"Master, we've already been away from Jingcheng for seven years..."
On a hillside outside Bianjing, just as he had when he first followed his master to the capital for the examinations, Wang Dongliang shaded his eyes with one hand and gazed at the vast city of Bianjing.
"It has been eleven years since you followed me to Jingcheng for the examinations. Now that you're looking upon Bianjing from afar again, what do you think?"
"Nothing much. It's just that the Song Dynasty emperor, and all those high officials, are too damn unfair. Master has rendered so many great services; you should've become a grand minister long ago. But now, you've handed over military command and even surrendered the excellent situation in the northwest. They gave you a pile of useless titles, then had you come back to serve as Chancellor of the Directorate of Education. A bunch of birdmen."
Wang Yan slapped the back of his head. "If you don't know how to speak, then speak less. Don't say things like that to your wife and children at home. It could bring trouble."
"I'm not stupid."
"You think you're smart?"
"Master, you clearly said just the day before yesterday that I'd improved."
"Now I'm saying you haven't."
Wang Dongliang gave a foolish grin and did not argue further. He stood on the hillside with his master, gazing into the distance at the capital of the Song Dynasty.
Wang Yan stood with his hands behind his back. The spring wind of March swept over the hill, fluttering his blue robe, tousling the loose strands of hair he had not combed back, and stirring the long beard he had grown.
He was already twenty-nine years old. He had spent ten years navigating the Song Dynasty officialdom, accumulated a mountain of achievements—any one