Chapter 105: Departing from Chaoge

After leaving the palace of the State of Wei, Meng Di glanced back with a wry smile, gently shaking his head.

The first time he met Nan Zi, he thought this woman’s wild nature was nothing but trouble, and he resolved to keep his distance to avoid unnecessary complications.

Yet upon meeting her a second time, his impression shifted entirely. This woman was ambitious, beautiful, and cunning—not a simple person. Meng Di felt a pang of regret for having underestimated the people of the world.

As he returned to the post station, he spotted Su’er anxiously scanning the horizon. Seeing Meng Di approach, her face lit up with joy.

He stepped forward and took her hand, a flicker of amusement stirring within him as he teased, “Judging by your expression, you’re not worried about me, but afraid I won’t come back.”

At his words, Su’er blushed deeply and quickly withdrew her hand, offering a hurried explanation. “I was just concerned you'd be delayed in Wei. If you returned too late, it might affect our plans. What if Qi attacks again?”

She brushed her hair back thoughtfully, then suddenly paused, her nose twitching as she inhaled deeply. A look of surprise crossed her face as she stole a suspicious glance at Meng Di.

She stepped closer to him, nostrils flaring slightly. Puzzled at first, Meng Di soon realized it was because of the hand he had taken. Smiling, he said, “We can discuss matters later. After that trip to the palace, I haven’t eaten a thing. I’m starving.”

Su’er said nothing, following him inside the post station.

Once inside their room, Meng Di recounted in detail his encounter with Nan Zi. After listening thoughtfully for a while, Su’er sighed deeply, her tone tinged with melancholy.

“No wonder she behaves so recklessly—there’s a hidden story behind it. She’s a pitiable soul. I used to think the nobles and princes lived carefree lives and were the happiest people in the world.”

“But now it seems they are merely birds in a cage, fish in a pond, forever deprived of freedom. To survive, they resort to every possible means. It’s truly a pity.”

Meng Di found her words curious, though having spent some time in this world, he understood the current social customs were far from the strict rituals of the Han dynasty. The Zhou dynasty’s decline had brought chaos and decay, loosening many social restraints. People judged matters more subjectively.

Figures like Nan Zi were not rare these days. Meng Di knew of two others: Zhao Ji, mother of Qin Shi Huang, and Mi Ba Zi, later Empress Dowager Xuan. This spoke volumes about the prevailing spirit of the age.

Reflecting on this, Meng Di felt less aversion toward Nan Zi. Honestly, how could he not be drawn to such a beauty? Yet every desire exacted a price, and contemplating the consequences tempered his impulses.

The next morning, as promised, Nan Zi returned the horses in full. She even gifted Meng Di a fine steed—its coat a rich chestnut, its head shaped like a rabbit’s, hence called the Flying Hare Horse. The horse was tall and muscular, fiercely resisting those trying to lead it.

The gift was delivered by a palace eunuch who remarked, “This horse is notoriously wild—only a hero can tame it. Madam ordered me to deliver it, saying it suits Master Meng perfectly.”

Meng Di admired the steed instantly, eager to test it. Nearby lay a courtyard, so he vaulted onto its back. The Flying Hare bucked and leaped violently, attempting to throw him off.

Yet Meng Di pressed low against its neck, gripping the horse’s head tightly. No matter how hard it struggled for nearly an hour, he remained firmly astride. Finally, the horse panted heavily and ceased its thrashing.

Thinking it was tamed, Meng Di urged it forward to test its strength, but the horse suddenly spun in place and leapt again. This cycle repeated several times before the horse finally submitted, wary of others approaching.

Meng Di saddled the horse himself and galloped several laps around the yard, satisfaction swelling within him. The horse responded perfectly to his will, moving swiftly in every direction, its acceleration explosive.

Concerned about exhausting the animal, Meng Di dismounted and fed it grass, turning to Su’er with a smile.

“This is truly a prized steed—a speed nearly twice that of ordinary horses. No wonder it’s called the Flying Hare.”

Su’er, feeling a twinge of jealousy, murmured sourly, “I think Nan Zi still can’t forget you, husband. She sends you such a fine horse so that whenever you ride, you’ll think of her. I believe we should leave Wei soon.”

Her words left Meng Di momentarily speechless; he could only smile wryly.

After lunch, the group set out for the State of Lu. As they exited the city, Meng Di spotted a canopy far atop the city wall. Though too distant to make out clearly, he guessed with high confidence it was Nan Zi. He bowed respectfully.

Su’er glanced in that direction too, biting her lip in understanding before kicking her horse’s side and quickly riding away. Meng Di shook his head silently. Though times had changed, some natures remained unaltered.

In Linzi, the capital of the State of Qi, Duke Jiang Chujiu was conferring with Gao Zhang and Guo Xia.

Qi’s power still rested firmly in the duke’s hands. His ambition was to restore Qi’s former supremacy. After the assembly at Zhaoling, where Jin’s reputation suffered a heavy blow, he believed now was the perfect opportunity.

Jiang Chujiu was a complex man—he valued wise ministers but also entertained slanders, and while he invested much effort in reviving Qi’s dominance, he was also extravagantly indulgent in pleasure.

This duality meant that when Gao Zhang acted, his primary concern was always the duke’s stance—it was his safeguard within Qi.

For example, after Qi’s army was defeated, the duke had said little. Although the military endeavor failed to challenge Jin as intended, an unexpected advantage emerged.

Envoys from Zheng and Cao arrived bearing goodwill toward Qi, signaling deeper political significance.