Chapter 15: How Hard Was Zhengge's Childhood?
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The celestial screen continued to display its message!
“In short, Emperor Qin Shi Huang, Ying Zheng—his very vision of unifying the world alone is enough to secure his name in the annals of history!”
“He destroyed the Six States, built the Great Wall, and shook the heavens with the might of the dragon of Qin. From the day six sharp swords hung above his head, from the moment the legacy of six generations fell upon his shoulders, he regarded the whole world as an enemy and began laying plans for the great enterprise of unifying all under Heaven!”
“He sought to use the dragon vein and destiny of Great Qin to scatter the fortunes of the Six States, to employ Qin’s arrows and iron hooves to pierce the Nine Regions and trample the Eight Wastes…”
“Yet posterity called him a tyrant. Was he truly cruel and inhumane, or was he an emperor for the ages whose achievements and failings surpassed those of the Three Sovereigns and Five Emperors? In this episode, we shall enter the life of Qin Shi Huang, Ying Zheng!”
Beneath the celestial screen, Zhang Liang watched the words above, his face contorted with fury.
He clenched his fists until his nails sank deeply into his palms and cursed through gritted teeth, “An emperor for the ages? He was nothing more than a tyrant of the utmost brutality!”
“He destroyed my homeland of Han, leaving my family shattered and countless common people homeless and destitute.”
“He built the Great Wall at the cost of the people’s labor and wealth. How many families were torn apart because of him? His so-called imperial enterprise was built upon the blood and suffering of countless people!”
With that, he turned away, as though unwilling to look any longer at the praise being heaped upon Ying Zheng by the celestial screen.
…
Ying Zheng watched the words above with an expressionless face.
He knew that the people of the world called him a tyrant. So what?
Those people had never stood at his height. How could they possibly appreciate the view he had seen?
He admitted that destroying the Six States had been born of his ambition. But after centuries of war, who understood its horrors better than he did? He remembered the years of his childhood, when he had been held hostage in Zhao and subjected to endless torment.
He understood that pain better than anyone. It was from that moment onward that he had resolved to unify all under Heaven.
If the whole world became one country, there would be no more wars between states—and no one would ever again need to become a hostage.
A unified realm—what greater joy could there be?
As for building the Great Wall at the cost of the people’s labor and wealth? That was even more absurd. Those who made such claims ought to visit the frontier and see for themselves.
Let them see how the people there truly lived. Without the Great Wall, the borderlands would never know a day of peace.
The Xiongnu burned, killed, and pillaged, leaving no evil undone. How many frontier families had been torn apart because of them?
The Great Wall had to be built. It was the shield of Great Qin, the bulwark that protected the people.
Ying Zheng slowly opened his mouth, his voice low yet filled with authority.
“Everything I have done has been for Great Qin.”
…
Above the celestial screen!
“What kind of man was Ying Zheng? He was a man who had never appeared before and could never be replaced in the future!”
“We shall set aside Ying Zheng’s military prowess for the moment. His sword alone was seven feet long. In the Qin era, one foot measured twenty-three centimeters, making the sword one meter and sixty-two centimeters in length—exactly the same as Cao Cao’s!”
“And so later generations jokingly said that he wore a Cao Cao at his waist!”
The Three Kingdoms era.
Cao Cao was already glaring furiously at the celestial screen when he heard the remark about someone wearing him at the waist.
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“A Cao Cao hanging from one’s waist? Have you no manners? I ask you, Chancellor—have you no manners?”
“Calm…”
The angrier he became, the harder it was for Cao Cao to restrain himself. He slammed the bowl of white rice in his hand onto the table, his face flushed with indignation.
Then he shot to his feet and roared, “Xu Chu! Am I short?”
Xu Chu had found the celestial screen dull and was lost in thought. Hearing Cao Cao call his name, he hurried forward, staring at him in utter confusion.
“Lord, what did you say?”
Cao Cao glanced at Xu Chu’s burly, tiger-backed frame and his height of one meter eighty-seven, and could not help feeling somewhat awkward.
He then pointed toward Jia Xu and asked, “Wenhe… tell me—am I short?”
Jia Xu had initially intended to stand, but fearing that he might damage his master’s confidence, he quickly sat back down and said, “Chancellor, please calm yourself. It is merely a joke made by later generations. It should not be taken seriously.”
“Besides, Lord, you are not exactly short. It is only that… your height is less conspicuous.”
At those words, Cao Cao drew several deep breaths and struggled to calm himself. After a long while, he finally said, “We are all seven-foot men. No one should look down on anyone else!”
He then scooped the rice from the table back into his bowl, carried it over to Jia Xu, and narrowed his eyes.
“This rice is still warm. Here, Wenhe—it is yours.”
…
Above the celestial screen.
“The life of Qin Shi Huang may broadly be divided into four stages!”
“Childhood as a hostage—ascending the throne as king—taking power and destroying the Six States—uniting all under Heaven, becoming emperor, and consuming alchemical pills!”
The latter two were still understandable. The first two, however, were enough to eliminate ninety-nine percent of all people.
At that moment, a small, thin figure appeared on the celestial screen. A trace of gloom lingered in his eyes. Though his body was frail and slight, he had possessed from childhood the very face of a man destined to overthrow the Six States.
Anyone could tell at a glance that he was no ordinary person.
At the same time, the theme music of the Desolate Heavenly Emperor began to play above the celestial screen, and the narrator started explaining.
“When Brother Zheng was young, he lived in Zhao. And those days were truly bitter!”
“So bitter that even the most tragic of novels would not dare write them that way. It was like swallowing a hundred bitter melons in one breath!”
…
“When Zheng was two years old, his scoundrel of a father, Ying Yiren, escaped back to Qin with Lü Buwei’s financial assistance, leaving Ying Zheng and his mother, Zhao Ji, behind in Zhao.”
“Just imagine what life must have been like for Ying Zheng after his hostage father escaped—especially when Bai Qi had already annihilated four hundred thousand Zhao soldiers!”
“From the age of two, Ying Zheng became a hostage himself. Mother and son were ostracized in Zhao, and even with money, they could not buy food!”
“They could only fight stray dogs for scraps. Their lives were utterly wretched.”
Beneath the celestial screen, King Zhao of Qin watched the treatment his great-grandson had received and was consumed by rage.
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He slammed his hand onto the table and roared, “Outrageous! How could that rebellious grandson, Ying Yiren, be so heartless as to abandon his wife and child?”
That bastard ran back on his own and left his precious great-grandson there to suffer? If I were there, I would have beaten him senseless!
And that state of Zhao… Just wait. If I do not beat you until you throw away your armor and flee, then I am not the Demon King of the Warring States!
“Someone! Bring Bai Qi before me!”
Then he turned to the guards beside him and ordered, “Remember this—from today onward, however Zhao treats my great-grandson, Great Qin shall treat Zhao’s hostages in exactly the same way!”
…
Great Qin.
Watching the past displayed upon the celestial screen, Ying Zheng could not help recalling those years of his childhood in Handan.
Abandoned by his father when he was still very young, he had not enjoyed a single peaceful day since the moment of his birth.
The people of Zhao had called him a bastard. They had cursed him and said that the people of Qin were all wolves with ambitions.
Some women had even pointed at him and declared that Qin had killed their husbands.
Children his own age had beaten and kicked him, shouting that they were taking revenge for their fathers.
And at that time… he had been barely two years old.
Why? Why had every sin been laid at his feet?
Only after he returned to Qin and witnessed its strength did he understand. The people of Zhao had not dared to wage war against Qin, so they had vented all their hatred upon him and his mother, Zhao Ji.
Yet they had feared that killing him would mean losing their hostage. Thus, they could only torment him endlessly.
That period had carved a scar into his heart—a wound that could never be erased.
Within the palace hall, Fusu watched the celestial screen reveal what his father had endured in childhood, his face filled with shock.
“Father… Father came through all of that?”
He could not be certain what madness he himself might have committed had he suffered such things.
Then he looked toward his father seated upon the dragon throne, his face utterly expressionless, as though the story being told had nothing to do with him.
For a moment, Fusu was lost in a daze.
Ying Zheng naturally saw what his son was thinking, but he did not explain.
Nor did he care to explain.
It no longer mattered. He had already avenged the suffering he had endured in childhood.
…
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