment surpassing even Jing Ke, along with astonishing courage and decisiveness. Feng Qi, the great rhetorician whose eloquence could move even the difficult King of Zhao. I would be able to receive their help.
When I hesitated, Lord Pingyuan began to speak at length despite his coughing.
“Accept it. I know my children well. They will never be able to oppose Qin as I or my sister-in-law did. Lord Jianshin merely follows the tide and lacks principle, so Zhao will have no choice but to rely on General-in-Chief Lian Po’s strength. Yet even that will not last long when one considers his age.”
Lian Po was an old general. He had already passed sixty. Though he still displayed vigor, the elderly tend to collapse in an instant.
“In Wei there is my sister-in-law, and in Chu there is Chunshingun, but the two of them are not enough. I need someone to fill my vacancy—someone greater than I, who can not only maintain the current situation but overcome it.”
Had Lord Pingyuan seen light in me? Mozi, who regarded the invasion of the weak by the strong as an extreme evil, was said to have gladly done anything beneficial to the world even if it wore the hair from his head to his heels. Therefore, the Mohists who followed his teachings opposed unjust wars of aggression and trained in the art of defensive warfare. To resist one state attacking another.
Among the countless schools of thought that had traversed the Spring and Autumn and Warring States periods, Mohism—which had spread on the foundation of such self-sacrifice—was the one most beloved by the common people. Considering that, I might indeed be the most perfect successor in Lord Pingyuan’s eyes. After all, I would view Qin’s invasion of Zhao as unjust and devote my entire strength to stopping it.
With Zhou destroyed by Qin, only three states now used the royal surname Ji of the Zhou royal house: Yan, Wei, and Han. Among them, I had been born the legitimate eldest son of Yan. It was no exaggeration to say I carried the noblest blood of all.
Moreover, though I had once been destitute, I was now the true owner of a major merchant guild and had accumulated considerable wealth. I was about to return to Yan, ascend the throne, and seize power as well. And here I was, speaking the teachings of Mohism that called for devoting oneself from the lowest position. To others, I would appear as one who truly walked the Mohist path and sought to devote himself to the world.
Even if my true intentions differed, the image I had shown them was exactly that. And even if I invoked Mozi’s teachings merely as a façade, the path I intended to take would ultimately not be so different.
Once I realized that, I could no longer find a reason to refuse Lord Pingyuan Zhao Sheng’s seal.
“If accepting this will put your mind at ease, my lord, then I shall refuse no longer.”
The moment I accepted his seal, Lord Pingyuan showed a look of satisfaction I had never seen before and slowly closed his eyes. Believing he had finally completed his last duty, he passed away peacefully the next day, surrounded by his family.
I had been unable to attend the funeral, but after some time had passed, I watched from a distance as his coffin was carried away and bid him a final farewell.
“I will not forget you.”
I bowed toward the receding funeral procession. In the quiet, empty surroundings, the seal of Lord Pingyuan inside my robe clinked softly, as if answering my farewell.