Chen Ji had once imagined that an audience with the emperor would be like the scenes from movies and TV shows he had watched: a eunuch, with small, measured steps, would lead him through corridors of gray tiles and red walls into a palace paved with lapis lazuli bricks, where he would simply answer the emperor’s questions.

The reality, however, was far more stringent and solemn than he had imagined.

In the tranquil inn room, Zhang Xia meticulously reviewed the protocols with Chen Ji. “Tomorrow, officials from the Court of State Ceremonials will arrive first to inspect your appearance,” she explained. “Which outfit do you intend to wear? Please bring it so I can see it.”

Chen Ji took a black, high-collared, wide-lapelled robe from his luggage. “Is this acceptable?” he asked.

Zhang Xia paused, a flicker of surprise in her eyes. “This one? Yes, it’s fine. Now, about avoiding inauspicious words: the current Emperor considers the word ‘death’ taboo. If you mention the soldiers who fell in the Gu Yuan battle, you must use ‘everlasting glory’ instead. Also, avoid the word ‘ghost’ altogether, as His Majesty finds it offensive. For instance, ‘Ghost Gate Pass’ should be referred to as ‘Spirit Gate Pass’…”

There were sixty-seven such taboo words, all of which Zhang Xia carefully wrote down on paper for Chen Ji to memorize.

Zhang Xia continued her instructions: “If you cough or sneeze in front of the hall, you must immediately apologize, or you risk punishment by rod. If His Majesty becomes enraged, you must instantly remove your hat and confess your offense. When entering the palace, civil officials use the east steps. However, since the Crown Prince has assigned you to the Right Imperial Guard, which is a military position, you must use the west steps. And if His Majesty does not explicitly tell you to look up, you must absolutely not do so…”

Zhang Xia spoke at length, detailing the rules for the duration of two incense sticks.

Zhang Zheng, hearing such intricate details for the first time, was wide-eyed with astonishment. “No wonder Father said it was for my own good that I didn’t become an official,” he exclaimed. “If I were one, I’d probably be flogged with the rod every single day!”

Xiao Man scoffed, “As if becoming an official would guarantee you an audience with the emperor.”

Zhang Xia cast a sidelong glance at him. “It’s fortunate that Chen Ji belongs to the Chen family. Otherwise, the Court of State Ceremonials would already be investigating his lineage back three generations. Audiences with the emperor have always been the most stringent, from ancient times to the present. As one censor once remarked, ‘Upon entering the Meridian Gate, one trembles and sweats, not out of fear of the ruler, but of the executioner’s axe!’ Don’t distract Chen Ji; let him quickly commit these matters to memory.”

Xiao Man muttered, “Precisely. If my young master gets beaten in the palace tomorrow, hmph!”

Zhang Zheng rolled his eyes and fell silent.

After finishing with the rules, Zhang Xia began instructing Chen Ji on general court knowledge. “First-rank officials wear the white crane rank badge,” she explained. “Currently, there are only three such individuals: Grand Tutor Elder Xu, Grand Guardian Elder Hu, and Elder Qi. However, their personal adornments vary, making them easy to distinguish. Elder Xu wears a gold foil crown, a gift from the current Emperor to the Grand Secretary. Elder Hu wears a white jade belt, bestowed by the late Emperor. And Elder Qi carries a blood-rhino tablet, its patterns like fine blood threads, unlike anyone else’s…”

“Is there no Grand Preceptor?” Chen Ji asked.

Zhang Xia explained, “The title of Grand Preceptor is typically bestowed posthumously; it’s exceedingly rare for a living person to receive such an honor.”

Zhang Zheng and Xiao Man, growing drowsy, kept nodding off as they listened.

In the dim inn room, Zhang Xia taught patiently, and Chen Ji learned tirelessly. They continued from dawn until dusk, practicing even the correct ways of walking and standing.

Zhang Zheng, who had fallen asleep face down on the table, awoke feeling hungry. He found Chen Ji sitting bathed in the sunset’s glow, diligently reciting rules from a thick stack of papers, while Zhang Xia sat across from him, quietly observing.

He watched the orange-yellow evening sunlight stream through the window, illuminating them both, and found he couldn’t bear to interrupt.

They continued until the sun had set and the sky was nearly brightening once more.

A sense of gloom settled over Zhang Zheng. Just over ten days ago, he had been battling fiercely in Gu Yuan, a renowned warrior brandishing his saber on horseback. Now, he found himself buried under endless formalities and rules, forced to bow and scrape.

Yet, life seemed to be this way, gradually settling into an unnerving calm, becoming stagnant.

After a long silence, he suddenly asked, “Chen Ji, do you think A-Xia is impressive?”

Chen Ji smiled in response. “Very impressive. If the court allowed women to take the imperial examinations, I doubt anyone else would stand a chance.”

Zhang Zheng then turned to Xiao Man. “Xiao Man,” he asked, “do you think A-Xia is pretty?”

Xiao Man brightened. “She’s beautiful! Sister A-Xia is both capable and lovely, entirely without the affectations of noble young ladies.”

Zhang Zheng looked at Chen Ji and, feigning a jest, remarked casually, “We’ve faced life and death together so many times. A-Xia has helped you so devotedly, and you’ve saved her on several occasions. So, why don’t you two…”

At that very moment, however, Zhang Xia’s expression shifted, and she pulled Zhang Zheng, leading him out of the room.

It wasn’t until they were outside the Fengtai Inn that Zhang Xia finally stopped in the darkness of the night.

She turned back and fixed her gaze on Zhang Zheng. “Brother,” she demanded, “what exactly did you mean by those sudden remarks?”

Zhang Zheng retorted, annoyed, “What do I mean? I’m your brother. Can’t I see the way you look at him? I want to help you!”

“I don’t need your help!” Zhang Xia retorted, her voice sharp with anger.

Zhang Zheng’s anger flared. “If I don’t help you, when will you ever address this unspoken truth? We just faced life and death in Gu Yuan. If I don’t act, I worry that you two will become like this wretched imperial audience—having just fought so bravely, only to be buried under complex, trivial rules! What if, as time passes, you forget everything about Gu Yuan?”

Zhang Xia’s voice dropped to a low, serious tone. “Do you even know why Chen Ji fought so desperately to get here, on the verge of entering the palace? Do you truly believe he’s doing it for an official position? No, he’s doing it for the Princess!”

Zhang Zheng paced back and forth outside the Fengtai Inn. He took a deep breath before returning to Zhang Xia. “A-Xia,” he said, “Chen Ji cannot save the Princess.”

In the silent night, his words struck like a thunderclap.

Zhang Zheng spoke slowly. “Father made it very clear to me: to save the Princess, Prince Jing must first be exonerated. For Prince Jing to be exonerated, His Majesty would have to admit he was wrong. How could an Emperor, who rules by divine mandate, ever admit such a thing? The Princess’s situation has become an insoluble case. She will not die, but she will forever be confined to Jingyang Palace, cultivating the Dao.”

Zhang Xia frowned. “Father said…”

Zhang Zheng sighed. “Father said that only when there’s a different person on the throne will there be a chance to exonerate Prince Jing. But the current Emperor is in his prime; he’s likely to live for at least another thirty years. In three decades, the Princess will be forty-seven and Chen Ji forty-eight. Are we truly going to stand by and watch him waste his entire life, never marrying? How many thirty-year periods does one get in a lifetime?”

Zhang Xia was silent for a moment. “Perhaps there are other ways,” she murmured.

Zhang Zheng interrupted her. “The Imperial Guard within the palace walls is teeming with masters. Unless Chen Ji reaches the Divine Dao realm, he won’t have the standing to negotiate with the Imperial Family. What other recourse is there? Across two dynasties, there have been countless officials, but how many have truly attained the Divine Dao realm?”

He pressed her. “A-Xia, he saved you so many times. Don’t tell me you’re not moved; even I would be. In the final battle at Gu Yuan, you rode on the same horse with him. What were you thinking when you leaned your forehead against his back? At Mengjin Inn, you worried he’d catch a cold, so you sent me to bring him a cloak. At Longmen Inn, you feared he hadn’t eaten, so you told me to save him a meal. But I won’t always be by your side, will I? How much more can I do for you? Chen Ji is intelligent; if I do too much, he’ll surely notice.”

At this point, Zhang Zheng softened his tone, speaking with profound earnestness. “A-Xia,” he said, “sometimes one needs to be a little more selfish.”

Zhang Xia listened to her brother speak at length, then slowly looked into the night. “Brother,” she began, “Chen Ji isn’t someone who cares much for rules. Even now, he still addresses me as ‘Master Chen.’ Yet, for this imperial audience, he has been diligently learning the protocols over and over. Do you know why?”

Zhang Zheng was taken aback. “Why?” he echoed.

Zhang Xia spoke softly. “Tomorrow, he will don the clothes the Princess gave him to meet her. And in his bosom, he carries the Princess’s letter to him, bearing the words ‘Years and Years, Year after Year.’ This is the long-awaited reunion he has yearned for, after traveling thousands of miles and fighting through hundreds of men.”

Zhang Zheng was left speechless.

Zhang Xia stood in the dark night. The evening wind blew fiercely, but the moon in the sky was not hers.

Zhang Xia looked at Zhang Zheng, her expression resolute. “Brother,” she declared, “I, Zhang Xia, never take advantage of another’s vulnerability, nor do I ever steal what belongs to someone else. What is theirs, is theirs. He and the Princess are a match made in heaven. His actions were a life-saving kindness to me, and my feelings for him are purely gratitude, nothing more, and can be nothing more.”

“He saved me three times, and I will repay him three times. Since the old way to save the Princess won’t work, I will kneel before my uncle until he makes me an imperial official, and I will cultivate day and night to help him! If he cannot reach the Divine Dao realm, then I will reach the Divine Dao realm to help him make this bargain with the Imperial Family! If one Divine Dao realm isn’t enough, then there will be two Divine Dao realms!”

Zhang Zheng said with a bitter tone, “You and he shared a room in Gu Yuan. There’s no such thing as a secret that won’t get out. If this matter ever reaches the capital, who would still dare to marry you?”

“I’ll handle it!”

With that, Zhang Xia turned and walked back into the inn. She approached the counter and found the innkeeper on duty. “Bring me wine!” she commanded.

The innkeeper asked curiously, “What kind of wine does Second Miss Zhang desire?”

“The strongest!” Zhang Xia declared loudly.

She carried the potent ‘burning knife’ liquor back to the room door and pushed it open.

Xiao Man, smiling, still tried to pick up the previous conversation. “Sister A-Xia,” she began, “what was Zhang Zheng saying earlier about you two doing something?”

Zhang Xia said seriously, “Chen Ji, let the four of us become sworn siblings.”

Xiao Man froze in place, and Chen Ji also found the suggestion rather abrupt.

It felt as sudden as a knight-errant decisively severing their own retreat.

Chen Ji began softly, “Zhang…”

Zhang Xia interrupted him. “Don’t say anything, no pointless talk!”

Without another word of explanation, she swiftly broke the clay seal, used a dagger to cut her palm, and let her blood drip into the wine jar. “Your turn!” she declared.

Her tone left no room for doubt.

Chen Ji smiled, remembering the day she had arrived at the entrance of Taiping Medical Hall, boldly calling out, “Who is Chen Ji?”

That girl, in fiery red, riding her horse with such resolve, had always been the most straightforward.

Zhang Xia was still Zhang Xia, unchanged.

Chen Ji then used the dagger to cut his palm, letting his blood fall into the jar, followed by Xiao Man, and finally Zhang Zheng.

Just as Zhang Zheng was about to perform the blood oath, he suddenly pointed at Xiao Man as if remembering something. “Wait,” he interjected, “how can she join in our sworn brotherhood?”

Xiao Man was momentarily flustered. She lowered her head and nervously tugged at her clothes hem. “Um, why would a maid join a sworn brotherhood?” she mumbled. “Sister A-Xia, you all can just go ahead and do it.”

Zhang Zheng quickly interjected, “No, no, that’s not what I meant at all! I was just thinking, why don’t the three of you do it, and I won’t join in… Never mind!”

He then cut his own palm and let his blood drip into the wine jar.

Zhang Xia raised the wine jar and took a large gulp. She then knelt facing the bright moon outside the window. “Today, Zhang Zheng, Zhang Xia, Chen Ji, and Yao Man, we pledge to become sworn siblings,” she declared. “Though we may not be born on the same year, month, or day, we vow to die on the same year, month, and day. May Heaven and Earth bear witness to our hearts. Should any of us betray this righteousness or forget this kindness, may both Heaven and man condemn them!”

Chen Ji, Zhang Zheng, and Xiao Man repeated in unison: “Today, Zhang Zheng, Zhang Xia, Chen Ji, and Yao Man, we pledge to become sworn siblings. Though we may not be born on the same year, month, or day, we vow to die on the same year, month, and day. May Heaven and Earth bear witness to our hearts. Should any of us betray this righteousness or forget this kindness, may both Heaven and man condemn them!”

The four of them, quite unexpectedly, became sworn siblings. It was sudden, yet felt like a dream under the moonlight.

“My brother is the eldest, so he’s Big Brother,” Zhang Xia announced. “I’m Second Sister, Chen Ji is Third Brother, and Xiao Man is Fourth Sister!”

With that, she removed a string of Buddhist coins from her wrist and handed it to Chen Ji. “This is six hundred taels of silver,” she said. “Consider it Second Sister’s welcoming gift. Please accept it.”

Chen Ji did not decline.

Zhang Xia then removed a red jade hairpin from her hair and handed it to Xiao Man. “I’ve worn this for many years; Father gave it to me,” she explained. “Today, I’m giving it to you.”

“Thank you, Second Sister!” Xiao Man replied obediently.

Zhang Xia then looked at Zhang Zheng. “And you?” she prompted. “Show some gesture!”

Zhang Zheng cleared his throat. “I don’t have anything suitable to give right now,” he said. “I’ll make it up to you when we return to the capital, I promise!”

Chen Ji lowered his head in thought for a moment, then looked up and asked earnestly, “Second Sister, do you wish to cultivate the Path of the Imperial Official?”

Zhang Xia smiled. “Yes, of course I do. As soon as we return to the capital, I’ll go to my uncle. If he still refuses to give me the cultivation method for imperial officials, I’ll never speak to him again.”

“No need, I have it right here,” Chen Ji said, picking up a pen and writing a set of essential scriptures on a piece of paper.

The entire text consisted of two hundred and thirty-nine lines, totaling one thousand six hundred and seventy-three characters.

Zhang Xia read it softly beside him: “Before the Primordial Purple Radiance Emperor, the Great Dao Lord Yu Chen, leisurely residing in Rui Zhu, composing seven-character verses, transforming five forms into myriad spirits. This is the Inner Chapter of the Yellow Court, where the zither heart performs three dances with the embryonic immortal. Nine vital energies shimmer forth from the heavens, and a divine canopy protects the child, giving rise to purple mist. This is the Jade Book, to be meticulously studied; recite it ten thousand times to ascend to the Three Heavens…”

She suddenly looked up, her eyes wide. “What is this?”

Chen Ji met her gaze. “It’s the Path of the Imperial Official,” he replied. “Don’t ask where it comes from, don’t ask its name, and most importantly, don’t tell Supervisor Xu. Memorize it, recite it repeatedly, ensuring not a single character or sentence is missed.”

*Zheyun*.

This was the very Path of the Imperial Official that the Grand Secretary had once dispatched to Luocheng via a 600-li urgent delivery.

Jin Zhu had once mentioned that Qi Zheyun joined the border army at sixteen. Within three years, he personally slew over ten high-ranking generals of the Jing Dynasty in battle. In the winter of the 17th year of Jianing, he led three hundred cavalry six hundred li deep into Jing Dynasty territory, capturing the Marquis of Chicheng alive. In the spring of the 21st year of Jianing, Qi Zheyun was ambushed and killed, and the Path of the Imperial Official fell into the hands of the Directorate of Ceremonial.

Although Chen Ji was unaware of the full details, he knew it involved the Forty-Nine Heavens, and therefore he had to be cautious.

Zhang Zheng and Xiao Man leaned in to get a look, but Zhang Xia’s gaze quickly swept over the scriptures on the paper. She immediately placed the paper over the candlelight, igniting it, not even allowing her own brother to see it.

Zhang Zheng grumbled, “Why be so stingy? What if I happen to be a cultivation genius too?”

Zhang Xia said solemnly, “Chen Ji took a huge risk in bringing this out. It’s better to avoid unnecessary complications. You two really shouldn’t look.”

Zhang Zheng pouted. “Fine, fine, if I can’t look, I can’t look… Chen Ji, what level of cultivation can one achieve with this Path of the Imperial Official?”

Chen Ji recalled Jin Zhu’s words: Qi Zheyun had aspired to become the first martial sage of two dynasties and unify the entire land. It seemed this cultivation path, originating from the Forty-Nine Heavens, possessed an exceptionally high limit, one rarely encountered in the mortal realm.

He pondered for a moment, ultimately choosing to conceal the full truth. “I don’t know either,” he said. “Second Sister, you should try it first.”

Earlier, he had just manifested the “Purple Qi from the East,” only for it to be severed by the sword seed. He himself was unsure what exact changes this cultivation method might bring.

Zhang Xia closed her eyes and silently recited *Zheyun*. After about half an incense stick’s burning time, she suddenly opened her eyes and casually pointed a finger at the candlestick.

Everyone in the room sensed a subtle energy surge, and the candlelight… flickered.

Zhang Zheng hesitated. “A-Xia,” he asked, “do you perhaps lack talent for cultivation?”

Xiao Man glared at him. “What do you know?” she retorted. “It takes months, or even years, for an imperial official to even begin cultivating. Sister A-Xia entered the path in just half the time it takes for an incense stick to burn. Such talent is one in ten thousand… no, one in a hundred thousand, or even a million!”

Zhang Xia looked at her palm, feeling the wonder of the Path of the Imperial Official for the very first time. “Chen Ji,” she said, “thank you.”

Chen Ji smiled. “No need to be polite, Second Sister.”

Just then, the gong for the fifth watch sounded, and a night watchman’s voice drifted from the distance, “The morning rooster crows; early to bed, early to rise!”

The sounds of carriages and horses also approached, and the inn began to stir with activity.

Zhang Xia looked at Chen Ji. “The officials from the Court of State Ceremonials are here,” she said. “Go on, go see the person you wish to meet.”