Reaping the Whirlwind

Within the room, bureaucrats huddled together looking over imperial bulletins, on which were clearly written an account of what had happened in the north. Regardless of whether it was a result of their timeliness or the abundance of the information they contained, they always attracted many more readers than the palace newspapers. What was more, they contained news of national victories. Fan Xian forced a smile as he fished the wrinkled newspaper from his breast pocket, mumbling an apology to old Pan Ling, the official calligraphy master of the secretariat. He sat back down at the table and began to sip some more tea.