The Weight of a Father's Choice
A little before Ji Dan left Qin for Qi. Those who had departed Handan even earlier had already reached their destination, sharing a moment of reunion.
Xianyang—a great city that could rival Handan. It was there that Ying Zheng met the father who had abandoned her.
Ying Zichu looked older than she remembered. He embraced her, tears streaming down his face as he claimed he had never forgotten her. Yet Ying Zheng saw through the facade at once.
The father who had once shown genuine love to his wife and daughter while desperately struggling through days of hardship and humiliation in Zhao was gone. In his place stood only a cunning old king who had clawed his way to the throne through blood and death in the shadows.
Ying Zichu’s mouth spoke of longing and affection toward Ying Zheng and Zhao Ji, but his eyes were cold and empty, revealing that no love remained for either of them.
Yes. Of course it would be like this.
If he had simply fled Zhao to survive, she could have forgiven him. Ying Zheng understood that now. The girl who had only wanted to avoid death had since found a reason to live. How immense and absolute the instinct to survive could be—how it could eclipse everything else. She no longer wished to condemn anyone for placing the desire to live above familial love.
But if that had been all there was to it, Ying Zichu should have taken Zhao Ji and Ying Zheng with him when he returned to Qin. She knew it would have been difficult, yet he had possessed the power to do so. The only reason he hadn’t was because the two of them were not assets in the political struggle—they were burdens.
In expanding his influence through marriage alliances with noble houses, they would have been nothing but obstacles. Ying Zichu had chosen power over Zhao Ji and Ying Zheng.
The decisive proof lay in his eyes. What she saw there was not guilt for having abandoned them all this time, nor joy at being reunited. It was the cold calculation of a ruler pondering how best to make use of them.
It’s cold…
Winter had not yet arrived, but the emptiness in Ying Zheng’s heart cut deeper than any winter wind.
…Dan.
You were the only one who ever showed me unconditional kindness.
Once again, held in her parents’ arms, she felt that truth keenly. And the greater the void left by his absence, the stronger her obsession and longing for him grew.
Yet Ying Zheng did not regret her choice. It had been necessary. Though she was apart from Ji Dan for now, from the day they met again she would remain by his side until death. She vowed to endure this loneliness and chill.
During this time, someone else would surely take the place beside him that should have been hers. She would bear it. The price for that patience would be collected without fail someday.
The long-awaited father-daughter reunion, years in the making, was painfully brief. There was no banquet, for it was still the mourning period for the late King Qin Xiaowen.
She had been in Qin for only a few days. She had observed the court at Xianyang for merely a single day, yet Ying Zheng had already seen through Ying Zichu’s intentions.
He was weighing the scales.
Surprisingly, the court of Xianyang was not currently dominated by the traditional powerful noble families of Qin. Ying Zichu would want to restore balance. Power tilted too far in any one direction would be a burden even to a king.
He likely intended to suppress Ying Zheng while continuing to support her half-brother Ying Chengjiao—the central figure of the noble faction—to strengthen the aristocracy and achieve equilibrium.
Was it the fate of all who sat upon the throne to treat even family as mere counterweights on the scales of power? Or did Ying Zichu simply feel no affection for Zhao Ji and Ying Zheng, loving his other household more?
Whichever it was, his attitude was not that of a father toward beloved children. In that case, Ying Zheng would not treat him as a father either. She would regard him merely as a political rival upon the throne and walk her own path to it.
The first step on that path stood right before her.
“Are you well, Princess?”
Ying Zheng gazed at the middle-aged man who greeted her familiarly. Though he had reached the age when most men required a cane at home, he stood perfectly straight, offering a benevolent smile.
But one should not be deceived by that gentle appearance. This man was the true monster of the court—the one who held real power in Qin.
The unparalleled genius who had lured Ying Zichu in and ultimately placed him on the throne. A great merchant from Han who had driven out Qin’s native nobles and risen to the position of Chancellor.
His name was Lu Buwei. A man who never erred.
Ying Zheng met Lu Buwei’s eyes. And she saw it—the endless inferno of ambition still burning within him, even though he appeared to possess everything and live in satisfaction.
“So it was you who brought me here.”
“…!”
For the briefest instant, Ying Zheng caught the flash of admiration in Lu Buwei’s eyes. He quickly stroked his beard and spoke with perfect composure, making no attempt to hide it.
“As expected, you are truly perceptive. Surviving all this time in the land of Zhao must have been thanks to your innate intelligence. Yes, it was I who brought you to Xianyang, Princess.”
The one who had brought Ying Zheng from Zhao to Qin was not her father, but Lu Buwei.
No matter how great Lu Buwei’s achievements or influence, the power of Qin’s nobles—united tightly around Ying Chengjiao—was by no means negligible. Ying Zheng was the strongest card he could play to break the deadlock.
Although the nobles were consolidating behind Ying Chengjiao’s faction, not every noble in Qin followed him. There were those on bad terms with his maternal relatives, those already co-opted by Lu Buwei, newly risen nobles recognized for their ability and merits, and those practicing realpolitik who chose to observe the conflict between the two sides.
Factions within the nobility were still shifting and realigning. Had all the Qin nobles truly united with one heart, even Lu Buwei could never have breached their iron wall to become a central power.
Of course, the fact that he had managed to wedge himself into the gap between the entrenched powers was itself proof of his ability. In any case, Lu Buwei sought to draw in those neutral or watchful nobles and deliver a decisive end to the struggle.
And the key to making that possible was Ying Zheng’s existence.
She too carried the blood of Ying Zichu as his legitimate daughter. If she were put forward, some of the nobles who had remained silent would gather around her once more to oppose Ying Chengjiao’s faction. Then Lu Buwei’s victory would be assured.
Ying Zheng had grasped this entire web of political dynamics in that short span of time.
“You were a merchant, were you not? Then let us make a deal.”
“Oh? A transaction… now that is something I quite enjoy. Very well. What sort of deal does the Princess desire?”
“Making me queen is something we both want anyway, so shall we speak of what comes after? I do not ask for much. Yes. Just one thing. One will be enough.”
Even while knowing she held the position to completely overturn the current balance, her willingness to follow Lu Buwei’s lead seemed to puzzle him. With such insight and composure, she should have been negotiating for far greater gains.
But when he finally heard what she wanted, Lu Buwei wore a slightly bitter smile.
“I will decide my own marriage. And you will support that decision with everything you have. Even if war is required, you will devote your full strength to it.”
Ying Zheng’s eyes were consumed by blind obsession. Where had he seen those eyes before?
Lu Buwei recalled a faded memory from the past. The woman who had once been his, yet whom he had handed over to another man to satisfy his own ambitions. Zhao Ji—Ying Zheng’s mother, Ying Zichu’s wife, and formerly Lu Buwei’s lover. It was the same look he had seen in her eyes.
Like mother, like daughter.
If they heard those words, both Zhao Ji and Ying Zheng would recoil in disgust and deny it. But having seen both women from a third party’s perspective, Lu Buwei could state it with certainty. Ying Zheng had inherited Zhao Ji’s blood.
That was as far as his reminiscence went. Lu Buwei felt not the slightest regret for having married his former lover Zhao Ji off to Ying Zichu. He focused coldly on the transaction between himself and Ying Zheng.
“Then what can I receive from the Princess in return?”
“The position of Chancellor.”
The seat Ying Zichu had never granted Lu Buwei despite all he had done to make him king. The position of supreme authority second only to the ruler himself.
Ying Zheng declared she would give that seat to Lu Buwei. Even though she had seen through the flames of ambition he kept hidden, Lu Buwei responded with perfect ease.
“Is that all?”
“Would the Shangfu desire anything more?”
A relaxed question met with an equally leisurely reply. Yet the meaning behind her words was not as gentle as their tones suggested.
Shangfu. Ying Zheng was promising that since he was no different from the king’s own father, she would grant him not only the Chancellor’s seat but the position of regent as well.
Even Lu Buwei could not hide his astonishment at that answer.
“Huh…? Hahaha, hahahahaha! Excellent. Very good.”
Lu Buwei burst into loud laughter, even clapping his hands in delight. Then he calmed himself and whispered to Ying Zheng.
“I shall make you the Queen of Qin.”
And Lu Buwei kept his word.
Ying Zheng became the Crown Princess.
It was the time when Ji Dan left Handan.