In Search of the Path
Stepping out into the world, Mao Sui asked, “Have you spoken at length with the retainers?”
I answered with gratitude for the one who had departed. “It is all thanks to Lord Pingyuan’s excellent care.”
“Hmm. Come in.”
The place where Mao Sui stayed was a humble thatched cottage. Having lived for years in that cramped space reminiscent of the tiny rooms from my previous life, he looked far thinner than when I had last seen him in Handan.
I glanced around the rather desolate interior. Piles of milled grain and dried vegetables were gathered in one corner. There were no traces of meat dishes anywhere.
“You intend to observe the full three-year mourning.”
“One year remains.”
A formal three-year mourning that even family members seldom completed. It was a grueling ritual that could easily ruin one’s health, yet Mao Sui spoke with calm indifference, as though it were nothing. As if this were merely the basic courtesy owed to Lord Pingyuan.
That must mean no one among the retainers was more sincere toward him than Mao Sui.
I wondered whether anyone would mourn me with such wholehearted devotion for three long years. Strangely, the first person who came to mind was not Han Gyeong, who had spent the most time at my side, but the silver-haired girl with golden eyes.
Though the direction of our feelings had differed, the depth of care we held for each other was the same.
As I chewed on that bittersweet thought, Mao Sui spoke first.
“I heard about your situation, my lord. You are returning to Yan.”
“Did Master Qiu tell you?”
“No. My friend Feng Ji informed me.”
Since Feng Ji was residing in Zhao as a guest scholar, he naturally had better access to information than Qiu Yan, who had returned to scholarly life. As we talked further, I learned that the other three of the Five Scholars—excluding Gongsun Long—kept in occasional contact, and Feng Ji seemed to be acting as Mao Sui’s source of news.
“So what brings you to this shabby place, my lord? You must have already paid your respects to Lord Pingyuan in Handan. Do you have business with me?”
Given that Mao Sui likely understood my circumstances in broad terms, he would have guessed why I had sought him out. Yet he asked me to speak plainly.
Words carry power. There is a vast difference between thinking something in silence and giving it voice.
“I am searching for a path.”
“A path…”
Mao Sui did not press for specifics. Just as I had suspected, he already understood the context in which I sought his counsel.
Yet the answer he gave was deeply disappointing.
“Then you have come to the wrong person. I know my own limits. I can offer simple solutions to untangle a single complicated matter, but I possess no insight into grand designs that embrace the entire world. The problem you face is not a private affair between individuals, my lord. It is a matter of governing the world itself.”
Even someone who could dismiss the vertical alliance linking Zhao, Wei, and Chu as a single incident found my worries too immense. Ying Zheng, now the royal princess of Qin with her ambition to unify the realm, and myself, who carried Lord Pingyuan’s will to protect the feudal states—our conflict was no mere clash of emotions but a historical crossroads that would decide the fate of the world.
“Even so, if you still wish for my advice, I can offer only two suggestions.”
“I will listen with full attention. Please speak.”
“It is simple. The first is to leave Lord Pingyuan’s seal here and return. The relationship between Yan and Qin is not hostile, so becoming Qin’s royal son-in-law should not be difficult.”
It was a characteristically blunt answer from Mao Sui—the same man who had once threatened the King of Chu so directly during the alliance’s formation that it amounted to saying he could kill him. Yet it was not a path I could take. I shook my head.
“I cannot betray Lord Pingyuan’s trust.”
He had done everything in his power for me. He had looked after the retainers who left my side, protected me both openly and in secret, and finally bequeathed the seal that represented the very honor he had built across his lifetime. To betray such grace would be inhuman.
“Then the only remaining choice is to abandon any lingering attachment to Qin’s royal princess and raise an alliance army to block her. But that is surely a method you have already considered.”
Of course. The alliance army represented the greatest achievement of the Four Lords and the only military means to oppose Qin. Yet how long could it truly hold her back?
Unlike Qin—a single state capable of launching immediate, decisive campaigns through fortresses like Hangu Pass and favorable terrain—the alliance army carried the inherent weakness of being a coalition. Despite the legendary efforts of Su Qin, the united front against Qin had only held firm for fifteen years. The defection of even one state would prove fatal.
The alliance army was undoubtedly a powerful trump card, yet it remained nothing more than a temporary measure.
“I apologize that neither suggestion I can offer will be of help to you.”
“Not at all. I am grateful that you spoke so candidly, Lord Mao Sui.”
“In return, I will introduce you to someone who may lighten your burden, if only a little.”
“Is there such a wise person?”
If Mao Sui would vouch for him, he must be an extraordinary sage. When I asked with visible hope, he gave a small nod.
“Do you remember the Five Scholars who served Lord Pingyuan?”
“Of course.”
“In truth, four scholars remain with him. The vacant seat is known to the world as belonging to Li Dan.”
That was correct. Qiu Yan had explained it the same way. Mao Sui, Feng Ji, Gongsun Long, Qiu Yan, and Li Dan—they had been called the Five Scholars. Yet Mao Sui revealed that the truth was slightly different.
“Originally, the Five Scholars existed even without Li Dan. One did not stay long and left Lord Pingyuan’s side. Li Dan filled that empty position immediately after, showing his resolve. Thus, while the world believes Li Dan to be one of them, the seats were already filled before his arrival.”
“Would you tell me that person’s honored name?”
“His name is Lu Zhonglian. His rhetoric surpasses even Su Qin and Zhang Yi, yet he never seeks wealth or glory by debating the advantages of alliance. He simply pursues the great cause of the world. If anyone I know can resolve the dilemma you face, my lord, it is surely Lord Lu.”
“Lu Zhonglian…”
High praise from Mao Sui’s lips—almost impossible to believe. To claim his skill exceeded the two men who had shaken the world with their eloquence, while also possessing a greater moral character that sought righteousness rather than personal advancement, sounded like an exaggeration. Yet because the assessment came from Mao Sui, whose judgments of character were notoriously strict, its credibility was absolute.
“How might I meet him?”
My question carried the hope that I, too, might finally encounter a wise advisor like Zhang Liang or Zhuge Liang. Mao Sui merely shrugged.
“I do not know.”
“…Pardon?”
“Lord Lu is a wandering persuader who travels the world correcting principles. Even I have no way of knowing where he currently resides.”
The disappointment was sharp precisely because my expectations had been so high. I tried to think positively.
At least I now know his name. That is something.
Even Liu Bei had needed time after first hearing of the Sleeping Dragon and Young Phoenix from Water Mirror before he obtained their service. There were, of course, figures around me who could be compared to them—Lord Xinling, Lian Po, Li Mu. Yet Lian Po’s pride bordered on hot-tempered impulsiveness, and reaching Li Mu would take me too far from Jixia Academy. Besides, as a man of Zhao, Li Mu’s hostility toward Qin ran too deep. Lord Xinling was the most suitable confidant, yet even he, while less extreme than the people of Zhao, still regarded Qin as a lifelong enemy. It was only natural for the man who had saved Handan by killing his own general, Jin Bi, to oppose Qin.
I etched the name Lu Zhonglian firmly into memory and expressed my thanks to Mao Sui.
“Thank you for telling me the name of this wise man.”
“It is nothing. If you traveled the world a little longer and gained more experience, you would have learned it naturally.”
After two years of mourning, Mao Sui had grown slightly gentler.
“Once you complete the three-year mourning in a year’s time, what do you plan to do?”
“I have no particular plans.”
“Then, if you have nowhere specific to go, please come find me. I will likely be in Qi next year. Should you visit, I will greet you barefoot if necessary.”
I had come to understand my own limits when acting alone and how vital it was to surround myself with capable people. I needed guides who could show me the path ahead, and companions willing to walk with me along that distant, treacherous road I could not traverse by myself.
The people I could immediately call my own were only Han Gyeong, Jing Ke, and Nogucheon. Qiu Yan was friendly but had never formally declared he would follow me. Lord Xinling offered help and instruction yet maintained the stance of a collaborator. Jing Ke and Nogucheon were excellent knights-errant with strong resolve and execution, but they lacked much of what was required to command soldiers, devise strategy, and wage war as generals. Assigning them to govern the state as officials seemed even further beyond reach. In time they might grow into such roles, yet I lacked the confidence to wait until they developed those abilities.
Mao Sui, however, was an immediate asset. He possessed considerable martial skill and a brilliant mind. I could not yet say whether he had the makings of a general, but he certainly had the capacity to serve as a strategist who could devise plans to overcome urgent crises.
At my proposal, Mao Sui fell into quiet thought before asking with gravity, “Do you speak as the Prince of Yan, Ji Dan, or as Ji Dan who has inherited Lord Pingyuan’s seal?”
I had never told him directly, yet he had already noticed I had received the seal. I hesitated only briefly over which answer would be better before replying honestly, as I had intended from the start.
“The former.”
Had it been the latter, I would have shown him the seal at once. Perhaps my answer displeased him. Mao Sui simply stared at me in silence for a long while. At last he broke that silence.
“Once the mourning is complete, I will choose an appropriate day and come find you.”