Jinghe Year Fifteen, the first day of the first month. New Year's Day. Light snow.
In the center of the flower hall in the rear courtyard of the Feng Residence, tea simmered over a stove as two men faced each other across a go board.
Wei Nisheng wore a Crow-Blue Crane Cloak, cinched at the waist with a Plain Sash, his hair secured with a Silver Hairpin. His entire appearance was neat and crisp.
On the board before him, black had already made more than ten moves.
Each move was steady, neither hurried nor impatient, just like the man himself.
Opposite him, Feng Yan played white, placing his stones at an unhurried pace. After every move, he raised his teacup and took a sip.
"Your game is as steady as ever."
Feng Yan placed a stone and looked up at Wei Nisheng.
"I had a good teacher." Wei Nisheng smiled, picked up a black stone, rolled it twice between his fingers, then placed it on the board.
Feng Yan studied the board, his brows faintly knitted. After pondering for a while, he raised his teacup and took another sip.
Setting the cup down, he leaned back in his chair and shifted his gaze from the board to Wei Nisheng's face.
"That memorial of He Yanming's was Xie Lin's handiwork."
It was not a question, but a statement.
Wei Nisheng did not deny it. He nodded. "Yes."
"Asking to be relieved of his post, retreating in order to advance." Feng Yan's voice was level.
"A devious move."
"I thought so too." Wei Nisheng set down the stone in his hand, lifted his teacup, and took a sip.
The Little Dragon Cake tea bestowed by the emperor did taste rather good.
Feng Yan watched him, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly