"Enough."
Emperor Wei Guang finally spoke.
He set down his wine cup, cast a sidelong glance at Zhou Yan, and his tone was laced with impatience. "If Xiao Jin is dead, he's dead; I know about it."
"You've spoken at such length about dispatching troops and offering generous compensations, but let me ask you: is sending the Western Army north free?"
"Is the compensation free? Is bestowing posthumous honors free? You open your mouth and my silver flows outward, so why don't you tell me where this silver is supposed to come from?"
Zhou Yan's expression turned pale, and his lips moved. "Your Majesty, the Northern Frontier defense line concerns the very survival of the state—"
"The survival of the state?"
Emperor Wei Guang let out a derisive laugh, straightened his posture, and pointed his wine cup toward the lower part of the hall.
"I keep military officials like you, spending millions of liang of silver a year, precisely so you can guard this realm for me."
"If Xiao Jin couldn't hold it, that just means he was useless."
"And look at you—instead of going to avenge him now that he's dead, you run over here asking me for money?"
The hall fell into a pin-drop silence.
A chief eunuch standing beside the Emperor appropriately stepped forward, his shrill voice echoing through the hall.
The eunuch had a fair, hairless face and was around forty years of age, wearing a dark purple python robe with his back held ramrod straight, looking more imposing than a good half of the officials in the hall.
His name was Wei Xian, and he was the most favored personal attendant before the Emperor, called the "Nine Thousand Years" by everyone inside and outside the palace.
"What Your Majesty says is right."
Wei Xian smiled