Horse Hour, one of the twelve traditional double hours, was also known as midday.
Su Shunqin of the Song dynasty wrote in the Purple Pavilion Temple Joint Poem: "Sunlight appeared at high noon; mist steamed halfway up the sky."
It corresponded to the modern hours of eleven in the morning to one in the afternoon.
The imperial palace, Imperial Study.
The windows gleamed, the tables were spotless, and the couch and desk stood spare and uncluttered, with a screen to one side.
Emperor Jing of Zhou sat at his desk, memorials piled before him, looking at them without truly reading.
At the corner of the desk sat a bowl of White Fungus Soup gone completely cold, a thin skin congealed across its surface.
Wang Cheng stood beside him, holding a fly whisk, waiting with bated breath.
He had already quietly had a junior eunuch replace the soup twice.
Each time, it had been carried away untouched, and brought back only to remain untouched again.
When the mind wandered, the eyes saw nothing.
"Look at this. What is all this supposed to be?" Emperor Jing of Zhou sighed deeply, his voice edged with sarcasm.
"The Ministry of Revenue wants silver, saying it cannot cover expenses before the autumn grain enters the granaries.
The Ministry of War wants silver, saying the weapons in Liaodong's garrisons are worn out.
The Ministry of Works wants silver, saying sections of the Yellow River embankment need reinforcement.
Even the Ministry of Justice has joined in, saying the instruments of punishment in the Court of Judicial Review's prisons have fallen into disrepair and need replacing..."
As he spoke, Emperor Jing of Zhou tossed the memorial in his hand onto the desk and sneered.
"Heh. In a prison, old instruments of punishment inspire greater dread; new