The Life and Times of Master Han Fei

Chapter 1

"Men do not stumble over mountains, but over molehills."

-Confucius

Han Fei was the Prince of the Kingdom of Han, though for now he was concerned primarily with his future as the Governor of Yiyang, a vital Han city bordering the powerful and militaristic kingdom of Qin. He was on leave, however, summoned by his father, the King, to Xinzheng, the capital city, perhaps permanently. He had been told that there was only a slight possibility that the king would not recall him from his gubernatorial post. No longer responsible for the governance for the only stronghold in the line of defense against the Qin war machine, Han felt as if he was, for the first time in a while, at peace.

The song of the cicadas resonated throughout the forest, energetic to the point that the very trees the insects were on seemed to thump with enthusiasm. The sun, that glorious orb in the sky shone its majestic rays on the world below, leaving no sanctuary for shadows.

The forest was alive, musical. The splashing of water against rock, the clip clopping of his horse, the humming of the trees. Each sound was so dissimilar to each other, yet so similar, the timeless quality of the cacophony of life so harmonic, so melodic.

Han leaned back, sighing with contentment, as he adjusted his saddle. His time in Yiyang had been so stressful, a never-ending struggle to ensure that the Kingdom of Han appeared militarily powerful, but not threatening, to his neighbors in Qin. He was not a natural politician. This delicate balancing-act, so vital to his kingdom's continued existence, had taken everything out of his physically, mentally, and emotionally, making him unable to even look at a scroll of parchment without wanting to burst into frustrated tears.

Here, in this forest, he was proven wrong, for he could unwind, free to just enjoy life, to appreciate the world he lived in. Perhaps, he mused thoughtfully, watching a bird chase an insect. Men are the beasts, and not the animals, for we kill for nothing. At least an animal killed for a reason, to live the next day! The Qin wanted to expand their borders, control more land. Looking at the forest, the trees around him, the soil under his feet, as well as the myriad of creatures he saw or grazed past, he was left with only one thought. How could any man claim to control something that had a mind of its own?

Suddenly, the bushes rustled, and the forest grew deathly silent. Han instinctively drew his bow with his left hand, fingering an arrow with his right. "Who's there?" he called, his voice quivering. Ambushes were not common in this part of the kingdom, but after all, he was a prince, and princes could fetch any bandit worth his jade quite the ransom.

Something small with reddish fur rolled out, nibbling on some roots. It was a boar piglet, just a chubby, innocent little piglet. Relieved, Han chuckled, waiting for the adorable piglet to finish his snacking before nudging his horse forward. There truly was nothing like the forest, like nature, able to frighten someone in one moment and cause him to relax the next.

The journey home to Xinzheng took the rest of the day, and much of the night, giving Han ample time to admire the wondrous scenes of nature around him. He saw the delicate green bamboo shoots, admired the small creatures with reddish fur that scurried past, sighted a large black and white bear of some sort nibbling on shoots of bamboo that towered over Han, and to his great delight, a seemingly endless pasture of light green for his horse to graze on as he dismounted to eat his dinner, which was a mouthful of dried, flattened pork strips, a local delicacy that was a parting gift from the people of Yiyang.

The stars were out in full force, a multitude of twinkling orbs watching over Han and his steed, shimmering incandescently in the dark night sky. It was almost midnight when Han finally approached the walled city limits of Xinzheng. Han could barely keep his eyes open, nor could he clutch the reins of the horse without letting the ropes slip out of his hands for more than a few minutes. Yawn after yawn escaped the young prince, as he dismounted blearily, leading the horse towards the entrance gate.