There was still a little time to spare before the two meetings at the National Teacher's Manor that morning.
Song Yunjian, whose Daoist name was Yingning, was counting peach blossoms again.
Chen Ping'an looked up at the sky for a moment, then pushed open the door to a room.
Cui Hun's study in the National Teacher's Manor was so plain it bordered on shabby. The only things that could barely pass for a scholar's desk ornaments were a crude celadon brush holder with a few worn-down brushes inside, half a box of eight-treasure seal paste from Zhangzhou in Great Li, and several colored ink ingots already half used. All those odds and ends together probably fetched no more than five or six taels of silver.
Chen Ping'an rarely sat here. But when a walk brought him this way and he encountered a particularly thorny problem, he would wonder how his senior brother Cui would choose an opening, push matters forward, and bring them to a close.
At some point, Rong Yu had quietly appeared in the doorway. She was in no hurry to interrupt the National Teacher's long deliberation.
In a blue-green robe and cloth shoes, Chen Ping'an circled the desk alone, his fingers tapping lightly on its surface.
He came back to himself and stopped, pressing his fingers to the desk. "Rong Yu, has Cen Wenqian's second draft arrived here yet?"
At the previous meeting in the Imperial Study, the newly appointed Qiantang Prefect had promised to submit a memorial devoted to squeezing the immortal estates and powerful clans of the Great Shou Dynasty. It would come in a first and second draft. A piece of official writing with substance and practical effect really could be savored over drinks.
Rong Yu was slightly surprised but gave him an honest