The hall was so silent that only the thud, thud, thud of kowtowing could be heard. The Emperor looked at Ma Shunde, whose forehead was already bleeding from kowtowing, and coldly said without expression, "Enough. Get out of my sight!"
"From now on, unless I tell you to, you slave are not permitted to touch My memorials or Book of Documents!"
"This slave thanks Your Majesty for your grace!" Only then did Ma Shunde let out a breath, hurriedly scrambling farther away to stand in attendance. His forehead was covered in blood, but he did not spare it a thought. All he felt was the relief of Yu after surviving a calamity.
The old Emperor closed his eyes, seeming to compose himself. No one dared make a sound, merely stealing glances at him through Yu's peripheral vision.
It had to be said that since the start of the year, the Emperor had grown thinner and thinner. His face was full of wrinkles; he had truly become old. Yet the Emperor paid no heed to such matters. His Adam's apple bobbed, and he was already drowsy, yet unable to sleep. In his haze, he seemed to rise to take a walk and clear his mind. He got down from the couch and left the room, only to find that it was no longer the palace. In a daze, he had returned to his Prince's Residence of years past.
The garden was exceedingly familiar. Rounding the rockery and pond along the corridor, he heard someone reading the Book of Documents aloud in the distance. The voice, too, was familiar.
Drawing closer, he saw the Crown Prince. The Crown Prince was fifteen or sixteen, his eyes black as lacquer, and he was reading the Book of Documents. But upon listening carefully, the Emperor