Qin Dynasty: Who offended my frail and sickly minister?

Wei Liao, who had heard everything clearly, stopped the two generals from about to erupt in anger and attack, then leaned down and lowered his voice to a whisper:

"Brother Zicheng, please rest for a bit. Leave the rest to us."

He glanced at Zhou Wenqing one last time, then looked away. As he straightened up, the anger in his eyes seemed to burn through the roof of the palace.

He took a deep breath, turned around, strode forward, stood in the center of the hall, bowed deeply towards the throne, his back ramrod straight, and his voice clear and resonant:

"Your Majesty! I have something to say!"

"allow."

"Your Majesty, I wish to request credit for the Zhou Inner Historian." Wei Liao raised his head, his eyes piercing. "Your Majesty is wise and discerning in the benefits of the heated kang (a traditional heated platform bed)—compared to firewood, it is more economical, warmer, and more durable, truly a beneficial tool for the people. Therefore, Your Majesty has granted Prince Fusu full permission to promote it."

"The Minister of the State Zhou selflessly donated this powerful weapon, and Prince Fusu's supervision of its construction was meritorious. The people of Xianyang are now enjoying its benefits, with every household having a warm bed and passing the winter peacefully. Although it has not yet been extended to remote counties, with Prince Fusu's diligence, it is only a matter of time before it benefits the whole country!"

He paused, then his voice suddenly rose, each word ringing with conviction:

"Your Majesty, I wish to first request credit for Zhou's appointment, for such benefits would extend to all the people and bestow blessings upon all living beings! I dare to ask—who dares to argue against this? Who can argue against this?"

Ying Zheng slammed his hand on the imperial desk, the sound echoing throughout the hall. His gaze swept across the room, lingering for a moment on Zhou Wenqing's paper-white face before returning to his own, his voice resolute:

"Minister Zhou's actions are an unparalleled achievement, benefiting future generations! He deserves a great reward—his rank will be increased by one level, elevating him to the position of Grand Master!"

He spoke each word deliberately and forcefully:

"Who dares to disobey?!"

The courtiers in the hall were deathly silent, especially Lord Changping, Wang Wan and others, who were trying their best to minimize their presence, wishing they could shrink into the cracks between the bricks, for fear of attracting fire. As for Chen Shaofu, he was so frightened that he turned pale and barely managed to stay upright and not faint.

"My lord, I won't accept it!"

A voice suddenly exploded out.

Ying Zheng's gaze instantly turned cold. He stared at the person kneeling on the ground, face covered in blood but still stubbornly refusing to move, and the anger in his chest finally erupted—

"Snapped!"

A teacup flew out of his hand and smashed straight into Guan Chi's forehead, splattering blood everywhere.

"Roaring in the court, what is your crime?!"

Ying Zheng's voice wasn't loud, but it was as cold as a knife tempered with ice; his fingers tightened slightly at the edge of the imperial desk.

If it weren't for Zhou Aiqing's reputation, and if he hadn't known that Wei Liao and the others had further plans, he would have torn this man to pieces long ago. How could he have allowed him to live until now?!

Guan Chi staggered from the impact, blood trickling down his forehead and smearing his face, but he just laughed.

That smile was both stern and arrogant.

He knelt on the ground, slowly raised his head, and his eyes were already bloodshot.

The promise made by the man behind him flashed through his mind. He regretted his greed and how he had compromised under coercion and enticement. But it was too late. The last straw for the continuation of his bloodline was in that man's hands, and he had no way out.

Then let's go all the way down this path.

"Your Majesty... I deserve to die..."

His voice was hoarse, yet it carried a ruthless, defiant air.

"But I, your subject, will still risk my life to remonstrate with you!"

"Your Majesty, this heated kang bed is killing me—"

"Your Excellency, you should think twice before you speak!"

Li Si interrupted sharply and walked step by step to Guan Chi.

He walked step by step to Guan Chi, looked down at him, and said coldly:

"The benefits of heated kang beds are something everyone here is familiar with; the Baiwu Department has sold countless exquisite kang beds... Vice Prefect Guan, is the 'exquisite kang bed' you're using this winter the one supervised by Inner Historian Zhou?"

He didn't give him a chance to answer and continued, "As far as I know, you soon ordered a top-quality kang (heated brick bed) from the Baiwusi (shop), which cost a considerable sum."

He looked down at Guanchi and asked, "Is your kang (heated brick bed) still warm enough?"

Guan Chi collapsed to his knees, but upon hearing this, he laughed instead.

That smile was sinister, mingled with the bloodstains on his face, making it indescribably creepy. He didn't get up, just sat there casually, like a lump of mud plastered on gold bricks:

"Heh...so what?"

He tilted his head, his gaze slowly shifting from Li Si's face to Zhou Wenqing's, his eyes practically overflowing with satisfaction:

"No matter how good this heated kang is, it cannot erase the fact that Zhou, the Prefect of the Interior, was filled with resentment and that the common people knelt and froze to death in front of the temple!"

"you--!"

General Wang Jian was furious, his beard bristling, and he rolled up his sleeves, ready to charge forward again. His fists were clenched so tightly they cracked, and his eyes looked as if he wanted to tear someone apart.

"What? Is the old general planning to silence them on the spot?"

Guan Chi didn't even flinch; instead, he tilted his head back, bringing his blood-smeared face close to his, and laughed wildly.

"Come on! Kill me! If you kill me, it will confirm that Zhou Neishi was guilty and killed me to cover it up!"

"you--!"

That's enough.

Meng Wu grabbed Wang Jian's arm and dragged him back half a step. His face was stern as he looked at Guan Chi's smug face.

"Silence me? You despicable man, I'm afraid even touching you would soil the general's hands."

Guan Chi didn't care at all. He tilted his head back, his smile widening on his blood-smeared face, and was about to speak—

"good!"

Wei Liao stepped forward and stood shoulder to shoulder with Li Si, blocking Guan Chi's side. His gaze fell on Guan Chi's face, and a cold glint flashed in his eyes.

"Since Prefect Guan acknowledges the power of the heated kang (a traditional heated brick bed), yet keeps saying 'the common people are full of complaints'—isn't that a contradiction?"

"Ha!" Guan Chi tilted his head and scoffed, "What's so contradictory about the ignorance of the common people?"

"Yeah?"

Wei Liao's voice suddenly turned cold.

He took half a step forward, looking down at Guan Chi, and said, word by word:

"Is it simply that the common people are ignorant—or is someone deliberately distorting the truth and smearing us?"

Guan Chi's expression stiffened slightly.

Before he could speak, Wei Liao turned around, bowed deeply towards the throne, and said in a clear voice:

"Your Majesty, I have brought a man who can truly win over the Vice Minister of the Imperial Household."

He raised his head, his gaze sharp and piercing:

"Please allow this person to enter the palace, Your Majesty."

Ying Zheng waved his hand, his voice deep and resonant:

"Bring it up!"

The eunuch immediately obeyed and left. A moment later, the palace door was pushed open, and a small, thin figure was brought in.

It was a boy.

He was emaciated, and his tattered clothes, like a few scraps of cloth, hung on his body, offering no protection against the winter chill.

His face still bore traces of frostbite, his lips were chapped, and his hands and feet were exposed, red and purple from the cold—he looked exactly like a poor, impoverished man who had crawled out of the snow.

He lowered his head, trembling, and was led forward by the eunuch. He took each step carefully, as if afraid of soiling the gold-brick floor.

Guan Chi glanced at him sideways, a disdainful sneer curling at the corner of his mouth:

"Does the Grand Commandant intend for this fool to spout nonsense here?" He scoffed. "It's utterly ridiculous."

Wei Liao didn't even glance at him, but simply said:

"Whether it's laughable or not, you'll find out soon enough."

Zhou Wenqing leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on the boy.

He narrowed his eyes slightly.

This child seems...somewhat familiar.

The boy was led to the center of the hall, his legs went weak, and he knelt down with a thud, his forehead hitting the gold bricks heavily, again and again, kowtowing repeatedly.

"This humble subject, this humble subject, pays his respects to Your Majesty, this humble subject...pays his respects to Your Majesty."

"Rise, no need for formalities."

The boy seemed to have very weak legs and couldn't get up, swaying. Seeing this, Li Si stepped forward, reached out and helped him up, bent down, and spoke in a very low but exceptionally gentle voice:

"Good child, don't be afraid."

He gently patted the boy's thin shoulder:

"Say what you said yesterday again here. Don't worry, Your Majesty is wise. No one in the court dares to harm you."

The boy then timidly and very slowly raised his head, cautiously looking around. When his gaze swept over Zhou Wenqing, he paused slightly, and his eyes suddenly reddened.

He quickly lowered his head, as if afraid of being recognized, but a moment later, he raised his head again, clenched his fist tightly, as if he had finally mustered the courage to speak out.

Zhou Wenqing's heart clenched suddenly.

It's him.

It was that boy—the one who protected his younger sister and tried to brave the snow to go up the mountain to collect herbs, but was stopped by him.

He remembered the snow that day, the boy's face turned blue from the cold, and the little girl shivering in his arms.

He gave them money, had Li Yi escort them home, and arranged for a doctor to visit his seriously ill grandfather...

But how come...

Zhou Wenqing's gaze fell on the tattered clothes, on the hands that were red and swollen from the cold, and on the face that was even thinner and paler than that day.

Why are you in such a sorry state?

His hands, resting on his knees, slowly clenched, his knuckles turning white.

What exactly is going on?

Could it be...