With Lord Feng's passing, heaven lost half its pillar; with Shen Duan's illness, a corner of that pillar broke.
The former's fall was known throughout the realm; few discerning men knew of the latter's peril.
Now half the pillar was gone, and the broken pillar fractured further...
Peril loomed.
December twenty-sixth, the Shen Residence.
Medicinal vapor hung thick without dispersing, and the charcoal fire barely smoldered.
Shen Duan lay on his bed, his face like waxed paper, his breath as faint as a silken thread.
That grief-stricken fit of vomiting blood before the Hall of Supreme Harmony seemed to have poured out onto the Vermilion Steps all the spirit that had sustained him through half his life.
Overnight, he had withered into an old man like a candle flickering in the wind.
Shen Yi stayed beside his bed, changed his medicine, then tucked in the corners of his quilt.
"Yi'er." Shen Duan opened his eyes, his voice hoarse.
"The Fang residence... how... are things there?"
Shen Yi's hand paused slightly. He said softly, "Grandfather, the Fang residence has set up the mourning hall. The funeral rites are underway.
At court, the Ministry of Rites has also submitted a memorial requesting a posthumous title for Uncle Fang."
"A posthumous title..." Shen Duan murmured, as though bitter goldthread lay on his tongue.
"Jingwen, Jingwen...
When you were here, you shielded this old man in everything. Now that you have passed, even your posthumous honors must wait for others to fight for them.
I hold the office of chief minister, yet at this moment, I cannot even fight for a single word on your behalf..."
All his life, what he had excelled at most was fighting.
But now, lying on his sickbed, he lacked even the strength to fight for a posthumous