Qin Dynasty: Who offended my frail and sickly minister?

Today, Li Si wore a brand-new official robe, a jade belt around his waist, and an official hat. He looked energetic and was completely different from the man who had looked utterly miserable from the fumes a few days ago.

He looked around, and luckily it was early and the weather was exceptionally fine today, otherwise he probably wouldn't have been able to see anything, and of course, he wouldn't have been able to see how thick the white breath he was exhaling was.

He arrived a bit early, but fortunately, there were many others who were just as excited as him and had come early as well.

One carriage after another arrived, and the court officials disembarked, bowing to him in greeting. Li Si nodded in return to each of them.

The palace bells had not yet rung, but the number of people was increasing.

The courtiers gathered in twos and threes, their greetings, laughter, and footsteps blending together.

Li Si glanced around and accurately locked onto a group of people. He stepped into the group and blended in very well. While chatting with his colleagues, he kept an eye on the direction of oncoming vehicles.

until--

"Excuse me, everyone."

The voice wasn't loud, but it pierced through the noise and reached everyone's ears.

Everyone looked in the direction of the sound—

Zhou Wenqing arrived bathed in light, his steps unhurried. The hem of his robe fluttered gently in the morning breeze, making his slender figure appear even more ethereal and otherworldly.

A faint smile played on his lips as he held a folding fan in his hand. The fan ribs were as smooth as jade, and the fan surface was as white as snow, painted with a few bamboo stalks, sparse and elegant, extremely refined.

"Whoosh—"

A clear, crisp sound, like pearls falling onto a jade plate.

The fan snapped shut between his fingers in an instant, the tip tapping lightly against his palm.

"Li Tingwei was here all along; I've been looking for him for ages."

That posture was truly fluid and graceful, elegant and composed.

There was a sudden moment of silence as everyone's eyes were fixed on the folding fan in his hand, forgetting to finish what they had just said.

It's done. Zhou Wenqing's smile became even more pronounced.

This posture might seem overly flamboyant to others, but it was exactly what Li Si wanted to do with the group of dabbling literati and spirited young nobles he had carefully selected around him.

"Zhou Neishi, what...what is this?"

A young nobleman finally couldn't help but speak up, his eyes fixed on the folding fan, as if he wanted to touch it.

"A fan," Zhou Wenqing replied casually, unfolding the fan with a flick of his wrist.

"Or rather, a folding fan, much lighter and more portable than a feather fan. I've grown quite fond of it lately and often play with it, which has amused you all."

As he spoke, he gently shook the fan, making the ink bamboo seem to come alive, swaying gracefully on the plain white paper. A morning breeze blew by, carrying a faint scent of sandalwood.

"A folding fan?" someone nearby asked curiously. "This is the first time I've heard of it. Has anyone here ever seen one?"

"Never heard of it! Never heard of it!" Another person shook their head repeatedly, but their eyes were glued to the fan. "Do you think it might be a new item from the Department of Hundred Treasures?"

"Is that even a question?" someone suddenly lowered their voice. "Look closely, it's paper!"

As soon as he finished speaking, even more people gathered around.

"Paper? Fine paper?!"

"Wonderful! This item is so refined and elegant, with its own unique character; no wonder Zhou Neishi likes it so much!"

"Yes, if it were me, I'd play with it every day and wouldn't want to put it down!"

"Look at these carvings, how wonderful! They must be the work of a master!"

The group chattered excitedly, each person eager to snatch the fan and examine it in turn.

Only the young Kengo, who had asked the question first, stood still.

His eyes were fixed on the folding fan, his gaze sliding from the fan ribs to the fan surface, from the fan surface to the fan tip, and then back to the fan ribs, circling back and forth, as if he were giving the fan a full-body massage with his eyes.

Who cares what this thing is called? Who cares what it's made of?

Only one thought was spinning wildly in his mind:

How can I possibly get my hands on something that perfectly matches my carefree and stylish personality?!

He wants it too!

He could almost see himself holding a folding fan, elegant and dashing, with his beloved little sister An peeking at him shyly and timidly...

No, I have to find out!

He took a deep breath and took a step forward—

"Thump!"

The palace bell rang.

The young nobleman's mouth was halfway open, but it got stuck there, as if he had been acupunctured, and his expression froze on his face.

He watched as Zhou Wenqing apologized to everyone, and the folding fan slammed shut with a "whoosh" and neatly slipped into its fan case at his waist.

Then, the dashing figure turned and walked into the hall, the hem of his robe fluttering gently in the morning breeze, even his back exuding a sense of composure as if he had accomplished his task and was about to leave.

In the distance, the waiting courtiers had begun to gather towards the palace gate. A surge of people rushed over, instantly scattering the group of people shouting "Lend me the fan" and "Let me see."

Young Hoon-gwi was swept forward a few steps by the crowd, staggering, but he still desperately turned his head, his gaze fixed on that dashing figure, until he completely disappeared from sight.

His fan...

Do not!

The fan he hadn't even had a chance to ask about...

It's gone just like that?!

He clenched his fist tightly.

Once the birthday banquet begins, I must find an opportunity to ask Zhou Neishi for clarification!

He'd pay a fortune for that folding fan!

……

"It feels like thorns in my back, Brother Gu'an."

Zhou Wenqing and Li Si walked quickly side by side for several dozen steps until the figures ahead gradually thinned out. Then they turned their heads slightly and lowered their voices:

"You have a really sharp eye for talent; you're still keeping an eye on people even after we've come this far!"

Upon hearing this, Li Si couldn't help but curl his lips into a smile, and glanced at him sideways:

"Just keep an eye on them. With your appearance, let alone them, I would be keeping an eye on you too. Don't try to be innocent after getting the benefit."

Zhou Wenqing raised his chin slightly with a hint of smugness, pulled out the folding fan, and tapped it lightly in his palm:

"What's wrong, Brother Gu'an? Are you envious? You should have said so earlier, and I could have had you bring that folding fan with you."

What a ghost.

Li Si rolled his eyes at him, and the effect would be reduced by half!

Don't give me that!

His gaze swept over Zhou Wenqing's face, a mischievous glint in his eyes:

"Brother Zicheng is getting more and more amazing. I never expected you to time things so perfectly. I admire you."

"They just show themselves off and leave, not even letting you touch them, leaving people itching for more but unable to get their hands on them. Ha, aren't those people behind them getting green with envy?"

Zhou Wenqing looked up into the depths of the hall, his smile deepening.

"Let them jump, let them jump. This is just the beginning. Let them jump slowly, and they'll get used to it as they jump..."

Before the laughter had even subsided, the two had already passed through the corridor and entered the front hall of Xianyang Palace.

The interior of the hall was solemn and dignified, seemingly a world apart from the hustle and bustle outside.

"Thump—thump—thump—"

The bell and drum sounded three times, their echoes reverberating deep within the hall for a long time.

The courtiers straightened their robes, stood according to rank, eyes lowered, breathless, and remained completely silent. The high platform in the hall hung suspended in the air, the throne bathed in a warm glow from the candlelight; the pheasant-feather fans on either side stood still, motionless, as if not even the wind dared to disturb them.

Only at this moment can one truly appreciate the majesty and oppressive feeling of the Qin Dynasty's preference for black—a solemnity that seeps into the bones, making one even have to hold their breath.

Zhou Wenqing suppressed his smile and stood beside Li Si.

He glanced up furtively—

Not far ahead, there was the silhouette of Prime Minister Changping Jun.

The man stood ramrod straight, dressed in formal attire, and waited quietly with his eyes slightly closed.

About fifteen minutes later, the eunuch announced loudly: "His Majesty is holding court!"

Ying Zheng, dressed in a dark robe with tassels, a twelve-tassel crown, jade pendants at his waist, and black shoes, slowly walked out from behind the palace under the protection of the Imperial Physician.

His pace was neither fast nor slow, each step perfectly timed with the rhythm of the bells and drums, or rather... each bell and drumbeat was steadily placed under his feet.

The vast palace existed solely to house that figure in black.

The officials bowed, and the envoys also bowed.

For a moment, the only sound in the hall was the rustling of fabric, like the lingering echo of receding tides; no one dared to look up directly.

Ying Zheng ascended the steps to the high platform, his black robe trailing from the edge of the throne like a deep night curtain.

He sat down, his gaze slowly sweeping across the hall, taking in the bent backs, the bowed heads, and the people who had even breathed softly.

He saw it, yet acted as if he saw nothing at all, remaining indifferent as if nothing was there.

After a moment of silence, he finally spoke slowly.

"Rise."

As soon as the two words were spoken, the invisible oppressive feeling in the hall eased slightly, and the officials rose, the rustling of their clothes echoing like a surging tide.

Changping Jun stepped out from the head seat on the east side, walked to the center of the hall, bowed twice to the throne, then turned to face the assembled officials, unfolded the memorial in his hand, his movements meticulous, every detail revealing the composure and tact of an old minister.

"Your Majesty inherited the legacy of six generations, and with your mighty power you rule the world. You pacified Ba and Shu in the west, conquered the Three Rivers in the east, seized Hanzhong in the south, and subdued the Hu and Mo tribes in the north. The feudal lords bowed down, and the whole country submitted to you..."

"On this auspicious occasion of Your Majesty's birthday, we, your humble servants, dare to offer you this simple feast and wine, wishing Your Majesty a long and prosperous life, that your power extends throughout the four seas, and that your blessings extend to all living beings..."

"We, your humble servants, are overjoyed and respectfully offer this toast to wish you a long and happy life..."

Changping Jun's voice echoed in the hall, solemn and steady.

Ying Zheng sat upright on his throne, his expression calm and his gaze undisturbed.

The compliments flowed past his ears like water, but he listened as if he hadn't heard a thing, or rather, he had heard them so many times that they no longer made a ripple in his mind.

He was even getting a little tired of hearing it.

His gaze casually swept across the hall, landing on a figure in the crowd.

Oh, so that's a folding fan. It looks quite exquisite.

The fan was hanging quietly at Zhou Wenqing's waist, its white ribs standing out against the backdrop of his dark court robes.

Ying Zheng calmly withdrew his gaze, then glanced at the man's standing posture.

For today's grand banquet, Minister Zhou should have risen earlier than usual. He seems to be standing quite steadily now. I wonder if he will fall asleep with his eyes closed after this long congratulatory speech.

Thinking of this, the corner of his lips twitched very slightly, but he quickly returned to normal.

It doesn't matter; no one dares to look directly at the throne.

Of course, Zhou Wenqing would never fall asleep during such a grand ceremony. If he knew that the King was having such thoughts, he would probably laugh in anger.

He gazed at Changping Jun's retreating figure, his impassioned words still echoing in his ears, and his gaze momentarily wavered.

He suddenly became very curious.

If one day, Lord Changping stands atop the ruined city of Chu, watching the Qin army's iron cavalry trample across the land, will he remember this day?

I remember standing in the center of this great hall, praising the majesty of the Qin Dynasty and wishing the King of Qin a long life in the most solemn voice.

Recalling the congratulatory message he had personally presented, every word and phrase was the heartfelt expression of the Prime Minister of Qin.

What will his expression be then?

Is it a bitter smile, a sense of loss, or simply not having time to think about these things?

Zhou Wenqing lowered his eyes, suppressing those complicated thoughts.