When people were in Qin, they captured Zhao and questioned Qin.

Chapter 17 River Water

Handan, as the capital of the Zhao state, has always been divided into the palace city and the outer city.

As the hills on the eastern foothills of the Taihang Mountains gradually sink into the plains, a natural topography of high in the southwest and low in the northeast is formed.

The Zhao King City in the southwest is situated on a plateau, with magnificent palaces and thick city walls, making it easy to defend and difficult to attack; while the Dabeicheng in the northeast has a flat and wide terrain, crisscrossing streets and alleys, and bustling markets, making it a place where people live and merchants gather.

The "Guili" where Chunpingjun's residence is located is within the Zhao royal city, belonging to the northern part of the royal city, and even directly adjacent to the palace and the residences of various ministers and officials. The streets and alleys in this area are exceptionally wide, with neatly paved bluestone slabs and locust and willow trees planted along the roadside, which have sprouted tender green buds at this time of year.

Occasionally, a horse-drawn carriage would pass by, its copper bells jingling softly, its curtains splendid—all those traveling with distinguished guests.

Weifeng Lane is located in the northeast of Dabeicheng, in a "commoner's village".

Although the Great Northern City was ten times the size of the Zhao King's City, its terrain was flat and lacked natural defenses. The houses were densely packed and the streets and alleys were narrow, making it a genuine working-class area. From Guili to Weifeng Lane, one had to cross almost half of Handan City, one high and one low, one noble and one humble, like two different worlds.

Zhao Heng left the mansion and walked through the streets and alleys.

The morning light was just right. He walked slowly and leisurely, carefully appreciating the scenery along the street.

He was actually quite content.

It wasn't a pose; he was genuinely relaxed. This body was, after all, that of an eleven-year-old boy, recovering from a serious illness. Being able to go out for a walk, see the sights of this Warring States capital, and feel the sunshine and wind was a comforting thing in itself.

However, Ji Cheng and Luan Ding were not so relaxed. The two of them stood on the left and right, only half a step behind Zhao Heng. Their eyes were like eagles, constantly scanning every passerby in front, behind, left and right. Their hands were always lightly on the hilts of their swords, and they were very cautious.

After walking north for about fifteen minutes, passing through Guili, and turning around a wall, the scenery suddenly changed.

A wave of clamor washed over us.

The street suddenly narrowed, but the flow of people became dense.

Because it was adjacent to Guili and located in the center of Handan City, it naturally became the largest market in the city, facilitating both the purchase of goods by the city's elites and the trading of ordinary people.

Handan, as the second most important city in the world after Linzi, had experienced the Battle of Changping and was besieged by the Qin army for nearly two years. However, after five years, the city had become prosperous. Although the population was not as dense as Linzi, the commercial activities were much more vibrant than those of Xianyang, which emphasized agriculture and suppressed commerce.

On both sides of the street, restaurants, eateries, music halls, and warehouses stood side by side, their banners fluttering and cloth banners billowing in layers. Steam rose from the eateries, mingling with the aromas of caramelized meat, thick flavors, and the pungent scents of unknown spices.

The open space beside the road was crowded with vendors selling pottery, cloth, wooden and iron tools, and fresh fruits and vegetables... a dazzling array of goods.

Although the crowds weren't exactly shoulder to shoulder, this largest market in Handan was indeed teeming with people. For a time, the air was thick with noise—a cacophony of vendors' cries, haggling, and children's playful shouts from all over the country.

Zhao Heng slowed his pace.

This wasn't his first time going out, but in his memories before falling into the water, he usually went out by car, rushing around, and the street scenes he saw were all seen through a car curtain.

Walking through the streets and alleys of this Warring States capital with his own feet and observing the daily life of Handan City two thousand years ago with his own eyes was a first for him.

He looked around with curiosity, like a real child.

Ji Cheng and Luan Ding stood guard on either side of him.

Their palms were already sweating. The people of Zhao were known for their martial spirit, and it was common to see men carrying swords or short weapons in the marketplace. These men walked briskly, their expressions fierce, and their eyes would scan them with a scrutinizing gaze. But Zhao Heng was walking through the market, stopping frequently to observe, showing no sign of hurrying on his way, which made them inwardly groan.

If someone with ill intentions were to suddenly attack from among the crowd, even those with exceptional martial arts skills would find it difficult to guarantee their safety.

"Young master," Luan Ding couldn't help but say, "shall we hurry?"

Zhao Heng ignored him.

He saw a stall selling miscellaneous goods from various places. The stall was small, with coarse linen spread on the ground, on which were scattered some strange trinkets: ornaments made of seashells, polished animal bones, mottled minerals, and some small items that he couldn't quite name.

"No rush, let's go over there," Zhao Heng said, leading the two of them over.

Seeing that Zhao Heng was neatly dressed and followed by two young but sharp-eyed sword-wielding guards, the stall owner, though a child, dared not be negligent in the slightest. He quickly put on a smile and bowed slightly.

"What would you like, young master? We have all sorts of fine things here, from all over the country."

"Do you have any trinkets from Xianyang?" Zhao Heng asked.

The stall owner was taken aback.

He scrutinized Zhao Heng carefully, a hint of hesitation flashing in his eyes, before he forced a smile: "We do have some from Xianyang, but they are rare and expensive. Does young master really want them?"

"Take it out so I can see it."

The stall owner hesitated for a moment, then turned around, rummaged around in an old wooden box behind him for a while, took out a few items, and carefully placed them on the burlap.

However, it contained pottery horses, pottery figurines, and even a small handful of half-ounce coins, with the characters "half-ounce" engraved in Qin seal script on them, serving as currency inscriptions, which were quite different from the knife-shaped coins of the Zhao state.

"Young master, look! These are all genuine pieces made by artisans from Xianyang. Look at the patterns, the glaze... and the Qin seal script, auspicious words! And look at these Banliang coins, they're rare in Handan, brought here by merchant caravans, we've been saving them up for a long time..."

Zhao Heng picked up the terracotta horse figurine. The horse was simple in form, head held high and hooves raised, its entire body covered in a bluish-gray glaze, with simple cloud patterns carved on the saddle. He then looked at some other small trinkets and asked, "Are these really from Xianyang?"

"Of course it's true!" the stall owner patted his chest. "To be honest, young master, I have relatives who are merchants in Qin. They bring over some new and interesting things every few months. Don't underestimate this small stall; many young men from wealthy families in Handan love to come here to hunt for Qin items. Isn't that amazing?"

Zhao Heng put down the pottery horse, selected a few half-ounce coins, two Qin-made ornaments, a piece of raw green jade that was said to be unique to the Qin region, and also picked out two small pottery figurines, dressed as warriors, with armor styles slightly different from those of Zhao soldiers.

"Wrap these up," he said.

The stall owner beamed with joy and busied himself carefully wrapping it in coarse cloth.

Ji Cheng stepped forward, took a small cloth bag from his waist, counted out a few coins, and paid. The stall owner took the money, weighed it in his hand, and his smile widened.

Zhao Heng then asked Luan Ding to buy some millet, coarse cloth, and salt from the shop next door. There were quite a few items, and they were also quite heavy. Luan Ding tied them with hemp rope and carried them on his back, making a large, bulging bundle; Ji Cheng also carried two small bags of millet and a piece of coarse cloth in his hands.

The two dared not stray too far from Zhao Heng, and carrying these things on their backs, their movements were not as nimble as before, and they looked rather disheveled.

Zhao Heng glanced at it, then took the package of Xianyang items and held it in his arms. "Let's go."

We passed through the market and continued north.

The crowds gradually thinned out, and the noise faded into the distance.

The streets grew increasingly narrow, and the houses on both sides changed from brick and tile structures to mud brick or wooden plank structures, with some roofs simply covered with thatch. The courtyard walls were mostly fences or bamboo railings, through which one could see clothes drying in the sun, piles of firewood, and the occasional chicken or duck running by.

The smell of animal manure, rotting vegetation, and the mingled smells of human cooking in the air grew stronger.

A stone bridge spans the river ahead; this is the Niushou Bridge.

The bridge is simple and ancient, built of bluestone, with railings that only reach an adult's waist. At the bridgehead stands a stone tablet, the inscription of which is blurred, but the two characters "Ox Head" can still be vaguely discerned.

However, unlike the East Niushou Bridge where Zhao Heng fell into the water, this is the West Niushou Bridge.

Within the city of Handan, two rivers flow through it. One is the Zhu River, which flows from west to east, separating the Zhao King's City from the Great Northern City. Its waters are shallow and its current is slow, making it a popular destination for boats. The other is the Niushou River, which comes from the northwest and meanders through the city, separating a small northernmost area from the main city. Its current is slightly faster, and its riverbed is deeper.

When important people travel, they often use the west bridge, as it is shorter and the bridge is wider. If they use the east bridge, they have to take a longer route, and that area is more remote.

Zhao Heng stopped in the middle of the bridge.

He leaned on the railing, looking down at the river below the bridge.

The river flowed gently, its surface wider than a few days ago, the spring waters rising slightly. The current was neither swift nor slow, swirling eastward and creating small white splashes near the bridge piers.

A few willow leaves drifted downstream, swirled in the eddy, and continued onward, disappearing in the blink of an eye.

right here.

A few days ago, that naive, timid, father-missing, and unaware-of-danger eleven-year-old child fell into the water from the bridge to the east. When he awoke, he was a different person.

The river continues to flow eastward, neither fast nor slow, without asking why.

It witnessed that child's fear, struggle, and final silent demise. It also carries the awakening of this soul now, as well as those vast and chaotic memories.

It knows everything, yet says nothing.

Ji Cheng and Luan Ding stood behind him, sword hilts in hand, cautiously surveying their surroundings. They asked no questions, nor did they urge him on. They knew where they were, and they knew what their young lord was thinking at this moment… whatever he was thinking.

Zhao Heng stood silently for a long time.

A spring breeze blew from the river, carrying a cool, misty feel, brushing against the wisps of hair on his forehead. In the distance, birdsong rang out, clear and melodious.

Time flies.

he thinks.

More than two thousand years later, this Niushou River may have changed its name to Qin River, or its course may have changed. The riverbed may have been higher then, silted up with sediment; or it may have been lower, cut by the passage of time.

But water always flows like this, from west to east, from ancient times to the present, without asking why, without distinguishing between the noble and the lowly, and regardless of who the people on the shore are, what they are doing, or whether they are alive or dead.

Personal life and death, family honor and disgrace, the rise and fall of a nation... all are like a willow leaf on the water's surface before this river. Light and fleeting, they disappear in a swirl, leaving not even a ripple.

Yet it is precisely these insignificant, fleeting, and ever-present things that drive countless people to fight, struggle, risk their lives, and trample on others with all their might.

Even the lightest leaf becomes a mountain when it falls on someone's shoulder.

The river can wash away leaves, but it cannot wash away the mountains in people's hearts.

He turned away, no longer looking at the river.

"Let's go."