“By the time we reached the Neiwufu’s outer gate, a pair of Court marshals were waiting for us, their hands clutching an order from Grandpa herself demanding our presence in her chamber immediately. Grandpa was bent over her writing desk, brush-painting calligraphy onto a rolling scroll, accompanied by her ink man, Li Liang, the chief eunuch. Having risen from the modest rank of palace woman—over five hundred of them—she was uncharacteristically known to have mastered the high art of ink and bru...sh, having a special penchant for painting such characters as longevity and harmony, gifts that she doled out generously to admirers and visitors alike. The brush painting was, to her and others, a mental tai chi one does for relaxing tense nerves and sore bones, akin to a warm cup of rice wine or a doleful puff of opium. Without stopping the brushing at hand, she said in her thin-throated piercing voice, “I heard of that official’s hanging. You need not burden me with the details. It’s unfortunate he has done himself in.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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