Those who reached the pinnacle of power feared looking back most.
Behind them lay nothing but humiliations that had served as steps.
After Wei Nisheng left, there was a cup of cold tea and two doors in the Minister of Personnel's Duty Room.
Shen Duan sat alone behind his desk, motionless.
After a long while, he suddenly gave a soft laugh.
"Such impeccable courtesy," Shen Duan murmured.
"Courtesy even I could find no fault with.
Wei Zi'an, you are the first."
He lifted the cold tea, took a sip, and set it down again.
Memories from many years ago rose before his eyes.
That year, a single memorial from Feng Yan had sent him down to Guilin Prefecture.
Guilin, a Miasma-Plagued Land.
Misty rain lingered for months, and the river ran yellow.
During his three years in Guilin, the first thing he did every morning was look north.
Unable to see the Capital, he would face the waters of the Gui River and speak Feng Yan's name once.
Each utterance gave him a little more strength to return to the Capital.
"Are kings, nobles, generals, and ministers born to their stations?" he murmured to himself.
"I climbed back to my position, one step at a time."
From Guilin's miasmic rain, he had climbed to Surveillance Commissioner.
From Surveillance Commissioner, he had climbed to Vice Minister.
From Vice Minister, he had climbed to Minister, then to Chief Minister!!
Twenty years, step after step, without anyone lending him a hand.
Now he stood at the pinnacle.
Chief Minister and head of the Heavenly Offices, he held the appointments of all Six Ministries in his palm.
Feng Yan was dead, the Feng Faction had scattered, and among all the Purple-and-Scarlet Robes at court, no one dared block his path anymore.
"When Feng