As Shen Duan's voice fell silent, stillness settled over the duty room in the Hall of Literary Depths.
Kou Yuan's hand stopped in midair, holding his teacup. He neither drank nor set it down.
Song Yue leaned against the back of his chair, his brow slightly furrowed, his gaze fixed on Shen Duan's face.
Fang Qi lowered his eyes, serving as little more than a decorative mascot, his expression unreadable.
Shen Duan sat in his seat, rubbing the edge of his chair.
Song Yue was the minister of war, and much of Feng Yan's foundation in the army depended on him.
That was why Song Yue heard the blade concealed in Shen Duan's three remarks more clearly than Kou Yuan did.
"Keep investigating until you find the 'name' you want."
What was this "name they wanted"?
The Upright Officials wanted the reputation of upright ministers wielding real power.
The Feng Faction wanted the power and prestige of cultivating "Wei Zi."
But if the investigation continued, reaching the military pay accounts of the Three Garrisons in Gansu-
Reaching the details of Liaodong's defenses, reaching the quantities of grain and fodder allocated by the Ministry of War over the years-
When that time came, would this fire burn Shen Duan, or Song Yue himself?
"Shen Duan." Kou Yuan finally spoke.
"The Court Deliberation has yet to yield a result, and no brush has touched the Memorial Drafting.
"Were those remarks of yours a discussion of state affairs, or a fit of pique?"
"A fit of pique?" Shen Duan gave a cold laugh, resting both hands on the armrests, his gaze sharp as an awl.
"Kou Fu'an, I have stood in the Court for forty years. What storms have I not weathered?
"Do you think I would sulk over a mute quail