The master sat leisurely in his own courtyard, holding an ancient Go manual, entertaining himself by playing through the game patterns.

In his hands were clam shell snow-print Go stones, and before him was a single-board kaya wood Go board seven inches and four-tenths thick. This set of board and stones was something he’d recently acquired—still in the honeymoon period, so these past few days he’d often taken them out to show off.

Clam shells were natural shells, categorized from thin to thick as flower-print, moon-print, and snow-print according to thickness. Thicker stones represented older clam shells with finer grain patterns. As a non-renewable resource, clam shell Go stones of sufficient thickness had become impossible to buy in recent years. The master’s set of clam shell snow-print stones had delicate grain patterns—the finest of the fine. Even more rare was the set of 180 white stones, each one identical in size and thickness, while the other 181 black stones were all polished from Nachi black stone from the Meiji period. That single-board kaya wood Go board was taken from an 800-year-old kaya tree. Just air-drying the tree stump took nearly a hundred years before the board could be made. This single-board kaya wood board was colored like gold, felt like paper to the touch, and faintly emanated waves of wood fragrance that was utterly intoxicating.

Using stones and board of such quality, every time the master placed a stone, it produced a crisp sound that was extremely pleasant in the quiet courtyard.

The master wasn’t actually very proficient at Go, but he thoroughly enjoyed the process. Unfortunately, his friends in the circle either looked down on playing with him or had no interest in Go whatsoever, so he could only be reduced to playing through game patterns alone.

Feeling his refinement had risen just a tiny bit more, the master contentedly sipped the pre-Qingming Longjing tea brewing beside him, when he heard a set of light footsteps.

Anyone the butler let in directly without his permission had to be one of his old friends. Without turning his head, he smiled and called out, “Perfect timing! Come play Go with me… uh…”

The master’s voice came to an abrupt halt as he stared dumbfounded at a young man who leisurely seated himself across from him.

This young man was precisely the boss he’d helped open an antique shop recently. The red dragon robe he wore shimmered brilliantly in the sunlight’s reflection, yet emanated an aura that chilled the master to his core.

“What? Not welcoming me?” The boss glanced at the Go board and casually picked up a black stone nearby, placing it down with a “clack.”

“How could that be!” The master’s smile was somewhat forced. He set down the ancient Go manual in his hands and picked up a clam shell snow-print stone, hesitantly placing it on the board. However, thinking of the wonderful things the boss had once given him, the master couldn’t help rubbing his hands together and asking, “Is there anything I can help with?”

“I want one item from your collection.” The boss didn’t stand on ceremony, directly flipping the magazine he’d brought to a certain page and handing it over.

The master took it and looked, raising his eyebrows in surprise. This was an interview feature about him, from a magazine several years ago—so long ago he’d forgotten he’d even given such an interview. “Oh my! I still had a lot of hair back then!” The master’s first concern was his own photograph, touching his now completely bald head with lament. However, he didn’t spend too long mourning his hair. Seeing the boss’s calm gaze turn toward him, he immediately summoned the butler to fetch what the boss wanted from the collection room.

While waiting, the two played Go sporadically. After drinking two sips of tea, the master had recovered his composure and poured the boss a cup as well. Neither spoke further, drinking tea and playing Go with considerable understanding.

Before long, the butler pushed over a cart with an enormous brocade box on it. Judging by the sound of the wheels passing over the bluestone slabs, whatever was in this brocade box must be particularly heavy.

The butler stopped the cart beside them and carefully opened the brocade box. On black velvet cloth lay an oddly-shaped object resembling the Chinese character “gan” (干). This object was actually over a meter long overall, and entirely made of pure gold. Moreover, it had many pitted depressions as if struck by sharp or blunt instruments.

“What is this thing actually used for? Should be a decorative piece, right? But making it entirely of pure gold is too extravagant. Still, it looks quite ancient. When I acquired it, I just felt it would be too wasteful for them to melt it down into gold bars.” The master had many items in his collection, but he only specialized in antique restoration—he couldn’t possibly know the origins of everything. The magazine interview had mentioned this matter, and this strange antique was something he’d used as an example then.

The boss reached out to stroke the ancient object, a trace of amusement flashing in his eyes.

Long, long ago, he seemed to have asked the same question.

228 BCE

“Eldest Prince, what is this object used for?” The twelve-year-old youth in green robes hadn’t yet reached the age for binding his hair. His long hair hung loose behind him, making him look only eight or nine years old. But that childish face constantly wore a serious expression that made people want to tease him.

Really wanted to pinch that expressionless face. Fu Su suppressed his restless hand, glanced at the object the youth indicated, and smiled faintly. “This is a set of weapon models made from pure gold.”

Where they now stood was the Half-Step Hall used for martial practice.

The “Discourses of the States: Discourses of Zhou II” says: “In ancient times, six chi made one step, half a step made one wu. What the eye can discern and measure does not exceed the space of steps, wu, chi and cun.” Wu originally was a unit of measurement like step, but in Fu Su’s view, within half a step was a person’s forbidden zone—the distance at which one could draw swords against each other. This gave rise to the meaning of half a step as wu.

Half-Step Hall was named accordingly—a spacious martial practice room. Unlike courses in ritual, music, calligraphy, and mathematics where Fu Su had individual tutors, courses in horsemanship and archery were attended by many together.

Fu Su had twenty-three younger brothers. Except for those who had just learned to walk, everyone took martial practice classes together. Add in the young masters from various generals’ and ministers’ households, and dozens of people together created a chaotic clamor. So each martial class left the quiet-loving Fu Su extremely irritable—he’d only occasionally attend when he couldn’t refuse. But for others, the martial hall was probably quite popular, being one of the rare opportunities to interact with others and form factions.

Watching those brothers who thought themselves clever indeed call friends and gather companions after several martial classes, forming small circles.

As the eldest prince, he conversely couldn’t do this, because countless eyes watched his every move. Fu Su looked around and found that the only person who could legitimately stand beside him was this twelve-year-old Superior Minister Gan.

“Eldest Prince, I’m asking about this object.” The youth paid no mind to Fu Su’s perfunctory answer but stubbornly pointed at that wall.

On one wall of Half-Step Hall hung a row of weapon models made from pure gold—first to demonstrate the Qin Dynasty’s prosperity and strength, second to metaphorically suggest that all wealth originated from powerful military force. Fu Su followed the youth’s slender finger and saw he was pointing at the very first one. He smiled slightly. “Does Superior Minister Gan know the weapons behind it?”

The youth narrowed those phoenix eyes that hadn’t yet fully developed, obviously somewhat displeased with Fu Su’s attitude. But after a moment of silence, he still parted his lips lightly, and crisp words popped out one by one like ice beads: “Ge, bow, arrow, knife, sword, spear, crossbow, halberd, axe, yue, hammer…”

“You know quite a lot! Why not mention that first one?” An arrogant voice interjected from the side, rudely interrupting the youth’s words.

Fu Su looked to the side and found a youth about his height, probably similar in age—around fourteen or fifteen—with rough features, his eyes and brows already showing the budding form of an elite military general. He wore a treasure-blue narrow-sleeved Hu robe. This short-bodied, long-sleeved clothing had been welcomed by martial practitioners ever since King Wuling of Zhao personally promoted it. Even when Fu Su and the others attended martial classes, they would change into narrow-sleeved Hu robes. But due to his noble status, he wore black Hu robes, while his younger brothers all wore lower-ranked dark-colored Hu robes.

And this arrogant person who came to interrupt must be an unfamiliar face who couldn’t read the situation—probably being used as a pawn by some scheming younger brother.

Before Fu Su could ask the other’s identity, the youth beside him had already calmly spoken: “This is Wang Li, fourteen years old, legitimate eldest grandson of General Wang Jian.”

Oh, right. Fu Su suddenly understood, remembering that the eunuch Gu Cun had mentioned to him before that together with this Superior Minister Gan, the legitimate eldest grandson of Qin’s Superior General Wang Jian was also entering the palace to study. But he’d always had private tutoring from masters, and had skipped martial classes several times. This time he only came because he had no excuse—so this was his first time meeting young master Wang.

Wang Li clearly didn’t believe that after being in the palace so long, the eldest prince still didn’t know him. He glared at the green-robed youth who had introduced his identity, thinking he deliberately spoke up to embarrass him. He sneered, “Superior Minister Gan is erudite and talented, appointed Superior Minister at merely twelve years old. How come you don’t even recognize the ‘gan’ in ‘dagandongge’ (great mobilization of arms)?”

The green-robed youth paid no attention to the sarcasm in Wang Li’s mouth. For him, seeking knowledge was most crucial. He murmured to himself, “The ‘Book of Songs’ says: ‘Put away gan and ge, store bow and arrow.’ So this is what gan looks like.”

In ancient times, gan was a tree-trunk-shaped defensive implement, while ge was an offensive weapon. Thus the two words gan and ge were used as a general term for weapons. The green-robed youth had only read the written words in books. He knew ge was still used by the military, but gan had long since evolved into shields in warfare, so this was his first time seeing the actual object.

Actually, the green-robed youth wasn’t the only one in Half-Step Hall who didn’t recognize this object—he was just the only one who dared ask straightforwardly. Wang Li came from a military general family, so knowing this object’s name was unsurprising. But clearly this conversation between the two had caused someone’s displeasure.

“This object is called ‘shield’ in Qin, while the other six states call it ‘gan.’ The Superior Minister cannot be blamed for not knowing.” Fu Su glanced at Wang Li and spoke in defense. What a joke! Even if he also felt this twelve-year-old little Superior Minister Gan was too young, at least he counted as his person. What right did others have to mock him? Especially in front of him!

Wang Li’s face turned red from being blocked by Fu Su’s remark. Just as he wanted to say how shields and gan were different, he suddenly discovered this wall actually had no shield model.

Fu Su laughed secretly. He’d heard before that when Father King brought little brother Hu Hai to play in Half-Step Hall, the child who’d just learned to walk immediately took a liking to that glittering golden shield model. Father King had someone take down that golden shield on the spot for his little brother to take back to his room to play with. It had only been two or three days—no time to forge a new golden shield model. More likely they were waiting for little brother to tire of playing with it before sending it back.

Their conversation here successfully quieted everyone in Half-Step Hall. Though the eldest prince Fu Su’s remark sounded ordinary enough, careful consideration revealed deep meaning. This was also because the Wang family had been subjects of Great Qin for generations, their roots pure and red. Otherwise, with this remark, Wang Li wouldn’t lose his life but would definitely lose a layer of skin.

Fu Su said this precisely because he’d seen this point clearly. No one would say his words were cutting—those who knew would only praise him for his erudition. Momentarily rather pleased with himself, he curved his lips slightly, then returned to a completely indifferent expression.

Before long, the instructing officers arrived. Everyone said nothing more and began forming up by age groups for class.

When lining up, the green-robed youth felt as if thorns were stabbing his back. Looking back, he found Wang Li from the adjacent formation glaring at him angrily. He turned his head back expressionlessly.

His eldest prince was always so willful, never knowing what consequences his casually spoken words would cause.