Song Jing's residence, the study.
Candlelight glowed warmly, a writing desk stretched across the room, and volumes lay in layered stacks.
A brush rest stood like a mountain screen, and the fragrance of ink drifted through the room.
Song Jing sat in the seat of honor, holding a handwritten copy and studying it with lowered eyes.
The handwriting was Wang Kan's: upright and meticulous, its strokes cut clean as a blade, its ink evenly laid.
He had copied the essentials of the Two Memorials, setting their arguments side by side, comparing them above and below, clear at a glance.
Song Jing's gaze moved back and forth across the paper. For a long while, he said nothing.
"Zhanzheng."
Song Jing gently set the copy on the desk and raised his eyes to Wang Kan below him.
"Why have you brought this to your teacher?"
"Teacher."
Wang Kan sat in the guest's seat, steady as a bell, his robe plain and his expression solemn.
Moreover, Wang Kan possessed Shi Yu's forthrightness and harbored no deceit. He immediately spoke his mind:
"Zi'an left me in the capital and charged me with shielding him at court.
"But at the Court Deliberation last month, Shen Duan crushed me with a few words. I took off my official cap to argue, yet could scarcely hold my ground."
"Had you not stepped out of the ranks to protect me that day..."
Wang Kan's voice deepened, his brows drawing together.
"My neck's blood would have splashed across the court."
At his disciple's words, Song Jing's hand paused with his tea.
"I do not fear death," Wang Kan continued, looking straight at Song Jing.
"Having read the Books of the Sages, I have long put life and death beyond consideration.
"But if I die, Zi'an loses a shield.