novelSusiti Chapter 1 Handan
Chapter 1 Handan
Springtime is long, and the flowers and trees are lush and green.
At dawn, the wind swept in from the direction of the Zhang River, passing through the alleys of the market and pouring into the western side courtyard of the Chunping Jun Mansion.
In the courtyard, four shirtless servants knelt on the bluestone slabs, the bloodstains crisscrossing on their backs emitting faint white steam in the cold wind.
The sound of the whip striking flesh was dull, rising and falling.
With each sound, the other servants standing at the corner of the courtyard unconsciously shrank their shoulders.
Several young maids stood by the pillars with their heads down, tightly twisting the hem of their clothes, not daring to look up.
A middle-aged steward dressed in a dark gray robe stood under the eaves, his hands tucked into his sleeves. He stared at the four people being tortured in the courtyard, his face so gloomy it could wring water out of it.
"Before our lord went to Qin, he repeatedly instructed us: If even a single hair of your son is lost, you will all die a hundred times to atone for it."
The servant kneeling on the far right trembled, and said in a hoarse voice through gritted teeth, "Master, it wasn't us... That day, when the young master came out of Weifeng Lane, he insisted on walking across Dongniushou Bridge..."
"So you're just letting the young master take that path?"
The steward interrupted him, taking two steps forward. "Seven or eight street urchins, rushing out whenever they want, shoving and pushing each other. Have you been eating millet porridge with all your martial arts training?"
A younger servant on the left looked up, his face covered in sweat: "Those people scattered too quickly. And...and they were specifically targeting the young master. Later, we servants were busy trying to rescue him..."
"You still dare to argue!" the steward shouted, raising his hand.
Seeing this, the servant holding the whip increased his strength by three points.
The long whip whistled up and then lashed down fiercely, splattering blood onto the stone slab, which was quickly darkened by the wind.
At the corner of the eaves, a middle-aged woman, who looked to be in her early thirties, stood quietly.
She wore a dark blue robe, her hair was neatly combed, and her hands were folded in front of her abdomen. She stared at the scene with a pale face, as if she were supervising the execution.
After watching her lash about twenty times, she turned around and led several maids with lowered heads behind her, disappearing behind the ceremonial gate.
After about half an hour, the steward finally raised his hand to stop the whipping.
He walked up to the four men, ignoring their mangled backs, and turned to the servant who had spoken first: "I'll ask one last time. Still no leads on those little beasts who did it?"
"They're all unfamiliar faces..." The servant was in great pain, his teeth chattering. "Their accents are from Handan, but we've searched them carefully, and they all say they don't seem to frequent the streets there."
The manager remained silent for a moment.
"Family supervisor".
At this moment, a maidservant trotted out from the inner courtyard and whispered to his side, "...Young Master seems to have woken up."
The person in charge's eyelids twitched.
He turned to look towards the inner courtyard, and after a moment, waved his hand and said, "Take these good-for-nothings away and fetch a physician. I'll be there shortly."
……
The tent was filled with the bitter smell of herbs.
When Zhao Heng opened his eyes, the first thing he perceived was not light, but sound.
The faint cracking of whips in the distance stopped, and nearby there were suppressed sobs and people speaking in hushed voices in the outer room.
"...We've been searching for three days, but there's not a trace of them. Those boys seem to have vanished into thin air."
It was a woman's voice, stern and filled with obvious anger.
Then came the voice of another middle-aged man, more composed and lower: "Mother Fu, please calm down. Handan is such a large city; if someone is deliberately hiding..."
"Intentionally hiding?" the woman interrupted him. "A few teenagers, do you think they can hide in the sky? Or are they being told to hide?"
A brief silence followed, broken only by the sound of sobbing.
After a long pause, the woman's voice rang out again, this time even colder: "There's one more thing. Young master went to Weifeng Lane to search for that Qin hostage for more than just a day or two. Why did my wife and I only find out now?"
The outside room fell silent.
A middle-aged man's slightly troubled voice rang out: "This... Young Master misses His Majesty dearly, and having heard some rumors, he insists on going. This old servant tried to dissuade him, but Young Master said that if he could get the Qin people to give in, His Majesty might be able to return sooner. Young Master doesn't want this said, for fear that His Majesty's wife will worry..."
"Afraid of worrying the mistress?"
The woman retorted angrily, "Now that the young master is lying unconscious on his bed, are you not worried? Supervisor Zhao, the young master is young and doesn't know any better. You are also an elder in the household. How can you let him act recklessly? What is that Qin hostage's status? Don't you understand how much trouble getting close to him will cause?"
"This old servant understands, this old servant understands," the middle-aged man said repeatedly, his tone respectful yet tinged with helplessness. "It's just that the young master's filial piety is too much for this old servant to bear..."
"What a fine excuse for not being able to bear it," the woman sneered. "If you truly cared for the young master, you should have informed the madam or reported it to the palace long ago. Now that things have escalated to this point, and the young master is seriously ill and unconscious, how are you going to explain this?"
"This old servant knows his crime." The middle-aged man's voice lowered. "Once the young master wakes up, this old servant will apologize to the madam..."
Zhao Heng slowly moved his eyes, listening to every word of the conversation.
Visibility gradually improved.
The tent ceiling was dark blue, with cloud patterns embroidered along the edges; in some places, the silk threads had darkened. Beneath me was a hard couch covered with a thick mattress, but I could still feel the presence of the wooden planks.
Memories flooded back.
No, it should be said that there are two memories.
One memory belongs to an eleven-year-old child, Zhao Heng, the only son of Zhao Yi, the so-called legitimate son of the King of Zhao, who remained in Handan. Another…
He felt a throbbing sensation in his forehead. After a moment of stunned silence, the throbbing persisted, so he closed his eyes and slowly took a breath.
A faint pain came from my lungs.
Fragments of images flashed before the eleven-year-old boy fell into the water:
Several boys dressed in coarse cloth and short browns suddenly rushed out of the alley, shouting things like "Zhao traitor" and "Qin dog," pushing and shoving each other. One of them slipped and was then hit by the icy river water that filled his mouth and nose.
And even earlier footage:
Someone bent down to straighten his clothes and whispered, "If you truly wish for your lord's early return, young master, you might as well spend more time in Weifeng Lane. That Qin hostage, though young, is still a grandson of the Qin king..."
The speaker's face was indistinct.
The memories are chaotic, including the terrified screams of an eleven-year-old child and the whispers of an adult... Many details are like shards of broken pottery, and cannot be pieced together at once.
"Is the palace aware of this?"
The voices outside pulled Zhao Heng back to reality.
She was still that stern woman.
"It was reported last night." That was followed by the middle-aged man's voice.
Zhao Heng searched his memory, and if he was not mistaken, this person should be Zhao Su, the steward in charge of daily operations in the mansion.
The stern woman was perhaps a lady-in-waiting who had accompanied her mother from Korea to marry into the family. She had no name, and everyone in the household called her Madam Fu.
Zhao Su continued, "But... there has been no response so far."
"No response?" the woman said in a low voice. "The young master is the king's own grandson! He has been murdered and has been unconscious for three days, yet the palace hasn't even sent a physician?"
"Mother Fu, please be careful what you say," Zhao Su hurriedly said, lowering his voice even more cautiously. "His Majesty is extremely busy with state affairs..."
The woman didn't speak again, only gave a cold snort. Then there was the sound of fabric rubbing together, as if someone had stood up.
At that moment, Zhao Heng couldn't help but cough.
The first sound was very soft, muffled in his throat. The second sound tugged at his chest, causing him to curl up in pain.
The outside room fell silent instantly.
The curtain was immediately lifted by one corner.
Then a pale face peered in, eyes red and swollen, hair disheveled on the forehead. Seeing that he had his eyes open, the expression on that face suddenly changed from astonishment to ecstatic joy, and was immediately overwhelmed by tears.
"Heng'er... Heng'er, you're awake?"
This is Lady Han. My own mother, the principal wife of Lord Chunping, son of the King of Zhao, a princess who married into Handan from Xinzheng.
Before Zhao Heng could recall the details, Madam Han had already rushed to the bedside, reaching out to touch Zhao Heng's face, but then stopped in mid-air, grabbing his hand with trembling hands.
Zhao Heng couldn't help but look at her.
In my memory, my mother was always gentle and compliant, speaking softly and tearfully when troubled, just like she is now.
However, the panic in her eyes was so real that it made him feel somewhat uncomfortable.
"Water," he heard himself say, his voice hoarse.
Mrs. Han hurriedly turned around: "Quick! Get some warm water!"
Someone responded and went out. The curtain was completely lifted, and light poured in, causing Zhao Heng to squint.
He saw Madam Fu standing at the foot of the bed, her serious face finally relaxing a little; he saw Zhao Su standing by the door with his hands at his sides, his eyes quickly scanning his face; he saw a doctor in a brown robe carrying a medicine box, seemingly wanting to say something but stopping himself.
Warm water was brought to his lips. Zhao Heng drank a few sips from Han Shi's hand, and the dryness in his throat eased slightly.
"Is there anything else that's bothering you? Are you dizzy? Do you have any body aches?"
Han asked repeatedly, her fingers gently stroking his forehead, her movements careful as if afraid of breaking him. "The doctor is right here, let him take another look at you..."
"Mother," Zhao Heng interrupted her.
His voice was still hoarse, but he remained calm.
She was so calm that even Madam Han was taken aback, and even Madam Fu's brows furrowed slightly.
An eleven-year-old child who has just escaped death should not be so calm.
Zhao Heng's gaze passed over his mother and landed on Zhao Su's face.
For some reason, he wasn't quite sure what changes had occurred in him, but Zhao Su's scrutinizing glance just now had directly and keenly caught it, so now he wanted to verify something.
"Have you got the person?"
The room fell silent for a moment.
Madam Han opened her mouth, seemingly not understanding what her son was asking. Madam Fu reacted first, softening her voice as she comforted him, "Young master, rest assured, we will definitely capture those madmen; not a single one will escape."
"I'm asking about the head of the household," Zhao Heng said, his eyes still fixed on Zhao Su.
Zhao Su was taken aback, then quickly bowed respectfully: "Reporting to your Excellency, we have already sent people to thoroughly investigate all the villages and hamlets of Handan. However... there are still no results."
"How many days will it take?"
Zhao Su still seemed somewhat surprised, but seeing that Fu's mother also turned to look at him, he said with a troubled expression, "Those people acted decisively, and they were all just unfamiliar teenagers. They left no trace at the scene, I'm afraid..."
"That means we can't get it," Zhao Heng said.
He said it very casually, as if stating a fact that had nothing to do with him.
Madam Han gripped his hand tightly, her voice trembling with tears, "Heng'er, don't be afraid, we'll get it, we'll..."
"No need to take it."
Zhao Heng turned back to look at his mother. His pupils were deep and dark, and in that instant, he didn't seem like an eleven-year-old child.
Han was stunned.
"I am unharmed, and they have done nothing seriously wrong, so what is there to take?" Zhao Heng did not hide his attitude and repeated himself.
"Young Master!" Everyone in the room was stunned. Fortunately, Zhao Su reacted immediately, his voice becoming urgent, "If such a madman who plotted to harm you is not severely punished, how can we establish our authority? Besides..."
He paused, glancing cautiously at the expressions of Madam Han and Madam Fu before continuing, "If this matter reaches the King's ears, he will surely hold us accountable. If he asks why we didn't investigate further, we, this old servant... will have a hard time explaining ourselves."
Han's face turned pale again, and Fu's mother also looked somewhat serious.
Zhao Heng simply looked at the steward.
Zhao Su was a retainer left in Handan by Lord Chunping. In my memory, this steward was always respectful and considerate.
Everyone in the household said he was reliable in his work and devoted to the young master. When the young master missed his lord, he would often comfort him, saying that his lord was wise and would surely return to Zhao soon. When the young master felt bored, he would suggest that he go out for a walk, see the city, or make friends to clear his mind.
Each of these things, to a young child, would naturally be seen as just ordinary concern.
Now, when he puts it all together, it's like a silent stream, carrying his little boat, steadily drifting towards the same place time and time again.
"I remember my grandfather once said something to me," Zhao Heng said slowly. "He said that in Handan, sometimes doing nothing requires more courage than doing something."
After uttering this seemingly nonsensical remark, he paused, looked into Zhao Su's eyes, and asked, "What does the head of the household think?"
Han was taken aback upon hearing this.
The "great father" that Zhao Heng mentioned was his grandfather, the current King Zhao Dan.
As for whether the King of Zhao truly said this to his young grandson...
Han subconsciously looked at Fu's mother.
The latter was also somewhat surprised. The prince had only been raised by the King of Zhao for a short period of time after the siege of Handan was lifted, when the king was forcibly summoned to Xianyang by the Qin state. However, the time was very short, and the prince was only four or five years old at that time. Who knows if the King of Zhao ever said such a thing?
Zhao Su was also taken aback, then his Adam's apple bobbed.
Zhao Heng could keenly sense that for a fleeting moment, something flashed deep in Zhao Su's eyes, but it was too fast to catch.
"...What you say is absolutely right, young master." Zhao Su lowered his head. "It was this old servant's foolishness and lack of foresight."
"You're doing this for my own good," Zhao Heng said, his tone softening. "The whole household has been in chaos these past few days; the steward must be exhausted. Go and rest now, and don't trouble the physician any further."
"Young Master has just woken up and his mind is still unsettled. We can discuss these matters later. The physician, please stay behind," Madam Fu said suddenly, looking at Zhao Su.
Zhao Su repeatedly agreed, bowed, and retreated.
As he reached the door, he glanced back. The boy on the couch had his eyes closed, his face pale, looking much the same as before. But those words, that look in his eyes…
He suppressed his suspicions and left the room.
The doctor took Zhao Heng's pulse and said that most of the cold had dissipated and he only needed to rest for a few days. Madam Fu ordered someone to prepare the medicine and had a maid change the water to warm water to wipe Zhao Heng's face.
Madam Han sat by the bed, holding her son's hand tightly, tears streaming down her face again: "Heng'er, what nonsense were you talking about? How can those who harmed you not be caught..."
"Mother," Zhao Heng opened his eyes, his voice softer, "I'm tired."
Madam Han quickly tucked the blanket around him, saying, "Alright, alright, you rest. Mother will stay here and watch over you."
I want to be alone for a while.
Madam Han hesitated, though she could clearly sense that something was wrong with her son. But looking at his pale face, she finally nodded.
She got up and walked out, turning back every few steps. Her mother supported her and whispered words of comfort.
The door closed gently, and Zhao Heng was finally left alone in the room.
He lay on the couch, staring at the top of the tent.
Two memories intertwined and merged in my mind.
The part belonging to the original body carries the simple memories of a child, such as missing his father who is far away in Xianyang, longing for his grandfather's approval, and genuinely believing that the grandson of the King of Qin who is held hostage in Handan can improve things and bring his father back soon...
The part that belongs to another person is much colder and clearer.
It was a soul from another time and space, carrying with it all the knowledge of this history.
The Battle of Changping. The Siege of Handan. Lord Chunping was forced to go to Qin as a hostage.
And how the Qin state would sweep across the six kingdoms and unify the world in the coming decades.
Furthermore, a vast and complex collection of memories, experiences, and insights were all crammed into his mind. It was these things that kept him in a coma for three whole days before he finally awoke.
Even closer are the fragments of this body's original memories.
He had indeed visited Weifeng Lane to befriend the Qin hostage more than once or twice; it could even be said that it had been several months.
I first saw him from afar and was curious about what kind of person he was, the boy called "Qin Dog" who was disliked by other Handan teenagers.
Later, he happened to see the other person being bullied at the alley entrance. The face that was even more immature than his own was expressionless, only his eyes were calm, just looking coldly at the person who was pushing him.
In that instant, the original owner felt sympathy, after all, that person was like him, with no father by his side.
Later, at what point did I start to think that I might be able to do something through this Qin hostage?
My memory of this place is somewhat hazy.
It seems that after returning from Weifeng Lane one time, I felt a vague sense of unease, for myself and for the Qin hostage who seemed to be in an even worse situation.
At that moment, someone beside him sighed and whispered something.
The gist is that the Qin hostage's father held a high position in Qin, and if they could speak through the hostage, perhaps Qin could release the father sooner.
Who said that?
Zhao Heng frowned and pondered for a long time, but he still couldn't remember that blurry face.
However, it must be said that these words make a lot of sense to an eleven-year-old child. He is just a child, and he misses his father so much that he naturally believes them.
But now that I think about it, everything seems suspicious.
How could a hostage, whose own life was precarious and who had been forced to live in hiding by his mother until the last two years, possibly influence Qin's decisions?
Those Handan youths who suddenly rushed out, shouting "Zhao traitor!" and pushing him into the water, may indeed harbor hatred for Qin. But why was the timing so coincidental? Why did they disperse so quickly? And why, upon investigation, did they vanish without a trace, like dew evaporating?
And Zhao Su...
Zhao Heng closed his eyes.
In addition, there was his grandfather, King Zhao.
He has been in a coma for three days, with no response from the palace. Is it that he truly doesn't know, or that he knows but simply doesn't care?
Zhao Heng's thoughts raced, but his forehead throbbed and throbbed with pain.
To be honest, for a moment he didn't even know who he was, let alone where the abilities he had gained as soon as he regained consciousness came from. It felt like they were his own, yet it didn't feel like they were.
Because he doesn't have any particular memories, his only recollection is of his experiences in modern society... However, this shouldn't be a bad thing...
The wind was still blowing outside the window, and the distant hustle and bustle of the city could be faintly heard.
The mansion was quiet, as quiet as an exquisite prison. And he was now standing right in the center of that prison.
piece.
After pondering for a long time, this thought suddenly popped into Zhao Heng's mind.
Although he was a grandson of the King of Zhao, and his father was the King of Zhao's most beloved eldest son, he was more like a pawn in Handan, manipulated and used by others. In fact, if it weren't for his awakening, he would have been eliminated.
And there may be more than one person playing chess.
Zhao Heng pondered quietly.
After an unknown amount of time, several hushed conversations could be heard from outside.
To Zhao Heng's surprise, although the conversation outside was deliberately kept at a distance, he was still able to vaguely hear the gist of it.
"...The person is still waiting outside the door." It was Fu's mother's voice.
Then Han hesitated and replied, "Well... Heng'er just woke up and isn't feeling well yet, so... should we go back?"
"That's what I think too," said Madam Fu. "But the young man said he was visiting on behalf of a friend. I suspect he's referring to that little thief from Qin. If we don't let him see him, or if we don't let the young master know, it will only cause him worry if he finds out later."
She paused for a moment, then lowered her voice even further: "Madam, although there have been no major battles between Yan and Zhao in recent years, they cannot truly be called harmonious. If the prince does not see the Yan people, it would only show that the prince of Zhao is cowardly or impolite. It would be better to meet them, with your servants standing by, and seize the opportunity to sever ties with that Qin traitor. That would be the best course of action."
There was a moment of silence outside.
"...Very well." Madam Han's voice was soft and weak. "Go and tell Heng'er. Just don't let him stay at the hotel. Ask that person to go to the outer room and say a few words."
"Here you are."
The door was gently pushed open.
Madam Fu entered and saw Zhao Heng staring at the top of the bed with his eyes open. She walked to the bedside and whispered, "Young Master, someone has come from outside the manor. It is Prince Dan, a hostage from the Yan Kingdom. He says he is here on behalf of a friend to visit you. Madam said that if you are still in good spirits, please ask him to say a few words outside and convey his regards."
Zhao Heng turned to look at Madam Fu: "Who?"
"He is Prince Dan, a hostage from the State of Yan."
Zhao Heng narrowed his eyes.
Is this Young Master Dan... the same person he remembers?
He slowly propped himself up on his arms and sat up. The pain in his chest came with the movement, and he frowned slightly, but didn't stop moving.
"Young Master?" Madam Fu was somewhat surprised and reached out to help him. "What's wrong with you...?"
"I'm going to see him."
Madam Fu was taken aback: "Young Master, the Mistress said..."
"I'll tell my mother," Zhao Heng interrupted her, already throwing back the covers and stepping barefoot onto the wooden floor. He was unsteady on his feet and steadied himself against the edge of the bed. "Since you've come on behalf of a friend, I should go see you."
Fu's mother looked at him, hesitant to speak.
The young master before me is indeed different from before.
In the past, he would have been clinging to his mistress's hand, pleading that he was tired, or simply letting her do as she pleased, oblivious to his surroundings. But now…
"Then...this servant will help the young master change his clothes," Madam Fu finally said, turning to fetch a clean robe folded to the side.
Hearing the commotion, Madam Han came in. Seeing that Zhao Heng had already gotten up, she hurriedly went to him, saying, "Heng'er, why are you up? Lie down quickly..."
"Mother, I'm fine." Zhao Heng let his mother put on his coat and tie his belt. "Since a friend has come, I should go and see him. I heard that Father was like this. Some things need to be made clear."
Han looked at him, her eyes reddening again. She gazed at her son's small face, her heart filled with both pain and confusion.
This child, having survived this ordeal, now bears a resemblance to his father when he was deep in thought... Perhaps he was truly frightened, and perhaps he has grown up.
"...But you've only just woken up, if you catch a chill again..."
"It's just in the front yard, only a few steps away." Zhao Heng's voice softened. "If Mother is worried, she and Madam Fu can come with me."
Looking at her usually timid son's calm expression, Madam Han opened her mouth, but ultimately did not stop him.
She exchanged a glance with Fu's mother, and in the end, she simply straightened his clothes and said softly, "Then, don't stand for too long."
"Um."
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[Emperor Gaozu, personal name Heng, was the grandson of King Xiaocheng and the eldest son of Lord Chunping, Zhao Yi. His mother was Lady Han, the daughter of King Huanhui of Han. In the second month of spring in the fifteenth year of King Xiaocheng's reign, Emperor Gaozu was eleven years old and resided in Handan.] — *Old Book of Zhao*, Volume 1, Annals of Emperor Gaozu