Within the Imperial Ancestral Temple on the western side of Xianyang Palace in the Qin Kingdom, King Ying Zheng lay sprawled on the ground. An arrow had pierced his eye and lodged in his brain, while another had entered his throat and exited cleanly. Blood flowed from the corpse, winding its way down the woven patterns of the straw mat.Prince Wuzheng stood beside the altar table, eyes wide with terror. The piercing shriek and the two whistling sounds that followed had frozen him in place, unable to move.
The temple doors remained tightly shut, leaving only the living and the dead within. A sudden gust of wind, its origin unknown, whipped the Map of the Four Seas United behind Ying Zheng's corpse, making it rustle loudly. The flames on the altar flickered, casting shifting shadows across the spirit tablets of the various states.
Blood continued to flow steadily, crossing one trench after another, gradually staining the area before Prince Wuzheng crimson, threatening to reach his feet.Only then did he snap back to his senses. He hurriedly forced his numb body to retreat two steps, avoiding the mess on the ground. He reached up, took a candlestick, and poured the wax oil inside over the items he had brought as a token of surrender: the map of the Kingdom of Feng, the household registers, and the very weapon that had claimed the life of the King of Qin.
A spark escaped the flame, drifting down like an autumn leaf before plunging into the oil, consuming everything in a blaze.
The banquet and conversation with Ying Zheng were still vivid in his mind, followed by that deafening crash that shook the palace pillars and rattled the roof tiles—a shock that left Prince Wuzheng utterly petrified.Now, the object that had made that sound had turned into a blinding red flame. It filled him with both pity and fear, a sight he wanted to see yet dared not look at, leaving only a white, dazzling speck in his eyes.
Chaos erupted within Xianyang Palace. Soon, palace guards would surge into the hall, either hacking the regicide to death or capturing him alive for punishment—his fate sealed. The tremors from the guards' footsteps grew louder, the clanking of chain mail in their armor drew nearer, and the commands in Qin dialect became clearer.
With a clang, Prince Wuzheng seized the sword from the king's waist and pressed its tip against his own throat. His father had promised him safe passage, but he had never truly believed it.He recalled Master Deng Lingzi's divination: first came an omen of great calamity, then a sudden gale arose, scattering the divining reeds into a new hexagram of equal fortune and misfortune. The oracle's words transformed into: "Wait in blood, emerge from the pit."
When waiting amidst a pool of blood, one must strive with all strength to escape.
This was his master's interpretation of the hexagram that day, though even the master could not say if that sudden storm was divine will. Given the current situation, he no longer harbored illusions. He knew the initial hexagram's dire omen was his true destiny.
But what if it truly was divine will? If he fought his way out, perhaps there remained a sliver of hope...
Regardless of the divination, a prince of Feng should have fought the Qin soldiers to the death. But he had witnessed with his own eyes the punishment of dismemberment by chariot for those who attempted to assassinate the king. He was afraid. Rather than gamble on the outcome, he would choose to take his own life, seeking a swift end.
"My own life is of little consequence. But does Ying Zheng truly deserve death? Though I came to assassinate him, I have resolved to spare his life... Were there not grains of truth in his words just now? If it could end four centuries of war and chaos, would Qin's actions not be justified? Moreover, to save his life, he has already made such a promise..."
Prince Wuzheng gazed at the lifeless Qin King lying supine on the ground, unsure whether he had just become the savior who lifted the realm from the ravages of war, or the sinner who plunged the four seas into an abyss.
The shadow cast upon the door grew heavier, the stench of blood thicker in the air. In the instant the door was breached, he would drive the blade into the throat. Now, his eyes tightly shut, his hands and heart trembling, his ears strained for the creak of the door being pushed open.
He waited and waited, his mind drifting suddenly to the day his father had commanded him to assassinate the Qin ruler.
...
"The deposed Crown Prince Feng Wuzheng requests an audience."
The summons echoed from the entrance of the Feng Palace hall. There stood a eunuch named Hu, a man in his fifties with a plump, beardless face. His two long eyebrows met like flames, deep furrows lined the sides of his nose, and the skin on his neck formed folds. It was he who had found Prince Wuzheng, living under an assumed name in a foreign land, just over ten days prior.
Prince Wuzheng, aged thirty-five, of the Feng clan, named Wuzheng, courtesy name Rang, was the legitimate eldest son and former crown prince of the Feng Kingdom. Now he stood at the base of the hundred-step stone staircase before the hall, beginning his ascent step by step. The last time he had walked these stones, he was fifteen, still the crown prince and heir apparent.Back then, stepping out of the palace gates, he descended the steps one by one, his vision blurring with tears. His father had readily agreed to his request to become a hostage in Qin, showing no hint of reluctance. Only after leaving the palace gates and boarding the carriage could he no longer hold back, finally breaking down in sobs.Twenty years had passed in the blink of an eye. Returning to this very spot today, he couldn't help but let out a bitter laugh. Following the habit of his youth, he counted the steps as he walked. Slowly, he reached that dreaded number: ninety-five. He stopped. For one more step would bring him face to face with his father, who sat high upon the throne, gazing down at him. That feeling was more painful than needles piercing his skin.
But the inevitable hour must come. He forced his legs forward, his scalp tingling and swelling under his father's gaze. As if battling a storm strong enough to uproot trees, he dragged himself step by step forward, finally crossing the threshold of the Feng Kingdom's palace after so many years.
The hall stood empty save for his father—the King of Feng, Feng Zhao—seated at its center. The ceiling bore two sun-and-moon-shaped cutouts, the Feng Kingdom's totems. Sunlight streamed through them, casting patterns on either side of the king, amplifying the majesty and solemnity of his authority.
Wu Zheng approached the steps, knelt on both knees, and swept his hands in a semicircle from behind his back to meet before him. He declared, "Your humble servant, Feng Wu Zheng, pays homage to His Majesty." With that, he prostrated himself, his forehead touching his hands, his nose mere inches from the floor, inhaling the long-forgotten scent of qi wood.The fragrance was rich and sweet, yet every time he inhaled it, he was prostrate on the ground, awaiting his father's punishment.
The sovereign's hawk-like eyes fixed on his son as he spoke: "Twenty years ago, you were to go to Qin as a hostage. Why did you flee midway?" His dark face remained expressionless, save for the movement of his Adam's apple. Though father and son, their features bore little resemblance.The son's countenance was gentle, his brow, eyes, and mouth forming three straight horizontal lines—neither upturned to suggest aggressiveness nor drooping to convey dejection. His face was slightly narrow, with broad, steady wrinkles at the sides of his nose and the corners of his eyes. The curve from his cheekbones to his jawline was soft and gentle.The father, however, was different. His eyebrows and eyes were drawn upward as if pulled at both ends, while the corners of his mouth curved downward, lending him an air of authority without anger. His lean frame made his robes stand out sharply at the shoulders, hips, and knees where his bones protruded, while the rest of the fabric hung loosely, creating an awkward, jarring effect that was hard on the eyes.
Wu Zheng stood ramrod straight, forcing himself to meet his father's gaze. Though he had reached his sixtieth year, save for his gray hair and beard, his appearance remained almost unchanged from two decades prior.He drew a deep breath, steadied his breathing, and replied, "Your humble servant, upon hearing in Xianyang that Your Majesty had appointed a new crown prince, feared the King of Qin might emulate the story of King Wuling of Zhao escorting Prince Ji back to Qin to vie for the throne. I feared he might seize me to demand territorial concessions from the Kingdom of Feng. Thus, I took it upon myself to flee Qin. This is a capital offense. I beg Your Majesty..."
"Excuses!" King Feng slammed his palm on the table and roared, "You fled secretly from Qin without a single word, then hid in Chu for ten years. Do you even recognize your sovereign and father anymore?"
Wuzheng was jolted by the palm strike and hastily replied, his words stumbling slightly: "Your humble son would never dare forget. It was truly a matter of necessity, compelled by the circumstances!" He knew his voice trembled. After speaking, he bowed low to the ground, the scent of quince wood growing stronger in his nostrils. His fear of his father felt like a chronic ailment—healed for twenty years, now suddenly flaring up again.
The eunuch suddenly entered the hall at that moment, standing to Wu Zheng's left. He bowed to the King of Feng and reported, "Your Majesty, Prince Wu Zheng served as a hostage in Qin during his youth, ensuring peace along the border for over a decade. He has rendered great service to the state. Those who entrust themselves to foreign lands endure separation from their closest kin and suffer hardships beyond description.Though the prince may have erred, it surely stemmed from unspoken hardships. Now, with the mighty Qin pressing our borders, only he can preserve our ancestral temple. We implore Your Majesty to show mercy."
Wu Zheng's face nearly pressed against the floor as he squeezed his eyes shut, feeling the blood slowly surge upward. He wanted to defend himself, yet his spine refused to straighten.
Prince Feng's fury subsided slightly, his tone softening as he asked, "Feng Wuzheng, would you be willing to assassinate the King of Qin and atone for your crimes through this act?"
Wu Zheng snapped his eyes open and straightened abruptly. "Assassinate the King of Qin? Ying Zheng?"
"Precisely. The mighty Qin has already annihilated the states of Han, Zhao, and Wei. They recently crushed our forces at Yongqiu, claiming tens of thousands of lives. The four eastern states tremble in fear, unable to unite against Qin. Their downfall is imminent.Our Feng clan descends from the great ancestor Fuxi. We followed King Wu in conquering Shang and were enfeoffed here, sustaining our lineage through blood sacrifices for eight centuries. How can we perish at the hands of that upstart Ying Zheng? You once served as a hostage in Qin and know their ways. I intend to send you as an envoy, bearing Feng's household registers and maps, feigning surrender to Qin. Seize the opportunity to strike him down. Do you have the courage?"
On his journey home, Wuzheng contemplated every possible outcome—imprisonment for treason, becoming a hostage again to seek aid, or leading troops against Qin. Yet he never imagined his father would send him as an assassin.
"Your humble son is ever willing to serve the state, but the Qin court is heavily guarded. Not a blade can be smuggled in. Though I have some skill with swords, I fear I could not succeed, bringing shame upon the royal command. Moreover, even if Ying Zheng were killed, who can guarantee another Ying Zheng would not rise? Even if Qin were defeated, who can guarantee another Qin would not emerge..."
"Oh? Then what strategy do you propose to repel the Qin army and safeguard our realm?"
"This..."
The stiff muscles on the Wind King's left cheek twitched upward toward his cheekbone, as if ancient ice had finally cracked open. Simultaneously, he let out a cold laugh and said, "I know you are inherently cowardly, incapable of sacrificing your life for a cause. You are not worried about failing to succeed, but rather afraid of losing your life. Have I misunderstood you?"Fear not—after the deed, someone will escort you back to your homeland. With no threat to your life, what else could you possibly hesitate over? Moreover, with the Moist Mechanics at your disposal, you won't need to fight with swords."
King Feng's words left Wuzheng flushed with embarrassment, while a wave of snickering echoed from behind the throne. Wuzheng followed the sound and saw a young man peeking out from behind the screen, watching him furtively. Their eyes met, and the youth quickly retreated, yet the mocking laughter lingered faintly, making Wuzheng want to grind his teeth to dust.Ever since he could remember, his father had despised him for bearing his mother's traits rather than his own, declaring him excessively kind and gentle yet lacking in strength and courage—unfit to shoulder the heavy responsibilities of a ruler. Then there was his name. His mother had insisted on naming him "Wuzheng" (meaning "without contention"), and even insisted on the single character "Rang" (meaning "yield").Time and again, he had considered moving the "Wu" from his given name to his courtesy name, only to relent each time. For after much deliberation, defying his mother to please his father seemed unworthy of a filial son. This wound, painful to the touch, was relentlessly prodded by others, bringing him endless humiliation from childhood to adulthood.
Rage surged within him as he declared in a raised voice, "Your humble son may indeed be incompetent, but when it comes to matters of state, how could I hesitate to sacrifice this insignificant body? Since His Majesty and my father have spoken, Feng Rang humbly obeys the imperial decree!"
"Very well. Depart tomorrow." With that, the King of Feng rose to enter the inner chambers.
"Father!" Wuzheng, having one final request, dared to call out to the King. "Before departure, this son humbly requests permission to pay respects at the tombs of Mother and Grandmother. I implore Your Majesty's gracious consent!"
"Denied. You may do so only upon your triumphant return."
King Feng strode into the inner hall without pausing, his final words echoing over the screen. Wuzheng opened his mouth to protest, but found only the empty throne before him. He swallowed his words, mingled with resentment. Rising to his feet, he glared at the eunuch Hu standing nearby, his eyes blazing with fury, wishing he could draw his sword and strike him down on the spot.When this eunuch found him in Chu, he had urged his return, saying, "Young master, you have been away from your homeland for twenty years. Do you not wish to pay respects to your mother and grandmother in your native land?" Because of those words, he had cast aside all doubts and resolutely boarded the carriage home.Yet now, the eunuch Hu casually brushed off the murderous intent directed at him, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth as he said, "Please return to the guesthouse to rest, my lord. Someone will be waiting at dawn tomorrow." His tone was that of a swindler who had successfully deceived his victim, knowing full well the victim had no recourse, and thus daring to act smugly in their face. A squad of imperial guards closed in around him. With no choice, Wuzheng could only turn and leave.
On the road out of the palace, he gazed left and right. Seeing the palaces rising and falling in height on both sides, endless memories stirred within him. Once upon a time, his presence had been everywhere there. Were the court officials who had taught him still in their posts? Would they even recognize him? He had thought he might meet them again, but now it seemed unlikely.Assassinating the Qin ruler was an ultra-secret mission; leaks were forbidden. His father had his reasons. Midway, his gaze was drawn to the soaring eaves on the left—the Eastern Palace of the Crown Prince, the heir apparent's residence, where he had lived for fifteen years after his birth. Though he couldn't see the south-facing palace gates now, he still remembered the three characters on the plaque: "Serving the Thousand Halls." The name embodied the ruler's humility in serving his people.The calligraphy, tracing ancient traditions, was as slender as twigs and as sinuous as serpents, matching the inscriptions on the Nine Tripods cast by Yu the Great. Though the palace now had a new master, did its interior retain its former appearance? Had the words he carved into the palace pillars in his youth been erased? He longed to see, yet could not.
The carriage rolled from the royal palace toward the guesthouse. A corner of the window curtain flapped open in the wind, revealing the desolate streets of the capital. Windows stood broken and neglected, beams decayed and unrepaired.In the chilly late autumn, citizens of all ages labored beneath the city walls—some hauling stones and earth to reinforce the ramparts, others cutting timber and binding defensive stakes. Upon closer inspection, he saw that six or seven out of ten wore mourning garments, their hair bound in hemp and faces veiled in black. His father's warnings of Yongqiu's devastating defeat proved all too true.His heart sank with sorrow. He thought to himself: "Had he remained a hostage in Qin, the people might have been spared this calamity." Yet another thought struck him: Qin, with its ambition to devour the world, would surely not spare Feng for the sake of one man. That was impossible. If so, what good would assassinating the Qin ruler do? How could Father have conceived of such a plan? Could the chaos of the Warring States era truly be resolved by killing Ying Zheng?Even if successful, within a decade, whether Qin, Zhao, Chu, or Qi, one would inevitably rise again. The slaughter would only intensify. Surrendering to Qin might bring peace to the realm. Alas! My father's command cannot be disobeyed. Life or death lies in the heavens. But... what sort of Moist mechanism could possibly assassinate the king?
His mind churned with turmoil throughout the journey, his thoughts spiraling into wild conjecture. Upon reaching the inn, seated on the bed and deep in thought, he recalled the youth behind the screen earlier. He knew that man must be the current Crown Prince—his own half-brother, Feng Ke.When he had left the kingdom years ago, Feng Ke was only three years old, just learning to clasp his small hands in a bow to the Empress Dowager during the Double Ninth Festival, his innocent and adorable manner endearing.Though Father showed no outward sign, one could see he cherished his younger brother more than him; yet Grandmother was the opposite, not doting on Feng Ke as she had doted on the young, unassuming him. He had heard some elders favored their eldest sons, others their youngest—perhaps Father and Grandmother differed in this regard.
His younger brother must possess the same resolute determination and strategic mind as their father to have been chosen as Crown Prince...
Overwhelmed by sorrow, he struggled to suppress his emotions, quickly turning his thoughts to his studies to occupy his mind as he awaited the dawn of his destiny.
At that moment in the Eastern Palace's Thousand Attendants Hall, Feng Ke sat facing south with his mother, strategizing, when he suddenly sneezed. He drew a handkerchief from his sleeve to wipe his nose.At barely twenty, he seemed cast from the same mold as his father. His mother, Lady Tian, was a daughter of the royal house of Qi. The King Feng had taken her as a favored concubine, and after the death of his uncontested mother, she was elevated to the position of principal consort. Now in her forties, she had long shed the coquettish charms she once used to please her husband, replacing them with the stern gaze of a future empress dowager who controlled her own destiny.
"What do you think?" Feng Ke asked the eunuch standing below the steps.
"The Crown Prince's plan is brilliant. Feng Wuzheng will surely find no way to survive. With the support of Prince Ying Xi, the uncle of the King of Qin, as our inside man, this old servant has made all necessary arrangements. Should the assassination succeed, Ying Xi will seize the throne and eliminate Wuzheng to silence him. Should it fail, Wuzheng will perish under a hail of blades long before then."
The Crown Prince and his mother exchanged a knowing smile. She said, "Though Feng Wuzheng has been deposed, he remains the eldest legitimate son. Having served as a hostage for ten years, he has rendered great service to the state. Moreover, he enjoys the support of many loyal ministers in the court. When my son ascends the throne, he will surely become a major threat. I have long sought to eliminate him but never found the right opportunity. If this plan succeeds, I shall have no further worries!"But how do you know he won't deny involvement in the assassination attempt?"
"Your servant has heard that he is profoundly filial by nature. Even if he were to enter the tiger's den, he would not disobey his father's command. That is why I know this to be true."
The Crown Prince's expression darkened. "Do you imply my filial piety and brotherly devotion fall short?"
The eunuch knelt and kowtowed, hastily explaining, "Your servant dares not imply such a thing. The filial piety of a deposed crown prince is foolish devotion. Your Highness presented the King with the extraordinary strategy to assassinate the Prince of Qin—this is profound wisdom.Should the plan succeed and Prince Xi of Qin ascend the throne, he will surely honor his promises and forge alliances with the states east of the Pass. Thus, the fate of the Feng state will truly rest with the Crown Prince, surpassing even Feng Sheng's achievement in securing the hostage from Qin. At that time, all the people will rally to your side, and your position as heir apparent will be as stable as Mount Tai."
Feng Ke burst into laughter. "I was merely jesting. Why are you so anxious? Your efforts in liaising with Qin are a great service. Once I ascend the throne, I shall grant you a thousand households as your fief and appoint you as a senior minister."
"This humble servant thanks Your Highness!" The eunuch suddenly slammed his head onto the ground like a mortar pounding rice.