"Xuan'er, you will one day become Yuque's Seer!"
"Fu Xuan! The Fu Clan is your home!"
"You'd abandon all to leave with that Abundance-tainted whelp? Absurd!"
Abundance-tainted?
No.
He is my shidi. My beloved.
An Ming is a hero.
Bloodline does not define heroism. A hero is a hero.
"Will you cast aside the Luofu Seer's throne?!"
"The Fu Clan will petition General Jing Yuan to recall you!"
The Seer's throne?
Like her cursed fate.
Since birth, she'd been shackled to prophecy. People saw not Fu Xuan, but "the future Seer." All because of destiny.
"This one needs no title to prove her worth!"
Fu Xuan stood at the Fu Clan's gates, her third eye ablaze. "The Luofu needs me as its Seer to secure its future! Exile me if you dare. Your approval means nothing."
A single glance years ago had bound their fates. All she needed was An Ming's trust—and his unreserved love.
Beneath her crimson bridal veil, Fu Xuan's eyes shone as she gazed at An Ming. Thirty years—brief for immortals—yet it felt eternal.
"Old hag!"
"Shijie."
"Jiejie!"
"Xuan'er-jie."
"Xuan'er."
Memory and reality merged. An Ming smiled, extending his hand. "Xuan'er. Let's go."
These thirty years might fade to a fleeting dream. One day, she'd wait alone beneath the peach tree. This love, scorned by the world, might never find its epilogue.
But fate had let them meet. That was enough.
"Mm!"
Fu Xuan clasped his hand, stepping onto the scarlet carpet leading to the tree.
Pink petals carpeted the grass like stardust. Hand in hand, they reached the peach tree planted by Jingtian—witness to their entire story, blooming fiercely each spring for its star-crossed lovers.
"Xuan'er."
An Ming lifted her veil, revealing a face unadorned yet breathtaking. Beauty innate, amplified by a Seer's confidence. Her future-piercing eyes blinked only for him.
First bow to heaven and earth.
Fu Xuan stepped aside, grinning. Together, they bowed. If fate was unjust, love would answer.
Second bow to ancestors.
An Ming faced the tree where Jingtian's pendant and his grandmother's ashes rested. Falling petals brushed their shoulders—ancestral blessings.
Final bow to each other.
They turned, meeting each other's gaze.
"Xuan'er. I entrust my remaining days to you."
"What else can this shijie do?"
Her smile softened as they bowed.
Beneath the tree, they became husband and wife.
An Ming produced a ring set with pale violet crystal. "Master's jade. He said to forge it into a ring… for today."
Jingtian had foreseen this.
"Xuan'er. Will you be my wife?"
"Mm."
She offered her hand, tears glinting like diamonds. "I will."
The ring glimmered on her finger—a captured meteor.
An Ming pulled her close, their lips meeting as petals swirled. Fu Xuan clung to him, hair dancing in the wind.
Moonlight bathed the room. Fu Xuan sat by the window, damp pink hair clinging to her bare shoulders. A lone candle flickered beside Wu Ming Sword on the sill, its hilt tied with a faded red cord.
"I finally realized… this is that cord, isn't it?"
"The red string binds one to their destined partner." An Ming sat beside her. "You've been mine since long ago."
Fu Xuan preened, snuggling closer. "It's… time to rest."
Her blush outshone spring peaches.
A breeze snuffed the candle. Moonlight traced the flush down her neck.
"Fool."
"Xuan'er…"
"Idiot An Ming!"
Dawn.
Fu Xuan still clung to An Ming in sleep, lips curled blissfully. He kissed her forehead, freed her hair from the pillow, and slipped outside.
Noon sunlight warmed the courtyard. The peach tree stood unchanged—yet different. He watered it, murmuring, "Master… how far did you truly see?"
Laughter chimed behind him.
Fu Xuan leaned on the windowsill, giggling at his antics. "Silly An Ming. Who talks to trees?"
"Shouldn't you rest more?"
"This one isn't a child." She lifted her chin, cheeks pink. Attempting to stand, she winced and plopped back down. "…I want sweet tea!"