Imperial City, Hall of Mental Cultivation.
"Your humble subject bows before Your Majesty. Long live the emperor, ten thousand years, ten thousand years, ten thousand times ten thousand years!"
Yang Qing followed Suotu calmly through the doors of the Hall of Mental Cultivation. When he reached Chu Jinghui, he lifted the hem of his robe and knelt in salute.
Chu Jinghui looked down at him. "Yang Chengming, do you know your crime?"
Yang Qing kept his head lowered, his eyes on his nose and his attention turned inward. "Your humble subject is slow-witted. Please enlighten me, Your Majesty."
Chu Jinghui spoke again. "You handled Fu Bonian's case exceptionally well. Even I could only marvel at it."
Yang Qing remained bowed to the floor. "Your Majesty flatters me. I merely did what my duty required!"
Chu Jinghui nodded slightly. "Well said. But let me ask you: you had no dealings with Fu Bonian, and you have been away from the capital for a long time. How, then, did you know its affairs like the palm of your hand?"
By this point, Chu Jinghui's expression had grown stern. The faint smile he had worn earlier had vanished entirely.
"Your Majesty, Lord Yang must find it difficult to part with his native soil. By paying closer attention to affairs in the capital, he can also help shoulder more of Your Majesty's burdens."
Standing to one side, Wei Sizhong seized the opportunity to interject.
"Shoulder my burdens? Such loyalty must have cost him considerable effort."
Chu Jinghui continued, "But with my dear subject Yang laboring so hard, could he be blaming me for failing to entrust him with greater responsibilities?"
After all, only by remaining in the capital and facing the Son of Heaven every day could he exercise his talents to their fullest.