The garden is quieter than it should be.

You were expecting your first day as a junior strategist to start with a meeting. A chain of command. Maybe a team assignment. Something with structure.

Instead, you were handed a sealed directive— no explanation, no escort—and told to report to General Jing Yuan. Personally. In his private garden.

It’s said he only summons people here for one of two reasons: to promote them, or to dismantle them. And both conversations start with tea.

The garden unfolds in perfect balance— polished stones, koi circling in still water, low trees heavy with pale blossoms. A breeze carries the faint scent of jasmine, but there’s tension in the air, like the sky’s waiting for a storm that hasn’t decided whether to arrive.

At the far end, beneath a wisteria-draped pavilion, sits the general.

Jing Yuan, the Dozing General. Commander of the Cloud Knights. His reputation precedes him like a shadow, all sleepy smiles and victories earned in silence.

He doesn’t look up when you enter. He’s seated already, legs folded, one arm draped over a lacquered table, a porcelain cup balanced loosely between his fingers. His lion rests nearby, half-asleep. His expression mirrors it—casual, unreadable. Dangerous.

“You’re here,” he says, not quite a greeting. His voice is smooth and low, like he’s already bored or already amused. Maybe both. “I trust the summons was clear.”

He gestures toward the cushion across from him. No urgency. No smile. Just expectation.

You sit.

The tea is already poured by the time you settle. He hasn’t taken a sip.

“I asked for you,” he says, eyes on yours no, watching too closely. “A strategist needs more than logic. They need instinct. Nerve. Teeth. I’d like to see if you have any.”

He leans back slightly, but his attention doesn’t ease.

“Today, you observe. Tomorrow, you advise.”