TALES OF THE DRAGON – THE FIRST EMPEROR
A Book by TANG Long
Foreword
China, that huge ancient country with strange people and customs did not materialize overnight. Four thousand years ago, thousands of small kingdoms and city states populated that east Asian land, not unlike ancient Greece, except on a grander scale. In 1,122 BC, there were over one thousand and eight hundred independent tribal nations whose leaders gathered for the crowning of Lord Xi Boh-Fa as the king of the newly founded Chou kingdom. The collective lords and chieftains acknowledged him as the monarch of all land along the bends of the Yellow and the Yangtze Rivers. They pledged their loyalty to the new king and his descendents.
Eventually, the power of the Chou royal house withered with the passage of time. In the six hundred years that followed, civil war and Machiavellian diplomacy whittled the multitudes of clans down to mere scores of large nation states, creating a chaotic geopolitical landscape akin to that of the medieval Europe.
By 500 BC, the ever-increased level of conflicts fermented a demand for men of talent and ambition. This dearth set the stage for a social Renaissance, during which poets, philosophers, administrators and military strategists flourished – Kung Fu Tse (known in the west as Confucius), Lao Tse, Moh Tse, Menscius and Sun
Tse were but a few renowned intellectual giants of the time. As a Chinese proverb professed: Crises produce heroes and heroes create crises (opportunities). This saying is particularly apt, for in the Chinese vernacular crisis can also be taken to mean ‘dangerous opportunities.’ More significantly, the tumultuous circumstances paved the way for commoners to enter the ranks of the political leadership – previously a privileged preserve of the aristocratic elite.

In the final throes of these power struggles, brutal battles were so prevalent that historians appropriately named it The Era of Warring States (475-221 BC). The seven most powerful nations – Ch’in, Chi, Chu, Wei,
Tsao, Yen and Han, became collectively known as the "Seven Strongs," each capable of marshaling hundreds of thousands into battle.
Finally, in 221 BC, King Zheng of the Ch’in nation vanquished all other kingdoms and proclaimed himself
Shi Huang Di – The first king above kings, or The First Emperor. A man of vision and strong will, Zheng consolidated his realm. He abolished the ancient feudal system that had existed since the beginning of time and installed a Mandarin bureaucracy that ruled the land for the next two thousand plus years. He standardized the written language, created a national currency, implemented a single system of weights and measures, and set a single axle width (of vehicles) for the entire realm. These unifications became the foundation on which a single powerful nation rose. He built the famous Great Wall, and his powerful army kept the nomadic tribes at bay, facilitating the creation of the Silk Road. In time, trade caravans brought the fame of the Imperial Ch’in Empire to western lands; whereupon it acquired the westernized name of China.
But, despite all of his planning and foresight, the First Emperor’s Imperial Ch’in Dynasty lasted only fourteen years. Ch’in Shi Huang Di’s dictatorial rule caused him to become estranged from his son, the Crown
Prince, creating a political schism that ultimately led to the demise of his realm.
Most people today remember the First Emperor for his unification of China; his famous terracotta army; his construction of the Great Wall. But, buried deep in the annals of history is a little known fact – that the First
Emperor of China began life as nothing more than the bastard child of a commoner; and
Prologue
260 B.C., Han-Dan, Capital of the Tsao kingdom

The vein encrusted fist clutched tightly around the worn, knotted walking staff, while her other gnarled hand rested atop the rough stone parapet. The old crone’s thin frail body, half-hidden under the shadow of the merlon, became almost invisible to the casual observer as she leaned against the rough surfaced crenel atop the majestic wall of the city. Twin fishtail lined eyes peered anxiously into the setting sun, toward the western mountains, which casted a blood red rim onto the distant ridges, a portent of ill tidings ; she pushed her body tightly against the wall to arrest the trembling generated by the ominous thought. But, she could not hold back the tears that leaked out of the corners of her eyes. She allowed the young maiden to reach over and dab them away with a piece of red embroidered soft cotton cloth. “Thank you, Hsu Fu. It’s that dammed dusty wind, it keeps on blowing loess into my eyes,” the old woman said by way of explanation. It would be inappropriate to demonstrate any sign of fear, not even to the gods; it might tempt the gods to sway fortune in favor of the enemy. Every so often, the long delicate fingers of the servant girl reached back to dab away the watery droplets from the old crone’s wrinkle engraved visage. Worry and concern filled the women’s faces, but neither dared to translate their thoughts into words.
A hundred days ago, young General Tsao Kua assumed command of the army against the dreaded Ch’in force at Chang-Ping. Initial dispatches from the battlefront reported spectacular victories over the enemy, but that news had been over two months old, and none had followed hence. Then, ten days ago, a freak wind blew down the great pennant at the royal palace – a foreboding warning from the Heavens. Since then, Lady Tsao, mother of General Tsao Gua, had stood daily vigil on the battlements of the city.
Five paces away from the women, a tall elderly officer waited in patient silence. The silvery flame motif cheek plates of his ornate helmet and the flowing red cape easily identified him as General Lian Poh, the senior commander in the royal Tsao army. Soldiers that manned the rampart stole curious glances at the trio, but astutely kept their patrol routes well clear of the general and the ladies.

* * *
Four months ago, the king chose Tsao Gua as the new commander of the army in the two years long war against the Ch’in; but, to the surprise of every person in the royal court at Han-Dan, Lady Tsao had opposed the appointment of her own son as the new war leader. Now, her deeply lined visage reflected the concern of the entire kingdom. General Tsao Gua had taken twenty ten-thousand men with him to join another force of equal size already in the field. Every family in the realm had at least one son, father, or brother in that army.
As the sun settled behind the distant mountains, the old general shook his head and sighed gently then reluctantly walked up to Lady Tsao; he leaned over and whispered softly, “Madam, the sky has dimmed and the wind is rising, you should return home now. It would do neither you nor General Tsao Gua any good for you to fall ill at this time. I will send word to you as soon as I hear of any news from the war front.” Wordlessly, the old woman nodded a muted assent and turned away from the battlement.
Just then, a shout from the watchtower arrested her steps. “Commander of the Guards, a column of people approaches from the west!” Immediately, ear piercing gongs crashed out in rapid but ragged beats from atop the tower to alert the guard force; soon afterwards, heart pounding drum rolls boomed out across the ramparts and armed soldiers in various stages of readiness erupted out of the barracks in the tower’s keep.
General Lian Poh walked to the inner lip of the parapet and his parade ground roar cut through the cacophony of noisy din among the troops rushing about the city gate, “Send out the scouts!”
A captain immediately raced toward the city gate, cupping his hands as he screamed, “open, open it up.” A squad of soldiers hurried over and swung the gate apart as another group of men turned the wheeled gear that lowered the drawbridge; the moment the drawbridge spanned the moat, soldiers spurted across in two light chariots to investigate the approaching party.

Just as Lady Tsao, assisted by her handmaiden, gingerly descended from the battlement to the ground level, a returning scout chariot rumbled through the gateway tunnel onto the open space inside the city wall. The charioteer pulled hard on the rein and the two horses whinnied as they reared to a stop with a spray of graveled mud. A thin half naked man tumbled from the chariot on to the mucky earth. Covered in a dirty and torn rag that barely resembled a battle tunic, the young man wailed incoherent words. Lady Tsao stumbled in her step and felt a cold tightness seize the pit of her womb, as she recognized the youth’s voice to be that of her son’s body servant – Jing Keh. One chilling phrase survived through the young man’s babbling lips, “…all dead…..all dead...”