The next day at noon, at the Imperial Academy.

This was the place where scholars and literati of all dynasties had displayed their literary grace and discussed the affairs of state.

Dozens of buildings formed a large circular complex, with dark green walls and orange-tiled eaves. Those plain colors rippled outward like waves in a lake, standing solemnly behind several great archways inscribed with characters for “Clear Ritual,” “Scholarly Governance,” “Solemn Nation,” and others.

The upright, square-edged regular script flowed like a torrential river when bold, yet ended with clumsy restraint, each stroke sealing away all ornate brilliance.

The vast circular central courtyard was paved with white marble. Jade is not stone, yet jade is stone.

This place had none of the luxury and splendor of the imperial palace, yet was in no way inferior to it. Su Zhen slowly walked out from an examination hall and stood in the center of the square, watching countless soldiers standing guard, watching countless scholars in snow-white robes with fluttering sleeves rushing from the grand, towering buildings, their eyes blazing with brilliance like peaches competing with plums, surging like strong winds and tidal waters toward the archways where they grasped hands and spoke warmly with relatives and friends waiting there.

How many court officials throughout the dynasties had emerged from this place.

Gazing at the characters on the archways that had long since weathered in the dust of history, her eyes instantly moistened.

She knew how absurd it was for a woman to take the imperial examination, but her heart was now filled with a surging emotion so intense it felt like a devastating flood—the feeling of encountering… destiny.

Just like the profession you pursue, the place you’re meant to go, the person you’re meant to meet—that feeling of inevitability.

She didn’t believe in fate and never had, but she believed in destiny. Destiny was a kind of relationship, an encounter. Such as her being her father’s daughter, her loving Li Zhaoting, and her now being at the Imperial Academy!

This place seemed destined to be a station in her life’s journey.

So she had answered the examination questions in one go, discussing the nation and governance.

She too could speak eloquently of the realm, even though she was just a woman.

But she quickly suppressed these emotions—melancholy sentimentality wasn’t suitable for her, and she clearly felt a deep gaze watching her from the crowd.

Looking quickly, she saw a man in purple robes and official sash standing in the sea of people—it was Mu San, whom she hadn’t seen for days!

She was both surprised and delighted. Why was he here? Had he come to find her? Who exactly was he?

Suddenly she realized that she had only met him briefly once, yet she had asked herself at least three times who this man really was.

This person who had given her food and a touch of warmth in this winter.

He stood not far ahead, though partially hidden in the crowd, she could still clearly see the expression in his eyes.

Meaningful—and—profound.

His mouth had also slightly restrained its usual lazy smile.

Wait, there was someone standing behind him—was that Gao Chaoyi?!

Gao Chaoyi glanced at her, then lowered his eyelids with a strange expression, seeming both hateful and wary.

How could Gao Chaoyi be with Mu San—her heart contracted sharply as she became nervous, using her sleeve to hastily wipe her face, wanting to go greet Mu San. Even if not to thank him for the meals, she should thank him for that silent kindness. Just then she heard someone say, “Brother Li, look, isn’t that Young Master Li from Lu County? Didn’t they say he couldn’t get a seat assignment token? Yet he’s here…”

She looked up in shock to see the speaker was Song Yang, with a group of scholars also looking her way, including… Li Zhaoting.

They had tested in different halls, so she hadn’t encountered them earlier.

At this moment, Li Zhaoting’s gaze rested on her, his eyes bright, but his lips were tightly pressed, forming a sharp line.