Chapter 11: Fusu: Are You Chopping People or Bamboo?

"Little Seventeen, don’t act recklessly. Why… why did you bring so many guards? What’s your intention?" Fusu’s heart was filled with anxiety; he didn’t even know how to stop him. If Ying Ziji was determined to kill, he really had no way to prevent it.

“Ah? Oh, I came to cut the bamboo. These bamboos are very useful to me. I beg you, elder brother, to kindly let me have them,” Ying Ziji replied matter-of-factly.

“What if someone tries to stop you?” Fusu suspected the worst.

“Stop me? Then I’ll just cut them down with one stroke. Hey, I’m in a hurry, no time to haggle,” Ying Ziji said, eager to accomplish as much as possible during the First Emperor’s eastern tour.

Time was tight. Implementing the imperial examination system was paramount, and with so many unknown hardships ahead, there was no time to waste debating.

“This… you’re still planning a massacre. No, no, I absolutely won’t allow you to kill the Confucian scholars in my residence,” Fusu insisted, shaking his head repeatedly.

He was increasingly certain Ying Ziji intended to use this as a pretext. Everyone knew those Confucian scholars revered bamboo as sacred, regarding it as their teacher. Now that Ying Ziji wanted to cut the bamboo, it would surely spark conflict. When they refused to yield, if people were killed, what would Fusu do?

“Do you really think the Confucian scholars will stop me?” Ying Ziji paused, as if suddenly struck by an idea, then smiled, “They’re easy enough to deal with. But first, I’ll try reasoning with them.”

“And if reasoning fails?”

“Then there’s nothing to be done. Elder brother, you’d better prepare their coffins now. Tomorrow, we’ll drag them out and bury them in a plot in Xianyang.”

Fusu was speechless. What did he mean by dragging them out and burying them in Xianyang? Wait — those Confucian scholars had been discussing this seventeenth brother in the bamboo grove behind the courtyard, calling him a little tyrant, a little demon, saying that entrusting him to govern would ruin the country.

Sss… If the seventeenth brother heard this, wouldn’t it be disastrous?

Fusu hurried after them.

In the rear garden, a breeze rustled through the dense bamboo, creating a soft whispering sound. A group of scholars were gathered among the bamboo, debating current affairs.

“What are your thoughts on the young lord acting as regent?”

“That little tyrant is erratic and unrestrained. We thought the First Emperor still had some sense and would dismiss him, but unexpectedly, he ordered him to continue as regent.”

“Killing a powerful minister like Zhao Gao is one thing, but letting the northern people starve to death, diverting all grain for military conscription — governing like this is self-destruction.”

“I heard the assassin of Qin was named Fusu, formerly a scholar of Han, from a family of prime ministers in two dynasties. Unfortunately, he has already been captured by that little tyrant and may die a tragic death.”

The scholars debated with passion, pointing out the faults of the state and imagining the fate of the nation.

“What are you discussing?”

A youthful voice came from behind.

The scholars turned to see Fusu approaching along a narrow path through the bamboo grove. Beside him was a graceful young girl and a handsome, round-faced child.

The girl held a persimmon, happily munching, while the child was calm and alert, exuding the air of a small adult.

None other than Ying Ziji himself.

“Hail to Prince Fusu,” the scholars greeted.

“Hail to Prince Fusu.”

“Prince Fusu, you have been keeping to yourself for days; it’s good to finally see you today.”

The scholars all stepped forward respectfully.

“Greetings, young master Fusu. Are these two your relatives?”

“And little brother, are you interested in what we were discussing?”

The speaker was Lu Jia, a renowned Confucian scholar in Qin and a retainer of Fusu’s household.

Fusu was speechless.

That little demon they had just been cursing so vehemently was standing right there.

But it was understandable. The seventeenth brother was handsome and adorable, with a quiet, scholarly air. No one could imagine this child was the ruthless little tyrant who killed without blinking.

Some even demonized him as a born aberration—perverse and cruel. Hm? That sounded a bit like Hu Hai.

In any case, it was nothing like the real seventeenth brother.

Watching Lu Jia earnestly instruct and Ying Ziji engaging warmly, Fusu couldn’t help but twitch at the corner of his mouth.

One wrong word, and you might be led out to be executed.

Ziji even had plans for their burial.

“Um, actually…” Before Fusu could speak, Ying Ziji interrupted with a bright smile.

“Yes, I am quite interested in Confucianism and have read many books on the subject. That’s why I came to ask you learned gentlemen for guidance.”

His radiant smile was like that of a diligent, well-behaved child.

This façade was highly deceptive.

Fusu was stunned. What was his seventeenth brother up to? He had never noticed him enjoy teasing others so much.

At that moment, Ying Ziji tugged at Fusu’s sleeve and whispered:

“Elder brother, if I tell them my identity right away, how can I reason with them?”

He believed these Confucian disciples still held some value, though their thinking was too idealistic and impractical for governance.

With slight adjustments, they could still be useful. Otherwise, Confucianism wouldn’t have flourished in later generations.

Unlike Zhao Gao, a pure calamity to the country.

Fusu was dumbfounded.

Ying Yinman sat aside with a persimmon, punching the air twice as if cheering on Ying Ziji.

The scholars gathered closer.

“Oh? What books have you read?”

“How old are you? Can you recognize all the characters?”

They smiled warmly at Ying Ziji seated on the ground, noting his close relationship with Fusu and admiring his charm.

“I’m eight years old. I read a variety of books, and I can recognize all the characters,” Ying Ziji said, counting on his fingers.

“What would you like to ask us?” Lu Jia’s interest was piqued.

Listening to the little boy’s tone, it seemed he had questions after reading.

Lu Jia, confident in his vast knowledge, found answering a child’s question easy, though he didn’t consider it a serious philosophical debate.

“What is the Confucian view on governance?”

“Confucianism advocates ruling by virtue, governing by rites, and emulating the ancients’ systems.”

“To govern by benevolence and moral righteousness, is that correct?” Ying Ziji stated his understanding calmly, looking at Lu Jia.

Lu Jia was momentarily stunned. He hadn’t expected such a young child to grasp the essence of Confucianism in one breath.

“Indeed, Confucianism aims to build a nation where everyone understands propriety, righteousness, integrity, and shame, cultivating personal virtue to avoid conflict.”

His tone softened.

This child’s gaze was sharp, and his words were not mere quotations but his own conclusions.

“But I have a question. Guan Zi once said, ‘When granaries are full, people learn propriety; when food and clothing suffice, people know honor and shame.’ Today, countless people are hungry and poorly clothed. How can they respect morality under such conditions?”

A slight smile played on Ying Ziji’s lips.

He appeared to be asking a question, but it was a soul-searching challenge.

“Seventeen… you’re trying to trap Lu Jia…”

Fusu hesitated to speak.

“If governance relies on personal rule, each person must possess benevolence, righteousness, propriety, wisdom, and faith, and combine these with imperial authority. The last to try this was the Zhou dynasty, which is now extinct.”

Ying Ziji blinked.

The Zhou dynasty was already fallen… fallen… fallen…

This was undoubtedly a crushing blow.

Lu Jia’s smile stiffened. He had no answer.

Indeed, if the ritual system were perfect, how did the Zhou dynasty perish?

After a moment’s thought, Lu Jia replied:

“Well… that was because King You of Zhou lost virtue, fooling the lords with beacon fires, thus leading to the dynasty’s downfall.”

“Yes, there will always be those who lose virtue.”

Ying Ziji awaited this answer: “Human nature is like water. Even saints cannot guarantee lifelong virtue.”

“Moreover, even saints cannot ensure their will aligns with everyone else’s.”

“If there are no laws to rely on, and everything depends on one person’s whims, what if those in power one day lose virtue? Wouldn’t the world fall into chaos?”

Human rule?

Look at the later Donglin faction.

They spoke of benevolence and morality but used such names to commit all manner of evil.

Scholars’ words were sharp, and if no laws existed, whatever they did would be deemed moral.

At this, Lu Jia sank into self-doubt, and the other Confucian disciples blushed, silenced.

Footsteps sounded behind.

Chunyu Yue entered the bamboo grove, a puzzled expression on his face.

Why did the child speaking in the center of the crowd look so familiar?