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But Junyi doesn’t eat. He just stares at Keran, pale-faced and fidgeting while he reads.

After a few beats, Keran nods slowly, setting the essay back down. “Not horrible,” he says. “You have improved.”

Junyi looks like he might cry from relief. Frankly, he often looks to be on the verge of tears these days. “Really? You mean that, Si-Gege?”

Keran stiffens and steps back, as if afraid Junyi will do something unseemly, like thank him. “I said you improved. I didn’t say you were the most brilliant student in the empire. There’s no need for such nauseating enthusiasm.”

“But you think I’ve improved,” Junyi says in an awed voice.

“Marginally,” Keran emphasizes, brows furrowed.

“You really do believe in me. Even though you’re strict and never smile, you do care.”

“That might be a stretch—”

“I couldn’t have done this without you and Rujia-Jiejie,” Junyi goes on, turning to me too.

“You haven’t done anything yet,” Keran mutters. “Let’s not—”

“Thank you both,” he says, apparently unable to stop talking, his eyes wide, his face flushed with emotion. “This might sound foolish, but sometimes it still feels like I’m dreaming . . . I don’t know what I did in a past life to deserve your wisdom and guidance, but I swear, I’ll never forget how fortunate I am to have met you. Regardless of whether or not I pass in the end, I’m very grateful.”

“You can thank us when it’s time for the exams,” I tell him gently. “We still have a week left to prepare.”

But the week flits past like a sparrow’s shadow. All the paperwork is finalized, the accommodation is arranged for, and we stock up on more paper and ink and brushes than Junyi could possibly need.

Soon, it’s the very last evening before the exams.

The air inside the study is stifling, thick with tension. It feels almost as if we are the ones taking the exams tomorrow; my head has been crammed to the brim with useless information, legislation and regional maps and complex military structures and lengthy quotes from the classics, and my imagination keeps running ahead to the near future, picturing the dark cells, the stony-faced examiners, what the first question will be. And then, even further ahead, to the waiting depths of the water dungeons, my stomach pinching with visceral fear, the Celestial Emperor’s voice bleeding through my mind: He must face two great tribulations before he can ascend to godhood once more, or else his soul will shatter and he will never be able to reincarnate again. And if that happens—do you know the punishment for those who hurt the crown prince, Rujia?

Find the crown prince. Bring him home.

Though I manage to feign calm, Junyi’s apprehension simmers and spills around him like smoke, tailing him everywhere he goes.

“Take a deep breath,” I advise.

“I—I suppose I can try that.” He breathes in, then exhales too soon, with a shallow, shuddering sound. A sickly green vein pulses in his temple as he draws in another frantic breath, as if he’s drowning, uncertain of when he’ll have the chance to breathe again.

“Not that fast,” I say hurriedly. Just listening to him panic throws my own breathing into disarray.

“I can’t help it,” he says, miserable. “I’m so scared . . . I’m so scared I’ll fail.”

“You won’t,” I reassure him. “You already have everything memorized—”

“I don’t know if I do.” He grabs a fistful of his hair and appears ready to yank it out. “I don’t know anything. My mind is completely blank right now; what if it goes blank tomorrow too? What if I freeze? What if all my brushes break? What if I go inside and I forget everything you’ve ever taught me?”

“That’s not going to happen.”

“But there’s no guarantee,” he says, his eyes round with distress. “It’s so competitive—So many students will be there, and I don’t—” He swallows. “I don’t want to disappoint either of you.”

Abruptly, Keran pushes back from the table next to me, the chair screeching against the wood, and stands up. “That’s it. We’re going.”

I stare at him. “Where?”

“No amount of studying will help him at this stage,” he says, motioning to Junyi. “Either he’s prepared, or he’s not. What certainly won’t help is sitting around in dread.” He wraps his cloak around himself and tips his head toward the door. “I hear there’s a festival tonight.”

Junyi blinks, uncomprehending. “But—”

Keran seizes his arm, all but dragging him out of his seat. “Come on. And stop panicking so much. It’s undignified.”