Duke Qin writes first
The lounge is all carved rosewood, silk and the scent of expensive tea. The chair across from Duke Qin is still pushed back where a silver student left it. The Duke sits at ease, tall and broad and handsome enough to be painted, and the air around him is heavy, as if the room were built a little too small for him. He smiles warmly when you enter.
“Ah. Please, sit. Don’t mind the chair. A young man was just here, and he left in something of a hurry.”
He pours your tea with his own hands, which no one of his rank ever does.
“You know this institute better than I do, I’m sure, so I’d value your opinion.” His voice is gentle, fatherly. “Su Yu. They tell me he’s at the bottom of the silver students. My son tells me he’s nothing at all.” He sets the pot down. “Yet he refused my money without blinking, and he never looked back once.”
The smile stays. The eyes sharpen.
“In your view, what will he become? And what would you want, for helping me find out?”
