Jinghe Year Fifteen, third month, fourteenth day, Third Quarter of the Si Hour.
The sun was not yet fierce. Morning light bathed half the stone lions outside the Imperial Silk Bureau, slanting across their mouths.
Shen Mingxuan's carriage stopped at the entrance. Gathering the hem of his robe himself, he walked to the gate.
No sedan chair, no servants-he came alone.
The gatekeeper recognized him, but lacked his usual attentiveness. He merely cupped his hands and said,
"Owner Shen, the Old Ancestor is in the reception hall."
Shen Mingxuan nodded, stepped over the threshold, and followed the passage into the second courtyard.
All along the way, the covered corridors stood empty, the courtyard steps silent.
Only fallen begonia petals blanketed the steps, with no one to sweep them away. Compared with his last visit, the place had grown colder and more desolate.
Shen Mingxuan reached the reception hall door and paused to straighten his cap. Just as he raised his hand to knock...
"Enter."
A shrill, unhurried voice drifted through the door.
Shen Mingxuan pushed it open and entered.
The Rear Office was still the same Rear Office, but much of its grandeur had been stripped away.
One small table, two chairs, and an ink-wash landscape hanging on the wall, its brushwork sparse and pale.
"Back again, Owner Shen?"
Li Jin lounged in the seat of honor, a cup of plain water beside his hand. Without lifting his eyelids, he drawled,
"You've polished the Imperial Silk Bureau's threshold rather nicely with all your visits these past few days."
At this barb, Shen Mingxuan cupped his hands in a bow, his voice respectful.
"You jest, Eunuch Li."
"This humble commoner has come by order of the Imperial Envoy's Headquarters to deliver a written directive. I dared not delay."
With that,