Of ten annual memorials, nine offered meek assent.
The emperor alone styled himself "Outspoken Remonstrance," using the annual memorials to interrogate the minister acting for the Grand Secretariat.
The Imperial Study was so still it seemed deserted.
Snow fell from the eaves onto the steps, its clear sound audible within.
Kou Yuan lay prostrate, his forehead against the blue bricks, the cold piercing flesh and bone.
Sweat dripped from his temples, drop by drop, onto the golden bricks.
He was afraid.
But once that fear settled, his mind grew clear again.
If he admitted it, he faced the charge of "monopolizing power while acting for the Grand Secretariat and colluding with the Upright Officials."
If he resisted, he faced the charge of "deceiving the sovereign, neglecting his duties, and evading responsibility for his failure of oversight."
Admission meant death; resistance meant death.
The only path left was what he, Kou Fu'an, had excelled at all his life...
Shrinking back.
A lifetime among the Upright Officials, half a lifetime in the Grand Secretariat-he had relied neither on firmness nor on righteousness, but on that single word: "shrink."
Laozi said, "Bend and remain whole; bow and become straight; hollow yourself and be filled."
Though these were a sage's words, Kou Yuan took only half their meaning for his own use.
To bend in pursuit of wholeness was, at its root, to preserve oneself; taken to its utmost, self-preservation became shamelessness.
The sage spoke of "shrinking" and returned to the Way; Kou Yuan spoke of "shrinking" and returned to mere survival.
His mind made up, Kou Yuan slowly raised his eyes, his voice hoarse but his breath steady.
"Your Majesty!!"
"I am guilty."
The emperor watched him, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.
"But my guilt lies not in forming a faction." Kou