Chapter Eight Farewell Bestowment of Title

Beyond the long pavilion, by the ancient road, fragrant grasses stretch green to the horizon.
The evening breeze stirs the willows, the faint sound of a flute lingers, and the sun sets behind mountain after mountain.

Li Yu hummed the song cheerfully, his mood evidently bright.

“Sir, this song is quite unique and catchy. Did you compose it yourself?” Ying Zheng leaned out of the carriage window, curiosity in his eyes.

Li Yu, astride a tall horse and swaying unsteadily without saddle or stirrups, replied while keeping his gaze ahead, “This is a song from my homeland—every child knows it!”

Ying Zheng pressed on, “But isn’t your homeland Chu?”

Li Yu answered, “Chu is where I was born, but my teacher’s hometown is where I grew up. So I’ve always felt that my teacher’s homeland is my true home.”

“Your Majesty, how do you plan to deal with Li Si when you return to Xianyang?” As he spoke, Li Yu glanced back at the carriage behind them.

“What does sir think?” Ying Zheng asked.

Li Yu responded, “I have many matters that need capable people—like building the academy—but I lack manpower. Why not have him assist me for a while? It’ll help temper his character as well.”

Ying Zheng agreed, “If sir is willing to take him under your wing, that is his good fortune. Since you value him, after we return, I’ll request him from the Prime Minister.”

Poor Li Si, he thought, was now inexplicably a laborer. But who could blame him for being so timid this time?

After riding for a while, Li Yu’s legs grew sore. He dismounted and jogged to the rear carriage. Inside, Lady Yan sat serenely, while Li Si, sitting nearby, was promptly ignored by Li Yu.

“Feiyan, how was the song I sang just now? Would you like me to teach it to you? It’s very simple!” he asked.

Lady Yan shot him a glance. “Can you act a bit more mature? Still behaving like a child, choosing to ride instead of sit in the carriage—what if you fell?”

Li Yu sat beside her with a grin. “So you’re worried about me~”

She said nothing.

“You experts always seem so aloof—I envy that! At the very least, I must learn to ride. How else can I chase after you? If you suddenly fly off, my two legs can’t catch up.”

Seeing that Li Yu was teasing her again, she replied with exasperation, “Why would you chase me? Even if you could ride, do you think you’d catch me if I wanted to leave?”

Li Yu seized her hand. “Feiyan, let’s be serious for a moment. Watching you all wield weapons and leap across rooftops, I can’t help but envy it. Does your Yin-Yang School have any methods for quickly training experts? I don’t need to be the best—just stronger than you. Otherwise, if a husband is weaker than his wife, how embarrassing would that be?”

Lady Yan spat, “Who’s your wife? I never agreed to marry you—don’t flatter yourself.”
She didn’t know the word “wife,” but she understood the meaning.

Li Yu put on a hurt expression. “Sister, we’ve already shared a room and slept a whole night together! And you’re still denying it? Look, we’re even holding hands!” He shook their joined hands for emphasis.

Lady Yan tried to pull her hand away, failed, and threatened, “Keep talking nonsense and I’ll chop off your hand! And who’s your sister?”

Li Yu quickly raised her hand and kissed it. “You wouldn’t bear to!”

With a “thud,” Li Yu was sent flying out of the carriage. Luckily, the carriage moved slowly. He dusted himself off and climbed right back in.

Outside, Zhao Gao watched, bewildered. He hadn’t expected this man to be so thick-skinned—utterly unafraid of death. To risk his life for romance!

Zhao Gao well remembered Lady Yan’s ruthlessness in combat.

This time, Li Yu behaved, merely holding her hand, claiming he wanted her to assess his martial aptitude.

After a long while, Lady Yan observed, “Your spiritual force is very strong, but your physical body needs tempering. Your talent is acceptable, but—”

Before she could finish, Li Yu interjected, “But I’m too old? Past the age for martial arts training? I asked Gai Nie and he said the same thing.” He looked a little dejected.

Lady Yan smiled, “That applies to common martial arts. But in the Yin-Yang School, we take unconventional paths, looking only at aptitude, not age. I can only judge your talent roughly now. If you want to learn, I’ll need to observe you further.”

Delighted, Li Yu exclaimed, “I knew it! How could my talent be low? Back in the day, I took the national exam at ten, studied abroad on scholarship at thirteen, and finished within a year. With such talent, I’m a once-in-a-century prodigy!”

Lady Yan listened, baffled by his cryptic words. The Yin-Yang School placed great emphasis on talent, and if his elemental attributes didn’t fit, it would all be in vain. Still, she didn’t dampen his enthusiasm—perhaps he could succeed…

His spiritual force was so strong that even Lady Yan was amazed. There was indeed a martial art that suited him, but…

In the carriage, Li Si felt utterly invisible. Watching the two of them flaunt their affection right in front of him was unbearable, so he escaped to join Zhao Gao at the reins. He couldn’t stand another moment inside.

The Great Qin, Xianyang city.

The mighty Wei River coursed through Xianyang, flowing among the palaces and nourishing this ancient city.

From above, Xianyang sprawled across a vast expanse, stretching over three hundred li. Its pavilions, towers, and grand avenues formed the most resplendent capital of the time.

Anyone approaching from outside the city would be awestruck by its grandeur.

Though Li Yu had seen it before, he couldn’t help but marvel at the ancients’ wisdom and Qin’s power.

In front of the palace gates, Ying Zheng gazed at the entrance, reflecting on the changes of the past two days.

He turned to Li Yu, who was still dawdling with Lady Yan, and bowed slightly.

Li Yu was startled and hurried to support him.

Ying Zheng said with emotion, “Sir, you are to me as King Wen was to Jiang Ziya. I will never fail you—your cause is my cause, your troubles my troubles, your ideals my ideals. May we bring peace to the world together.”

The young Ying Zheng was full of passion. He hadn’t yet reached the heights of the First Emperor. Who could say if he’d keep this attitude? After all, a king is a king and a minister a minister. Li Yu knew better than to be swayed by a few flattering words.

But the mood was right, so Li Yu couldn’t dampen his spirits.

He gripped the King of Qin’s hand and replied, “My teacher once said, ‘A drop of kindness should be repaid with a spring.’ Since Your Majesty treats me as a confidant, I will repay you with all I have.”

Watching the king’s carriage depart, Li Yu turned to Lady Yan. “Feiyan, will you come back with me?”

She shook her head. “My sect still has plans for me. I only meant to see you once, but I’ve delayed two days already. Give me some time—

‘You give me a quince, I return you a jade pendant.
Wait for me!’”

With that, she turned and left.

Behind her, a song drifted on the wind:

Beyond the long pavilion, by the ancient road,
Fragrant grasses stretch green to the horizon.
The evening breeze stirs the willows, the faint sound of a flute lingers,
And the sun sets behind mountain after mountain.
At the ends of the earth, at the corners of the world, friends are half gone,
A cup of turbid wine to savor what joy remains,
Tonight we part, and dreams are chilled by farewell…

Lady Yan paused for a moment, then disappeared from sight.

Watching her vanish, Li Yu felt a touch of melancholy. In just two days, admiration had blossomed into familiarity and affection—only a thin veil remained between them.

A temporary parting, for a better reunion in days to come.

At that moment, Li Si arrived to break the mood. “Sir, I too must take my leave. The Prime Minister is still awaiting my reply.” With that, he left with his carriage, leaving Li Yu sighing.

So the carriage belonged to the Prime Minister’s residence.

Slinging his pack, Li Yu set out on foot toward home.

As for Zhao Gao, the moment they entered Xianyang, he disappeared—no one knew where he went, always so mysterious…

Thus ended the small group of the past two days, and Li Yu’s sense of loneliness returned.

He wandered the busy streets and alleys, feeling as though he were in a film set, watching the throngs bustle by.

Only Li Yu walked alone, feeling strangely out of place.

Arriving at his gate, he saw a carriage parked before the marquis’s mansion.

A guest at home?

Li Yu wondered.

At that moment, a man stepped out from beside the carriage and bowed. “Sir, my master the Prime Minister invites you…”

The Prime Minister? Lü Buwei?

Li Yu froze. What did Lü Buwei want? To warn him? Or something else?

He hadn’t even entered his own home and was being dragged away again—who wouldn’t feel uneasy? Li Yu grumbled all the way in the carriage.

When they arrived, he put on a smile as soon as he alighted.

Greeting the elderly steward at the door, he said politely, “If the Chancellor wishes to see me, a message would suffice. There’s no need for a personal escort.”

The old man smiled, “I am Lü Fang, steward of the Lü mansion.”

Li Yu bowed. “Elder Lü!”

“You’re too polite. Please, come this way…” Lü Fang led the way inside.

The Prime Minister’s mansion was truly worthy of its name.

Li Yu had visited General Meng Ao’s residence and was even more familiar with his own, but compared to this, both seemed paltry—not just in size but in luxury.

The pavilions and ornate pillars verged on excess, but with Lü Buwei in his prime, no one dared make an issue of it. In contrast to the cold emptiness of Li Yu’s marquisate, the Prime Minister’s was bustling as it should be.

People came and went. On the left, a massive complex housed his retainers—judging by the constant stream of people, there were certainly more than three thousand.

“So much wealth…” Li Yu marveled inwardly.

To feed so many freeloaders, Lü Buwei’s fortune must be truly legendary—worthy of someone who once ruled the court and had been a wealthy merchant.

It was enough to make anyone envious.

Of course, not all were freeloaders; among them were surely many with talent, well worth keeping. Besides, spending money to earn a reputation for loving talent was a good trade.

But you had to have deep pockets to play that game. In this era, more than a few families had gone bankrupt keeping retainers.

Li Yu glanced a few times, then looked away and headed toward the Prime Minister’s residence. As for keeping retainers, he had little interest. He preferred to select talent directly—after all, history only produced so many famous figures.

If he could gather them to his side, that would be enough.

Lü Fang led the way, offering only brief introductions to the buildings they passed.

At the study, Lü Fang knocked. “Master, Mr. Li has arrived!”

A voice came from inside: “Come in.”

Li Yu pushed the door open and stepped inside.

Lü Buwei, the Chancellor, had wielded power for over a decade, serving three kings. Compared to him, Li Yu was a mere newcomer, his only backing the King of Qin, who had yet to take full control—he had no real foundation.

But Lü Buwei was deeply rooted in Qin, truly commanding every aspect of the state—from finances to the military, with countless officials and generals owing their positions to him.

One could say Lü Buwei’s lackeys were everywhere in Qin.

As Li Yu entered the study, he saw Lü Buwei kneeling at his desk, surrounded by bamboo slips, focused on his work with a solemn, serious air. His graying hair and thin frame gave the impression of a man burning the last of his oil.

Clearly, the position of Chancellor was no easy burden.

This only strengthened Li Yu’s resolve to follow the path he had chosen.

“Ah, Li Yu, you’re here!”

From his tone, Lü Buwei seemed to think well of him—a relief to Li Yu.

Having finished his document, Lü Buwei looked up, eyes brightening as he saw his guest. He put his work aside, rose with a smile, and said, “Why didn’t you send word ahead? I should have come to greet you myself—my apologies.”

Lü Buwei’s manner was warm, not the least bit hostile, like a kindly old man welcoming a favored junior.

As if.

The old fox was sly indeed.

Despite his pleasant words, he hadn’t actually risen from his seat. The posture was perfect, subtly asserting his status.

Li Yu muttered inwardly, but his face remained humble and even showed a trace of gratitude. With hands clasped, he bowed respectfully. “By age, I am certainly your junior, Chancellor. How could I trouble you to greet me? Besides, having entered Qin, I will need your guidance and support.”

“Don’t be so formal, Mengde. Please, sit—make yourself at home.”

Li Yu only then recalled how he’d introduced himself at court, and scratched his nose awkwardly.

Lü Buwei stroked his beard, apparently pleased with Li Yu’s attitude, and gestured for him to sit. “I’ve wanted to chat with you for some time, but the affairs of state have kept me busy.”

“Chancellor, you have worked tirelessly for Qin. The state’s grandeur is thanks to your efforts,” Li Yu replied with utmost sincerity, his admiration seeming to come from the bottom of his heart.

If not for Lü Buwei, could Qin have reached its current heights? Li Yu’s flattery made Lü Buwei beam.

Flattery—no one is immune. People may say they want honest advice, but who really wants to be scolded every day?

Lü Buwei smiled. “I am merely repaying the late king’s favor.”

Li Yu nearly choked on that. It was not so much the late king’s favor as Lü Buwei’s own keen judgment and boldness—gifting his concubine, Lady Zhao, and staking his entire fortune to gamble his way to the top.

Still, in politics, thin skin gets you nowhere.

Li Yu didn’t mind—his own was thick enough. All old foxes are like that.

He went on, “The late king was wise to recognize your talents. But more than that, it was Chancellor’s own abilities that allowed Qin to conquer Hangu Pass, rebuild Taiyuan Commandery, isolate Han, Zhao, and Wei, and threaten Yan—these bold strategies paved the way for unification. For that alone, I salute you.”

Li Yu’s words, delivered with gravity, carried no hint of flattery—if Lü Buwei protested further, Li Yu would press him even harder.

“Ha! Excellent, Mengde! I wish we had met years ago!” Lü Buwei laughed, his eyes glinting. So many only saw his power, not his efforts. For this, he would treat Li Yu as an honored guest.

“If only I had been born a few decades earlier, I would have served you to the death,” Li Yu replied, full of apparent regret.

How much was genuine only he knew.

“It’s not too late. We are both ministers of Qin, and must serve together for the unification of the realm,” Lü Buwei said, his smile fading slightly.

“Of course! I will not disappoint you or His Majesty,” Li Yu replied, sitting up straight like a schoolboy before his teacher.

Lü Buwei nodded, “Mengde, I have high hopes for you—do not let me or Qin down.”

“I understand,” Li Yu replied solemnly.

“I am getting old—my strength is not what it was. Qin’s future belongs to the young,” Lü Buwei sighed, like an old man, “I do not know how many more years I can hold on. I only hope, in these last years, to see Qin advance further, and to help you and the state onto the right path. Do you understand?”

This old fox’s words had double meaning: He was saying, “I may reign for a few more years—you’ll have to wait. What I give you is yours; what I don’t, don’t try to take. Otherwise, I can’t guarantee what will happen.”

Still, it was understandable—having climbed so high, stepping down was risky. The higher one stands, the more enemies one makes. Lü Buwei surely knew this.

Li Yu understood perfectly and replied with emotion, “You have truly devoted your life to Qin, Chancellor. I will take you as my example!”

“Mengde, never be too hasty. I offer you this advice,” Lü Buwei said, more serious now.

Li Yu took this to heart. Qin’s downfall was due, above all, to haste—what took generations, the First Emperor tried to finish in his own lifetime.

It took the entire Han dynasty to truly integrate the seven states and form a national identity.

But as a great man once said—“Science and technology are the primary productive forces.”

With Li Yu’s arrival, perhaps the fusion of Chinese civilization could come sooner, sparing the people much suffering.

In war, the people suffer—whether in victory or defeat.

He only hoped the coming unification would be less bloody.

A devastated Central Plain was not what he wished for. Though war always brings casualties, there were ways to minimize them—Han should be the first target.

Thinking of Han, Li Yu’s gaze turned sly as he leaned in and whispered, “Chancellor, I have a plan—an immature idea, really—that could reclaim Han without bloodshed.”

Lü Buwei was intrigued—what was this young man planning?

When Li Yu left, Lü Buwei personally saw him out, watching the carriage until it vanished from sight. He sighed, “This one’s mind is almost demonic! How unfathomable…”

Li Yu, unaware of this assessment, would have denied it outright.

Demonic, am I? Your whole family is demonic!

After six full days of activity, Li Yu was exhausted. Back at the marquis’s mansion, he washed up, ate his fill, and collapsed into bed.

He didn’t wake until the sun was high the next day.

He wandered the courtyard, considering how he might remodel his new home.

Just then, Xiao He came in and bowed. “Master! Someone from the palace is here, waiting outside. They request your presence.”

Li Yu suddenly remembered—today was the seventh day; he was supposed to attend court! How could he have forgotten?

He hurried to the gate and climbed into the carriage, embarrassed, like a student late for class—and not just late, but nearly the end of the day!

His second attendance at court, and he was already late—but the King of Qin’s personal carriage had come for him.

When he entered the hall, he saw everyone in high spirits and relaxed. Bowing to the king, he said, “Your Majesty, last night I observed the stars and saw that great fortune is coming to Qin. I slept a little late—please punish me.”

Ying Zheng laughed, “Sir, what crime is there? Your merit to Qin is as great as Jiang Ziya to King Wen, as Fan Li to Goujian. Your name will shine in history, worshipped for generations!”

Li Yu almost felt embarrassed—he’d done nothing yet!

Lü Buwei stepped forward, smiling for once. “The Directorate of Works sent word this morning—the techniques our young friend provided were tested and work splendidly, especially papermaking. All his formulas are effective!”

Li Yu stepped forward, “Since papermaking has been proven, may I suggest we now proceed with establishing the academy, as I proposed to Your Majesty?”

Lü Buwei interjected, “Academy? What academy?”

Li Yu bowed, then stood tall and declared, “My teacher once asked: Why do scholars study?

To find the answer, I traveled the world.

Until one day, after witnessing the aftermath of battle—
corpses everywhere,
ruins as far as the eye could see,
homes emptied,
walls crumbled,
I had an epiphany.

We scholars must establish the heart for Heaven and Earth,
the life for the people,
continue the lost teachings of the sages,
and open peace for all generations!”

When he finished, the hall was silent—even the Empress Dowager behind the screen was stunned by the force of his words.

The Four Sentences of Hengqu.

Any scholar who hears them for the first time is deeply moved.

Li Yu stood quietly, letting them feel the power of those lines.

Lü Buwei was the first to recover. He bowed deeply. “Sir, your vision is matchless. Please accept an old man’s salute!”

He knelt, and Li Yu hurried to raise him.

Then the entire court bowed to Li Yu, their feelings sincere.

Ying Zheng, moved, stood and came to take Li Yu’s hand, announcing, “Today I declare Li Yu as the Grand Director of Qin. Any objections?”

The court erupted in cheers and congratulations.

Only after the excitement died down did Li Yu say, “Your Majesty, the academy is for the imperial examination, and the examination is the foundation of the state—no less important than law. The academy will recruit talent from across the land, break the monopoly of the noble clans, let talents flourish, and make all scholars in the world your disciples.”

That last point was the real hook. Li Yu doubted Ying Zheng could resist—the idea that all the world’s scholars would be his students!

Sure enough, Ying Zheng nodded in approval. “Sir, you are right! I leave this matter in your hands. Whatever you need, I will support you fully!”

Whether by design or not, Ying Zheng still addressed him as “sir.”

Lü Buwei stepped up, “Your Majesty, this is the crucial time as Qin prepares to march east. I suggest the academy should be considered carefully.”

Ying Zheng shot him a glance. “Prime Minister, your concerns are noted, but my mind is made up. Say no more.”

Things were getting tense—Li Yu thought.

With military power in hand, Ying Zheng had grown bolder. “Political power grows from the barrel of a gun”—the words of a great man had not deceived him.

A voice from behind the screen broke the deadlock: “Li Yu, I’ve used the soap you gave me and I like it very much! I will reward you!”

Li Yu quickly replied, “If Your Majesty is pleased, your servant is honored.”

“Zheng’er said in seven days, I should recognize Li Yu as my adopted son—how could you forget?”

Ying Zheng replied, “Of course I remember, Mother. But should you not ask for sir’s opinion first?”

“Li Yu, what do you think?”

“Whatever the Empress Dowager decides, I obey. But my status is humble—I dare not hope for more.”

At this, the Empress Dowager’s face fell—was he refusing? Was she so unworthy? She said nothing, simmering in silence.

The entire court was left in an awkward silence.

Ying Zheng broke the tension, “Today is a great day for Qin—let us hold a state banquet in sir’s honor!”

“Hear, hear!” came the cheers.

Li Yu looked at the bronze wine cup in his hand, speechless. By modern standards, he was still underage, though in ancient times adulthood came earlier—after all, Zhao Ji had had the First Emperor at fourteen or fifteen. Still, as a young man of the 21st century, he was not accustomed to drinking.

Just then, Meng Ao came over with a raised cup. Li Yu quickly stood to greet him. “General Meng, I should be the one to toast you, not the other way around!”

Meng Ao chuckled, “Young man, you haven’t forgotten your promise to teach me emergency treatment for wounds, have you?”

Li Yu smiled, “I’ve been busy, but I’ll finish compiling my notes and give them to you soon.”

Meng Ao waved it off, “No rush! If you succeed in this, I’ll recommend you to His Majesty myself. My grandson misses you, by the way—he found you most amusing!”

Li Yu thought of Meng Tian, whom he’d met at the Wu Sui camp. They’d gotten along well, mostly because Li Yu had made a point of it. Military connections are never out of date—more friends, more paths.

Seeing Meng Ao drain his cup, Li Yu had no choice but to pinch his nose and drink his own.

It wasn’t bad.

And then… nothing.

Li Yu awoke with a splitting headache, looking around…

Where am I?