The same urgent dispatch yielded three different visions to its three readers.
Shen Duan saw the blade and recognized the hand wielding it; Wei Zi saw the blade and glimpsed the net; Kou Yuan saw only the blade.
Shen Duan could see the hidden hand, so he could hold his ground without alarm.
Wei Nisheng could glimpse the larger forces at work, so he could advance and break the deadlock.
Kou Yuan saw only naked steel, so whether he advanced or retreated, the blade's gleam would dictate his steps.
The difference between these three men lay not in intelligence or folly, but in how far they could see.
With the blade before them, anyone could dodge.
With the hand behind it, how many could guard against it?
With the net between them, how many could escape?
On the fourteenth day of the twelfth month, in the Ministry of Revenue's Duty Room.
Kou Yuan sat alone, a copy of the urgent dispatch from Ningxia laid upon his desk, passed to him by a censor among the Upright Officials.
Kou Yuan unfolded it and read closely, his eyes following the words, his breathing quickening with the account.
When he reached the words, "Veteran soldiers resist the land survey; uproar in the camp at night; mutiny imminent,"
he suddenly slapped the desk and laughed. "Splendid! Is this not Heaven lending its aid?!"
He rose, paced a couple of steps through the Duty Room, then stopped and stroked his chin, murmuring to himself:
"Shen Boyu, you have finally made your move."
His reasoning followed naturally: the Censorate had launched an attack, and Shen Duan had brought down its three department secretaries. That grievance could not go unavenged.
Ningxia was the Wei Faction's vulnerable flank; Land Clearance was the backbone of Wei Zi's program.