The good news from Yangxin Hall was like the clouds parting to reveal the moon; from top to bottom everyone felt as if they had survived a great calamity.
Compared to the clearing of storm clouds over Yangxin Hall, Prince Xiao and the others who had left it were like mourners at a funeral, seized by a vague sense that they were drifting farther and farther from the throne; as for those officials, they all felt their official hats were about to topple from their heads.
Who could have imagined it would turn out like this; no wonder the Emperor had refused to appear—he had actually caught the terrifying plague. If he had casually met people, and one careless slip led to another, then one person would pass it to ten and ten to a hundred; before long the entire Capital might have been riddled with the plague.
They were done for—just now they had been in the same hall speaking with the Emperor.
