Qin Dynasty: Who offended my frail and sickly minister?

"Oh? Who is it? Why weren't they invited in?" Zhou Wenqing put down the booklet, his tone tinged with curiosity.

He hadn't been in Qin for very long, and among those who came to his residence were only a few familiar faces, whose names Li Yi could name with his eyes closed—

It wasn't all for official business. He did work with Zhou Wenqing a lot, but there was another reason: whenever he was bothered by someone, Li Si would hide at Zhou's residence.

Everyone knows that Zhou Neishi is "recuperating" for many years and is trusted by the king, so who would dare to trespass?

Li Si shrank into the courtyard, and the group of people outside who were handing out invitations, trying to get close to him, and subtly trying to build a relationship with him suddenly felt like they had hit an impenetrable wall, and none of them could get in.

Quiet, efficient, and without having to put on a smiling face, it's as if Zhou Wenqing is a human-shaped barrier against disturbance.

However, this man has a problem: ever since Zhou Wenqing pretended to be sick and closed the door, and Li Si managed to "break in" through the side door, he has never used the main entrance again.

It's not that I'll stay occasionally; it's that I'll never leave again.

—He always liked to sneak out through the side door.

The guards tried to stop him several times, but eventually they gave up. When they saw him squeezing in through the side door again, his official robes were the same color, they tacitly turned to look at the sky, pretending that the sandstorm was too strong and they hadn't seen anything.

After sneaking in, he wasn't in a hurry to talk to Zhou Wenqing. In his words, "Brother Zicheng is busy, don't bother him. Sit down and wait a while."

Then he leaned back in the rocking chair in the courtyard, and without Zhou Wenqing's invitation, he rummaged through the cabinet, boiled water, and brewed the tea himself, while also tasting all the new teas Zhou Wenqing had obtained.

He didn't leave after finishing his drink; he just lay there, rocking back and forth. When Zhou Wenqing finished his work and came out of the study, he pushed open the door and, lo and behold, there was a leisurely "retired cadre" in the courtyard.

The retired cadre was still holding his teacup, the tea long since cold.

Zhou Wenqing: "..."

Is it too late for him to weld the side door shut now?

General Wang Jian and General Meng Wu—these two can be described as "friends who broke into the door".

The guards at the gate didn't mean to stop them; they simply couldn't.

The old general was nimble on his feet and had a loud voice. Often, by the time the gatekeeper had uttered half a "pass," he had already stepped over the threshold, shouting as he walked in:

"Zicheng! This old man has arrived!"

The sound was so loud that it could shake the snow off the eaves by three inches, even from half a courtyard away.

The guards were caught in a dilemma, unsure whether to chase or not. After several chaotic incidents, Zhou Wenqing, hearing that familiar voice through the window, froze, his pen hanging in mid-air. He waved to the outside, both amused and exasperated.

"Let the two generals in—from now on, there's no need to announce their arrival."

Thus, the two generals could travel freely without hindrance from then on.

Wei Liao was more refined, but he had been really busy lately. The king would summon him to the palace every few days, pointing at the map and drawing from Han to Zhao, asking about everything from the terrain to the grain routes, as if he wanted to flatten every ditch in the six states in advance.

He only came occasionally, and it was always with Wang Jian and Meng Wu dragging him along.

The two generals' exact words were: "Old Lieutenant, stop holed up in the palace all day looking at maps. If you keep doing that, you'll turn into a map yourself! Come out and stretch your legs!"

Then Wei Liao was caught between the two generals who broke in and was forced into the Zhou residence.

He didn't say much. He went inside, found a corner to sit down, and let Wang Jian and Meng Wu try to find out if the fine paper could be cut a few more times. He held a cup of tea, his gaze distant, his mind wandering.

Needless to say, the manor specially reserved a side room for Young Master Fusu.

The young master came frequently, and there was no need to announce his arrival. The guards were already used to his upright figure stepping in through the main gate, his steps unhurried, heading straight for the study.

When Zhou Wenqing was busy, he kept quiet, found a book, and quietly flipped through it. Sunlight streamed in through the window, falling on his lowered eyes, making him look as peaceful as a painting.

Rather than being "guests," it's more like returning to another home.

Prince Hu Hai also had a side room.

However, when he moved in, he had probably just been beaten and was "avoiding trouble" in the palace.

The guards had long since developed keen eyesight: seeing Prince Huhai enter dejectedly, walking with an unnatural limp, his little face still bearing traces of tears, they understood immediately. They didn't ask any questions, but silently cleared the path leading to the wing room from the side door, making it exceptionally unobstructed, even leveling the threshold for him, to prevent the little darling from bumping into things and crying, and then getting a second beating.

As for the King...

There is no need to announce the arrival of the King.

No one stopped him, no one asked any questions, and no one even dared to look him in the eye. The moment he stepped in, everything automatically switched to silent mode.

Zhou Wenqing sometimes felt that the access control system of his mansion was a complete mess, with all sorts of procedures, depending on one's status and relationship with others—some walked straight in through the main gate, some squeezed through the side gate, some barged in, some were pushed in, and some just walked in without anyone daring to utter a sound.

As for those opportunists and scheming individuals—Li Yi had long since developed a keen eye for them.

The calling card was handed in. He glanced at the cover, then at the signature, and then at the person's shoes. Within three breaths, he could accurately judge whether this person was worth the time and effort of a gentleman.

Ninety-nine percent of the troubles were kept out by his polite and watertight manner, saying, "Secretary Zhou is currently very busy with official duties and may not have time to receive guests."

Zhou Wenqing was happy to have some peace and quiet.

So this is the first time I've needed to ask for permission in this way.

Li Yi lowered his eyes, his voice was steady, but there was an inexplicable strangeness in that steadyness:

"Sir, they say they wish to become your students, but..."

He paused, glanced at Zhou Wenqing's reaction, and then continued, "They are all businessmen."

Oh, a businessman! No wonder Li Yi had that expression.

This time, it's a real merchant—not the kind of merchant the king would "temporarily obtain a fake certificate," but a proper, legitimate one, the kind whose Qin laws explicitly state that "they cannot wear brocade, cannot ride in carriages, and their descendants cannot hold official positions."

Their calling cards were sent to the residences of the Junior Imperial Envoy and the Minister of Agriculture, which, in principle, would not have been delivered. If ordinary gatekeepers and guards had heard of it, they probably wouldn't have even bothered to pass on the message.

Luckily it was Li Yi, otherwise he really wouldn't have been able to get in, and his important matter was almost delayed!

Zhou Wenqing sat up abruptly in excitement, and then a cold wind rushed in through his collar. He shuddered and quickly pulled his hand, which had been sticking out half an inch from the blanket, back into his sleeve.

He cleared his throat, trying to maintain his composure, as if nothing had happened:

Where is he/she?

Li Yi raised her eyes, pretending not to have seen the whole series of little actions the man had just performed:

"Wait in the front hall."

"How many have come?"

"You two are not young, and judging from your attire... you are legitimate merchants from our country."

He paused, then added:

"We have been waiting outside the mansion for almost half an hour. They haven't even had a sip of tea, nor have they asked any questions. They just said that if it's inconvenient for you, sir, they will come again tomorrow."

Zhou Wenqing didn't reply. He lowered his eyes, his fingertips slowly tracing the rim of the cup twice. The snow light coming in from the window reflected on his profile, hiding the barely perceptible smile very well.

Three.

I waited for almost half an hour.

The tea hadn't even touched her lips.

They even know to say "Come again tomorrow".

--Good.

He's patient, knows when to advance and retreat, has courage, connections, and knows how to seize opportunities. He's been waiting for someone like this for more than just a day or two.

Zhou Wenqing suddenly smiled, pulled the blanket around his lap, and his voice carried an undisguised gleam:

Ask them to wait a moment, and tell them that Zhou will come after changing his clothes.

Li Yi responded and withdrew.

The moment the door closed, Zhou Wenqing looked down at his own lazy, hibernating mink form and let out a long sigh.

He was slumped in the soft chair, wrapped up tightly, like a fat titmouse that had been sealed in its quilt and was still putting up a stubborn resistance.

If I had known we had guests today, I wouldn't have been so self-righteous earlier.

It's really difficult to pull myself out of my nest now.

While struggling with her cozy little home, Zhou Wenqing sorted out her thoughts.

For a merchant from the Qin state to submit his name card to the residence of one of the Nine Ministers was a risky undertaking; the fact that they dared to come meant they had already thought it through.

What he was waiting for were these merchants who had "figured it out".

No matter how wealthy the Qin family was, they were still just meat in one pot. While the Qin nobles in Xianyang had to "invite" those half-ounce coins covered in verdigris to be exposed to the sun and flow into the proper places in the national treasury, they couldn't just keep squeezing from this pot. What if they squeezed it all dry?

There are still so many powerful and wealthy people in the six kingdoms.

He had been eyeing those copper coins piled up in the treasuries of various wealthy families, hidden from the light of day yet weighing heavily on the foundations of their homes, for a long time.

He needs someone to pave a path, a path that can cross national borders silently.

A road that could "invite" copper coins from the treasuries of the powerful families of the six kingdoms, bit by bit.

It wasn't robbery or theft, it was an "invitation"—a polite and consensual exchange that allowed the moldy half-ounce coins piled up in the cellar and the rusty gold ingots pressed at the bottom of the chest to grow legs, cross Hangu Pass, and enter the Qin Dynasty's treasury.

No one could accomplish this. The Director of the Bureau of All Things was neither a general, nor a strategist, nor one of his learned colleagues.

He is a businessman.

It requires a businessman who is bold, resourceful, knows when to advance and retreat, has connections, and is patient.