Chapter 59 Bolangsha and Zhang Liang
Night fell over Sanchuan County, and the daytime hustle and bustle and the excitement of reunion had subsided.
Lin Fengzhi stood alone in the courtyard, her plain clothes fluttering gently in the cool night breeze. She looked up at the bright moon on the horizon, which was no different from the one she saw a thousand years later.
But things in the world have changed drastically.
The moon of today is not the moon of old, yet the moon of today once shone on the ancients.
The excitement of seeing Xiaoshui during the day was still fresh in my mind. She had lost weight, but her eyes were even more determined. She chattered on and on about the interesting things and difficulties in Guanfang, and she was already capable of handling things on her own.
This growth made her feel gratified, but it also made her feel more deeply that she had left her own mark in this ancient time and space.
From Xiao Shui to Lü Zhi, more and more female officials will step onto the stage of history in the future.
Her thoughts were wandering.
Suddenly, it landed on Bolangsha.
Bolangsha...
These three words quietly surfaced in my mind, carrying a hint of unspeakable meaning. The wheels of history seemed to have gently lurched there before turning onto an unknown fork in the road.
Similar to his second eastern tour in history, the First Emperor set off from Xianyang and headed east through Hangu Pass. After leaving the pass, he first entered Hedong Commandery and other places, and then encountered an assassination attempt organized by Zhang Liang at Bolangsha in Yangwu County.
Historical records state that the First Emperor ordered a nationwide manhunt for the assassin, but to no avail. Subsequently, the First Emperor adjusted his eastern tour route.
Zhang Liang failed to avenge himself and nearly lost his life. But this failure was a turning point in his life. He fled to Xiapi, where he met Huang Shigong, learned the "Art of War by Taigong," and understood the meaning of planning before acting.
The Zhang Liang before his assassination attempt on the First Emperor was very different from the Zhang Liang after his trials with Huang Shigong. Now, he was more fierce than patient. He could not bear the humiliation of the fall of his country and the destruction of his family, nor could he temporarily lie low like the nobles of the other six states.
The fire of hatred burned within him, compelling him to take action.
Later, perhaps Huang Shigong's difficult questions smoothed out his rough edges, or perhaps he realized more deeply that Qin had not been unified for long and had a tyrannical side, but that assassinating the First Emperor alone could not truly overthrow the Qin state.
Huang Shigong taught him to achieve great things through patience.
Thus, Zhang Liang, the chivalrous knight-errant filled with strong heroism, began to die, while Zhang Liang, the strategist who understood human nature and mastered the times, was born in Xiapi.
Lin Fengzhi could not foresee the future that had already changed. She did not know whether the disappearance caused by the assassination at Bolangsha would also lead to the disappearance of the strategist Zhang Liang.
God knows how nervous she was when the convoy passed through Bolangsha.
She knew that the First Emperor knew about the assassination attempt against him at Bolangsha, and that he had also tightened martial law around Bolangsha.
But she didn't know if Zhang Liang would come back, and she didn't know if Zhang Liang, one of the three heroes of the early Han Dynasty, would disappear from the annals of history because of her.
Is it because of me?
She asked herself the same question.
Yes.
Lin Fengzhi raised her head and looked up at the bright moon in the sky that shines eternally.
Bright moon, bright moon, have you ever thought that you might shine on the same person in two different times and spaces throughout your life?
She was like that Amazonian butterfly, whose mere flapping of her wings changed a storm in a distant time and space.
Did the technology she brought, and her status as a "divine messenger," inadvertently enhance the prestige of the Qin Dynasty, or deter those lurking opponents? Or was her very existence like a boulder thrown into the river of history, its ripples spreading to corners she could not have foreseen?
This "unknown" unsettled her more than any definite danger. Her "prophetic" advantage was fading.
Furthermore, does Langya truly possess the clues she seeks?
The moonlight was cold and could not illuminate the fog in her heart.
Meanwhile, in the most heavily guarded residence in Sanchuan County, Ying Zheng was also not at rest.
Ying Zheng dismissed all his attendants and stood alone before the steps. The night breeze, carrying the chill of autumn, brushed against his dark robes, yet he felt an unprecedented clarity that arose from within.
He subconsciously moved his shoulders and neck, and a soft, relaxed cracking sound came from his joints.
This body is indeed different.
During his eastern tour last year, he often felt physically exhausted.
Now, following Lin Fengzhi's advice, he gets up at dawn to practice the guiding exercise called "Five Animal Frolics" and goes to bed at dusk. He also strictly follows the diet provided by Lin Fengzhi and has not touched any elixirs since.
Now, a year later, those chronic ailments that had plagued him for years seemed to have been gently brushed away by a kind hand. He no longer felt drowsy in the afternoon, his headaches and dizziness had not recurred for a long time, and even his thoughts had become as clear as a drawn sword.
This tangible improvement made him even more convinced that she came from the celestial realm and could bring him the true secret to immortality.
But it was precisely this clarity of mind that made his gaze toward Lin Fengzhi even clearer.
He remembered what Meng Yi had reported to him.
After the banquet that decided on the eastern tour, Meng Yi said that the divine messenger seemed to be homesick.
Ying Zheng originally intended to send someone to the Xiang River to bring her relatives to Xianyang, but Meng Yi's words made him pause.
[The divine messenger is an incarnation of the Black Bird; it seems that kinship in the human world is not her true kinship.]
So, Ying Zheng began to test Lin Fengzhi. When he subtly brought up the topic of "hometown" with her, her first thought was indeed not Xiangshan. There was also an undeniable confusion and longing in her eyes.
The library's catalog of books from both the Mo and Nong schools required her review. She hardly concealed herself, and even in front of Ying Zheng, when discussing some principles with the Mo disciples, she would occasionally use strange phrases that were completely unlike the mystical language of immortals, such as "We call this..." or "This is actually a physical phenomenon..."
Apart from that, the Black Bird never appeared again.
Not even once.
In fact, upon closer reflection now, she has revealed enough flaws.
He just wasn't willing to admit it or accept it.
Everything she brought—such as sophisticated machinery, high-yield planting methods, talent cultivation, and even the narratives of past history—though seemingly miraculous, all had a real impact on this mortal world, aiming to enrich the country, strengthen its military, and ensure the well-being of its people.
They improve the quality of "life," rather than pointing to the illusory concept of "immortality."
A thought, like the cool moonlight, slowly but firmly pierced his mind:
She may come from a civilization far superior to the Qin Dynasty, possessing unimaginable knowledge, but she... is not a deity who lives on dew and lives as long as heaven and earth. Therefore, the "immortality" she knows may not be the immortality I seek.
This realization did not bring about the expected thunderous fury.
Instead, a vast, desolate tranquility enveloped him.
It turns out that there is ultimately no elixir of immortality in this world.
He slowly raised his hand, moonlight filtering through his fingers and illuminating his still resolute face, etched with the marks of time. There was no anger, only a profound understanding, and a sense of relief that even he himself was unaware of.
If immortality is an illusion, then he, along with all the past kings and all living beings, is ultimately equal before the end of life. He spent half his life trying to find immortal mountains overseas, and he once treated alchemists and sorcerers generously, only to find that what he was chasing was nothing but a mirage.
So, what was the meaning of his lifelong pursuit?
Ying Zheng took a deep breath of the crisp air, his gaze gradually shifting from bewilderment to sharpness, like steel after being tempered.
Since destiny is predetermined and lifespan is finite, he must make the most of his limited years to create a flame that will illuminate the ages. He will quell the remaining remnants of the fallen states, establish prefectures and counties to lay the foundation for future generations, build roads to connect the world's resources, and unify writing, weights, and measures to forge an unprecedented Qin dynasty.
If immortality is unattainable, then one should seek immortality.
With these glorious achievements, they will be etched in history and resound throughout the land.
He turned and walked back inside, his steps steady and firm.
On his desk lay a mountain of reports from various regions. He picked up his vermilion brush, no longer thinking of the ethereal celestial realm, but instead focusing all his energy on the well-being of the people and the nation across this vast land.
If immortality is destined to be hopeless, then let the Qin Dynasty last forever.
Lin Fengzhi is not a deity, which may be better for him.
Which of the various schools of thought, including the Mohists, the Agriculturalists, and even the Confucians, didn't change themselves with the knowledge she brought?
What she brought was practical knowledge that could make the Qin Dynasty strong, which was far more valuable than a hundred illusory elixirs of immortality.
At this moment, Ying Zheng seemed to truly begin to shift his focus from his desire for immortality back to a deeper control over the Qin Dynasty.
His ambition never died, it just changed direction.
-
Moonlight tapped against the dilapidated windowpanes, letting in a sliver of light. Zhang Liang huddled in a corner of an abandoned granary, carefully polishing his bronze sword by the flickering oil lamp.
The inscription "Zhang" on the sword had been worn away and was now blurred, just like the image of Korea in his memory.
"Three gold coins, fifty coins," he muttered to himself, his voice unusually clear in the empty granary. This amount of money was far from enough to buy a 120-pound iron mace like the one he used at Bolangsha, or even to hire a decent assassin.
Suddenly, the sound of horses' hooves came from outside the window. Zhang Liang swiftly blew out the oil lamp and disappeared into the darkness. A troop of Qin soldiers carrying torches passed by, the clanging of their armor particularly jarring in the silent night.
"Search thoroughly! His Majesty's eastern tour is imminent; no suspicious person should be overlooked!"
After the sound of horses' hooves faded into the distance, Zhang Liang slowly sat back down and took out an oilcloth bundle from the deepest part of his bag. Inside was a scroll of "Han Feizi," the edges of the bamboo slips worn smooth as jade.
This was the last gift his father, Zhang Ping, left him.
"Zifang, the way to be a prime minister lies in understanding the situation." His father's voice still seemed to echo in his ears.
At that time, he was just a young master from a prominent family in Xinzheng City, immersed in books. His biggest worry was being punished by his teacher for not being able to recite the "Hong Fan" (a classic text on state affairs). Who could have imagined that in the blink of an eye, the Qin army would breach the city, and the Zhang family's five-generation mansion would be reduced to ashes in the flames?
Memories flooded back like a tide.
That was the eve of Operation Bolangsha, and how similar it is to tonight.
He lay prone in the bushes beside the road, with the strongman from the East Sea beside him. The 120-pound iron hammer was buried three feet away in the soil, covered with fresh turf.
"Tomorrow at Chenshi (7-9 AM)," the strongman whispered, his voice filled with barely suppressed excitement.
Zhang Liang did not answer. His gaze passed over the imperial road, looking towards the distant direction of Xinzheng. There lay his homeland, which he could never return to, and his loved ones who had perished in the flames.
Ten years have passed.
Since the fall of the state of Han, he had squandered his fortune, left his brother unburied after death, and traveled throughout Shandong and Qi, seeking out heroes, all for this one decisive blow. The moment he hurled the iron mace, he wanted to show Ying Zheng that there were still those who would not yield in this world.
Night deepened, and dew dampened his clothes. His hand gripped the sword hilt tightly, his knuckles turning white from the effort. It wasn't fear, but an unspeakable emptiness. Even if he succeeded in assassinating the King of Qin, could Han be restored? Could his dead relatives be brought back to life? Could the world, ravaged by years of war, finally find peace?
"Is Young Master Zhang hesitating?" The strongman noticed his unusual behavior.
Zhang Liang shook his head, his voice as cold as iron: "Proceed according to plan."
However, when the first rays of dawn shone on the imperial road, what they saw was not the ceremonial procession they had expected, but a dense mass of Qin soldiers.
"Martial law! Martial law across the entire line!" The messenger sped past.
The patrols were much more frequent than usual, and every bush where people could hide was searched repeatedly.
This unexpected event disrupted Zhang Liang's thoughts.
Their plan completely failed.
"Heaven does not favor Han." The strongman sighed, and before leaving in the chaos, he gave Zhang Liang a deep look.
"We have to start all over again," Zhang Liang muttered to himself, looking at the empty granary.
But he still couldn't forget the strongman's words: "Heaven does not help Han, Heaven does not help Han, isn't that Heaven helping Qin?"
Zhang Liang closed his eyes, and the news he had been unwilling to think about these past few days resurfaced in his mind.
If there is a mandate of heaven, why choose the Qin state? With such a ferocious army, how can the world be at peace? Are these so-called gods blind in both eyes and mind?
Zhang Liang couldn't help but scoff. When news came from Qin that Ying Zheng had encountered the Black Bird Divine Messenger at the Xiangshan Shrine in the former Chu territory, Zhang Liang dismissed it with disdain and even thought that Ying Zheng had gone mad in his pursuit of immortality.
Young Zhang Liang never imagined that in his old age he would seek immortality and enlightenment like the First Emperor.
However, Ying Zheng was an old man, and as he grew older, he was influenced by the Taoist philosophy of life, and also wanted to be able to retire from the political arena at the height of his career.
This is also the survival wisdom of a sage strategist.
At first, he thought the so-called divine messenger was a scam by the Qin state. But later, more and more news came from Xianyang: the successful trial planting of winter wheat, the conquest of Baiyue, the establishment of the Xianyang Academy, the opening of more and more textile workshops, and the rapid spread of papermaking, printing, stone mills, newspapers, and sugar throughout the Qin region, slowly spreading to the former territories of the six states.
Zhang Liang had to admit that Ying Zheng had met someone with real skills.
When asked by the strongman if he hesitated during the assassination attempt at Bolangsha, he only said that he was proceeding according to plan. But only he himself knew the truth.
Even the nascent strategist has his own troubles at this moment.
The failed assassination attempt cost him most of his savings, leaving him penniless.
His first thought was of his old allies, those nobles who had once vowed to restore the six kingdoms.
After the search was completed, he quickly went to the residences of the anti-Qin people in the other five states.
The first stop is the old Chu state, where Jing Huan, a remnant of the Chu state, lives.
I remember when they last met ten years ago, this former Sima of Chu made a passionate vow: "Even if Chu has only three households left, it will surely be Chu that destroys Qin."
However, what appeared before him now was a little old man dressed in the clothes of a Qin official, with a big smile on his face.
"Assassinate the Qin Emperor?" Jing Huan was so startled that he dropped his brush, leaving indelible marks on the pristine white paper. The paper wasn't cheap, and Jing Huan felt a pang of heartache: "Zifang, don't joke. The laws are clear now, and the world is at peace. Why commit such a treasonous act?"
Looking at the piles of Qin Dynasty laws and documents on Jing Huan's desk, Zhang Liang suddenly felt incredibly ironic.
He turned and left.
His next visit to Tian Yu, a member of the royal family of Qi, chilled him to the bone. This once extravagant young nobleman had now become a shrewd and calculating businessman.
"Zifang, a wise man knows when to yield." Tian Yu ate the noodles brought from Qin, accompanied by exquisite dishes: "Qin has standardized weights and measures and opened up roads; business is much easier than before. Restoring the kingdom? Restoring what kingdom?"
Zhang Liang sneered inwardly, thinking, "Truly worthy of being a surrendered member of the Qi state."
What Zhang Liang found most unacceptable was that when he left the Tian residence in disappointment, he found a group of Qin soldiers waiting outside the door.
"Someone reported you for having ulterior motives." The village head looked him up and down.
Zhang Liang used his last remaining coins to bribe his way out. On his way back to the granary, he suddenly burst into laughter. He laughed at the cowardice of these nobles, and even more so at his own naiveté.
That night, he did something incredibly naive: he presented the evidence of Jing Huan and Tian Yu's bribery of Qin officials to their respective opponents. Even if those among the six states seeking to restore their kingdoms weren't a united front, how could they be allowed to escape?
On the day he left, Zhang Liang mingled with a group of merchants and left the city. To evade capture, he chose a secluded path.
This road led him into a world he had never truly known before.
In a small village, he saw a peasant woman using a new type of loom.
Zhang Liang paid the peasant woman money and also took advantage of her good looks, so the peasant woman had no suspicion of him.
Seeing him staring at the loom, he even offered an explanation.
"Honorable guest, you may not know this," the peasant woman proudly displayed, "This was issued by the government. In the surrounding area, my family is the only one with a new loom. It weaves cloth more than twice as fast as before. The three extra bolts of cloth woven this year have all been exchanged for money!"
Zhang Liang left numbly.
He didn't know where he was, he just kept moving forward with his head down.
He seemed to have wandered to another place, where, in the autumn, farmers were still busy in the fields.
"What are you planting?" Zhang Liang asked as he stepped forward.
"Winter wheat!" The old farmer grabbed a handful of seeds, his face beaming with hope. "The government says it came from Xianyang. If we plant it now, we can harvest it before next summer. Now we won't have to worry about the lean season anymore!"
Everything could be explained as being for the sake of more taxes, but what he saw next was something he couldn't understand.
In a certain village pavilion, he overheard the local village headman proclaiming the new law to the farmers: "His Majesty has decreed that this year's land reclamation is exempt from taxes! For each household that acquires new land, no taxes will be levied for three years!"
The farmers' cheers were deafening, and their heartfelt joy stung Zhang Liang's eyes.
Tax exemption. Ha! The tyrannical Qin dynasty collected most of the taxes, yet now they exempt land reclamation from taxes.
He suddenly thought of the farmers under the rule of Korea. His father was the prime minister of Korea, and he used to hold him on his lap and tell him about the past when Korea was powerful, but even then, taxes were not waived.
Did the people back then ever have such smiles?
Suddenly, rain began to fall. Zhang Liang gazed at the hazy sky, utterly bewildered by what he had seen and heard along the way.
The Qin state has changed so thoroughly.
He had no idea where he had ended up.
All I remember is leaving again.
The last place he arrived at was the stone bridge outside Xiapi City.
The stone bridge looked particularly deserted in the rain. Zhang Liang stood at the bridgehead, gazing at the rolling river flowing eastward, and recalled what he had seen and heard among the people these past few days.
The gleam in the old farmer's eyes as he stroked the new loom, the hope on the farmer's face as he sowed winter wheat, the cheers of the villagers upon hearing the tax reduction order... all of these silently tell a truth he was unwilling to admit.
For ordinary people, the stability and convenience brought by unification far outweighed the wars and turmoil of the Warring States period.
"What exactly is it that I want to restore?" he murmured to himself.
Is this the old era where nobles could act with impunity while the common people were displaced?
The rain was getting heavier.
While Zhang Liang was taking shelter from the rain under the bridge pier, he was still deep in thought.
He had no answer and didn't want to keep running around.
So they settled down in Xiapi.
The mornings in Xiapi are always shrouded in mist.
Zhang Liang woke up in a simple dwelling, the hustle and bustle of the market outside the window reaching him. He opened the window and saw peddlers and laborers busy at work, each with a relaxed air about making a living.
"Sir, we have freshly ground wheat flour. Would you like to take a look?" the vendor downstairs greeted him warmly.
Zhang Liang was slightly taken aback. Once upon a time, such commonplace conversations had been nothing more than mundane sounds to him, but now they seemed to hold a deeper meaning. He straightened his coarse cloth clothes, which he had bought with his last few coins; now, he looked no different from any other scholar.
During these days, he traveled all over the banks of the Sishui River. In taverns, he listened to merchants talk about prices in different places; on the ridges of fields, he asked old farmers about the seasons and planting times; in workshops, he watched craftsmen operate new machines.
These experiences shocked him more than any military treatise.
One day, he met an old man fishing by the Si River. Seeing him lingering all day, the old man asked, "Young man, is there something troubling you?"
Zhang Liang was silent for a moment, then asked in return, "Old man, do you still remember what it was like during the Warring States period?"
The old man smiled, his fishing rod remaining perfectly still in his hand: "I remember, how could I not remember? Today the Qi people attack, tomorrow the Chu people invade. My eldest son was captured by the Qi army."
He pointed to the children playing not far away, "Look at these children, at least they don't have to worry about becoming lonely souls on the battlefield tomorrow."
Zhang Liang remained silent.
He recalled the day Xinzheng fell, the streets littered with corpses, many of whom were boys his age.
As Zhang Liang gained a deeper understanding of everyday life, he witnessed more scenes that gave him pause for thought.
In a certain village, he witnessed Qin Dynasty officials promoting new agricultural tools. To his surprise, these officials were not the fierce and menacing figures he had imagined; instead, they patiently demonstrated how to use them to the farmers.
"This curved plow is much less strenuous than the old-fashioned one!" an old farmer said happily after trying it out.
Zhang Liang then heard them say that this curved plow was specially prepared by the Mo family by the First Emperor for the southern border regions.
Zhang Liang remained silent.
Is this still the tyrannical Qin Dynasty? Could the previous six states have achieved this?
What moved Zhang Liang even more was what he saw in Sishui County. There, an irrigation canal was being built, and although the conscripted laborers were working hard, they received a daily ration. A Qin official who appeared to be a supervisor was telling the laborers, "Once this canal is completed, it will irrigate thousands of acres of fertile land. Next year, you will all benefit from the harvest."
An old farmer next to Zhang Liang whispered, "Although corvée labor is hard, it's still better than being dragged into the war as cannon fodder."
Zhang Liang suddenly recalled how his father had spent half a year negotiating with the nobles at court to build an irrigation canal. Back then, the nobles only cared about the interests of their own fiefdoms, and didn't care about the lives of the common people.
One day, Zhang Liang strolled to the Yiqiao Bridge outside the city.
An old man on the bridge deliberately threw his shoe off the bridge and arrogantly said to him, "Young man, go down and get your shoe!"
If it were the Zhang Liang of the past, he would have surely stormed off. But at this moment, he simply smiled slightly, respectfully went down the bridge to pick up the shoes, and knelt down to put them on the old man.
After repeating this three times, the old man laughed with satisfaction: "You are a promising young man! Meet me here at dawn five days from now."
Although Zhang Liang was puzzled, he still respectfully agreed. Five days later, just as dawn broke, he rushed to the bridge, only to find that the old man was already waiting for him.
"Why are you late for your appointment with the elder?" the old man said angrily. "Come five days later, then come early!"
This time, Zhang Liang waited on the bridge in the middle of the night. The old man took out a book with satisfaction: "Read this and you will become a teacher of kings. Ten years later, you will rise to power. Thirteen years later, when you see me in Jibei, the yellow stone at the foot of Gucheng Mountain is me."
Having said this, he vanished without a trace, never to be seen again. Zhang Liang opened the scroll; it was none other than the *Art of War by Taigong*.
That night, Zhang Liang unfolded the scroll of "The Art of War by Taigong" that he had obtained by chance under the oil lamp. The writing on the bamboo slips flickered in the lamplight, as if it were conversing with him.
"The best strategy is to attack the enemy's plans; the next best is to disrupt their alliances; the next best is to attack their army; and the worst is to besiege their cities."
His hand paused slightly when he read this sentence.
The assassination attempt at Bolangsha was precisely a tactic of "attacking the city from below." Even if it succeeded, what could it change? Would it just bring a new tyrant? Or plunge the world back into war?
Having obtained the Art of War, Zhang Liang began a new journey of self-cultivation. He no longer confined himself to the obsession with revenge, but instead observed the era with a broader perspective.
He noticed that despite the many benevolent policies of the Qin Dynasty, the harsh laws and severe punishments still caused immense suffering for the people. Even though there were faint signs of change, the deep-seated problems remained, and he only needed to wait.
"Qin conquered the world through tyranny, but the world has changed, and its success was great." He wrote this sentence on the bamboo slip, and then added, "However, one cannot maintain the world through tyranny."
He began to systematically study the merits and demerits of the Qin Dynasty's system and analyze the local conditions. He discovered that many nobles of the former six states still harbored resentment, while ordinary people, although enjoying the benefits of unification, also complained bitterly about the heavy corvée labor.
"The time is not right," he told himself.
He believed he would live to see that day.
-----------------------
Author's Note: This is nearing its end. Here is a list of references used in this article:
Some of Qu Yuan's poems
The Biography of Qin Shi Huang by Ma Feibai
A Study on the Personality Traits of Qin Shi Huang (by Li Changchun)
"The Impact of Three Assassination Attempts on Qin Shi Huang's Territorial Policy" by Sun Jiazhou
The Prevalence and Aesthetic Characteristics of Chu Shamanistic Culture (by Li Xiang)
A Study of Body Language in Chu Shamanistic Music and Dance during the Pre-Qin Period (by Hou Xiaomeng)
A Study of the Material Life and Culture of the Chu State (by Wang Qing)
"The Qin Dynasty's Policy Towards Barbarians as Seen in the Liye Qin Bamboo Slips" by Wang Yong
Views on Women in the Qin and Han Dynasties (by Cui Rui)
A Historical Investigation of the Concept of Immortals in the Qin, Han, Wei, and Jin Dynasties (by Wu Feng)
"The Magicians and Magical Arts" by Liu Houhu
Alchemy in the Qin and Han Dynasties (by Ding Yizhuang)
A Study of Xu Fu's Voyage to the East (by Liu Ying)
A Study of the Belief in Immortals in the Zhou, Qin, and Han Dynasties (by Zhang Wen'an)
A Study on the Site and Courtyard Layout of Qin Palaces (by Ren Zhong)
Research on Ancient Chinese Stone Millstones (by Zeng Huifang)
A Study of Wheat Issues in the Pre-Qin and Qin-Han Periods (by Zhang Zhenxing)
"A Study on Wheat Cultivation and Promotion in the Yellow River Basin from Prehistoric Times to the Han Dynasty" by Li Cheng
"A Study of the Wisdom of Creation in Traditional Chinese Toys" by Bi Yuanling
"On Qin Shi Huang's Character, Demeanor, and Political Morality" by Gao Zishuang
Research on Ancient Chinese Stone Millstones (by Zeng Huifang)
"Moral Culture and the Status of Women in the Qin and Han Dynasties" by Ma Xin
A New Perspective on the Relationship between Legalist Thought and the Demise of the Qin Dynasty (by Xu Weimin)
Duan Qingbo, The Real Qin Shi Huang
*From the "Records of the Grand Historian: The Hereditary House of Marquis Liu," it is written that Marquis Liu, Zhang Liang, was originally from the state of Han. Once, Zhang Liang was leisurely strolling on the bridge at Xiapi (present-day Suining, Jiangsu). An old man, dressed in coarse clothes, approached Zhang Liang and dropped his shoe under the bridge. The old man looked at Zhang Liang and said, "Young man, go down and retrieve my shoe!" Zhang Liang was startled and wanted to hit him, but because of his age, he restrained himself and went down to retrieve the shoe. The old man said, "Put it on for me!" Zhang Liang diligently retrieved the shoe and then knelt down to put it on. The old man accepted it with his foot, laughed, and left. Zhang Liang was greatly surprised and followed him with his eyes. The old man returned after walking about a mile and said, "Young man, you are teachable. Meet me here at dawn in five days." Zhang Liang was puzzled and knelt down, saying, "Yes." Five days later at dawn, Zhang Liang went. The old man was already there and angrily said, "You made an appointment with an old man, why are you late?" He left, saying, "Meet me early in five days." Five days later at cockcrow, Zhang Liang went. The father was there first, then angrily said, "Why are you here later?" Liang left, saying, "Come again early in five days." Five days later, Liang went before midnight. After a while, the father also came, delighted, saying, "It should be so." He took out a book, saying, "Read this and you will become a teacher of kings. Ten years later, you will rise to power. Thirteen years later, you will see me in Jibei; the yellow stone at the foot of Gucheng Mountain is me." Then he left without another word and was never seen again. The next day, Liang looked at the book; it was the *Art of War by Taigong*. Liang was amazed by it and constantly studied and recited it.
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