In early May, spring's chill had faded completely, and summer's heat was just beginning to rise.
In the Small Courtyard of the Wei Residence outside the West Peace Gate, the Jujube Tree was lush and green. Whenever the wind blew, a few green leaves drifted down onto the blue-gray bricks.
Qu Niang stood beneath the Jujube Tree in a light green blouse that offered a little relief from the heat, paired with a moon-white, hundred-pleat skirt.
She gently waved a round fan in her hand, neither hurried nor slow, sending out a soft breeze.
Wei Nisheng sat beneath the Jujube Tree. Drafts lay scattered every which way across the long, low table in utter disarray.
At one corner rested the memorial booklet Feng Yan had sent someone to deliver, its cover plain and unadorned.
Feng Yan had served at court for more than forty years, and his students were scattered throughout the realm. Though he had retired, he still enjoyed the privilege of "bringing public sentiment directly to the imperial ear."
Among all the civil and military officials at court, whose children could enjoy such a privilege, such generous treatment?
Throughout the entire court, only Feng Yan had that standing, that assurance.
The memorial would be delivered to the emperor himself, for his personal perusal. A single word could make a difference as vast as heaven and earth.
So not one word could be wrong, not one step could stray-and it had to make the reader's eyes light up.
Though Feng Yan had told him to simply write something, he could hardly expect Lord Feng to revise it for him word by word.
And so Wei Nisheng had already spent the entire morning writing.
"Still not right..." Wei Nisheng propped his chin on one hand, his brows faintly furrowed as