Composure and self-restraint referred to the same thing.
That was, the ability to control one's emotions—the "capacity" to tolerate many things. Thus, it was sometimes called "breadth of heart."
Someone with sufficient breadth of heart appeared unruffled. Even if heaven collapsed and earth split apart, they could hold it in their heart and endure it, and thus appeared calm.
There was a phrase praising one's composure: "Mount Tai collapses before one's eyes, yet one's expression does not change; a herd of elk rises to one's left, yet one's gaze does not flicker." It described precisely this kind of mental leeway.
And Li Qi had always believed that his composure and breadth of heart were both among the very best.
He had witnessed the flourishing of civilizations.
He had strolled through an ordinary civilization, sat atop a small mountain, and gazed eastward at cities and oceans, islands scattered across the sea.
Li Qi could sit there and, across the distance of space, directly see continents on several planets at war. There, one race had used newly developed technology and the power brought by that technology to control other races.
Progress and tradition began to collide. An ancient new world was born in such an unremarkable fashion, while ancient new lives and ways of thinking spread in every direction along roads and slavery.
New York, in the afternoon. Beneath dim sunlight, Li Qi sat upon the beach, facing the radiance of the setting sun as he watched the hulls and decks of ships transporting slaves of other races glow red while they broke through the waves.
The shipworkers toiled before the furnaces, drenched in sweat. Several sailors stood in the watchtowers, eyes wide as they observed the route. The hatchways stood open, and the slaves' wails drifted from within before being swallowed