Imperial Palace.
Emperor Chu looked at his second son kneeling on the white jade floor, hands behind his back, without saying a word, just watching as beads of sweat formed on the cowardly yet somewhat timid son's forehead.
He really couldn't understand how this son, who had always been overlooked and seemed somewhat timid and weak, dared to propose such a thing as leaving to govern a vassal state?
Is he truly timid or is it wisdom disguised as ignorance?
While Emperor Chu was pondering this, King Wu was about to cry, his knees were sore and numb, and his heart was on edge, like hearing someone sharpening a blunt knife on a grindstone, squeak squeak, seemingly right about to chop his neck.
King Wu was depressed.
If only he had known beforehand, perhaps he wouldn't have suggested it, and wouldn't be subjected to Father's lingering punishment, this blunt knife cutting him was worse than a swift chop.
"Second son, is your desire to govern a vassal state sincere or feigned?"
