When those words fell, the entire hall went silent.
Yelü Qi jerked his head up and stared at Liu Min.
When had an official of a suzerain state ever cared about a vassal's dignity?
Yet this Vice Minister of the Ministry of Rites of Great Zhou had struck the table and risen...
In that instant, emotion welled up within Yelü Qi despite himself.
He and Liu Min were complete strangers. Indeed, only moments earlier, the cold remarks at the banquet had filled him with wariness toward Great Zhou's officials.
But now, this Vice Minister of the Ministry of Rites stood on Great Zhou's principles, on the rites governing vassal subjects...
Before justice, what distinction was there between Chinese and foreigner?
Before right and wrong, what mattered closeness or distance?
Those who upheld righteousness did not speak of profit; those who acted impartially did not choose whom to favor.
So it had been since ancient times.
Yelü Qi's throat tightened, and his eyes reddened.
He rose at once, straightened his robes and cap, and walked over to Liu Min.
He did not offer the customary clasped-hands salute.
Instead, he raised both hands to brow level, palms facing outward, then slowly bent at the waist, lowering his hands to his knees.
This was the Khitan's most solemn gesture of thanks, offered only to a sovereign or in acknowledgment of a great kindness.
Back when Liao Taizu, Abaoji, established his seat at Longhua Prefecture,
this had been the bow used when he swore an alliance with the tribes.
"Lord Liu."
Yelü Qi's voice was hoarse, every word laden with respect.
"Where righteousness lies, I shall not shrink from it.
Where justice leads, I shall not forget the kindness."
Yelü Qi straightened and slowly drew his hands back from his knees to his chest,