Pei Zhi left the Prince's Residence and drew his Blue Robe close as the night wind swept over him.
There was no anger on his face, no frustration.
There was even the faintest trace of a smile at the corner of his mouth.
He climbed leisurely into his carriage, settled against the cushions, and closed his eyes to rest, as though nothing had happened.
In that debate within the Prince's Residence, he had suffered an ugly defeat.
His plan had been refuted, his lord's authority had borne down on him, and in the end, he had even knelt to receive an order with the words, "As you command."
Yet Pei Zhi was not angry in the slightest.
Because that entire performance had merely been an act he put on for Prince Jin.
The carriage rumbled along toward his home in the south of the city.
Pei Zhi's residence was small, with only two courtyards, no garden or pond, and a single tree in one corner of the courtyard, now in full bloom.
Upon returning, he told his attendant to rest, brewed himself a pot of tea, and sat beneath the corridor, gazing past the tree at the sky as he slowly sipped.
The moon was pale, the tree green, and his heart was equally clear.
"A capable minister in an age of order, a treacherous hero in an age of chaos," Pei Zhi murmured.
"Xu Zijiang's eight-word appraisal of Cao Mengde-truly, each word was worth a thousand gold.
"Unfortunately, the world today is an orderly one. In an orderly age, there is no place for a treacherous hero."
Pei Zhi set down his teacup and gazed at the moon, his thoughts seemingly spoken for his own ears: *Only in a chaotic age can one practice chaotic methods and act