Qin Dynasty: Who offended my frail and sickly minister?

Only the King could push the door open and enter so easily.

Zhou Wenqing hurriedly stood up to greet him, and Wang Jian also stepped aside to make way, cupping his hands in greeting:

"Your Majesty, what brings you here?"

Ying Zheng strode in, his gaze first sweeping over Zhou Wenqing's face—

Although there was some fatigue between his brows, his spirits were still good. The main thing was his face, which looked a bit mottled upon closer inspection, with patches of white and red, like an unevenly plastered wall.

He raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything, instead turning to look at Wang Jian and jokingly said:

"If I hadn't come, I'm afraid the old general would have looted all the items in Minister Zhou's residence."

"Your Majesty is joking, how could that be?" Wang Jian patted his chest, his face full of righteous indignation, and said confidently, "I would certainly leave a blanket for Zicheng, wouldn't I? I can't let him have nowhere to sleep."

No need to go through the hassle of going to the palace anymore, Zhou Wenqing relaxed considerably. Upon hearing this, he slightly cupped his hands and chuckled:

"Then Zicheng must thank the old general for his kindness in keeping me in bed."

No sooner had the words left his mouth than a soft laugh came from outside the door.

"Brother Zicheng, you should thank your bed for being too big to move, otherwise the old general wouldn't have been so lenient."

Li Si, holding a folding fan, entered with a smile.

The door was pushed open completely, and Wei Liao and Meng Wu followed in, one on each side.

Wei Liao remained calm, his gaze sweeping across the hall. Meng Wu grinned at Zhou Wenqing and winked.

Zicheng, I've brought you reinforcements!

He led the younger generation back to their respective homes, and in his haste, he somehow managed to grab Fusu along with him.

Since we've already pulled it off, let's just send it back to the palace.

It just so happens that Wei Liao is in the palace discussing matters, and his unfinished business has fallen on Zi Cheng's shoulders. I wonder if he can keep up with it, so I should at least remind him.

This reminder naturally alerted the king.

And so, this scene unfolded before our eyes.

Looking at the large group of people, Zhou Wenqing suddenly felt that the already cramped side hall suddenly felt even more crowded.

Alright, it looks like a little meeting is about to start.

This place isn't usually frequented, so the group wasn't exactly familiar with each other. But right now, without Zhou Wenqing even having to greet them, everyone acted like guests and took their seats in a very natural and relaxed manner.

Ying Zheng walked straight to the head seat, lifted the corner of his robe, and sat down.

Li Si went straight to the teapot on the table, picked it up casually, and found a seat by the window with practiced ease. He placed his folding fan on the table and leisurely poured himself some tea.

Wei Liao stood with his hands behind his back beside the bookshelf, casually picked up a book, flipped through it, and put it back until he found one that interested him, then pulled over a low stool and sat down.

Meng Wu casually sat down in a spacious spot to the side, stretched out his legs, and even gestured with his chin towards Zhou Wenqing:

"Zicheng, sit down anywhere. What are you standing for?"

They don't just treat themselves like outsiders, they practically turn the tables on us!

Zhou Wenqing remained silent for a moment, then glanced at the room full of people. Suddenly, he stood up and walked to a corner.

Under the astonished gazes of the crowd, he pulled out the wheelchair that Li Yi had tidied up, flicked his sleeve, and sat down steadily.

"Hahaha! Good, good place!" General Wang Jian: "Come, come, let me push Zicheng over here."

"That's right, don't you even know whose residence this is?" Zhou Wenqing thought with a hint of smugness.

He unceremoniously allowed General Wang Jian to push the wheelchair to a position below the king, pointed behind him, and looked at Wang Jian with a smile:

"General, please find a place to sit. Don't be shy. If you still don't like that screen, feel free to take it down. Just sit in your original spot. You don't have to worry about not being able to see or hear anything."

"Oh?" Li Si put down his teacup, tapped his folding fan against his palm, and leaned forward curiously. "Why is the old general still bothered by this screen?"

"Hehe, that's a long story." Wang Jian waved his hand and strode to the center to stand still.

He put his hands behind his back, raised his chin slightly, and stood up straight, looking exactly like a storyteller taking the stage, except he was holding a gavel.

"I must tell you the whole story from the beginning, and also tell Your Majesty in detail how that Zhao envoy was treated like a monkey by Zicheng, completely manipulated!"

"Zicheng, let me steal the spotlight, you're not allowed to!"

As Wang Jian spoke, he glanced at Zhou Wenqing with a questioning look in his eyes.

Zhou Wenqing smiled and nodded, making a "please" gesture.

We're all on the same side, there's nothing to hide, and with the King here, there's no need to worry about being overheard.

"Alright!" Wang Jian clapped his hands and cleared his throat. "Then I'll begin with the trembling, cautious reply from this Zhao envoy—"

He took half a step back, suddenly changing his demeanor. His back hunched slightly, his hands were tucked into his sleeves, his eyes darted around, and his voice became a few decibels higher.

"Your humble servant... Your humble servant has presumptuously come to visit and disturb the Inner Historian's peaceful recuperation. It is truly an offense, an offense indeed..."

As he acted, he paced back and forth in the room, perfectly mimicking the Zhao envoy's transformation from cautious probing to gradually revealing his fangs, and finally to his smug and overconfident demeanor.

When Zhou Wenqing mentioned that he had made a mistake while stepping, he reacted quickly, grabbing something and smashing it. Wang Jian suddenly waved his hand, making a "bang" sound, then covered his forehead, shook his head, and muttered something with a blank and aggrieved expression:

"How could you do this?!"

Even Ying Zheng couldn't help himself and picked up his teacup to cover the smile on his lips.

Li Si couldn't help but exclaim, "The old general's acting skills are such that it's a pity he's not in the Peking Opera."

Meng Wu burst out laughing, cupping his hands in a gesture of respect and saying, "Zicheng, what great aim! I'm impressed!"

"Don't interrupt!" Wang Jian glared at him and continued acting, perfectly mimicking the Zhao envoy's frustrated expression of covering his forehead, both shocked and angry but unable to retaliate.

Everyone laughed at the sight, even Wei Liao stroked his beard and shook his head.

After the old general's grand performance finally came to an end, and everyone had finished laughing, Wei Liao put down his book, stroked his beard, pondered for a moment, and slowly spoke:

"Now that the Zhao envoy has fallen into the trap, the time to close the net will come soon. Your Majesty only needs to..."

He skipped over everything else, focusing only on the key points, and explained the arrangements for a few days later in just a few words.

Everyone nodded in agreement.

The small meeting that had gathered so many important figures ended much faster than Zhou Wenqing had imagined. It was the first time that the meeting had ended so easily and pleasantly, without him having to put in any more effort.

After washing away his fatigue and collapsing into the soft quilt, Zhou Wenqing suddenly remembered Wang Jian's words, "This old man is not good at acting," and couldn't help but laugh out loud again.

Every seasoned veteran who's in power is a master of drama.

The night breeze outside the window gently stirred the curtains, and the candlelight flickered and gradually dimmed.

Zhou Wenqing turned over, pulled the blanket up a bit, and drifted off to sleep.

He slept soundly, but some people probably won't get any sleep at all.

The story is over, and it's time for reckoning...

------

Under the same night sky, the Zhangtai Palace was still brightly lit.

A deathly silence.

The candlelight flickered in the bronze lamp tree, casting the dark figure on the throne into varying lengths.

Ying Zheng sat upright before the desk, his face half-hidden in the light and shadow, only his eyes appearing even more profound.

He lowered his eyes, ignoring the kneeling figure before his desk, and continued to write his memorials with his vermilion brush, never even lifting his eyelids for a moment, as if the person kneeling before him was just a dispensable wisp of air.

Zhao Gao lay prostrate on the ground, his forehead pressed tightly against the cold gold brick, not daring to raise his head or move an inch.

A small patch of dark red had seeped into the gold brick; it was from his own kowtowing. He must have kowtowed countless times since entering the hall.

Blood trickled down his brow bone and dripped onto the gold brick.

pat, pat.

The sound of pen nibs scratching across the file was particularly clear in the deathly silence.

Each sound was like a knife cutting into Zhao Gao's heart.

He spent his whole life playing with eagles, only to have his eyes pecked out by a little sparrow in the end.

Zhao Gao was so angry he wanted to grind his teeth, but he didn't even dare to breathe too loudly.

a long time.

Ying Zheng finally put down his pen.