The horses galloped through the golden plains beyond the outskirts of Chang’an, their hooves thundering like distant drums across the earth. Wild grasses danced beneath their strides, and the scent of wildflowers, warmed by the afternoon sun, drifted on the wind.

Li Bai rode just ahead, his white robes fluttering like a banner behind him, hair streaming loose in the breeze. His sword, slung casually at his waist, gleamed with a silver edge—untouched by the dust of the road, as if it too shared its master’s disdain for the mundane. He laughed—a sound bright and unrestrained, echoing over the hills like a bell shaken loose from heaven.

“The wind!” he shouted back over his shoulder, his voice full of joy, “Do you feel it? It’s as if nature herself exhales her secrets into our ears!”

He rose slightly in his saddle, arms stretched wide like wings. For a moment, it seemed he might simply soar into the sky. “What need have I for palaces and scrolls when the world offers this?” His laughter came again, more subdued this time, like ripples on water. “This is what it means to be alive—not seated in a court, pretending to care for the petty dramas of men.”