Xie Jichuan paused for a moment, then laughed: “You.”

Ming Huazhang found the question truly beneath him — this was nothing more than an unremarkable examination, after all. Was he supposed to compete with others over it? Ming Huazhang disdained to bother with such a trifling matter. He said: “I’ll go see Han Jie first. You focus on your scrolls and don’t let unrelated things distract you. You two — that’s enough. Go back and write your policy essays properly. Don’t even think about taking shortcuts.”

The last sentence was directed at Jiang Ling and Ren Yao. Jiang Ling was still in the thick of being pummeled, but upon hearing it, he scrambled and tumbled toward the gate: “Tomboy, didn’t you hear the captain speak? I’m going back to write my policy essay — stop coming after me!”

“I’m coming after you?” Ren Yao’s teeth were clenched in fury, but out of deference to Ming Huazhang, she refrained from striking again inside Ming Huashang’s courtyard, and let Jiang Ling run off without pursuit.

Ming Huazhang had put a stop to the children brawling. He turned back to find Ming Huashang and Xie Jichuan whispering to each other, and showed them no more mercy: “That includes you. Your coursework is your own to figure out — no copying.”

Ming Huashang was caught off guard by the sudden attack, blinked in surprise, and muttered under her breath: “You piled all those scrolls on me — I can’t even get through them all.”

Ming Huazhang raised an eyebrow slightly: “And you think you’re in the right?”

Ming Huashang knew she didn’t have a leg to stand on, but that didn’t stop her from feeling aggrieved about it. It was only fair — on top of the general curriculum shared by all Xuan Xiaowei members, she also had to spend her private time reading vast quantities of case scrolls and building profiles of criminals she had never met in her life, then checking afterward whether her profiles matched the official verdicts. She had given over every moment of leisure to profiling, and since she couldn’t possibly cut into her eating time or her sleep, the only place to steal hours from was her assignments.

The homework assigned by the instructors had too much repetition in it as far as she was concerned. She didn’t have time to write it all, and Xie Jichuan was too lazy to bother with it — so the two of them had arrived at a sensible division of labor. How could that be called copying?

Ming Huashang was thoroughly convinced she was in the right. She shouted this very loudly inside her own head — but in reality, facing Ming Huazhang, she was meek and compliant and didn’t dare say a single word of refutation. Even Xie Jichuan suffered by association and was sent away by Ming Huazhang.

After everyone had left, the courtyard returned to stillness. Ming Huashang pressed her lips together and lowered her head to keep reading the scrolls.

As for the assignment due tomorrow… she’d deal with it later. It wasn’t even dark yet.

Ming Huazhang confirmed that Xie Jichuan and Jiang Ling had each gone back to their own rooms and would not return to bother Ming Huashang, then changed direction and headed deeper into the mountain forest.

At the edge of the training ground, a small building stood quietly in the shadow of trees. Ming Huazhang climbed the stairs with practiced familiarity and pushed open the wooden door.

Han Jie stood with his hands clasped behind his back at the window, gazing out over the vast and sprawling forests of the Zhongnan Mountains, a depth of feeling in his bearing. He said: “Of all times of day, the one I love most is sunset. The daylight hours are too bright, the sounds too many — only at night, without the sun to obscure things, can you see the true face of all the world.”

These words were absurd and strange — sunlight had become something that concealed. Ming Huazhang stepped through the door and asked: “You wanted to see me?”

Han Jie sighed, turned back, and said: “You — you don’t even have a basic grasp of how to handle people. I said all that and you didn’t so much as acknowledge it?”

“What else is there to say?” Ming Huazhang said calmly. “You’ve already made up your mind. No matter what I say, you won’t change it. So why waste the words? Get to the point — what is it?”

“Young people should be a little more endearing,” Han Jie said. He settled himself behind the tea table and unhurriedly poured two cups. “When everything is said so plainly, there’s no enjoyment in it. No wonder Xie Jichuan says you’re no fun. You’re so steady and composed — you don’t seem like someone who’s sixteen. More like a twenty-six-year-old head of household with parents to care for and children to raise.”

Ming Huazhang sat down across from Han Jie and decided to take it as a compliment. Seeing that Ming Huazhang remained utterly unmoved, Han Jie found it equally joyless.

He shrugged and dropped the pretense, cutting directly to the point: “First, congratulations — you’ve been selected for the Chang’an unit. From here on, you’ll remain in Chang’an to carry out your assignments. Of all the trained agents sent to the Zhongnan Mountains, only seven have been selected — the rest will be posted to outlying prefectures and will never enter the capital again, to prevent them from recognizing the faces of the Chang’an unit and exposing our key operatives. Congratulations — you and your sister won’t be separated. You can continue keeping each other close.”

Ming Huazhang paid no attention to Han Jie’s turn of phrase. He ventured a guess: “The other two are the Su siblings?”

Han Jie smiled inscrutably: “That’s right.”

“But the final assessment hasn’t started yet.”

“And now you know the outcome ahead of time,” Han Jie said. “Congratulations — the results are excellent.”

Ming Huazhang felt a jolt; Han Jie so blithely laying bare the unspoken rules within the Xuan Xiaowei — that the so-called assessment was nothing more than a formality — left him with nothing to say. He turned it over in his mind. The five of them in his group each had their own background, so it wasn’t surprising that they would be staying in Chang’an. But he hadn’t anticipated that Su Xingzhi and Su Yuji would be staying as well.

No wonder Xie Jichuan had mentioned that Qian Shan was sitting for the examinations — so that was how it was. The so-called examination was simply a means of giving them a legitimate identity.

Ming Huazhang’s first reaction was that he must not tell Ming Huashang — otherwise she would stop doing her assignments altogether. His second reaction was: “What do you want us to do?”

A fathomless look flickered through Han Jie’s eyes. He smiled and said: “You’ve all been working hard during your training on the Southern Mountain these past months. In three days, the imperial procession will arrive — it’s time for you to go and fulfill your mission. After the relocation of the capital, many things will need to be reorganized, and there are not enough hands at court. The Empress intends for you to sit the imperial examinations — once you have the status of Presented Scholars, it will be easier for the Empress to grant you official appointments.”

The examination had not yet begun, yet the outcome was already decided. Ming Huazhang found the four words “selecting scholars through examinations” thoroughly steeped in irony. Regardless of whether they could genuinely pass the examinations on their own merits, the moment they accepted the Empress’s gift, once they entered officialdom, they would no longer be masters of their own fates.

But this was precisely what Ming Huazhang intended. And presumably Xie Jichuan and Su Xingzhi had accepted the label that came with the gift as well.

After all, when one has mastered one’s learning and one’s martial arts, one sells those skills to the imperial house. Forming a factional clique was wrong — but serving as the emperor’s voice was entirely as heaven intended.

Ming Huazhang’s response was cool and detached. He gave a slight nod to show he was listening, and then said nothing more. Han Jie found this oddly deflating. He asked: “To be personally considered by the Empress — this is a singular honor. You’re only sixteen, and by every measure you’re headed for a meteoric rise. Do you have nothing to say?”

“What would you have me say?” Ming Huazhang asked coldly. “That I am grateful for the Emperor’s great grace?”

Han Jie raised an eyebrow and seemed to smile: “Now I feel like you really are sixteen. Quite the arrogance. Here — take this.”

Ming Huazhang’s gaze drifted downward, but he did not reach out to take it: “What is this?”

“The final policy essay topic for the examinations,” Han Jie said. “Though your places as Presented Scholars are already guaranteed, the papers still go to the Ministry of Rites to be reviewed — they can’t be too terrible. I know you’ve all been busy these past months with no time to review for the examinations, so I’ve brought the policy essay topic early. Take it back and prepare properly. Don’t disappoint the Empress’s expectations.”

Ming Huazhang understood. His expression grew colder still, white as jade from the Kunlun peaks: “Han Jie — what exactly do you mean by this?”

“This is the Empress’s intent,” Han Jie said, holding his gaze steadily. “The examination this ninth month was specifically arranged to give you a stepping stone into officialdom — you ought to understand the weight of this examination. If you perform well, a bright future stretches before your feet; if your results are mediocre and you disappoint the Empress, then you will have ruined your own prospects. Duke Zhenguo was once a close confidant of the late Crown Prince Zhānghuái — that identity means he will never again be trusted by the Empress. Surely you wouldn’t want your momentary stubbornness to destroy the entire family’s hopes of restoration.”

The evening wind passed through the window. Twilight seemed to seep down from the hillsides and pour into the room, until the only sounds inside were the rustling of leaves. Han Jie waited, then unhurriedly said: “Rest assured — this examination was added at the last moment and won’t take the place of spots that belong to genuine scholars. Xie Jichuan and Su Xingzhi also have theirs.”

Ming Huazhang slowly reached out his hand and accepted the slip of paper, but did not look at it — he held it loosely between his fingers. Han Jie watched Ming Huazhang’s expression and said with a smile: “What’s the matter — not pleased?”

Ming Huazhang asked with cold indifference: “Those above are helping me cheat. Am I supposed to feel honored?”

Han Jie shook his head and gave a faint smile: “I know your pride can’t accept this — but you must understand what truly matters. Do you want to be a righteous gentleman, spotless as a saint? Or do you want to be someone who doesn’t ask about the means but remains without fault in his own heart — a man who gets things done?”

Ming Huazhang said: “Those two things are not in conflict.”

“That is the first lesson you’ll learn when you enter officialdom,” Han Jie said. “People who refuse to surrender their gentlemanly methods and yet still want the outcome they desire — such people either end up in their graves or in the annals of treacherous ministers. Do you want the result, or the process? You have to choose one.”

Ming Huazhang walked out of the small building with the cold still in his eyes. He walked quickly, his pace like a man picking a quarrel with something. Then, at a turning in the path, his swift steps suddenly halted. Ming Huazhang inexplicably stopped and looked in another direction.

It was a small courtyard. The room inside was lit.

The mountain pressed in like a silent, darkened beast, and against that blackness, the warm orange glow was trivially small — yet it swayed and danced, stubborn and unyielding, shining steadily on.

Ming Huazhang, as if moved by something beyond reason, changed his direction and walked toward the small courtyard.

Inside, Ming Huashang was in the midst of a battle with herself. If she didn’t write the assignment, she really would run out of time. She was working hard to convince her own hand to move when she heard a soft sound from outside. Ming Huashang startled, jumping to her feet.

A tall silhouette came through the darkness. The lamplight fell first on the hem of his robe, then on the pale white of his hands, and finally on his face. He looked through the window and saw Ming Huashang, then pointed behind himself: “What did you tell me just now? Why isn’t the door locked?”

Ming Huashang blinked her eyes, completely at a loss. This… her elder brother was conducting a late-night inspection of her room just to check whether she’d locked the door?

What if she had locked it?

Ming Huashang hurried to open the door, and said quietly: “It’s still early — what’s the hurry? Second Elder Brother, what brings you here?”

“To check whether your policy essay is written.”

Ming Huazhang said this, then looked at the suddenly-silent Ming Huashang, and understood at once. His expression turned severe: “Still not finished?”

Ming Huashang smiled brightly: “Almost done.”

It wasn’t written at all.

Ming Huazhang didn’t even know what to say anymore. He fixed his gaze on Ming Huashang, and she obediently handed him a cup of tea. Ming Huazhang did not take it, and said coldly: “Go get your brush right now. I’ll sit here and watch you write.”

Ming Huashang hadn’t expected that the procrastination problem that had plagued her for so long would be solved in quite this manner. As she spread out the paper, she asked: “Second Elder Brother, did you just come back from Commander Han’s place?”

The memory of Han Jie put Ming Huazhang in no good mood. He gave a vague sound of assent. Ming Huashang moistened the brush and pressed it to the page: “Did he make you angry?”

Ming Huazhang paused, then asked: “What makes you think so?”

“Because you don’t look very happy,” Ming Huashang said. “You’re both wise and reasonable — aside from him, who else could put you in a bad mood?”

Ming Huazhang was quiet for a moment, then said: “Huashang, you’re speaking of the elder brother in your imagination. I’m far from that good.”

“You and I have lived under the same roof for sixteen years, and now we’re stuck elbow-to-elbow in this mountain hollow, running into each other every time we turn around. What kind of person you are — how could I not know?” Ming Huashang said. “I won’t misjudge people. It must be Han Jie who’s being unconscionable. My elder brother couldn’t possibly be in the wrong.”

Ming Huazhang let out a quiet laugh, then suddenly asked: “Which elder brother are you referring to?”

Ming Huashang’s hand jolted, and the brush tip dripped a blot of ink across the page, ruining the whole sheet. She forced herself to stay composed, calmly picked up the paperweight, laid out a fresh sheet, and said: “Second Elder Brother, what are you saying — you’re my only elder brother.”

“Is that so?” Ming Huazhang said evenly. “And yet when Xie Jichuan asked you just now who would take first place, it sounded rather like you have quite a few elder brothers.”