It was a cold spring day at the foot of Mount Li, and Feng Quji's second son squatted in the queue of officials and ate chicken legs. His father stared at me and asked me to wipe the corners of my mouth, His Majesty is coming soon. All I could think about was lying down and waiting to die, fishing in court was the right way to go. The golden dragon chariot rolled over the stone slabs, and the black dragon robe climbed onto the high platform on people's backs. There was a tsunami of prostrations, and I was distracted and wanted to stop work and go back to catch up on my sleep - when a cold snort suddenly burst out from the sea of consciousness: Who is that nagging in my ears? I froze. He heard it, every word.
