At the Palace of Heavenly Purity, the night deepened, dew lay heavy, and the north wind howled.
Emperor Jing of Zhou sat alone at his desk, two memorials laid before him.
One was Kou Yuan's resignation memorial; the other was Song Jing's memorial requesting a thorough investigation into the censors' case.
The two memorials lay side by side in the center of the Imperial Desk, their drafts spread open.
Wang Cheng stood beside him, not daring even to breathe loudly.
A memorial demanded three readings.
First, read the words; second, read the intent; third, read the heart.
Kou Fu'an was Kou Zhun's adopted great-grandson, a descendant of a renowned minister after all.
He knew how to write a memorial. Not one word overstepped its bounds, not one word defied the throne.
Throughout, he spoke only of his own incompetence, of having failed the imperial favor, of being unequal to his great responsibilities.
Yet this resignation memorial cut deeper than ten impeachments.
Because he attacked no one. He merely stated the facts.
[Since assuming office as Minister of Revenue, I have repeatedly sought to investigate the longstanding abuses in the Granary Depots. Yet ministry affairs are tangled, and documents pile up like mountains.
When I requested the original accounts of a certain granary for a certain year, the Vice Director replied, "Pending investigation."
When I requested the Case Files for a certain case in a certain Bureau, the Department Secretary replied, "Already sealed."
When I sought to summon the accused in a certain case for questioning, the Relevant Authorities replied, "Already transferred."
I no longer know who, in this ministry, is truly the minister.]
Emperor Jing of Zhou read that passage again and gave a laugh.
"Well played, Kou Fu'an." Emperor Jing of Zhou tossed the resignation memorial back onto the