If a person has something to fear, then he is neither a god nor an untouchable existence.
219 BCE, the twenty-eighth year of Emperor Qin Shihuang’s reign
Eleven-year-old Hu Hai sat upright behind a low table, looking down at a wooden spoon placed on it. Beneath this wooden spoon was a smooth wooden board in the center, with many directional markings carved around its edges.
Hu Hai tried turning the wooden spoon. No matter how many times the spoon rotated, the handle always stopped pointing in the same direction. Hu Hai asked with interest, “Master, what is this object?”
In the corner of the side hall stood a tall figure, his face hidden in shadows, making it impossible to see his appearance and expression clearly. The man spoke slowly, “This object is called a compass. The wooden spoon is the ladle, with a lodestone embedded within. The compass ladle will always point south.” This person’s voice was deep yet somewhat shrill, and with his deliberate affectation, maintaining a tone neither high nor low, it sounded very uncomfortable to the ears.
Hu Hai had already grown accustomed to the other’s pretentious manner of speaking. He only felt that the sunlight streaming through the window lattice into the side hall was somewhat glaring, slightly squinting his eyes as he murmured to himself, “Compass, compass… ‘Si’ means to manage and bear responsibility. South is not an ordinary direction. Compass… but this wooden spoon points not to the south, but to the east… Master, this compass ladle must be no ordinary object, right?” Though Hu Hai was young, he knew that anything his master, who rarely paid attention to him, actively brought before him was definitely not an ordinary item. Although this earth-yellow wooden spoon looked plain and unremarkable, it was extremely bright and lustrous, with a brilliant patina that clearly showed it was of great age.
“The Book of Changes: Explanation of Trigrams states: ‘The sage faces south to listen to all under heaven.’ Since ancient times, sitting north and facing south has been the position of honor, so when the Son of Heaven and princes receive their ministers, or when high officials meet their subordinates, they all sit facing south.”
Zhao Gao paused here, his eyes hidden in the darkness—containing an almost demonic charm—flickered briefly before he continued flatly, “The imperial position faces south, hence it represents the imperial throne. This compass ladle was confiscated from the Zhao Kingdom’s royal palace. Others all think this object has lost its efficacy, but I believe that what this object points to is the position of the sovereign.”
“Ah! No wonder the spoon handle points east!” Hu Hai clapped his hands and laughed loudly, because his father, Emperor Qin Shihuang, was currently traveling east to Mount Tai for the feng and shan ceremonies—precisely to the east. Hu Hai fondled the compass ladle before him lovingly, innocently looking up and asking, “Master, why not present this object to Father Emperor?”
The corners of Zhao Gao’s lips slowly curved into a cold smile in the shadows, while his voice remained flatly emotionless, “His Majesty seeks the elixir of immortality—how could he tolerate the existence of this object? If one day this compass ladle no longer points toward him, but instead points toward one of your brothers, what then?”
Hu Hai’s hand paused in turning the compass ladle. The wooden spoon spun several times on the wooden board and still stopped pointing exactly due east without the slightest deviation.
“I have searched through all historical records and speculate that this compass ladle likely belonged to King Zhou of Shang. It was precisely because this object pointed west that day that King Zhou imprisoned the Western Earl Ji Chang and killed his eldest son Bo Yikao. However, King Zhou still did not have the ruthless determination—Bo Yikao’s younger brother Ji Fa destroyed the Shang dynasty and became known in history as King Wu of Zhou.” Zhao Gao spoke these words extremely slowly, but pronounced each character very clearly, ensuring that not a single word was lost on Hu Hai’s ears.
A bone-chilling coldness arose in young Hu Hai’s heart, yet he seemed possessed, turning the wooden spoon before him over and over again…
“And this object… can not only… point to the imperial position… but can also…”
Hu Hai woke with a start from his dream, staring blankly at the white ceiling for a long time without coming to his senses.
What exactly had his master said afterward? No matter how many times he dreamed of this scene, the latter words were always unclear and fragmented… as if he had forgotten something very important…
It seemed he had indeed been smelling the moon unicorn incense that could influence dreams for too long, increasingly recalling those memories from very distant years.
Because he truly did not want to wake up.
Hu Hai propped himself up and sat up, his crimson pupils scanning around the room. As expected, it was cold and deserted, just as it had been when he fell asleep.
Once again, he had been abandoned by his imperial brother.
Once again, he was alone.
Although half a year had already passed, he still refused to accept this reality, daily immersing himself in the moon unicorn incense unable to extricate himself.
Ming Hong stood on the clothing rack before his bed with eyes closed, sleeping. Probably due to the rich moon unicorn incense in the room, the little creature was also affected—who knew what this small thing might be dreaming of.
Hu Hai tilted his head and stared blankly for a long time before getting up to extinguish the burning incense seal and turning on the air conditioning for ventilation. When the rich fragrance in the room grew faint, the small red bird stirred its head and awakened. It first used its beak to preen its feathers, finding them impeccable, then fluttered its wings to fly up and land properly on its young master’s left shoulder, actively nuzzling his face to request petting.
Hu Hai raised his hand to smooth its feathers several times. The smooth, soft plumage sliding across his fingertips slightly calmed his restless heart.
“Only you remain by my side…” Hu Hai whispered, his silver-white eyelashes covering his crimson pupils.
The small red bird tilted its head with an adorably vacant expression. Seeing its master walk toward the table, it jumped ahead onto it, using its sharp little beak to prod the strange wooden spoon on the table. The wooden spoon spun continuously on the smooth wooden board, seeming to never stop.
Hu Hai stood dazedly beside the table. Ever since he first began having that previous dream, he had retrieved this compass ladle from an ancient tomb. But the compass ladle showed no directional indication at all.
Perhaps this era no longer had a true sovereign, or perhaps his imperial brother had completely abandoned any thought of claiming the throne.
Was this the reason for his imperial brother’s disappearance?
Hu Hai clenched his fists. He had already waited half a year, even fearing his imperial brother might suddenly appear at the front door. For this entire half year, he had rarely left home, afraid of missing such a moment.
But it seemed all of this was merely his wishful thinking.
The small red bird was enthusiastically prodding the compass ladle when it suddenly noticed its young master grab the black umbrella nearby and stride toward the door. It quickly spread its wings and chased after him, slipping out just before the door closed.
Neither the person nor the bird noticed that the compass ladle spinning on the table suddenly slowed down and gradually came to a stop…
218 BCE, the twenty-ninth year of Emperor Qin Shihuang’s reign
Hu Hai, now showing the initial appearance of a youth, propped his chin with one hand while casually turning the compass ladle before him with the other, listlessly watching the wooden spoon stop pointing west each time.
Father Emperor had returned from his eastern tour and was certainly handling government affairs in the warm pavilion at this moment. Imperial Brother probably would not be studying in the study today either, but would be attending alongside him. Even Master would likely be attending at Father Emperor’s side, just like during the last eastern tour.
Perhaps next time, he could also ask Father Emperor to take him along on the eastern tour?
The compass ladle spun on the smooth wooden board, forming a circular afterimage. Sun Shuo, who was attending nearby, seeing his good mood, chuckled softly, “Young Master loves this compass most of all, playing with it for a while every day.”
But Hu Hai suddenly sat up straight, his clear black and white pupils narrowing as he asked in an emotionless, stern voice, “Is it that obvious?” Though he was still young, he already had the bearing of a young master. When his small face became serious, he indeed possessed a somewhat dignified presence.
Sun Shuo had served Hu Hai since childhood and understood his young master’s temperament completely. Though he did not know what deeper purpose this compass served, he still respectfully bowed his head and reported, “Young Master’s side hall rarely allows people to enter and exit freely. Apart from this servant, no one else would know.”
Hu Hai quietly watched the compass ladle stop pointing west once again, but no longer reached out to turn it.
He was Father Emperor’s most beloved young son, not only because during the month of his birth, Father Emperor had annexed the Han Kingdom and begun the great undertaking of unification, and not merely because he was handsome and adorable, but because he knew how to please Father Emperor and understood what role he should play to meet the other’s needs. After him, several younger brothers had been born successively, but Father Emperor, busy with military campaigns and internal affairs, could not even be bothered to glance at them, much less rank them in order. So the officially most favored young master in Xianyang Palace referred specifically to him alone.
He knew Father Emperor only wanted a model of paternal kindness and filial piety. If he could not perform well, another could easily replace him—after all, he had more than twenty brothers as candidates.
So he could only strive with all his might. Father Emperor did not allow him to study and practice calligraphy, nor to practice martial arts and archery, so he could only eavesdrop outside Imperial Brother’s study and observe from outside Imperial Brother’s training grounds. These small actions were all within Father Emperor’s tolerance, and he had always been testing Father Emperor’s limits.
But he had become far too dependent on this compass ladle, because through it, he could accurately know Father Emperor’s location!
Hu Hai was stunned in place.
Previously, he had been too young to understand the deeper purpose of this compass. He simply had pure filial affection for Father Emperor. Every day, turning the compass ladle a few times to determine Father Emperor’s position allowed him to imagine which palace hall he was in or where he was touring outside the palace, whether he was governing diligently for the people or offering sacrifices to heaven. Moreover, if the distance was close, he would very coincidentally appear on Father Emperor’s inevitable path, perfectly performing a scene of paternal kindness and filial piety. This was also why, among more than twenty brothers, he remained Father Emperor’s most beloved to this day.
During Father Emperor’s return from this eastern tour, he had heard Sun Shuo relay news that at Bolang Sands, a descendant of the Han Kingdom’s chancellor had sent a strongman to hurl a iron hammer weighing over a hundred jin in an assassination attempt on Father Emperor. Fortunately, Father Emperor had been prepared in advance, and all the carriages were identical. The assassin could not distinguish which carriage Father Emperor was riding and ultimately struck a decoy carriage by chance, resulting in a false alarm.
But what if that Zhang Liang, the Han Kingdom descendant, had possessed this compass ladle? Would not Father Emperor’s whereabouts be completely exposed?
How could Father Emperor tolerate the existence of such an object in this world?
Hu Hai broke out in a cold sweat.
Though he was young, this did not mean he was as naive and innocent as he appeared on the surface. Thinking deeper, why would his master Zhao Gao give him such an object that, if discovered by Father Emperor, would bring catastrophic disaster?
Confiscated from the Zhao Kingdom’s royal palace… Zhao Gao…
Hu Hai recalled the words Zhao Gao had spoken when giving him the compass ladle. That Zhao Gao was not a military general, yet wore the blue silk-tied double-tailed vertical military cap of King Wuling of Zhao.
For a close minister to be able to wear a Zhao king’s military cap, and for this person to also be surnamed Zhao—could this be coincidence?
It could be completely deduced that this compass ladle had originally belonged to Zhao Gao, and Zhao Gao should be a member of the Zhao Kingdom’s royal family who had long ago recognized through the compass ladle that Father Emperor was the sovereign ordained by heaven, and thus had willingly submitted.
But why did he no longer use it now? Why had he given it to him instead?
Sun Shuo looked worriedly at Hu Hai, unable to understand why his young master’s expression had suddenly become so unpredictable.