The Heir's Gambit
The Lord of Pingyuan spoke first. "Before we proceed, I must ask: who is Zhao's greatest enemy? Qin, or Yan?"
"Qin," I replied.
"Then can Zhao fight Qin while keeping an enemy at its back? Even the Nazis, who waged war against the entire world, could not endure a two-front war. Zhao certainly cannot."
The Lord of Pingyuan shook his head. "It cannot."
"Knowing this, why do you insist on making both Qin and Yan our enemies instead of allying with Yan against Qin?"
"It is not as though we chose this path willingly. The King of Qin clings to his old desires despite his age, and the young ruler of Yan cannot contain his fiery temper."
I pressed further. "If the problem lies with the rulers, then why not bind them with debt?"
"What Qin and Yan desire is our territory, and that we cannot give. Their appetites know no end."
"The kings of this generation may be so, but their successors will be different."
The words were veiled, but the meaning was clear: invest in me. I would one day become King of Yan. If I left Zhao nursing only resentment, our two states would remain bitter rivals forever, each waiting for the chance to strike. That would be folly—sacrificing future peace for a fleeting advantage. Zhao's true priority was not Yan at its back, but Qin baring its teeth before its eyes.
"My lord, you have been given the chance to shape the future relations between our states. Why would you let it slip away?"
The Lord of Pingyuan returned to his earlier, more distant tone. "There are still two concerns that prevent me from trusting you."
"What are they?"
"The first is whether you can truly become King of Yan."
Expected question number one. I had spent the entire night preparing my answer. The essence of politics had not changed from this era to the twenty-first century. Human nature did not shift in a mere few thousand years.
In modern politics, the easiest way to seize power was to borrow someone else's name—someone the people already longed for. A daughter declared the successor of her father. A friend claiming the legacy of a fallen comrade. They took the throne simply by wearing the title of another's heir.
I would do the same.
"King Xiaoyang ascended the throne with foreign aid despite being of a collateral line."
I invoked the name of my great-grandfather, King Xiaoyang, who had led Yan to its golden age. The Lord of Pingyuan saw through my intent at once.
"I see. With my support, you could claim the throne by combining legitimacy with practical advantage. Yet your own example works against you. King Xiaoyang was a collateral heir, so his claim was never flawless, and Yan was then beset by internal and external crises. Today Yan has restored its foundations; outside interference would only breed suspicion. How do you intend to overcome that?"
"That is not the real issue."
I dismissed his lengthy objection in a single stroke.
"What matters is that many in Yan still yearn for the days of King Xiaoyang."
I did not need to become his perfect replica—that was impossible anyway. It was enough merely to evoke his memory. Just as Master Zou Yan had done, the moment people saw King Xiaoyang in me, they would find themselves supporting me without realizing it.
"Just as Zhao regards Qin as the greater threat and Yan the lesser, Yan harbors far deeper grudges against Qi than against Zhao."
The enmity between Yan and Qi stretched back through long history; they were mortal rivals who had driven each other to the brink of destruction. Yan's recent attack on Zhao had been nothing more than opportunism after Zhao's catastrophic defeat at Changping. Had Qi been the weakened one, Yan would have struck there instead.
"If we propose to strike Qi together, there will be those in Yan who support it."
"You mean to retrace King Xiaoyang's steps in order to summon his ghost… Not a bad plan."
The Lord of Pingyuan's praise was delivered in a flat, unimpressed tone. Clearly, this alone would not sway him. He had already acknowledged the plan's plausibility; the real obstacle lay elsewhere.
While I searched for my next words, the Lord of Pingyuan was lost in thought. He stroked his chin, then spoke carefully.
"You have not grasped the true meaning of my question."
The true meaning?
"Do you understand why Zhao has been pressuring you?"
"Is it not to restore, even slightly, the prestige we lost through me?"
"That is part of it. But the real reason lies in what you yourself said."
"What I said?"
The Lord of Pingyuan fell silent again. Whatever he was about to reveal, even he found it difficult to voice. What could it be that made even the Lord of Pingyuan weigh his words so carefully?
As I wrestled with the question, he seemed to reach a decision.
"Do you know of the Lady of Yan?"
"Pardon? The Lady of Yan… Ah!"
The moment I heard the name, I understood exactly what he meant. My face, unguarded, filled with shock, and the Lord of Pingyuan saw it reflected in his eyes.
"Now you see why our state has been pressuring you."
The Lady of Yan was, as her title suggested, an elder of the Yan royal house. She had been the wife of King Wucheng—my great-great-grandfather—and thus held the highest rank in the current Yan court. She was also the paternal aunt of Zhao's present king.
"Queen Hui, who sent the Lady of Yan to Yan, hoped her daughter's line would one day sit upon the Yan throne."
"But…"
"Yes. That plan failed. Who could have guessed King Xiaoyang would prove so capable?"
Before the Lady of Yan's child could come of age, King Wucheng died, and the throne passed to his eldest son—my grandfather, King Xiaoyang. Backed by the eastern territories incorporated during King Xiaoyang's reign, he swiftly seized control of Yan and, after the Battle of Changping, launched a sudden attack on Zhao.
Even now, the thought struck me as cold. King Xiaoyang had, by bloodline, attacked his own maternal homeland the moment it showed weakness. No matter how ruthless politics might be, it was still a brutal act.
"Even if no blood bound them, once the Lady of Yan became King Wucheng's principal wife, she was also King Xiaoyang's mother."
I felt as though I had glimpsed the true face of this Warring States era.
The Lord of Pingyuan spoke again. "There is no need for such surprise. It was only natural. Strike when the enemy is weak—that is the most basic principle of warfare."
"Still…"
"Rather than dwell on that, you should worry about your own position. The present King of Yan has only one son—you. Of course, he is still young and may yet have more children. That is likely why Yan sent you here as a hostage. But the future is beyond anyone's prediction. What if the king sires no other heirs?"
"You mean my younger brother—the Lady of Yan's descendant—could claim the throne?"
"Precisely."
All of this stemmed from King Xiaoyang's early death. After a mere three years on the throne, the vigorous ruler who had extended the Great Wall to Liaodong and seized territory from Zhao had vanished. Because of that, Zhao now saw a chance to revive its old scheme of placing the Lady of Yan's bloodline upon the Yan throne.
"Knowing this, should I still support you?"
When the Lord of Pingyuan asked the question, what struck me was not the difficulty of answering, but something else entirely.
Why is he asking me this at all?
If the Lord of Pingyuan truly shared Queen Hui's ambitions, he would have had no reason to reveal any of this. I had known nothing of the matter, and even if others in Yan were aware, it was another thing entirely for a core royal like him to speak of it openly. Doing so only risked alerting Yan to the danger.
His words were, in every sense, detrimental to Zhao. Which meant he was using this question to tell me something else.
Convince me. I dislike this plan—show me your answer.
I nodded without hesitation.
"Yes. Even so."
A faint smile spread across the face of the man opposite me.
He had his answer.