Qi Shan was just about to draft a letter.
At Shen Tang's words, he looked up and asked with his eyes.
"Why are you looking at me, Yuan Liang? Was I not clear enough?"
"You were quite clear, but shouldn't you polish it up a little, my lord?"
Sending a wreath and attending the funeral were no problem. Even if the two countries were at war, sending an envoy to pay respects was still a matter of common courtesy. Even if Wu Xian had gone mad, he wouldn't kill the envoy. But telling him outright that they would deal with Northern Desert first, then come after him—wouldn't that make him furious?
If Wu Xian died of rage, that would save them some trouble.
But his lord's reputation in the history books would be hard to salvage.
Shen Tang glanced at the Imperial Recorder, who was hiding in a corner, scribbling away. The corner of her mouth twitched. "Polish up what? Write down my exact words."
She wondered how the Sovereigns of the past had put up with the Imperial Recorders.
Then, after a moment's thought, she understood.
The Imperial Recorder's temper was harder and stinkier than a stone in a latrine. If you didn't let him record things truthfully, he'd stick out his neck and gladly wait for death. Of course, he might also revise the history books in private and write unofficial histories. The official histories weren't necessarily proper, but the unofficial ones were bound to be wild. They could only let him have his way.
Qi Shan said, "As you command."
Shen Tang's smile held a hint of malice.
She was looking forward to seeing Wu Xian's face twist.
"Hopefully, we'll make it in time."
Unless something unexpected happened, they would, of course, make it in time.
In