Ying Zheng’s Death

"As night falls on the tenth month, the day of Guichou, the imperial procession marches quietly. Shadows of trees sway in the cold wind, like wailing ghosts.

At the Plain Crossing, the wind whistles like wandering spirits, hinting at an impending storm.

A convoy of carriages moves forward slowly, the wheels pressing into soft earth, creating a heavy, muffled sound.

The trees along the road sway in the wind, as if ghostly figures whispering.

The leading soldiers, clad in iron armor, wear solemn expressions as they guard an extravagant wenliang carriage.

Inside the carriage, behind its low curtains, sits none other than the exalted ruler, Emperor Qin Shi Huang, Ying Zheng.

Since learning of the inscription on the fallen meteorite in Dongjun days earlier, Ying Zheng has felt uneasy.

A meteor's fall is usually a celestial omen, but this one bore the ominous message, "The First Emperor dies, and the land is divided," as if a curse foretelling the future of his Qin Empire.

Though Ying Zheng is known for his iron will, he cannot help but feel a chill.

The empire is not yet stable, and his rule remains fragile.

Every ill omen feels like an invisible hand gripping his throat.

Ying Zheng frowns, memories of events from more than a decade ago surfacing in his mind.

That night, he had met a mystic in the palace of Xianyang, a man with the title of a fangshi and claiming to be a disciple of Guiguzi.

With eyes as deep as an abyss, the mystic had confidently foretold the six states would fall to Qin, as though he held all in his control.

Though Ying Zheng had hidden his reaction, he was quietly shaken, recognizing him as someone with insight into the heavens.

The mystic had presented him with the "Bone-Reflecting Mirror"—an ancient bronze mirror reputed to reveal a person's true fate. Holding its handle, Ying Zheng had felt a chilling cold seep into his bones.

"Your Majesty, to control the soul within the mirror is to attain eternal life," the mystic had said with calm assurance.

A ghostly glint had flashed within the mirror, and Ying Zheng had seen his own reflection, seemingly transfixed.

The mystic's predictions on wars and unification had all come true, leading Ying Zheng to believe he might indeed be a sage of several centuries.

Determined to pursue immortality, he had subsequently ordered altars, rituals, mystics, and elixirs.

But soon after, the mystic vanished into the vast East Sea, taking with him Ying Zheng's dream of eternal life.

Now, the cold reflection in the bronze mirror reveals his aging face, leaving only regret.

The wind howls at his ears, the hurried clopping of hooves resounds, and nightfall descends over the procession.

"Your Majesty, shall we rest for a while?" the eunuch's voice breaks through Ying Zheng's thoughts.

With eyes closed, Ying Zheng replies in a low, commanding voice, "No need. Continue forward."

The convoy reaches a desolate stretch of land where, suddenly, a group of children appears along the road.

Barefoot, clad in rags, they stand by the roadside, playing in the sand, building small mounds with their hands and chanting softly.

"Sand dunes! Sand dunes!"

Their clear, innocent voices sound disturbingly loud in the dark night.

Ying Zheng's eyes open sharply, his expression darkening.

"Sand dunes?" he mutters, the word stabbing him from deep within his memory.

The old prophecy haunts him: "Qin Shi Huang, so mighty… but upon reaching the Sand Dunes, his reign shall end."

A shiver runs down his spine, intensifying the shadow over his heart.

"Why are they speaking of sand dunes here?" Ying Zheng demands harshly, his impatience growing.

The attendants outside hurriedly question the children.

One little boy, unafraid, replies, "We're playing sand dunes! We're building sand dunes!"

Ying Zheng's face grows darker, his gaze as sharp as a blade fixed upon the children.

After a long silence, he closes his eyes, sighing deeply, "Destiny—it is inescapable."

As the convoy continues, his heart grows heavier.

The days of fatigue and anxiety weaken his body even further.

Physicians come and go, administering treatments to no avail.

Ying Zheng lies back in the carriage, his head throbbing, his body wracked with feverish pain as his consciousness fades in and out.

Realizing his time is nearing an end, he opens his eyes suddenly.

"Zhao Gao!" he calls out, his voice weak but still laced with authority.

Zhao Gao hastily approaches, kneeling respectfully. "Your Majesty."

After catching his breath, Ying Zheng motions for Zhao Gao to come closer.

From his sleeve, he draws out a wooden tablet, giving instructions in a low voice, "This decree… take it to Fusu… have him return to Xianyang and take charge."

Zhao Gao accepts the tablet, his face calm though his heart churns.

He understands the significance of this decree.

If Fusu returns to Xianyang, the future of the Qin Empire will lie in his hands, and Zhao Gao's own fate will be affected.

Bowing, Zhao Gao respectfully assures, "Your Majesty, please rest. I am your devoted servant."

Yet in his heart, Zhao Gao is already calculating his next move.

Ying Zheng's hand falls limp, his aged form drained of strength.

The convoy presses on. Ying Zheng's thoughts drift as he recalls the great deeds of his life.

He unified the six states, built the Great Wall, erected palaces, burned books, and executed scholars… each a heavy burden weighing on his mind.

Before long, the convoy reaches the Sand Dunes Palace.

The following day…

A cold wind like a knife cuts across the Sand Dunes Palace grounds, whipping the banners.

Lying in the carriage, Qin Shi Huang is deathly pale, barely breathing.

Standing beside the carriage, Hu Hai frowns, a mix of hesitation and unease in his gaze.

He knows his father's time is short, and that he must act quickly.

Zhao Gao approaches with hands crossed at his chest, murmuring softly, "Your Highness, the time has come."

Hu Hai clenches his fists, his voice shaking slightly. "But…"

Zhao Gao scoffs, his tone carrying a hint of scorn. "Your Highness, if you do not act, you will forever lose this opportunity. Fusu commands powerful forces in Shangjun. If he returns to inherit the throne, you will have no chance to rise."

Hu Hai's face turns paler, his mind reeling.

He knows Zhao Gao speaks the truth. Fusu is highly respected in the military, and if he returns, Hu Hai's chance at the throne will be lost.

Yet to move against his own father troubles him deeply.

"Zhao Gao," Hu Hai asks quietly, "is there truly no other way?"

Zhao Gao's gaze turns icy as he steps closer, whispering, "Your Highness, the throne can only belong to one. It will either be yours or Fusu's.

Remember, the Qin throne was never won by kindness."

Hu Hai falls silent, his resolve gradually hardening.

He grits his teeth, his voice low but determined, "Fine!"

Zhao Gao's smile grows cold as he nods approvingly. Leaning close, he whispers, "First, we must destroy the decree sent to Fusu."

Hu Hai's eyes light up with urgency. "Has the decree already been delivered?"

Shaking his head, Zhao Gao's gaze sharpens. "No, the decree is still with me. The emperor issued it, instructing Fusu to return and oversee affairs, but I never sent it."

From his sleeve, Zhao Gao retrieves the decree, holding it out to Hu Hai.

Hu Hai stares at the decree, his heart racing, knowing it holds both his and Fusu's fate.

He slowly reaches out, takes the decree, and says in a low voice, "Burn it."

Zhao Gao smiles with satisfaction, takes the decree, and sets it alight, its ashes scattering on the wind.

"Now, Fusu will never know the emperor's true command," Zhao Gao says coldly. "Next, we'll forge a new decree, ordering Fusu and Meng Tian to end their own lives, ensuring no loose ends."

"Forge a decree?" Hu Hai hesitates. "Isn't that too risky?"

Zhao Gao sneers, "Your Highness, there's no turning back now. Fusu and Meng Tian control the army. If we don't eliminate them swiftly, the throne of Xianyang will slip from your grasp."

After a moment of contemplation, Hu Hai finally nods. "Do it."

At his nod, Zhao Gao's eyes gleam with triumph.

Nearby, Li Si prepares ink and brush, forging a decree in Qin Shi Huang's name, accusing Fusu and Meng Tian of disloyalty and commanding their suicides.

Watching Zhao Gao seal the decree with the emperor's jade stamp, Hu Hai is both impressed and disturbed. "Zhao Gao, you seem well-versed in such deeds."

Zhao Gao smiles coldly. "Your Highness, if I hadn't been prepared for this, I wouldn't have accompanied you this far."

Hu Hai nods in understanding.

In the carriage, Hu Hai's brow is furrowed as he stares at Qin Shi Huang's face, unmoving.

Finally, he takes a deep breath, seeming to reach a decision. Slowly, he extends his hand to grasp the faintly glowing "Bone-Reflecting Mirror" resting on Qin Shi Huang's chest.

The mirror, a treasured heirloom of the Ying family, symbolizes the Qin's legitimate rule.

Legend has it that the mirror can peer into one's soul. Only those who hold it can rightfully inherit the Qin throne.

As Hu Hai's fingers touch the mirror, a chill surges through him, his gaze turning fierce and cold, banishing all hesitation.

"Father, your time is over," Hu Hai murmurs, standing tall and looking icily at Zhao Gao. "From this moment, I am the King of Qin!"

Days later, the forged decree reaches Fusu and Meng Tian.

Inside Fusu's tent…

Reading the decree, Fusu's face turns ashen. "Father has commanded me to end my life?" His hands tremble, shock and confusion filling his heart.

Meng Tian, beside him, reads the decree and frowns deeply. "Prince Fusu, the content of this letter is too suspicious. Could it be a ruse?"

Fusu is silent, understanding the situation but feeling helpless.

Looking up, he says with resolve, "Whether real or not, I cannot disobey my father's order."

"Prince!" Meng Tian's eyes flash with sorrow, yet he knows Fusu's mind is set.

With a bitter smile, Fusu draws his sword, bows to Meng Tian, and says, "General Meng, thank you for your support all these years. If there is another life, I hope to call you brother."

With that, Fusu drives the sword into his chest, blood spilling onto the ground.

Meng Tian, filled with grief and helplessness, clenches his fists, sighing deeply. "Prince Fusu!"

Meanwhile, the conspiracy of Zhao Gao, Hu Hai, and Li Si reaches completion.

Qin Shi Huang's body is transported back to Xianyang in a wenliang carriage, the stench of decay masked by salted fish, as the convoy moves toward the capital.

Soon after, Hu Hai ascends as the Second Emperor, while the loyal souls of Fusu and Meng Tian are lost to the wind.

The following year, Chen Sheng and Wu Guang rise in rebellion at Daze Village, sparking an uprising that signals the beginning of the Qin Empire's collapse."