Meanwhile, in the palace, in the Imperial Study.
Emperor Jing of Zhou sat at the Imperial Desk, holding a secret report freshly transcribed from events on West Street.
Wang Cheng stood beside him with his hands lowered, not daring to breathe too loudly.
"This Wei Family Son..." Emperor Jing of Zhou chuckled, set the paper on the desk, and shook his head. "He certainly has some nerve."
"Questioning a feudal prince's heir in the street." He read the words on the paper, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly.
"Even the third-rank officials in my Court dare not say such things.
Yet a thirteen-year-old boy said them for me."
"Your Majesty," Wang Cheng said cautiously, "the Wei Family Son is young and hot-blooded, after all. He does not know the weight of his words..."
"Does not know their weight?" Emperor Jing of Zhou interrupted, leaning back in his chair.
"Then tell me, is it better for those ministers in my Court to know the weight of their words, or not to know it?"
Wang Cheng dared not answer.
Emperor Jing of Zhou did not need him to.
"Heh. Those ministers of mine all know the weight of their words.
They know what they should say and what they should not.
They know which words will benefit them and which will harm them."
"But the Gansu Three Prefectures have been lost for nearly a year, and I have not heard a single honest word in Court."
"And now, heh..."
Emperor Jing of Zhou paused, his gaze returning to the paper on the desk, settling on those few lines.
"Today, I finally heard one on a street in the Capital."
A fine sheen of sweat appeared on Wang Cheng's forehead. He bowed. "Your Majesty..."
"Enough." Emperor Jing of Zhou waved a hand,