Fan Xian gripped the tome, not knowing what to say. His meeting with Zhuang Mohan two nights ago turned out to be his last. Although on that night, he had discovered that Zhuang Mohan’s health had declined since last year, Fan Xian never thought this leading scholar would depart this world so suddenly.
In his final words, Zhuang Mohan gave his last literary work to Fan Xian, a gesture which contained complex meanings.
Gradually, all the Qi officials learned of the shocking news, and a mournful atmosphere began to spread among the crowd. Most of the officials cast their glances at Fan Xian, glances which were filled with caution, hate, and suspicion.
Fan Xian knew what those Qi officials were thinking: that he was the one responsible for Zhuang Mohan’s only downfall. Now that the old man was gone, even Fan Xian felt a bit sad. He intentionally took in the complex emotions behind every single glance aimed at him.
