Amid the cheers of the crowd, Zi Shou finished his ride with flagging interest.
Seeing the commoners' jubilation, the profits from betting, the skill of Great Shang's riders, and the fine breeds in the Racecourse, the ministers stopped trying to dissuade King Zhou from betting on the races.
Still, certain matters had to be considered. As sovereign, how could King Zhou spend all his time running outside the palace?
If he came to the races every seven days, wouldn't someone with ulterior motives be able to predict his movements? What if they timed an assassination attempt accordingly?
Although the ministers knew their king was a man who could hold up a roof beam while its pillar was replaced, who had slain hundreds upon thousands of Tu Fang soldiers amid the chaos of battle, it wasn't the ten thousand likely outcomes they feared, but the one unlikely disaster!
What if he accidentally fell into a river?
Winter was cold, and the ground was slippery. Someone had already slipped three times in a row at the market. Truly baffling, and something they had to guard against.
Thus, the ministers began discussing a solution.
In the end, they decided that court ministers would attend the races in rotating groups, while King Zhou need only come once a month.
After the discussion, Lu Xiong picked an inferior horse and entered the next betting race. His riding skills were solid, but he was getting on in years and had deliberately chosen a poor horse, so he had to settle for third place.
Great Shang's ministers were all shrewd men. Lu Xiong also knew that if he was guaranteed to win, he would upset the odds and might even cause the Racecourse to lose money. That would mean losing more than they gained.
There was no