"Pfft..."
Zhao Hong sprayed a mouthful of tea over A Thousand Miles of Rivers and Mountains, its ink still wet on the imperial desk, and began coughing violently.
"Your Majesty, please take care of your imperial health..."
The Junior Eunuchs attending him hurried forward, all scrambling to help him catch his breath.
Zhao Hong waved them away, slapped the imperial desk, and rose to his feet. Panting, he demanded, "The Duke of Road Pavilion is entering the capital wearing a Python Robe, with a ceremonial escort?"
Liu Xian, director of the Eastern Factory, stood bowed in the center of the imperial study and answered meekly, "Your Majesty, it is absolutely true. Judging by their pace, the Duke of Road Pavilion will lead his men into the capital before the gates are locked today..."
It's over, it's over, it's over...
Zhao Hong's heart hammered in panic. That bastard isn't coming to the capital to beat me up, is he?
He paced restlessly behind the imperial desk. The more he thought about it, the more likely it seemed. Why else would that fellow wear a Python Robe?
Surely he intended to fulfill his duties as Grand Preceptor and exercise his authority as a minister entrusted with the late emperor's final charge-by dragging Zhao Hong off the throne and beating him black and blue!
Only the ignorant could be fearless.
And he now knew far too much. Even after becoming emperor, his fear of Yang Erlang had only grown... that fellow was practically another father looming over him!
No, no, I have to think of something...
At that thought, he suddenly remembered how the Late Emperor had dealt with Yang Erlang's arrival in the capital. His eyes lit up, and like a drowning man clutching a life-saving straw, he cried urgently, "Someone! Convey