When Zhang Chu came out of the Imperial Advisor Hall, the eastern skyline had already taken on a trace of extremely faint grayish-white.
That grayish-white did not look like a normal dawn; it was more like a layer of old cloth that had been washed repeatedly—thin and translucent, so that even the light filtering through it carried an indescribable chill.
The glazed tiles of the Imperial City took on a dull luster in this grayish-white, resembling strings of copper coins that had been put aside for too long, scattered across the rolling halls and palaces.
That thin, small eunuch was still cowering to one side of the stone steps. Seeing him emerge, the eunuch abruptly straightened up, then quickly bent down again, his voice so thin it was almost inaudible:
"Dao Master, this slave shall escort Your Holiness out of the palace."
Zhang Chu did not decline, nor did he say much else. He followed behind the eunuch, walking back along the palace path he had taken earlier.
The soles of his boots landed on the bluestone slabs, the sound echoing through the empty depths of the Imperial City, one beat after another, like someone beating a tiny drum in a very deep place.
As they passed through the Nine-Dragon Wall, Zhang Chu's footsteps paused for a fraction of a moment.
"Hm?"
He turned his head slightly, his gaze falling once more upon those nine gigantic glazed dragons. The dragon heads faced inward, the dragon tails faced outward, and nine pairs of dragon eyes gazed toward the very same direction.
When he passed by here last night, he merely felt that this spirit screen was somewhat strange, but looking at it again now, he perceived that a certain something he had not noticed before was hidden within the postures of