That same night, at the Great Ming Gate, in the Kou Residence.
Outside the window, the first spring insects chirped, their calls rising and falling, grating on the nerves.
Kou Yuan sat behind his desk, leafing through a Ministry of Revenue ledger by lamplight.
His tea had gone cold twice, yet his fingers kept turning the pages, the furrows between his brows flickering in and out of the lamplight.
His eldest legitimate son stood before the desk. He had been there for nearly an hour.
Kou Yuan's eldest legitimate son was named Kou Yun, courtesy name Huaiyi.
"Yun" meant trustworthiness; "Huaiyi" meant to cherish righteousness in one's heart.
When Kou Yuan had named this son, he had poured into those names all his earnest hopes that the boy would amount to something.
Now this son was forty-eight, round-faced and fair-skinned, somewhat stout, with a meticulously trimmed short beard.
His features bore a fair resemblance to Kou Yuan's, but lacked his sharpness entirely. Instead, they held the sluggish mildness of a man accustomed to comfort and privilege.
"Father."
Kou Yun finally spoke. First he topped up the tea with hot water, then nudged the hand warmer closer to Kou Yuan.
"It's late. You ought to rest."
"Mm." Kou Yuan answered without looking up.
Kou Yun stood a while longer before saying:
"Father, I heard from people at the ministry today that the post at the Ministry of Works is still vacant."
"It is," Kou Yuan said indifferently, his eyes still fixed on the ledger.
"It's been vacant for over half a year." Kou Yun sighed, his tone laden with concern for the country and its people.
"River works are piling up, construction has ground to a halt. Of the Six Ministries, the Ministry of Works is in the worst state.