The emperor sneered, and Wei Zi remained silent.
Wang Cheng stood beside the Imperial Throne, eyes lowered to his nose, attention fixed on his heart, utterly motionless.
A servant of the imperial household spoke not a word he ought not speak and asked not a question he ought not ask.
Yet now, hearing His Majesty's tone and seeing the young man's back as he knelt on the floor, he could not help sighing inwardly.
He had attended His Majesty for thirty years.
From his princely residence to his accession, from a feudal prince to the Son of Heaven.
He knew His Majesty's temperament all too well.
The emperor did not fear truthful ministers. He feared deceitful ones.
When Wei Nisheng said "twenty percent," His Majesty might not have disliked the answer itself.
What displeased His Majesty was... that twenty percent was too low.
So low that one could not help wondering.
Was this boy leaving himself a way out?
At moments like this, a third party was often needed to break the deadlock.
And a eunuch had always been the most suitable choice.
So Wang Cheng edged half a step forward and bowed.
"Please calm your anger, Your Majesty.
This old servant dares offer a word.
Director Wei spoke of 'twenty percent certainty,' not 'a twenty percent chance of victory.'
Certainty comes from calculation.
Victory comes from fighting.
His twenty percent certainty means he has weighed the accounts in his heart.
If he claimed a hundred percent the moment he opened his mouth, that would be far less reassuring."
Emperor Jing of Zhou glanced sideways at Wang Cheng.
"You certainly know how to speak for him."
"This old servant would not dare." Wang Cheng hastily lowered his head and bent a little deeper.
"In all these years attending Your