Ji Zhibai raised an eyebrow, then his expression grew composed. His official post was gone, so the other man could not address him by that title at will. His literary guts had shattered, leaving his literary rank hollow and insubstantial; calling him a Metropolitan Graduate or Zhuangyuan would be even more discourteous. "Sir" was the most respectful form of address possible.
Ji Zhibai vaguely recognized the voice, but could not place it at once. He drew his gaze back from the full moon, looked toward the carriage door, and said, "Yes, that is me."
"Your student, Zhao Ting."
Ji Zhibai paused, then said in realization, "So it is the young State Duke. But... what important business brings you to me?"
Zhao Ting was Prince Kang's son. Although his faction was now working with the Left Prime Minister's faction against Fang Yun, a rift still existed between them, and Ji Zhibai was unsure whether he needed to cultivate a closer relationship with Zhao Ting. Still, Ji Zhibai felt an instinctive affinity for him, because Fang Yun had shattered this young State Duke's literary guts as well.
"May I enter the carriage so we can discuss this in detail? I will leave when we reach the gates of the Left Prime Minister's Residence," Zhao Ting's voice came from outside.
Ji Zhibai was about to step down to welcome him, but reconsidered and said, "Please come aboard, young State Duke."
Zhao Ting entered the carriage. After exchanging pleasantries for a moment, they sat on opposite sides.
The night pearl inside the carriage made their eyes gleam. Ji Zhibai studied the young State Duke and found that he had grown much thinner than before. His expression was more resolute, but a shadow lurked deep in his eyes.
"Mr. Ji, given my hatred for Fang