"Junior, don't miss me too much when I'm gone."
"?"
Anming thought his senior sister's vanity knew no bounds. Candy hawthorn skewers and swords - both were more worthy of remembrance than her.
Fu Xuan knelt, the tassels of her peach-blossom hairpin swaying. "Farewell, junior."
"...Farewell," Anming mumbled reluctantly before adding in a tiny voice: "Senior Sister."
The ghost of a smile touched Fu Xuan's lips as she ruffled his hair. Her retreating figure dissolved into swirling petals, leaving only the memory of peach-silk skirts dancing in the wind.
[Age 6: Fu Xuan never returns to Yuque. You continue enduring daily beatings from the crimson-haired swordsman. When near breaking point, an inner voice always urges you onward]
"Master," Anming panted between sword strikes, "if Senior Sister's divination rivals yours, why be a mere astrologer on Luofu?"
Jingtian's astrological fan never ceased its rhythmic flutter. "Her rebuttal to destiny. Do you believe in fate, child?"
Anming shook his head fiercely, raising his iron blade with a sun-bright grin. "I believe only in this!"
The Grand Diviner's eyes glowed faint gold. Through Anming's translucent form flowed rivers of molten sunlight - Yaoshi's cursed blessing masquerading as dormant potential. For three years it had slumbered, leaving neither mark nor malice.
"You're truly..." Jingtian chuckled ruefully. "...born with a sword soul."
[Age 7: Your swordsmanship blossoms. The wooden practice blade gives way to cold steel. The crimson-haired man finally closes his strategy tomes, regarding you with warrior's eyes]
"Master, isn't this General's Hall?"
Anming gaped at the martial complex, twin swords clanking at his waist. Tales of Yuque's Blade-Monarch echoed through these vaulted chambers - how a single flaming saber had held entire battlefronts.
"So you do think beyond training."
"And candy!"
Jingtian sighed. This child could be conquered with a hawthorn skewer.
The temperature plummeted as Yao Guang descended the dais, his presence sharper than winter's first frost. "Anming. Will you pledge your life to Xianzhou?"
"I'll become the greatest Cloud Knight!" The boy's grip tightened on his hilt.
"Even if none acknowledge you?"
"Even with mere decades to prove it?"
"Then I'll surpass millennia in a century!" Anming's wooden sword flashed upward in familiar challenge.
Draw steel!
The clang of practice blades echoed through the hall. Yao Guang's lips curved the faintest fraction. "Good stock, as you said."
Three years of bloodied knuckles and midnight drills had forged something extraordinary - a sword heart clear as gemstone.
[Age 8: Your sparring sessions evolve. Yuque's Blade-Monarch rises from his seat, meeting you blade-to-blade. Each clash polishes your crystalline resolve]
[Age 9: Jingtian initiates your divination studies. You begin missing Yao Guang's tutelage - better bruised bones than deciphering celestial riddles]
"Grandmother!"
The door crashed open. Anming froze at the sight of the frail figure propped on medicinal pillows, the alchemist's grim shake confirming his fears.
"Ming..." The old woman's smile outshone her pallor. "Your parents... bought my life that day... Now I finally..."
Anming clutched her parchment-thin hand as warmth seeped away. Peach petals drifted through the window, settling on shoulders shaking with silent sobs.
"Natural passing completes karma's wheel." Jingtian's hand rested heavy on his shoulder.
When fresh earth covered the courtyard grave, familiar footsteps approached. Fu Xuan stood wordless vigil, the chasm between mortal transience and Xianzhou eternity stretching between them.
"Senior Sister."
"I have no family now."
The words came with a broken smile. Fu Xuan's chest constricted at the sight of those rubied eyes - she'd rather endure a thousand "old crone" taunts than witness this shattered version.
Arms encircled Anming from behind. "I'll always be your sister."
The dam broke. Hot tears soaked through Fu Xuan's sleeves as she cradled the weeping boy, centuries of composure crumbling before raw human grief.
"Thank you... Sister Xuan."
Her chin rested atop his trembling head. "This stays between us. So weep freely, little brother."
Outside, peach blossoms continued their endless dance - nature's elegy for love and loss.