The words with which wise sovereigns of old entrusted their realms to worthy aides had been no more than this.
Emperor Jing of Zhou's words today, spoken as he patted that shoulder, entrusted neither a chancellor's office nor military command, but the two words "Ruler-Father."
The ruler embodied the nation; the father embodied the family.
The Son of Heaven descended the steps in all his sovereign dignity and patted a young subject on the shoulder.
This was no mere distinction between sovereign and subject, no ceremony of Court, but the weight of an entrusted charge.
Feng Yan would soon leave, Shen Duan could not be trusted entirely, Kou Yuan had begun harboring selfish designs, and Song Yue had calculations of his own.
Among the Purple-and-Scarlet Robes filling the Court, the one to whom he could entrust "the profound art of employing men" was, astonishingly, Wei Zi'an, who had only just come of age.
At those words, deathly silence fell over the hall.
The Son of Heaven descended the steps and laid a hand on his subject's shoulder-this was no ordinary courtesy between sovereign and subject!
This was plainly how a father's friend treated a nephew, how a teacher treated a pupil.
It was extraordinary grace: the Son of Heaven entrusted him with his innermost thoughts and placed his heart in his keeping!
Every official in the hall who had spent more than ten years steeped in officialdom felt towering waves surge through his heart.
What they saw was not Wei Nisheng, but the heaven-flooding imperial favor resting beneath the throne steps!
And behind that favor, the political power that would soon come roaring in.
Whispers rustled through the ranks like scattered leaves in the wind.
"Han Tuizhi once said, 'Only when the world has a Bole can there be