It was the morning two days after reaching Jiangxia (江夏). Kongming (孔明) boarded a single boat. The boat turned east. Its destination was the hall of Sun Quan (孫權) at Chaisang (柴桑). On board there were only Kongming himself and one oarsman.

Along the length of the river, Kongming's boat slid eastward. The river was wide. From one bank to the other was nearly twenty li. Across those twenty li, one boat, one Wolong, and one oarsman were crossing slowly. In Kongming's two hands was a small sheet of paper. On it were written, line by line, the names of the officials of Jiangdong (江東).

Kongming's boat reached the wharf of Chaisang in Jiangdong. At one corner of the wharf, Lu Su (魯肅) was waiting. Lu Su was one of Sun Quan's civil officials, and a month earlier had come to Liu Bei (劉備) as an envoy of mourning for Liu Biao (劉表). Kongming and Lu Su had already met for the first time in a room at Jingzhou (荊州). This morning's meeting was the second.

Lu Su bowed his head once before Kongming.

"Wolong Sir. You have come a long way. This person shall guide you to the door of the hall. Inside, at this morning's seat, eleven officials are gathered."

Kongming nodded.

"Eleven, then. The names of those eleven are written on the paper in my hand."

The road from the wharf to the hall was short. The two men walked side by side. Their pace was the same. Each step kept the same breath. Yet their silences held two different directions. Lu Su's silence asked: "how shall I bring this one man safely before the young lord Sun?" Kongming's silence asked: "how shall I, in a single movement, set in order the breath of the eleven seats of this hall?"

The door of the hall appeared ahead. It was broad — broad enough for two to enter side by side. Yet Lu Su halted a step before the door. Then he stepped aside toward Kongming.

"Wolong Sir. The inside of this door is your seat alone. This person will wait outside."

Kongming glanced back at Lu Su. That single step aside said, in one movement, what sort of seat this morning's hall was. Inside the door of Sun Quan's hall, a single decision would be made this morning. At the center of that decision, Kongming must stand alone.

Kongming drew a breath. It sank deep within his chest. Then he took a step toward the door.

Inside, eleven officials were already seated. The seat at the center was empty. Toward that empty center, Kongming walked, step by step.

The air inside the hall was quiet. A thread of morning sunlight entered through the east window. Within that thread of light, eleven faces were arrayed. Each face turned upon Kongming. Eleven gazes gathered at once upon the center seat.

Kongming reached the center seat. Yet he did not sit. Before sitting, he bowed to the eleven. The angle of the bow was neither deep nor shallow — an angle in the middle.

"Wolong Zhuge Kongming offers his greetings to the eleven scholars of Jiangdong."

Kongming's single line set in order, quietly, the air inside the hall. The eleven officials received his greeting at once. Among them, Zhang Zhao (張昭) alone nodded slightly. The other ten each moved their heads as well, once apiece.

Kongming sat upon the empty seat at the center. The cushion was a little low — a seat where Kongming's height sank one hand's-breadth below that of the eleven. That single hand's-breadth of lowness was the etiquette of this morning's hall.

Outside the door, Lu Su quietly closed the hall's door halfway. The morning sunlight entered through the crack in one thin line. The end of that line of sunlight touched Kongming's fan.

Kongming's fan lifted quietly. Its tip brushed the air at the center of the hall. The eleven gazes followed that single movement of the fan, each in turn.

The fifth morning of Book 6 had begun. At the center of eleven men in a single hall, one Wolong sat alone. That one seat this morning was the first seat of a decision that would reach into the long spring ahead.

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