Chapter Text
The Xianzhou Luofu was, as always, a picture of serene majesty. Skiffs drifted lazily through the jade-green skies, the Ambrosial Arbor cast its eternal (and somewhat ominous) shadow, and the citizens of the Exalting Sanctum went about their day with the relaxed pace of a species that had near-infinite time to waste.
Inside the Seat of Divine Foresight, the atmosphere was equally tranquil. Incense curled in lazy spirals. Dust motes danced in the afternoon sun.
And General Jing Yuan was currently contemplating whether he should deploy the Lightning Lord to destroy his own jade abacus (phone).
"Sir," the Cloud Knight guard stammered, sweating profusely despite the climate control. " The message... the message was delivered successfully. The receipt shows 'Read'."
Jing Yuan sat upon his chair, his posture seemingly relaxed, one leg crossed over the other. To the untrained eye, the General was the epitome of grace—a smiling fox with centuries of wisdom. To those who knew him, that smile didn't reach his golden eyes. It was the smile he wore right before checkmating a difficult opponent, or when Phantylia decided to crash a tea party.
"Read," Jing Yuan repeated, his voice smooth like silk dragged over a blade. "And the reply?"
"Uh... well..." The guard checked his own scroll. "She replied: 'Sorry, busy. My pet Trotter ate my comms device. TTYL.'"
Jing Yuan closed his eyes. He didn't have a pet Trotter. She didn't have a pet Trotter. It was the fifth excuse this month. Last week, she claimed she was trapped in a cycrane traffic accident. The week before that, she said she was 'meditating on the path of Nothingness' and couldn't text back.
"I see," Jing Yuan said, waving a hand to dismiss the guard. "You may go."
Once the heavy doors clicked shut, the General of the Luofu, one of the Seven Arbiter-Generals, the slayer of abominations, slumped onto his desk with the grace of a wet cat.
It was a tragedy of galactic proportions. Jing Yuan had roamed the stars for nearly a millennium. He had seen empires rise and fall. He was handsome—he knew it, the magazines knew it, the fan clubs knew it. And yet, his love life was drier than the deserts of Jarilo-VI.
It wasn't for a lack of trying. Well, actually, it was. He was picky. He was busy. He was tired.
Until that night.
It had been a fleeting, chaotic encounter during the Aurum Alley festival a few months ago. The memory was burned into his mind with the clarity of a high-resolution light cone. You, (Y/N), with a voice like honey and a laugh that made his centuries of fatigue vanish. One thing led to another, wine was shared, poetry was recited (badly, on his part), and for the first time in his very, very long life, the General had surrendered his command—and his virtue.
It was magical. It was perfect.
And then you ghosted him harder than a heliobus vanishing into the dark. Just leaving a note: Nice Abs, General
Across the city, perched on a roof tile overlooking the starskiff haven, you sneezed.
"(Y/N), keep it down!" your partner-in-crime hissed, adjusting their mask.
"Sorry," you whispered, clutching the bag of stolen jade parcels to your chest. You adjusted your veil—the disguise of a humble, traveling singer. "Someone must be cursing me."
You felt a pang of guilt looking toward the Seat of Divine Foresight. You didn't want to ignore the General. By the Aeons, the man was gorgeous. He was gentle, he smelled like sunlight and ancient scrolls, and his hair was softer than the finest silk.
But you were a thief. A high-profile, bounty-hunting thief currently wanted in three different sectors. Sleeping with the Chief of Police equivalent of the Galaxy was not just playing with fire; it was playing with a Stellar Jade explosion.
"If he finds out who I really am," you muttered to yourself, checking your jade abacus and ignoring the mournful lion emoji he had sent earlier, "he won't act like a lovesick puppy. He'll throw me in the Shackling Prison."
"What puppy?" your partner asked.
"Nothing! Let's move!"
Back in the office, the door slammed open.
Jing Yuan didn't flinch. He didn't even lift his head from the table. He just let out a long, suffering sigh that ruffled the papers under his nose.
"General!" The sharp, authoritative voice of the Master Diviner cut through the air. "This report on the Alchemy Commission's budget is three days late! I cannot calculate the future if the present finances are in shambles!"
Fu Xuan marched up to the desk, her small stature compensating with enough fury to power the Matrix of Prescience. She slammed a stack of papers onto the table, right next to Jing Yuan's head.
"Five more minutes, Master Diviner..." Jing Yuan mumbled into the mahogany. "I am wounded."
Fu Xuan narrowed her eyes, her third eye glowing faintly as she scanned him. "You are physically intact. Your vitals are stable. In fact, your heart rate is depressingly slow. The only thing wounded here is my patience."
Jing Yuan finally lifted his head. His hair was messy. He looked like a man who had lost the war.
"It's her, Fu Xuan," Jing Yuan whispered, staring into the middle distance. "Her lips... they haunt me. Soft as a cloud, tasting of Osmanthus wine..."
Fu Xuan gagged. Visibly. "Oh, by the Reignbow, not this again. Are we still moping about the 'Singer of Aurum Alley'?"
"She said her Trotter ate her phone," Jing Yuan said, his voice trembling with suppressed emotion. "Do you think she's in danger? Should I deploy the Cloud Knights to hunt down this rogue, phone-eating Trotter?"
Fu Xuan pinched the bridge of her nose. "General. You are a tactical genius. Use your brain. She is avoiding you."
"Impossible," Jing Yuan said, immediately dismissing the logic. "We shared a connection. A spark. It was electric. Like being hit by a debuff, but a good one."
"You are behaving like a teenager experiencing their first Mara-struck symptom," Fu Xuan snapped, hopping onto a floating stool so she could look him in the eye. "Look at you! You're slacking off! Qingque works harder than you right now, and she's currently playing Mahjong in the supply closet!"
"I just need to hear her voice..." Jing Yuan reached for a brush, absently doodling a little bird on the official budget report. "Maybe if I write her a poem?"
"If you send her a poem, I will resign," Fu Xuan threatened.
She looked at the General—this powerful, ancient being who was currently pouting because a girl wouldn't text him back. It was pathetic. It was annoying. And worst of all, it was affecting productivity. The Matrix couldn't account for Jing Yuan's depressed sighing every ten seconds.
Fu Xuan crossed her arms. She was the Master Diviner. She solved problems. And this? This was just another variable to calculate.
"Fine," Fu Xuan declared, her eyes flashing pink.
Jing Yuan blinked, looking up. "Fine?"
"I am tired of your whimpering. It disrupts the flow of the universe and, more importantly, my schedule," Fu Xuan stated. "If you cannot secure the target, then I shall intervene."
"Intervene?" Jing Yuan sat up straighter, a hint of panic in his eyes. "Fu Xuan, please don't arrest her for emotional negligence."
"I am not going to arrest her, you fool. I am going to find her," Fu Xuan said, turning on her heel, her dress swirling around her. "I will locate this woman, drag her here, and force you two to resolve this... this tension, so you can finally sign these budget reports!"
"Wait, Fu Xuan, you don't have to—"
"I have already inputted the parameters into the Matrix!" Fu Xuan shouted over her shoulder as she marched out. "Stay there and look pretty, General. The Master Diviner is on the case!"
Jing Yuan sat alone in the silence of his office. He looked at the budget report. He looked at the doodle of the bird.
"Well," he murmured to the empty room, a small, genuine smile finally tugging at his lips. "Check."