Night fell over the imperial palace. Candlelight shimmered, memorials lay piled on the Imperial Desk as ever, and the Vermilion Brush had not touched a single one.
Emperor Jing of Zhou sat motionless behind the desk, holding a report. His eyes rested on it, but none of its words sank in.
After a long while, he suddenly asked, "Wang Cheng, has the Crown Prince still not returned?"
"Your Imperial Majesty." Wang Cheng hurried forward and bowed. "His Highness left the palace at eight this evening to visit the ailing chancellor at the Shen Residence."
"By the hour, he ought to be back by now..."
The emperor said nothing more, merely turning to gaze at the deep night beyond the window, as though waiting for something.
Before long, the curtain stirred and wind swept in. Crown Prince Jiang Heng hurried into the hall bearing the cold, the chill of snow still clinging to his clothes.
"Father, I have returned."
"Heng'er." The name escaped Emperor Jing of Zhou's lips, and he involuntarily leaned forward.
"How is Shen Duan?"
The Crown Prince's steps faltered slightly.
His father had asked with such urgency, as though he had spent half the day alone in the Palace of Heavenly Purity with his heart suspended in dread.
Jiang Heng lowered his eyes and answered gently, "I stayed at the Shen Residence for about two hours."
"Chancellor Shen was lying in bed, his face pale, but his breathing remained steady.
He forced himself to exchange a few ordinary words with me.
The chief physician of the Imperial Medical Academy was there as well. He said the chancellor's heart meridians had suffered severe damage, and vomiting blood had injured his constitution. He must rest quietly for a hundred days and undertake no further exertion."
At the words "a hundred