Chapter 26: Qin Shi Huang Wants to Watch Television (Two chapters combined into one)

The news of General Wang Jian's great victory over the Chu army had already reached Xianyang.

Ying Zheng stood atop the high steps of Zhangtai Palace, holding a military report in his hand, his gaze piercing. His chest rose and fell slightly, as if he could hear the sound of his own blood surging.

That year, he was just thirty-six years old. At thirty-six, he had already swept across five countries.

He stood at a turning point in history, with unprecedented power before him and the flames of war raging behind him as five kingdoms crumbled. Young, sharp, and full of energy, he was like a newly forged sword, its brilliance fully revealed, unstoppable.

His ambition had taken root in his childhood. While a hostage in Handan, he endured countless humiliations; after returning to Qin and ascending the throne, he remained patient and bided his time; once he took full power, he struck with lightning speed. He wanted to be more than just the king of Qin; he wanted to be the supreme ruler of the world, the "First Emperor" who surpassed the Three Sovereigns and Five Emperors.

Later, historians commented on him: "He carried on the legacy of six generations."

Some might think this was a denigration of his achievements, as if he were merely reaping the fruits of his ancestors' labor. But if Ying Zheng heard this, he would only sneer. He knew that the same flame flowed in the blood of every Qin ruler throughout history—the desire to conquer, unify, and control the world. King Zhaoxiang of Qin marched east out of Hangu Pass, Duke Xiao of Qin implemented reforms to strengthen the state, King Huiwen of Qin forged alliances to break the vertical alliance… The ambitions of six generations ultimately ignited in his hands into a raging fire that swept across the land.

This was not accidental, but inevitable, because the Qin Dynasty had always had two words engraved in its very bones—the world. They wanted it, they fought for it, and they obtained it.

The phrase "retaining the legacy of six generations" is more like saying that there would never be a bad person in their family.

Thinking of this, Ying Zheng turned to look at his eldest son, Fusu, behind him. The boy was handsome, with a touch of childishness, as gentle as a lamb. At this moment, he stood with his head bowed, his long eyelashes casting soft shadows on his face. Noticing his father's gaze, Fusu raised his head, a hint of unease flashing in his eyes, before he revealed a warm and gentle smile.

Kind and gentle—that's how the court officials described this young prince.

Having such a good child would have been enough for an ordinary father, but Ying Zheng was no ordinary man; he was the First Emperor, with ambitions to expand his territory. He hoped that Fusu could be more decisive in his actions, not easily let go of servants who made mistakes, and not be swayed by a few words of praise from them.

Kindness should not often be found in an emperor.

Historical records document an emperor's merits and demerits, but never describe the suffering of those who died because of that emperor. Chinese history has already provided the answer to the question of choosing between the life or death of ten thousand people and that of one.

The minority must submit to the majority.

Both Cao Cao and Sun Quan massacred entire cities; so many died because of their momentary lapses in judgment, the sky stained crimson with blood, and their silent wails echoed. But no one heard them. Cao Cao couldn't hear them then, and those who read this history later can't either. No one cares about these people. What they care about are Cao Cao's tears and laughter, his victories and defeats, studying every step of his life, even trying to understand the origin of every expression. Cao Cao's suspicious nature, his amorous nature, and his fondness for other men's wives—these have all been studied.

Liu Bei, who never massacred a city, was instead criticized as hypocritical.

People even coined a term for Cao Cao: "枭雄" (a term for a powerful and ruthless leader).

Ordinary people shed tears only for celebrities; nobody cares about the nameless.

If the emperor is wrong, then he must make up for it with greater achievements. Ying Zheng understood this clearly. He felt that Fusu might not have the ambition that his Ying clan had held for generations. This thought made him feel suffocated.

At that moment, an elderly servant shakily brought over a wine cup.

Fusu immediately stepped forward, took the food plate with both hands, and gave the old man a grateful smile. The servant's eyes welled up with tears at this smile, and his hunched back seemed to straighten a little.

Ying Zheng observed all of this with indifference, and Confucius said, "The benevolent love others."

But how can the way of an emperor be summarized by the mere words of benevolence?

Looking at Fusu's gentle profile, he suddenly recalled the scene of his first murder—when he was thirteen years old, in an alley in Handan, to protect himself.

The blood was warm when it splattered on his face, and the man's expression was terrified, as if he didn't believe he would resist.

Ying Zheng liked that feeling of being in control of everything, but he didn't like killing people or getting dirty. He just really liked being a controller, the only controller in the world.

"Fusu." He suddenly spoke, his voice echoing in the empty hall.

The boy immediately turned around and bowed respectfully: "Your subject is here."

"Do you know why I sent Wang Jian with an army of 600,000 to attack Chu?"

After a moment's thought, Fusu replied, "The State of Chu is vast and its army is strong; it cannot be defeated without overwhelming force."

"You're wrong." Ying Zheng's voice was as cold as ice. "It's because I want the world to know the consequences of resisting the Qin Dynasty."

What were the consequences of resisting the Qin Dynasty?

It was the capture of the King of Chu, the once high and mighty monarch now paraded through the streets of Xianyang in heavy shackles; it was the extinction of the Chu royal bloodline, the once pampered princes and nobles now reduced to ashes; it was the destruction of ancestral temples, the ancestral tablets worshipped by the Chu people for generations turned to ash in the flames; it was Xiang Yan's resistance against Qin, the old general ultimately committing suicide amidst the ruins, his blood staining the land of Chu; it was the burning of Chu's history books and poems, those texts that had been passed down for centuries vanishing forever amidst the cracking of bamboo slips; it was the loss of Chu's treasures to Qin, those exquisite bronzes and jades roughly loaded onto oxcarts and transported to Xianyang.

From then on, the State of Chu ceased to exist.

Ying Zheng never imagined that years later, someone would raise the banner of "Even if Chu has only three households left, it will surely be Chu that destroys Qin" and rise up against Qin. He destroyed Chu with thunderous force, and that person retaliated with overwhelming force by slaughtering Xianyang. The raging fire of the Epang Palace will illuminate the night sky of Guanzhong, and those Chu treasures he had carefully collected, after decades of silence, will finally return to the hands of the Chu people.

History is always so strange, like a snake with its head and tail intertwined, devouring everyone's ambition and dreams.

Ying Zheng looked at Fusu with a scrutinizing gaze and an indescribable complexity.

Young Fusu dared not look up and meet his father's gaze; his slender neck drooped slightly, like a tender bamboo shoot that could not bear the weight.

He didn't know what he had done to displease his father again—had his father found out he was secretly reading a book a few days ago? Had his secret release of the erring eunuch been exposed? Or had his defense of the Confucian scholar during the court meeting yesterday angered his father?

Fusu was unaware of what was happening and couldn't help feeling panicked. His fingers unconsciously tightened around his belt, crumpling the delicate embroidery on it.

Ying Zheng turned his head to look in another direction. He had no time to discipline Fusu now. The State of Chu had been destroyed, and Wang Jian was about to return to Xianyang, bringing him even better news.

Recruiting immortals and foreseeing the future are more urgent than disciplining Fusu now.

The palace servants had already prepared a celebratory banquet.

Inside the magnificent, golden hall, the aroma of venison steamed from a bronze cauldron, and lacquered tables were laden with fresh fruits and fine wines from the Chu region. At a corner of the hall, musicians tuned the chime bells and zithers, their melodies echoing softly.

Most striking were the Chu women standing in the center of the hall—clad in long, plain dresses, their eyes lowered, silent and picturesque. Their homeland was lost, their families scattered, yet tonight they would dance for the victors who had destroyed Chu.

Outside the palace, the streets of Xianyang were already packed with excited Qin people. Since the news of Wang Jian's great victory over the Chu army spread, the entire Guanzhong region had been engulfed in a frenzied jubilation.

The people of Qin, young and old, eagerly awaited the triumphant return of their great general. Their faces were filled with the joy of revenge—the State of Chu, a powerful southern enemy that had repeatedly invaded the north and threatened Qin territory, had finally been utterly crushed under the iron cavalry of Qin.

"He's here! General Wang is back!"

Someone shouted first, and the crowd instantly erupted in cheers. In the distance, a dark mass of Qin soldiers surged in like a tidal wave, their armor imposing.

Leading the group was the veteran general Wang Jian, who sat upright on his warhorse. His hair and beard were gray, but his eyes were sharp as lightning. Behind him, his personal guards held high the surrender flag of the King of Chu. The bloodstains had dried, but they were still shocking and glaring.

The Qin people on both sides of the street erupted in thunderous cheers. Some raised their wine bowls, some waved their coarse cloth sleeves, and some even knelt down and kowtowed, shouting, "Long live the Great Qin! General Wang is mighty!" Children squeezed through the gaps in the crowd, standing on tiptoe, just to catch a glimpse of the hero who had destroyed the Chu Kingdom.

The elders who had witnessed the century-long feud between Qin and Chu had tears in their eyes and murmured softly, "Finally... finally this day has come..."

Wang Jian's face was solemn, showing no joy despite the people's enthusiasm. He merely nodded slightly, his gaze sweeping over the fervent faces—among them farmers, craftsmen, merchants, soldiers' families… all of them burning with the same emotion: the pleasure of revenge and the desire for a stronger Qin Dynasty.

Hei Fu followed behind Wang Jian, silently watching the excited faces. Everyone reached out their hands, wanting to touch the soldiers. At this moment, they shook hands regardless of their status.

They were all happy about the downfall of the tyrannical Chu state.

Especially when they heard the general say that 300,000 people had died in the State of Chu, it was as if the pent-up frustration in their chests dissipated, and they shook hands, celebrated, and laughed heartily.

Hei Fu's brows were furrowed, his eyes were unfocused, and Jiang Ge's whisper echoed in his ears—"Qin Er Shi is Hu Hai."

These words were like a thorn, deeply embedded in his heart. He didn't understand the grand scheme of things, but he knew that the Qin dynasty only lasted two generations...

“Hei Fu.” Wang Jian’s voice came from behind, steady and authoritative.

Hei Fu suddenly came to his senses and saw that the old general had been standing beside him at some point, staring at him with deep eyes.

"General..." Hei Fu opened his mouth, but didn't know how to start speaking.

Wang Jian narrowed his eyes slightly and said in a low voice, "You've seemed quite uneasy the whole way. What's wrong?"

Hei Fu's heart pounded like a drum, and cold sweat beaded on his palms. He looked around to make sure no one was watching before lowering his voice and saying, "General... I've heard some news... about... about the future of Qin."

Wang Jian's expression remained unchanged, but his gaze deepened: "Speak."

Hei Fu swallowed hard, his voice barely audible: "Magistrate Jiang told his subordinates... that the future Qin Er Shi... is Prince Hu Hai."

Wang Jian's pupils suddenly contracted, but the contraction was fleeting.

He remembered Hu Hai, a newborn prince whom the king doted on.

A moment of silence.

He suddenly raised his hand and patted Hei Fu's shoulder, the force neither too light nor too heavy, yet it made Hei Fu stiffen.

“Hei Fu.” Wang Jian’s voice was very low, but every word was clear. “I’ll tell you again, some things you hear and then forget. If you keep them in your heart, you’ll be courting death.”

Cold sweat beaded on Hei Fu's forehead, but he still braced himself and asked, "What if the King asks?"

How long can this be kept secret?

Hei Fu disagreed with the general's approach, believing that keeping it a secret indefinitely was not a good idea.

Wang Jian gave him a deep look and said, "Then you'd better be absolutely certain that the King will believe you. We all know we can't hide it for long, but today's joy was earned by the lives of thousands of soldiers."

After he finished speaking, he turned and left, his back as straight as a pine tree, as if the conversation had never happened.

Inside the palace, Ying Zheng had been waiting for a long time, but he was in no hurry to order his servants to urge Wang Jian to come. Enjoying the joy of victory was also part of the victory, and Ying Zheng was very generous to his subordinates in this respect.

His gaze was fixed intently on the direction of the palace gate.

It will be soon.

"General Wang Jian has arrived!"

With a loud shout, the hall fell silent.

Wang Jian, with a long sword at his waist, stepped steadily into the hall.

Half a step behind him, Heifu followed closely, head down. The little soldier was tense all over, even his breathing became cautious.

"Your subject, Wang Jian, pays his respects to Your Majesty." The old general knelt on one knee, his voice booming.

Hei Fu immediately knelt down as well, his forehead almost touching the cold bronze floor tiles. He could hear his own heart pounding loudly, and he was afraid that the King of Qin in the hall would hear it.

"Rise, my dear minister." Ying Zheng's voice came from above, carrying an unquestionable majesty. "You have made a great contribution to the destruction of Chu in this battle."

Wang Jian rose, but still maintained a respectful posture: "This is due to Your Majesty's power and virtue; I was merely fulfilling my duty."

He neither sought credit nor became arrogant.

Ying Zheng's lips curled slightly, but his gaze fell on Hei Fu behind Wang Jian: "This is Hei Fu?"

Would an immortal recruit such an ordinary person? It must be some kind of lie. Ying Zheng was somewhat skeptical about Wang Jian's report of the immortal's recruitment. He wouldn't easily believe it until he had complete evidence to prove its authenticity.

However, Wang Jian was quite cautious and mature, so he would not lie.

Heifu trembled, feeling that gaze pressing down on his back as if it were a physical thing. He never imagined that one day he would meet the king.

He couldn't even lift his head.

Seeing this, Wang Jian had no choice but to step forward and reply on his behalf: "Your Majesty, this is Hei Fu."

There was never a nameless person in this hall, let alone a lowly soldier of no particular worth. The ministers all showed expressions of disdain.

Li Si calmly looked at Hei Fu kneeling on the ground. When he was young, he had served as a minor official in the State of Chu. Frustrated and unsuccessful, he came to understand a truth.

That's the toilet rat theory.

The reason is simple: a rat in a toilet can only eat dirty things and is frightened by people and dogs, while a rat in a granary lives a very comfortable life, with mountains of grain, living in a big house, and undisturbed.

Li Si lamented, "The difference between a wise man and a foolish man is like that between rats; it all depends on where they choose to be!"

Just like rats, people's ability to be virtuous or mediocre depends on their environment.

Having grasped this idea, Li Si resolutely shouldered his small backpack and embarked on the road to the Qin state.

He vowed to be a rat in the granary, not a toilet rat.

Because of his past experiences, Li Si didn't have any particular feelings towards Hei Fu; he was just another scoundrel.

"I heard from General Wang that you were recruited by the immortals, working in the Heavenly Palace during the day and only returning to Qin at night?" Ying Zheng did not look down on Hei Fu. In his eyes, there was no difference between slaves with names and slaves without names, since everyone in the world was his slave.

These words echoed in the hall, causing the civil and military officials standing on both sides to hold their breath. Hei Fu felt countless gazes piercing his back, and cold sweat trickled down his forehead and nose.

Ying Zheng's gaze never left Hei Fu. At this moment, this nameless slave who could travel to and from the "Heavenly Palace" aroused a rare curiosity in him.

Hei Fu's Adam's apple bobbed, his dry throat feeling as if it were stuffed with sand. He stole a glance at Wang Jian beside him, but the old general kept his eyes straight ahead, clearly not intending to help him out of the predicament.

He needs to face this moment alone.

"Reporting to Your Majesty..." Hei Fu's voice trembled. He pinched his thigh hard, forcing himself to raise his head. "Yes... yes, that's how it is."

A slight commotion immediately arose inside the hall.

Several elderly ministers with graying hair exchanged glances, clearly skeptical of this bizarre claim.

Hei Fu took a deep breath and continued, "A few months ago, when I was in the Qin camp, I suddenly saw a betrothal letter fall from the sky, and the next day I was summoned to a place called Songyang County."

A murmur of surprise rippled through the hall. Several elderly ministers exchanged bewildered glances, clearly finding the descriptions hard to believe. Li Si frowned slightly, his fingers unconsciously stroking his beard.

As Hei Fu spoke, he pulled out a metallic object from his pocket and raised it above his head with both hands: "This is called a watch. It can keep accurate time. I bought it with the wages I earned working in Songyang County."

The servant carefully took the peculiar metal disc and quickly presented it to Ying Zheng. The emperor's slender fingers took the watch, and when his fingertips touched the cool metal surface, his brows furrowed slightly.

The object was entirely silver-white, covered with a layer of transparent crystal, and inside were arranged tiny black symbols, along with three needles of different lengths that were slowly moving.

Most strangely, the object made a slight ticking sound, just like a living thing.

Ying Zheng's fingers gently traced the intricate markings on the dial, a strange light flashing in his eyes. He had never seen such exquisite craftsmanship—even the best artisans in the palace could not create such a perfectly integrated mechanism.

"This thing..." Ying Zheng's voice was low and slow, "...is it truly from the Immortal Realm?"

Hei Fu pressed his forehead to the ground, not daring to look directly at him: "Your Majesty, it is absolutely true."

These words caused an even greater commotion within the hall. Meng Yi couldn't help but step forward: "Your Majesty, this object is strange; it may be sorcery..."

Ying Zheng raised his hand to stop him, his gaze never leaving the watch on his wrist. The three hands continued to turn tirelessly, the second hand ticking crisply with each tick, exceptionally clear in the silent hall.

“These three hands…” Blackie pointed to the dial with his courage, “The shortest is the hour hand, which indicates the current time; the slightly longer one is the minute hand, which indicates the quarter-hour; and the thinnest one is the second hand, which moves one tick per second.”

The emperor's slender fingers traced the stainless steel case, his fingertips lingering on the raised crown.

How does this thing work?

"Your Majesty, there are ingenious mechanisms inside..."

"You said..." Ying Zheng suddenly looked up, his sharp gaze piercing Hei Fu, "Where is Songyang County?"

Ying Zheng firmly believed that anything could be found, as long as there was a direction.

Hei Fu shuddered, cold sweat trickling down his back: "Your Majesty, I don't know the exact location either. Every time I go back and forth, it's through a flash of white light..."

Wang Jian stepped forward at the opportune moment: "Your Majesty, this old minister witnessed it with his own eyes. This child can indeed disappear into thin air in full view of everyone and return at dusk. This is why we are traveling back to Xianyang at night."

If Hei Fu hadn't been limited to traveling at night, they might have already reached Xianyang, instead of waiting until now.

Ying Zheng's fingers tapped lightly on the ground, the rhythmic sound strangely merging with the ticking of his watch. Everyone in the hall held their breath, the air seemingly frozen.

Who lives in Songyang County?

The general only instructed that Qin Er Shi should not be mentioned, but he did not specify that people from later dynasties were not allowed to speak of the people in the Songyang County government office. Since he did not specify, it was permissible to speak of them.

Hei Fu lowered his head and began to list them off as if they were his own treasures: "There's Magistrate Jiang, Assistant Magistrate Xu, Er Wang and the others, as well as Yuchi Jingde and Qin Shubao from the Tang Dynasty, and the newly arrived Zhou Yu from the Three Kingdoms period." He scratched his head, thinking he must have made a mistake.

Everyone has been introduced.

Wang Jian closed his eyes tightly. He was now certain that Hei Fu's personality made it impossible for him to survive more than three months on the battlefield.

Tang Dynasty? Three Kingdoms period?

The ministers in the hall looked at each other, even Li Si was a little confused, they had never heard of it before.

"Is he having a fit of hysteria? There aren't that many Tang and Three Kingdoms in this world." It was unclear which minister spoke first, but it was clear he was trying to bully Hei Fu.

"They were all from later dynasties."

As soon as he finished speaking, Ying Zheng's face darkened. His wish was for the Qin Dynasty to last for thousands of generations, but since there were already later dynasties, what about his Qin Dynasty?

"Is there anything else? Bring it all up." Ying Zheng knew Wang Jian's personality; he would never joke like this, and Wang Jian's loyalty was as clear as day.

He also wanted to take this opportunity to clarify the matter.

Other things? Ying Zheng had known about the existence of the system shop manual for a long time, but he had never seen it.

Ying Zheng thought it was just a trick played by some peddlers.

Hei Fu respectfully took out the manual and presented it. In the instant he lowered his head, he saw the eldest son, Fu Su, give him a gentle smile.

The eldest son is truly a very good person.

Ying Zheng flipped through the manual, his brow furrowing as he did so, which filled Hei Fu with dread. Little did Hei Fu know that Ying Zheng secretly desired all of these things.

Who would have thought that someone as wealthy as him would one day have to worry about money?

The crowd below the stage were also puzzled as to what was wrong with the king, whose expression shifted between light and dark.

The emperor's fingertip lingered on the entry for rice seeds yielding a thousand catties per mu for a long time, his brows furrowing unconsciously. Hei Fu stole glances at Ying Zheng's unpredictable expression, his back already soaked with cold sweat.

Little did he know the turbulent emotions churning within the emperor's heart at that moment.

The exquisite blueprints for curved plows and waterwheels in the "Agricultural Tools" section reminded Ying Zheng of the cracked fields of the people in Guanzhong; the effective medicine for treating typhoid fever in the "Medicine" section reminded him of the corpses he saw everywhere in Handan when he was a child; and the crossbows and firearms with their amazing range in the "Military" section made his breathing quicken involuntarily.

"This..." Ying Zheng's fingertips suddenly paused.

In a corner of the "Strange Objects" section, a seemingly ordinary item caught his eye:

"Television: It allows you to watch historical stories starting from the Qin Dynasty." Among a bunch of technical terms, he could only see these few words.

Are the historical stories he heard as a child about the tyranny of King Jie of Xia, the revolution of King Tang of Shang, and the conquest of King Zhou by King Wen and King Wu of Zhou, or are they some anecdotes, such as Guan Zhong assisting Duke Huan of Qi, Duke Wen of Jin going into exile, and Goujian enduring hardship and humiliation?

Regardless of the historical story, Ying Zheng felt that he might be able to learn the reason for the Qin Dynasty's demise from it. He wanted to know who had destroyed the Qin Dynasty's foundation for thousands of years, and he wanted to know about the future.

We have no choice but to find another way and explore other solutions.

Surprisingly, he actually found it.

Ying Zheng looked up at Hei Fu and said in an unyielding tone, "I want to watch television."

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Author's note: Thank you all for your continued support [starry eyes] I am very grateful.