Qin Dynasty: Who offended my frail and sickly minister?

To be honest, even though Zhou Wenqing appeared calm and collected on the surface, he was actually on edge inside when he stepped into such a place.

Slaves...

Even though he knew that the slave trade at that time was mostly governed by government laws and regulations, supervised by market officials, and that accounts and registers had to be kept, it was not as absurd as depicted in later films and television dramas—such as innocent children being forcibly abducted into slavery in the blink of an eye... or those who strayed in being branded as slaves in an instant... or children getting lost here disappearing faster and more completely than a human trafficker's bread cart...

Zhou Wenqing's hands, hidden under his sleeves, clenched slightly. He closed his eyes to dispel the absurd scenarios from his mind.

Even though he knew it in his heart, as a modern person, he still instinctively felt a chill down his spine when he came to such a place.

Zhou Wenqing tossed and turned all night yesterday. Even though he knew that there were secret guards protecting them, he still decided to be prepared and specially dressed Fusu and Azhu in an exceptionally elegant manner.

Firstly, it was to make those who might actually be lurking in the shadows realize that these two children must have powerful backers and should not be trifled with.

Secondly, perhaps even Zhou Wenqing himself wasn't entirely clear on the matter. He simply wanted these two children, whom he had taken under his wing, to experience firsthand the stark difference between heaven and earth in this world.

Fine clothes and shackles, freedom and chains, separated by only a shed, stand side by side in such cruelty, more unforgettable than any words of instruction.

When Ah-Zhu heard the words "slave market," his shoulders hunched over, and he hurriedly closed the gap in the carriage curtain. His previously excited expression instantly dimmed, and he pursed his lips, remaining silent.

A look of surprise flashed across Fusu's eyes, but he quickly calmed down. He felt Azhu trembling slightly beside him, so he reached out and gently placed his hand on the back of Azhu's tightly clenched hand, patting it silently.

The closer you get, the thinner the sounds from the outside world become. It's not true silence, but a deathly stillness swallowed up by a heavy, oppressive atmosphere.

Li Yi reined in his horse and lifted the carriage curtain, saying, "Young master, we've arrived."

"Hmm." Zhou Wenqing responded, his voice a few decibels deeper than usual. He got out of the car first, and after standing firm, he turned around and held Fusu and Azhu firmly in his hands, one in each hand.

"Sir," Fusu looked up at the low, gloomy fenced shacks made of rough wooden planks and thatched roofs, and asked in a somewhat hoarse voice, "Do we want to buy slaves?"

"I'm not buying," Zhou Wenqing said, looking down at him with a complicated expression. "I just brought you here to take a look."

He led his two children slowly into the narrow, muddy passage.

The air was filled with an indescribable stench, a mixture of dust, moldy hay, and... the lingering, unwashed smell of decay emanating from people.

A heavy sense of oppression washed over my chest as the scene in the shacks on both sides of the road came into view.

Some people were bound hand and foot with straw ropes like livestock, huddled in a corner, mostly barely clothed, their exposed skin stained with dirt and even mottled bloodstains.

Some young children were tightly bound, their mouths stuffed with rags, only able to make muffled "uh-uh" sounds. Their big eyes were filled with tears of fear, but they didn't even have the freedom to cry out loud, probably because they were afraid that making a fuss would attract the attention of the patrolling officials and affect the slave owners' business.

Yes, the darker the place, the more important it is to remain silent.

Fusu saw a gaunt mother holding an infant in her arms, tearfully pleading with a well-dressed figure passing by outside the fence to buy her and her child.

But what she usually gets in return is an impatient kick from the guards inside the shed.

Fusu turned his head away, unable to bear watching any longer.

Zhou Wenqing saw that the slightly stronger men were gathered together and examined like livestock, or... they were no different from livestock, with horses and cattle tied up next to them waiting to be sold.

Buyers pry open their mouths to check their teeth, pinch their arms and legs to test their strength, their faces showing calculations of value.

Those being scrutinized mostly had empty eyes, staring at the muddy ground, as if their souls had long since left their bodies.

Scattered, suppressed sobs, desperate pleas, and painful groans were all forcibly pushed to the minimum, but these sounds intertwined to form a low, humming background that pounded against the eardrums and the heart.

Zhou Wenqing slowly exhaled a breath of stale air, released his hand from Fusu's, and pointed to a young slave boy who looked about fifteen or sixteen years old and was tied to a wooden stake not far away.

"Hashimatsu, go and ask him why he became a slave. Is it because he committed a serious crime, or does he have some unspeakable vice?"

Fusu looked up at the teacher, then at the young man, pursed his lips, and walked over as instructed.

Zhou Wenqing's gaze was like that of a most vigilant eagle, fixed on Fusu's small figure, not daring to look away for even a moment, and his hand in his sleeve clenched tightly again.

Perhaps it was because Fusu's brocade robes were too conspicuous in the dim environment that the shrewd slave owner in charge of guarding him immediately put on a fawning smile and became exceptionally enthusiastic.

He even roughly grabbed the boy's dirty, tangled hair, forcing him to raise his face, revealing a numb and bewildered expression, while rapidly saying something to Fusu.

A moment later, Fusu returned, his steps slightly heavier than when he left, and his face a little pale.

"Sir," his voice was low and hesitant, "he is... a debtor. His family owed money to a wealthy family, and when they couldn't pay it back, they used him as collateral."

"Okay." Zhou Wenqing responded with only one syllable, his expression unreadable. His gaze swept over Ah Zhu, who was almost shrinking into the shadows beside him, but in the end, he couldn't bear to let him face it as well.

His gaze shifted to a young woman, pale and thin, huddled in another corner.

"Qiaosong, go ask her again."

Fusu went over again to inquire, then returned, his face seemingly paler than before.

"Sir, her family...couldn't afford the autumn tax, so her father sold her."

Zhou Wenqing's jawline tightened as he pointed at a middle-aged man with cloudy eyes and a hunched posture.

When Fusu returned, his lips were pressed into a pale line.

"Sir, he... is deprived of his corvée labor and cannot afford the fine."

The next one was a middle-aged man with an old knife scar on his neck.

"...Sir, he is a prisoner of war from the State of Chu."

Fusu's voice grew lower and softer with each answer, as if an invisible stone was pressing down on his heart with each new answer he brought back.

Just then, a small, cool hand gently tugged at Zhou Wenqing's clothes.

Ah Zhu raised his head, his face still pale, but his clear eyes revealed an almost stubborn determination.

"Sir," his voice was soft but clear, "let me go and ask too."

Zhou Wenqing looked down at him for a long time. The fear in the child's eyes did not disappear, but something heavier settled down and suppressed that shrinking feeling.

After a long while, he nodded very slightly.

"Okay," he said, his voice a little hoarse. "Go when your brother Qiaosong comes back."

"gentlemen……"

"gentlemen……"

The two took turns calling out, each time bringing back a brief but heavy reason.

There were no heinous crimes or unforgivable offenses; most were mistakes that children didn't consider serious due to poverty, debt, war, or harsh laws.

These reasons, laid out coldly, piece together a picture of the fate of ordinary people at the bottom of society, silently shattered and ultimately falling into the abyss under the crushing weight of the times.

That's about enough... Zhou Wenqing tightened his grip on the two children's hands again, and led them back.

Seeing that Fusu and Azhu were both hanging their heads and looking dejected, he sighed slowly.

"Qiaosong," he called Fusu's name first, "you just asked around in those corners, did you notice why the largest number of them were enslaved?"

"...most of them were prisoners of war, or those who were owed corvée labor or were in arrears."

"Hmm." Zhou Wenqing nodded, then turned his gaze to Azhu. "Azhu, what's next?"

Ah Zhu bit his lower lip: "Secondly... there are those who can't pay their taxes, or those whose debts have been settled by selling their children, and... and those who can't survive and are willing to sell themselves."

"You're both right." Zhou Wenqing's gaze slowly swept across the two children's faces, finally settling on the lingering shock in Fusu's eyes.

"Qiaosong, you only walked a short distance along the ridge of the field, holding the plow, and you already felt your back and arms aching, and your clothes covered in mud, didn't you?"

Fusu recalled the weight of the new plow when he first held it, and how much effort he had to exert to keep his balance while the ox pulled it. He nodded honestly, "Yes, sir, plowing... is indeed no easy task."

"It's more than difficult." Zhou Wenqing's voice deepened.

"For you, it may have been an opportunity to observe, but for the countless farmers like Uncle Liu and A-Zhu's father and brothers, it was their entire livelihood, day after day and year after year."

"And despite the hardship, having a few acres of meager land to barely make ends meet, and not being reduced to goods, livestock, or slaves, is their greatest fortune."

"And the people behind those wooden fences you just saw might just be ordinary farmers tending their few acres of meager land, working hard just to make ends meet. A war, an additional decree for forced labor, or a sudden illness in the family... could be enough to cause that already thin path to survival to suddenly collapse."

Zhou Wenqing's gaze swept over the wooden sheds, and the people struggling in pain inside.

Today, he deliberately had Fusu go to the field to help with the plowing before setting foot here, because he was afraid that the child, who had been educated in Confucianism since childhood, would simply categorize these slaves as "lowly things" in his eyes, based on the clear distinction between classes according to ancient rites.

He wanted Fusu to see that between the sweat in the fields and the shackles in the wooden shed, there was only a thin layer—a fragile piece of paper called calamity, taxation, or war.

Fortunately, Fusu's eyes still showed shock, rather than indifference.

"Qiaosong, what you see today is the scar of this chaotic world. Confucianism speaks of benevolence and forgiveness, and Mohism speaks of universal love. Their hearts may be good, but they cannot stop the fighting or fill the hungry stomachs. Behind the wooden fence, which drop of blood and tears is due to a lack of propriety?"

"It's all because we can't survive..."

Zhou Wenqing's voice was almost a sigh: "What the people of the world want is very simple: no war over their heads, grain in their granaries, and their children not becoming commodities. Such peace and stability cannot be given by empty talk of benevolence and righteousness, nor by empty alliances between nations."

Fusu gripped his sleeve tightly, his voice filled with confusion: "Sir... is there really no way for them to survive in this world?"

"Yes," Zhou Wenqing's voice was resolute, "but this path is destined to be paved with blood."

He leaned down and looked into the boy's shocked eyes.

"Peace will not fall from the sky, and stability will not come automatically because of prayer. The six scattered states, each with their own plans, will only cause the tragedy that is separated by a line to be repeated endlessly."

"Only by uniting forces, stopping war with war, bringing the nine provinces under one rule, and storing weapons in the armory, can we fundamentally sever the chains of suffering."

"If there were a person who could unite the nine provinces into one, and store weapons in the armory, even if his methods were ruthless, even if he bore a bad reputation, if he could exchange the blood and sweat of one generation for the eternal end of hundreds of years of war, so that farmers would have their land and residents would have their houses..."

"So, no matter how those so-called gentlemen criticize or curse us in secret, this is still true benevolence! This is the true act of taking responsibility for all living beings!"

"And the person who can do all this." Zhou Wenqing gazed deeply at Fusu, looking into his eyes, and lowered his voice.

"You should know who this person is."