In the past, Emperor Deming had always sent word through others; never before had he graced the place with his own presence. For Zhao Yan, this special treatment felt like sitting on pins and needles. He couldn't shake the feeling that the Emperor had some ulterior motive waiting for him. His office, which had seemed perfectly adequate moments ago, now felt lackluster, completely overshadowed by the Emperor’s dragon robes. To Zhao Yan, the room no longer felt like his own workspace, but rather like the Hall of Mental Cultivation, and he felt constrained at every turn.
"Official Zhao, your office is quite well-appointed. I see you have a refined taste for tea brewed in Zisha teapots—you’ve certainly put the items I bestowed upon you to good use." Emperor Deming spoke like a tourist on an inspection, curious about every item he saw. If there was one thing of true value in the room, it was the stack of memorials—though the Emperor pointedly ignored them, as the mere sight gave him a headache. "And so many books. I’ve taken a rough glance; it seems you are quite the polymath, Official Zhao."
He was the Emperor; he had the privilege of such whimsy.
Chapter 709