Chapter 25 The Crisis in Ying Zheng's Life Since the discovery of the Sishui River...
Ever since the Nine Tripods were retrieved from the Sishui River—no, the Deshui River—it started raining throughout Sishui County. This was typical weather along the southeastern coast during the transition from spring to summer: hot, humid, and accompanied by continuous downpours.
The First Emperor believed that the discovery of the Nine Tripods in Pengcheng was an auspicious sign, and since it was indeed inconvenient to tour the city in the rain, he decided to stay in Pengcheng.
Beneath the long pavilion, the First Emperor stood with his hands behind his back in the drizzling rain, gazing through his crown at the verdant willow branches dancing and entwining against the gloomy sky. He suddenly asked, "Where are Fusu and Zhang Han now?"
Because the First Emperor had summoned Meng Yi in the dead of night last night, and his complexion was really bad when he woke up this morning, the palace servants were even more careful in their reports: "Your Majesty, in the report from the day before yesterday, the eldest son arrived at the Han Canal, and is probably heading north to enter the Ji River now."
After the Nine Tripods were retrieved, a sacrifice was held in Pengcheng to Heaven and Earth and to honor the former rulers of the Qin Dynasty. Ying Zheng then appointed Fusu and Zhang Han to escort the Nine Tripods back to Xianyang. The Nine Tripods were extremely heavy, making water transport the most convenient option.
Starting from Sishui in Pengcheng, one travels north into the Ji River, then turns into the Yellow River, and finally reaches Guanzhong. Once in Guanzhong, the journey to Xianyang is unimpeded.
Ying Zheng was also considering whether to seal some of the bronze tripods as burial objects in the Lishan Mausoleum, which was under construction.
Fusu might not satisfy him politically, but if it was just about escorting the Nine Tripods, plus the famous general Zhang Han from his dream, the First Emperor wasn't worried about anything going wrong.
In the drizzling rain, palace maids dressed in splendid clothes with five-colored flowers pasted on their foreheads gracefully carried exquisite meals through the corridors to the pavilion.
Those were dishes with Chu regional characteristics specially prepared by Zhao Gao for the First Emperor.
There is a legend that pheasant soup was created by Peng Zu, the ancestor of Pengcheng. Pheasant soup is made by cooking pheasant and millet into a soup, and then adding salt and plum. The soup is rich and thick, white as milk, and the soup and vegetables are well integrated. It is fresh and fragrant with a hint of sour and spicy, and smooth with a touch of crispness.
Another dish, Lamb Stuffed with Fish, is prepared with even greater refinement. The imperial chef stuffs mandarin fish into lamb, adds seasonings, and cooks it. The lamb is tender and flavorful, while the stuffed fish is fresh and juicy; the flavors of the fish and lamb blend perfectly together.
The imperial chefs ingeniously sliced the fish, a favorite of the First Emperor, and densely pasted the slices onto bamboo tubes, arranging them in the shape of a dragon. The fish slices resembled the scales on a dragon's body.
As expected of Zhao Gao, as soon as Meng Yi and Fusu left, he immediately seized the opportunity. This banquet not only catered to the First Emperor's preferences but also incorporated local Pengcheng specialties. It was truly a feast that couldn't be better.
The First Emperor, however, had no interest in enjoying the meal.
He was still haunted by the bizarre and absurd dream he had had the previous night. It was this dream that prompted him to order Meng Yi to immediately enter the palace for an audience and travel to the southwest.
He still remembered that the dream began with a sharp dagger hidden in a map, its eerie blue-purple hue resembling the sky in a gloomy night.
It was oppressive and heavy.
The number of truly fatal crises that Ying Zheng encountered in his life was very small.
As a young man, he was held hostage in Handan, a place fraught with danger, and only survived thanks to the protection of his mother's family. During his coming-of-age ceremony in Yongcheng, he was again caught in a rebellion orchestrated by his mother and her lover. He was drawn into the conflict, and at his most perilous moment, he nearly found himself surrounded by the rebel army.
All of this was related to his mother, Zhao Ji. The thought that his own mother would force him into such a predicament for the sake of her lover and his lover's child was too much for Ying Zheng to bear. For many years afterward, no one dared to mention anyone or anything related to Zhao Ji in his presence.
After assuming personal rule, Ying Zheng's reign was remarkably smooth. He successively conquered the states of Han, Zhao, Wei, and Chu. At that time, only the weak state of Yan and the isolated state of Qi remained in the world. He accomplished what none of Qin's previous rulers had achieved, and he believed he could do even better.
Therefore, when the envoy from Yan arrived in Qin, Ying Zheng thought that Yan had come to submit to Qin ahead of time.
He never imagined it was a cunning plot with hidden murderous intent.
He had forgotten who stood in the hall that day, or what clothes they were wearing. He only remembered that he was on the verge of death, unable to pull the long sword from his waist. His feet felt like they were stuck in mud and sand; the more he struggled, the harder it was to move. Several times, he even felt Jing Ke's dagger cut through the air, grazing his skin like an icicle.
He looked at himself, opening his mouth as if to shout something, but his mouth opened and closed in vain, leaving only a despairing silence.
Ying Zheng knew perfectly well that he was dreaming. Jing Ke and the State of Yan had already paid a bloody price for the assassination attempt, and the matter was long over, but in his dream, he was indeed struggling with fear that he could not escape.
Ying Zheng was furious, even if it was in a dream, since it was a dream.
In a fleeting moment, he regained control of the dream. His will propelled him to become the master of the dream, and he felt boundless power erupting in his hands. Facing the cold glint of the dagger, he pulled out the longsword that had been stuck, and unleashed a tsunami-like strike at the humanoid figure in the dream, whose face was no longer discernible.
In the blink of an eye, the black bird suddenly appeared and landed on the tip of his sword. It spread its wings, and its tail feathers shimmered with a fiery light, pulling him out of the assassination attempt and throwing him into the next thrilling scene.
The main hall and Jing Ke's figure turned to dust. Amidst the dappled light and shadow, Ying Zheng touched a soft carpet. It was the tiger-skin carpet laid inside the golden carriage. He seemed to understand something and looked up out the window.
The carved patterns on the shaft of the golden carriage gleamed with a cold light, so dazzling that it made one dizzy in the sunlight.
The world spun around.
The next instant, he heard the guardsman shout at the top of his lungs, "An assassin—"
The Qin army erupted into chaos, with shouts and the clash of weapons filling the air. The soldiers warily scanned all possible hiding places for assassins and quickly noticed something amiss.
Amidst the deafening roar, Ying Zheng only caught a fleeting glimpse of a towering figure on the sand dune poised to launch itself. A slender figure then made a gesture, and soon the group vanished into the sand dunes.
The boulders rolled down from the top of the sand dunes with the force of an earthquake, carrying crushed trees and rubble as they plunged downwards, like thousands of warhorses galloping in.
Bang!
Ying Zheng was terrified; countless black-armored soldiers firmly protected his chariot. He searched through the gaps in the crowd for the spot where the boulder had struck.
It turned out that the secondary carriage next to his main carriage had been smashed to pieces by a boulder that rolled down from the top of the sand dune, and the horses pulling the carriage and the coachman on the carriage were all killed.
The so-called boulder is not a rock, but a forged iron hammer weighing over 100 pounds.
At this moment, the large iron hammer was embedded in the vehicle frame, still stained with blood.
Ying Zheng felt a chill run down his spine; he had once again faced a life-or-death situation.
The emperor had six carriages, and the enemy had their sights set on his golden carriage, but they hadn't expected him to be inside; it was just his secondary carriage.
If the other party hadn't mistaken the car for his own, the current driver would look exactly like him.
Amidst his fury, Ying Zheng couldn't help but feel a sense of relief.
He only had time to deduce from the chaotic chatter of the people around him and the terrain that this was Bolangsha. Before he could even say that he was determined to find the bandit leader and eliminate him, he was immediately led into the next scene by the Black Bird.
His heart was still pounding, and he hadn't yet recovered from the near-death experience of being struck by a hammer when the light suddenly went out.
Ying Zheng was unable to obtain information through his eyes in the dark.
He felt as if he were trapped in an endless abyss, his body enveloped in layers of icy mud, heavy and sluggish. Every inch of his skin was covered in a cold, sticky substance. He caught a pungent, fishy stench, not the solemn incense of a temple, but rather the smell of rotting fish and shrimp left to rot under the scorching sun.
"Pah! It stinks! It's disgusting!" A rough, hoarse voice pierced the darkness, coming from outside: "What bad luck!"
"Keep it down, are you out of your mind?" another person whispered, then added, "Just bear with it, pour in two more buckets of salted fish, and the job will be done."
They lifted something, and Ying Zheng, with his eyes tightly closed, sensed a sliver of light. Then, two buckets of slippery, foul-smelling salted fish were poured in with a splash.
Salted fish were thrown at him, hitting his body and face.
With a click, something slammed shut again.
Darkness returned to the surroundings.
Consciousness, like shards of ice surging in an undercurrent, slowly and painfully coalesced. Ying Zheng wanted to move, to open his mouth and rebuke these two audacious madmen. However, his limbs and bones were like inanimate objects, weighing more than a thousand pounds, and he could not move an inch. In the boundless stench, his hearing was so acute that he could clearly hear the opening and closing of the coffin, the salted fish being put into the coffin, and even the heavy breathing of the two men as they worked.
It's hard to say whether it's a stroke of luck or a punishment.
Ying Zheng listened to their voices in a daze.
"Even the First Emperor, feared by all, could not escape death," one person sighed.
"Pah! So heavy, so suffocating." Another person's words were filled with resentment and disgust: "They won't even let us rest in peace after we're dead. You know, people eat delicacies every day while they're alive, but do they ever think about being covered in salted fish after they die?"
The First Emperor? "I, the Emperor?!" A burning rage surged within Ying Zheng, threatening to set his stiff, cold body ablaze. He wanted to rebuke their audacity, but his eyelids and limbs remained immobilized.
An unprecedented, bone-chilling cold suddenly seized his will.
His soul trembled.
Salted fish covering a corpse.
Was he really dead? Or in such a humiliating way?
His glorious achievements, his enduring legacy, his immortality—all were ultimately just a mirage; death is like a lamp going out.
No.
Ying Zheng refused to accept his fate!
The black bird led him into a dream to witness the horrific spectacle of his own death, undoubtedly setting a demand on him. True indifference is ignoring everything; who would go to such lengths to weave a mere illusion?
Black Bird—what do you want?!
Ying Zheng called out to the Black Bird in his heart, "Are you a god or a ghost?"
A black bird appeared in the coffin, its wings shimmering with a mottled black, and its tail feathers trailing long, burning red flames. It was like a phoenix rising from the ashes.
The moment the black bird appeared, Ying Zheng sensed that he could see again. The cramped and oppressive coffin was a scene he never wanted to see again in his life.
Countless salted fish, their eyes wide open in death, clung to his body, while a pungent, putrid stench lingered in the coffin.
Ying Zheng believed that everything has its own desires. At this moment, he sought immortality and eternal life. He looked at Him with almost pleading eyes: "Black Bird, what do you want? As long as I have it, as long as I can give it to you."
The black bird remained silent, its human-like eyes filled with compassion. It looked at the salted fish on Ying Zheng's body not as if they were inanimate objects, but as if they were living people.
Ying Zheng was terrified.
The black bird spread its wings and flew towards the far southwest horizon.
Ying Zheng had a sudden realization: this might be the last time he would dream of the Black Bird. He anxiously tried to break free of his restraints and catch the departing bird, but to no avail, his body remained bound.
"Black Bird—"
As the Black Bird departed, the dream began to collapse.
Boom!
A muffled, loud bang rang out, and a bolt of lightning illuminated the entire palace.
Ying Zheng suddenly sat up from the bed, his face covered in cold sweat, which instantly soaked his sleeping robes, making them stick to his back. The scent of ambergris filled the bedchamber.
Ying Zheng gasped for breath, the stench of rotting salted fish still lingering in his chest and nose. The magnificent golden palace before him swayed and distorted violently in his terrified gaze. The intricate patterns and exquisite golden pillars seemed as if they were about to collapse at any moment, pulling him back into the coffin.
The attendant on duty, startled by the commotion, scrambled to his feet and fell to the ground, his forehead hitting the gold brick with a dull thud: "Your Majesty, are you having a nightmare? Should we call Physician Xia?"
Ying Zheng kept looking at his trembling hands, recalling the black bird that flew southwest. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, he was the majestic emperor of Qin, whose word was law: "Summon Meng Yi to an audience."
As soon as the voice came out, Ying Zheng realized how low and hoarse it was.
The attendant did not hesitate for a moment, even though it was already midnight, Meng Yi was likely already asleep, and the palace gates were locked. Under heaven, who could defy the First Emperor's will?
Before Meng Yi arrived, Ying Zheng had been pondering the meaning of what the black bird had shown him.
Having witnessed the events in his previous dreams, the Black Bird had become synonymous with a deity in his mind. Since it had shown him the scene of his assassination and death, it must be a sign for him.
What kind of circumstances would lead his ministers and sons to wrap his corpse in salted fish?
Fusu would never do such a thing. Although Ying Zheng disliked his gentle nature, he also knew Fusu's filial piety. He would never do something that would insult his father's corpse.
That can only mean that he died suddenly, that his trusted advisors were all transferred away, and that there were major problems with the succession to the throne.
Ying Zheng suddenly thought of Zhang Han. In his previous dream, the flames of war raged on, and Zhang Han saved Xianyang from disaster. It must be that the successor is incompetent and unable to control the situation, leaving no chance for capable ministers and generals to rise in the court.
As a result, the world descended into chaos.
What did Xuan Niao mean by looking at the salted fish on his body? In the past, others had always guessed his thoughts, but now he could guess Xuan Niao's intentions.
"Your Majesty? Your Majesty?"
Zhao Gao called softly to the First Emperor, who was lost in thought, without daring to urge him. He said gently, "Your Majesty is wise and insightful. You bear the weight of the vast land of Qin and the lives of countless people. I humbly beg Your Majesty to take good care of your health."
Ying Zheng snapped out of his reverie and suddenly looked at the delicacies and fish on the table, recalling the two people's treasonous words and the rotten smell of salted fish in his dream last night.
[Having eaten delicacies every day in life, did you ever think about being covered in salted fish after death?]
The once delicious fish meat now seemed to harbor an endless stench. Ying Zheng frowned slightly: "From now on, there's no need to serve fish meat."
Zhao Gao had a bad feeling. Was the First Emperor's favorite fish and meat about to fall out of favor? What could have caused the First Emperor to change even his preferences?
The First Emperor glanced at the pheasant soup and suddenly said, "I wonder if Minister Meng has eaten? He used to love these soups the most."
Zhao Gao's face twisted for a moment. He truly hadn't expected Meng Yi to hold such a high position in Ying Zheng's heart; it had only been half a day, and Ying Zheng was already thinking about him. He still didn't know why Ying Zheng had sent Meng Yi out.
Zhao Gao gritted his teeth, his voice unchanged: "It is a blessing for the Grand Minister to be able to serve His Majesty. He will naturally do his best. Perhaps he is still on his way."
Zhao Gao made a gesture, and the palace servants removed all the dishes containing fish and meat from the table.
Ying Zheng had little appetite and only ate a few bites before putting down his chopsticks.
Seeing the First Emperor's unpleasant expression, Zhao Gao was clearly displeased. Although his previous recommendation of Xu Fu had backfired, he gritted his teeth and decided to take another gamble: "Your Majesty, I have found a Taoist priest. It is said that this priest possesses unparalleled skill in ascending to immortality, surpassing even Xu Fu in ability. He is seventy years old, yet his hair and beard are still black. His skin is radiant and ruddy, and his teeth are intact. He can also refine elixirs of immortality from cinnabar."
"I have already taken the medicine given to me by that alchemist beforehand, and I feel full of energy. Perhaps I really have a connection with the immortals. Although the alchemist gave me the prescription, if it is not prepared by him personally, the effect will be greatly reduced."
Ying Zheng raised his eyes indifferently.
Zhao Gao's heart skipped a beat, but he quickly regained his composure. There was no better opportunity than this. When people are down, they seek pleasure and excitement elsewhere, and the First Emperor was no exception. Moreover, as long as the First Emperor continued his pursuit of immortality, he would not refuse anyone who might possess the ability to ascend to heaven.
As expected, Ying Zheng did not reprimand him, but said, "Bring him up."
A note from the author:
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The part where Qin Shi Huang's body is covered with salted fish is truly dramatic. I always thought that someone with such a magnificent life as Qin Shi Huang would also have a legendary and grand ending. But reality is far more absurd and dramatic than fiction. The First Emperor, who forged a great empire and conquered the world, really ended his life so hastily. It's like a novel with a bad ending.
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