Jinghe Year Sixteen, the fifth day of the second month.
The impeachments of the upright officials fell like snowflakes upon the Imperial Desk.
One impeachment memorial after another was delivered to the desk.
Luo Wenjin's submission was the sternest of them all: "If Xie Lin is not punished, every official under heaven may defy imperial decrees, and the statutes of the court will become nothing but a worthless sheet of paper!"
Emperor Jing of Zhou read it without a word.
Then he pushed it gently aside, leaving it at the corner of the desk.
Retained in the palace.
Not released.
Outside the East Flower Gate stood an old residence Shen Duan had arranged for Xie Lin.
The compound was small, with three successive courtyards, blue bricks, and gray tiles. An old locust tree stood in the courtyard, fresh buds just emerging on its branches.
Night, in the study.
Xie Lin sat before the desk. A sheet of plain paper lay before him, the ink already ground, the brush resting on its stand, yet he had not begun to write.
Xu Shi entered carrying a lamp. Seeing him, she said softly, "Xie Lang, I've heard about the impeachment memorials."
"Mm." Xie Lin answered without looking up.
Xu Shi set down the lamp. The light of the two lamps pooled together, brightening the desk a little. "What do you intend to do?"
"I am no longer an official," Xie Lin said. "I have no right to appear before the throne and defend myself."
"Even if I submit a memorial, someone must be willing to accept it."
"Then..."
"But there is one thing I can do." Xie Lin raised his head, gazed at the lamp flame, and said slowly:
"They impeach me on the grounds of 'statute.' I shall lay before him