Xue Daoming gazed at his mother's remains, his eyes brimming with tears. He rose and stepped past the white curtains. Dong Bingtai and his third son, Dong Tianjiang, waited outside in plain mourning clothes. Seeing Xue Daoming emerge, father and son knelt together and cried in unison, "Long live Your Majesty! Ten thousand years!"
Xue Daoming said, "Uncle, Cousin, there is no need for such ceremony."
Dong Bingtai said, "Your Majesty, the distinction between sovereign and subject must be observed."
Xue Daoming nodded. "Rise!" Then he said to Dong Bingtai, "Uncle, come inside with me!"
Dong Bingtai understood his intention. Ostensibly, he was being invited in to pay his respects to his sister's remains, but in truth, Xue Daoming wanted to speak with him alone. He glanced at Dong Tianjiang, who understood and remained outside, quietly keeping watch for them.
Xue Daoming and Dong Bingtai went inside. Seeing his sister lying motionless on the funeral bed, Dong Bingtai felt a wave of grief. She had once been the Dong Family's glory and pride. Because Xue Shengkang had doted on her, their standing at court had been as impregnable as a fortress. His sister had been fiercely determined all her life, bent on raising her own son to the throne. She had been striving toward that goal ever since Xue Daoming's birth. Yet Xue Shengkang's sudden death had reduced her efforts, and those of the entire Dong Family, to so much foam on the water. After Xue Daohong ascended the throne, they had not abandoned their original ambition, but they had been forced to keep a low profile, putting survival under his rule first. Through this palace coup, his nephew had finally gained the imperial throne he wanted, yet his sister had never lived to witness his enthronement. If she knew