"I acknowledge my guilt, Your Majesty, I acknowledge my guilt..."
Shen Duan's voice trembled. He kowtowed three times in succession and prostrated himself on the floor, not daring to raise his head.
His wretched appearance bore no resemblance to his impassioned manner moments before.
"You acknowledge your guilt? Heh." Emperor Jing of Zhou sat behind the Imperial Desk
and looked down at him from above, then slammed his hand on the desk.
"Do you truly acknowledge your guilt?!"
"Let me ask you! Have you earnestly overseen relief for the locust plagues in Shandong's prefectures?
Have you devised any effective measures against the Xiang Partisans provoking trouble along the border at Ningxia Garrison?
With the Khitan in Liaodong watching us like hungry tigers, what plans have you put forward?
My Great Zhou knows no peace on any frontier, and its people live in fear.
As Chief Minister, have you spent even a single day keeping these matters in your heart?!"
Three questions about policy, every word striking straight at his heart.
Shen Duan lay prostrate, not daring to lift his forehead from the floor.
"Heh, no answer?" Emperor Jing of Zhou rose with a cold laugh and pointed at him.
"As I see it, all you care about is turning the court of my Great Zhou into a hall where only you, Shen Duan, have a say!"
At these words, Shen Duan shuddered all over and nearly collapsed.
The accusation was far too grave.
A hall ruled by one voice-that was the crime of an overmighty minister, the mark of a treacherous courtier, an accusation enough to have his property confiscated and his entire clan exterminated.
He wanted to defend himself. His lips moved for a long while, yet not a single word came out.
What could he say? That the