Chen Ji stood beneath the vast shadow outside the Meridian Gate.
The Yanchi Tower on the city wall was bathed in moonlight, casting a silhouette like a towering official’s black gauze hat that covered the world.
Night Patrol Commander.
Governor of the Capital Garrison Ceremonial Guard.
Neither of these positions was what he desired.
He turned back, trying to catch a glimpse of Jingyang Palace in the distance, but the bright red palace walls of the Meridian Gate blocked the view.
At this moment, the palace music from the Guozijian (Imperial Academy) had already begun.
Even from afar, the sounds of bells and chimes could be heard.
Surely, the Qionglin Banquet was in full swing—cups clinking, the shadows of lanterns flickering across the multi-storied halls.
But that lively scene was not for him.
Chen Ji tightened the collar of his robe and headed south.
Chen Xu stood under the moonlight outside the Chengtian Gate, his hands folded within his sleeves, nodding slightly: “Young master, you’ve won this round. The master had specially instructed me to congratulate you once you left the palace.”
Chen Ji faced him: “Only a congratulation?”