Night, the imperial palace.
Memorials lay strewn across the Imperial Desk; the Vermilion Brush had been set aside, its ink not yet dry.
Emperor Jing of Zhou held a scroll as though peering through fog, unable to read a single word for a long time.
At last, he cast down the brush and sighed. "Wang Cheng."
"This servant is here."
"Come with me. Let us see the Grand Tutor once more."
Wang Cheng froze. "It is already late at night. The Grand Tutor may have retired..."
The emperor shook his head, his voice heavy with gloom. "My heart cannot rest."
"Today, I could not approve a single word, nor read a single word.
I wish to see his face again. One glance would suffice. May I?"
At the emperor's words, Wang Cheng felt as though a stone had lodged in his throat. He could only bow his head and obey. "This servant will prepare..."
Before he could finish, footsteps suddenly sounded outside the door, drawing nearer, growing faster as they approached, more frantic with every step.
Wang Cheng's face blanched. He was about to turn.
The hall doors burst open with a bang. An Imperial Attendant stumbled in, threw himself to the floor, and wailed, "Your Majesty!!!"
"The Grand Preceptor! The Grand Preceptor has passed away!"
"Grand Preceptor Feng Yan passed away in the Rear Garden Pavilion at the Feng Residence!"
Deathly silence fell over the hall, as though it had plunged into an icy abyss.
Emperor Jing of Zhou sat without moving, his gaze fixed. Only after a long while did he slowly turn his eyes toward the Imperial Attendant.
Wherever his gaze fell, the palace servants had already prostrated themselves, trembling, none daring to look up.
The emperor said nothing, but his face looked as though he had