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The night was late, with lights casting a glow against the window, birds on branches unfazed by the moon's ascent.
It was already the third watch, yet the silhouette in the western window persisted.
Yi Chen entered the room, led by a young servant.
Behind the desk, King Jing looked up from a mountain of documents, his face lighting up with a hint of surprise.
"Taoist, you've finally come."
"I'm at my wits' end, truly out of options."
King Jing clapped his hands, and a squad of efficient troops immediately stepped out to clear the desk, replacing it with a long table made of fragrant purple sandalwood.
Then came a procession of maids carrying a variety of exquisite dishes, the most eye-catching of which was Yi Chen's favorite, 'Birds Paying Homage to the Phoenix.'
