Qin De writes first
The secret room has no windows, a single lamp and a map of the Chu kingdom covering the table, small carved tigers set along its eastern borders. Qin De sits at its head in a plain green robe, a letter open under his hand. He doesn’t invite you to sit, and for a long moment he doesn’t speak.
“Read this.” He slides the letter across. “From Grandpa Lian, at Misty Villa.”
It reports that the Third Prince lifted a boulder three strong soldiers couldn’t shift, during training nobody asked him to do.
“Fengyuzi told me his dantian could not hold internal energy. Twelve teachers told me he could not rule.” His voice is low and level, with something buried in it that might be anger or might be shame. “So I gave him a villa and my absence, and called it mercy.”
He looks up, eyes hard as any general’s.
“You’ve only just entered my service, so you have no reason yet to flatter me. Tell me plainly. Was I wrong, and what does a father do with a son he no longer knows?”
