[Age 40. You've been married to Fu Xuan for nine years. During this time, you remained in your small courtyard, maintaining a harmonious relationship. Fu Xuan gradually took on more responsibilities for the Luofu, becoming a dependable Master Diviner.]
Yet Anming still wondered why his wife reverted to childlike charm at home, often giving him the illusion that he was the senior disciple while Fu Xuan acted like a junior.
Fu Xuan loved basking under the peach tree with him, occasionally quipping, "Sunbathing is supposed to be for old men. You're cutting four decades off your midlife crisis."
When the Master Diviner couldn't make it to Yuque, she'd send Qingque to deliver letters.
Qingque's first visit to Anming was met with reluctance. With so many efficient delivery options, why did the old lady insist on the slowest method—Sparrow Express?
But since she'd never been to Yuque, she treated it as a paid vacation.
Qingque excelled at one thing: mood management. Soon, she arrived at Yuque and found her "grandmaster" under the famed peach tree. Though Anming himself remained unaware, legends of the "Peach Blossom Sword Sovereign of Yuque" had spread across the Xianzhou. Every retelling of the Third War against the Abundance Followers inevitably mentioned him.
Regardless of public opinion, Anming's contributions were undeniable. Skeptics were silenced with a simple question: "Why don't you try catching an arrow from the Divine Archer?"
The answer? Trying meant dying. To date, no one but Anming had survived the Divine Archer's celestial strike.
"Junior disciple Qingque greets the Sword Sovereign."
Her curious eyes studied the tall figure under the tree. Far from imposing, his presence radiated calm—likely the reason her master kept filing those "leave requests."
Over the years, Qingque had nearly cracked under the pressure. Still a rookie, she'd been forced to concoct increasingly absurd excuses for Fu Xuan's absences. The Arbiter-General wasn't easily fooled.
Initially, she cribbed flowery phrases from books, blending divination charts and political analyses into flawless petitions that even Fu Xuan mistook for truth:
[The stars shift, yin and yang churn. As the Luofu navigates uncertainty, I journey to Yuque to seek solutions.]
By the 89th request that month, her creativity devolved into:
[Dating. Leave.]
[Jade Palace. Leave.]
[Wedding anniversary xxx. Understand?]
[Leave.]
Sparrow God had clocked out.
Why did she suffer for her boss' love life? This wasn't in the job description!
"Just call me Anming."
Seeing Qingque, he glimpsed his younger self. What had Jingtian thought when they first met?
Qingque produced thirty letters neatly tied with red string and placed them on the stone table. "Sword Sov—Anming, these are from the Master Diviner."
"Thank you."
"No trouble at all~"
She scratched her head, relieved this grandmaster seemed kinder than Fu Xuan, who'd bury her in paperwork.
Definitely a good guy!
"Can't let you leave empty-handed." Anming tossed her a wooden sword. Before Qingque could blink, the training implement bonked her forehead, nearly knocking her out.
"Wait—I'm a clerk!" She clutched her swelling head. No one warned her about combat drills!
"So was Fu Xuan initially." Anming raised his own practice blade, aura sharpening into a blade poised to strike.
Thus, Qingque's annual deliveries included mandatory sword training, transforming the clerk into a half-decent Cloud Knight.
She discovered her progress during a mahjong game. After shouting "Ron!", she accidentally slammed the marble table to dust. Fellow players gaped at the "frail" girl.
Later, the legendary Sparrow God would obliterate Abundance abominations with mahjong tiles—a tale for another time.
For now, she remained a pre-official clerk. Anming saw potential, and with Fu Xuan's approval, he passed on fragments of his legacy. How far Qingque progressed depended on her.
He simply wished to leave traces.
"Long time, Anming." Jing Yuan leaned against the courtyard gate, lazily tapping a wine jar. "About that Primordial Flame…"
"Fu Xuan banned my drinking."
"She's not here." The general chuckled, settling at the stone table. "Twenty years… gone in a blink."
Anming produced cups and salted peanuts, eyeing the gate for any purple-haired spies before pouring. One sip wouldn't hurt.
"The Primordial Flame?"
"Sui Huang qualifies as Zhuming's core." Jing Yuan swirled his cup. "You'll need to visit Zhuming's engine personally."
"...Leave this courtyard?"
Anming gazed at the bamboo grove beyond. "What does she say?"
"Approved. Discreetly." Jing Yuan nodded—Marshal Hua's orders.
"Thank the Marshal."
Their cups clinked. Both sipped sparingly, savoring the moment.
Before leaving, Jing Yuan provided forged documents for Zhuming and a deadline: one month, regardless of outcome. Anming must return—Marshal Hua's minimum concession to maintain judicial decorum.