The emperor gazed at Wei Zi, saying nothing for a long time.
[This promise is not one between a minister and his sovereign, but one a subject makes to his Ruler-Father.]
What audacious words.
Among all the court's Purple-and-Scarlet Robes, who dared utter such audacious words?
Who dared stake the realm and its state altars?
And who dared wager his entire clan's fortunes and lives on the burning blood of a single young man?
Yet...
The emperor's heart believed him.
Not in his learning, not in his official rank, nor in the reputation that would survive him.
He believed in the man himself.
In the solitary courage with which, at the tender age of ten, he had submitted a memorial acknowledging his Ruler-Father.
In the forbearance with which, through three years at the Hanlin Academy, he had unearthed old Grain Reserves records.
In how, at the Shen Residence's evening banquet, he had flung back the olive branch
and declared with resolute integrity, "Even without a teacher, my sovereign remains."
In the openness with which he had just knelt beneath the imperial steps, his spine straight as a pine, his gaze clear as water.
"Zi'an."
Emperor Jing of Zhou finally spoke, his voice softening.
Wei Nisheng stood respectfully, hands lowered. "Your subject is here."
"Those words..." Emperor Jing of Zhou paused briefly, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly.
"To my ears, they hardly sound like something a Department Secretary of the Ministry of Revenue ought to say."
Wei Nisheng's expression did not change as he answered calmly:
"Your Majesty, what I said was indeed not something a Department Secretary of the Ministry of Revenue ought to say."
"Oh?" Emperor Jing of Zhou raised an eyebrow slightly.
"It was what a subject ought to say to his Ruler-Father."
Wei