Chapter Text
To be completely honest, Fu Xuan is already having a pretty terrible day, even before getting dumped.
Despite the worst of the Stellaron crisis being in the rearview mirror, the Xianzhou Luofu is still in chaos. The death toll, while not as catastrophic as it could have been, is nonetheless far too large. The Luofu’s coffers are practically bleeding money as off-world merchants take advantage of their desperation to jack up prices on much-needed relief supplies. And worst of all, Fu Xuan is finally taking on the Arbiter-General’s responsibilities after centuries, and she barely even has the time to enjoy it.
It wouldn’t be so bad if she had the support of the other Charioteers, but they’re scattered to the winds. Jing Yuan, of course, is recuperating from his wounds from battling Phantylia. Yuluo, the new Chief Alchemist, is far too busy finding her own footing and cleaning up the mess of her predecessor to be of much help. Yukong is off chasing a ghost, having become obsessed with finding whatever remains of her favorite amicassador. The Ten-Lords Commission is overwhelmed with processing new souls in the Hall of Karma, the Artisanship Commission is recovering from the attack on their delve, and the Realm-Keeping Commission is stretched thin at the best of times. Fu Xuan is on her own.
This has resulted in plenty of long days, and many hours of missed sleep, to the point where even the strongest coffee hasn’t been able to keep her up and running. And so, seeing as the Qixi Festival is today, Fu Xuan has done something she has never done before: she applied for a day off so she could go on a date with her girlfriend.
Her girlfriend’s name is Ziqiao, and she’s a Vidyadharan cycrane operator for the Heron Express. The two of them happened to meet during official commission business, and proceeded to keep in contact after said business concluded, their relationship eventually evolving into one of a romantic nature. She’s warm, friendly, professional, intelligent, and most importantly, doesn’t seem to mind that the person she’s dating is one of the most powerful people on the Luofu. Many of Fu Xuan’s pervious relationships have fizzled out because of that last point, but she and Ziqiao are coming up on five months now. She’s feeling optimistic about this.
As Fu Xuan makes her way to their meeting point, she goes over the plan for the date in her head. Although the option of simply divining the evening’s events is a tempting one, the ever-present throb of the omniscia in her forehead a constant reminder of the power she holds, she resists its call once more. Divining one’s own future is taboo, after all. Besides, she doesn’t need it. She has a basket of warm qiǎoguǒ pastries (freshly baked this morning, following a lot of trial and error), a bouquet of exotic, off-world flowers, and secluded location with a full view of the Luofu’s artificial night sky. According to Fu Xuan’s research, these are the essential attributes for a successful Qixi Festival date.
When Fu Xuan arrives at the park, Ziqiao is already seated on the grass, in the agreed-upon location. The cool blue dusk makes her look ethereal. “Apologies,” Fu Xuan begins, strolling up to Ziqiao, “I’m one minute and twenty-four seconds late.”
Ziqiao’s smile is warm, but a little strained. “Fu Xuan! You made it. Were you having trouble with commission work again?” she asks.
A fair assumption, considering how many times the master diviner gets caught up with her duties, but an incorrect one. “Not this time,” Fu Xuan answers. She sits down next to Ziqiao and pulls the basket onto her lap, leaving the bouquet hidden at her side for now. “Rather, I simply underestimated the amount of time these pastries would take to prepare.” She folds back the basket lid, allowing Ziqiao a peek inside.
Ziqiao blinks a couple times. “That’s… wow. How many did you make?”
“Five dozen,” Fu Xuan says simply. “…Is that not enough? I just wanted to convey the depths of my appreciation for you.” She takes a deep breath. Time for some sincere emotions. “Ziqiao, I… cannot overstate your importance to me. These few months that we’ve spent together have been more than I could have ever hoped for. And considering the date, I thought now was a good opportunity to… make sure you know that.”
Ziqiao winces a little. “This is incredible and so, so kind, but… I’m not actually the biggest fan of pastry,” she says awkwardly. “…Sorry.”
…Oh. Okay, then. Time for improvising. (Fu Xuan hates improvising.) She swiftly closes the basket and half-places-half-chucks it off to the side. “Well, that’s alright. I believe some shops should still be open at this hour. What would you prefer? Chocolates? Sweets? Some tea?”
“Listen…”
“Money is no object, I assure you. You deserve only the best.”
“Fu Xuan, we need to talk.”
“…Oh,” Fu Xuan murmurs. Then she quickly composes herself, folding her hands in her lap. “Go on.”
“I… look, I don’t know how else to put this, so I’m just going to say it,” Ziqiao decides. “I don’t think this is going to work out.”
Oh.
When Fu Xuan doesn’t immediately respond, Ziqiao says, “…Fu Xuan?”
“I… see,” Fu Xuan finally mutters. “Did you find there to be deficiencies with my character?”
“No, nothing like that,” Ziqiao shakes her head. “It’s just… this is the first time we’ve seen each other in weeks.”
“Yes, I’ve been rather busy mitigating the Stellaron Crisis and the Disciples of Sanctus Medicus’ rebellion,” Fu Xuan explains.
“And I understand that,” Ziqiao responds delicately. Her hands fidget with the grass below them. “But this isn’t the first time something like this has happened. You’re practically married to your work. And whenever you do make time for me, it’s always some big, generic romantic gesture pulled straight out of a romance novel that you seem to think will make everything magically better,” she says, her tone a little wobbly.
“It was not my intention to—”
“I know,” Ziqiao interrupts. “And I’m not blaming you. But I need more than that. And you can’t give it to me. I’m sorry.” She purses her lips. “I just wanted to tell you in person.”
Fu Xuan considers this as best she can, her thoughts running wild as they are. But in the end, even without divination, she knows there’s only one possible path. She sighs. “Very well, I understand. Consider this relationship terminated.”
“Um… alright,” Ziqiao nods.
“Alright.”
“You’re surprisingly calm about this.”
Fu Xuan fights to keep a straight face. “What makes that surprising?”
“Please don’t take this the wrong way, it’s just that you’re… kind of intense a lot of the time,” Ziqiao explains delicately. “I guess I was worried that you’d get angry, or try to win me back somehow.”
Fu Xuan shakes her head. “You’ve clearly already made up your mind. We don’t work. Further conversation would be both pointless and insulting to both of our dignities,” she says emotionlessly. Then she stands, plucking the bouquet off the ground and placing it next to Ziqiao. “…I got you flowers,” she mumbles, then walks away.
Ziqiao doesn’t call after her.
. . .
Fu Xuan ends up returning to the Divination Commission, because really, what else is there for her to do? All her plans for the evening have been wasted, and there’s still plenty of work to be done at both of her current positions. She’s been prioritizing her duties as Acting Arbiter-General, but the Master Diviner is still needed. She might as well use this unexpected free time to be productive.
She regrets this decision immediately when she arrives at the Divination Commission and sees that the only worker who hasn’t yet clocked out for the day is a certain pigtailed headache. But it’s too late – she’s already been spotted.
“Boss?” Qingque asks, looking up from a pile of paperwork on her desk. “Surprised to see you—actually, scratch that, I’m not surprised. Can’t believe I ever thought you, of all people, actually took a day off!”
“Plans have changed,” Fu Xuan says simply, walking in and closing the door behind her. “I’m more surprised that you’re still here. I could have sworn you claimed two months ago that you were allergic to overtime. Should I inform the Alchemy Commission?”
“Sadly, no,” Qingque laments. “It seems my usual source of excuses for slacking is no longer available. Oh, woe is me!” she cries, throwing her arms in the air.
“With such a flair for the dramatics, it’s wonder you didn’t become a storyteller instead,” Fu Xuan snarks, pulling up a chair and sitting opposite her slacker subordinate. “What are you working on?”
“Eh, just some standard post-divination paperwork,” Qingque answers. “Perfectly designed to busy the hands and numb the mind.”
Fu Xuan elects to ignore the last remark. “Yes, I did… notice an unusually high number of divinations today,” she says.
“Normally I’d just put this off, but Huixing has been breathing down my neck about getting this done, so I guess I’ve got no choice but to do some actual work,” Qingque groans.
“Indeed,” Fu Xuan muses. She idly glances over the contents of Qingque’s assignments – and then their quantity. “Allow me to take care of some of this,” she decides, grabbing a stack of Qingque’s papers and a pen.
Qingque raises her eyebrows. “Huh? Wait, really? Why?”
“Forcing you to complete such a ludicrous amount of work won’t encourage you to be a better diviner, it’ll only burn you out and make you exhausted in the days and weeks to come,” Fu Xuan explains, already filling out paperwork at a lightning-fast pace. “Not to mention that at least this way, my day won’t have been a total waste.”
“Yeah, can’t relate,” Qingque says, returning to her own paperwork.
“I assumed,” Fu Xuan spits, with a little more ire than is probably necessary. “But given that the whole reason I took a day off today turned out to be pointless, I’d like to make myself useful to at least one person today, even if it is you.”
“Oof,” Qingque remarks, her pen moving at a fraction of the speed of Fu Xuan’s. “Do you wanna, I dunno… talk about it?”
“Not particularly, and definitely not with you,” Fu Xuan says, her pen speeding up.
“I mean, you should probably talk about it with somebody…”
“Not going to happen.”
Qingque stops writing and puts her pen down. “Boss, I can’t believe I’m asking this, but… are you okay?”
“I’m fine, I’m—” Fu Xuan’s pen starts making thick, blotted lines, so she takes it off the page and examines it. The tip is bent. She sighs.
“…Boss?”
Fu Xuan sets the pen down and leans back in her seat. “Qingque, may I ask you a question?”
Qingque shrugs. “I mean… okay?”
“Why is it,” Fu Xuan considers, standing up and leaning her palms on the table, “that despite my centuries of experience, the hundreds of thousands of divinations I have performed, I still take a step back and find myself… inadequate? I do not work hard enough to prevent a disaster that has claimed the lives of hundreds of our comrades, yet I work too hard to salvage any traces of a personal life. I chart courses that guide the Luofu to prosperity, and yet I am still a slave to the whims of fate and the decisions of others. I divine plans that save the lives of millions, and yet factors that I failed to consider doom us a mere few decades down the line! Why am I never enough?” she shouts, clenching her fists.
Qingque awkwardly fidgets in her seat, eyes flitting around the room.
Fu Xuan sighs. “I suppose I shouldn’t be complaining,” she chuckles. “This is the path I’ve chosen, even knowing the consequences. This is my penance.” With one finger, she rubs the omniscia implanted in her forehead. It alleviates the pain for a moment. “The price of my arrogance.”
Qingque nods. “Cool.” She holds out a small box. “Want a milk candy ball?”
Fu Xuan takes a few deep breaths. What she wants to say is, ‘I’m sorry for the outburst, I may be having a bad day, but that has nothing to do with you. Given my position, I should be setting a better example. I’m acting childishly.’ What she actually mumbles under her breath is a quiet, “Thank you.” She gingerly takes the box from Qingque’s hands, removes the lid, and pops one of the chocolates into her mouth. It’s strawberry-flavored. She sighs and lets the taste wash over her. She needed this.
Qingque waits with baited breath. “…Do you like them?”
“Yes,” Fu Xuan nods. She takes another chocolate from the other edge of the box and eats it. It’s strawberry as well. “…Are these all strawberry flavored?”
“Umm… I guess so,” Qingque says, sticking her hands in her pockets and staring at the floor.
“That's my favorite flavor,” Fu Xuan notes.
“Oh wow, really?” Qingque lets out a forced chuckle. “What a happy coincidence!”
Fu Xuan inspects the box of chocolates. “You know, the last time I checked, the food stall that makes these doesn’t sell boxes of only strawberry candies.”
Qingque pales. “Uh… it’s a new release?”
“No, it’s not,” Fu Xuan says firmly. She would know if this vendor had any new products. “The only way you could have procured a box of only strawberry chocolates is if you had purchased multiple variety packs, then placed all the strawberry ones in a single box, no?”
“Nnnnnope,” Qingque clearly lies.
“The lid of this box reads, ‘Variety Pack’,” Fu Xuan observes.
“No, it doesn’t!” Qingque cries, swiping the lid from Fu Xuan’s hands and tossing it across the room. “Oh, whoops, guess now we’ll never know, huh?”
“Littering is against Divination Commission regulations,” Fu Xuan says. “I could dock your pay for that.”
“Ugh, fine!” Qingque groans, stomping over to go pick up the lid. “So maybe I go to a certain amount of effort to keep a box of your favorite chocolates at my desk for whenever you get all intense or whatever, so what?”
“That’s… very kind of you,” Fu Xuan answers honestly.
“Oh, I’m not being selfless here,” Qingque clarifies, returning to the desk with the lid in tow. “I’m just lessening the probabilities of you biting my head off at some point. Heh, it’s kinda like divination, in a way!”
Fu Xuan giggles at that, despite herself. “Your logic is as impenetrable as ever.”
Qingque shrugs. “Takes one to know one, I say.”
“If you insist,” Fu Xuan murmurs, turning her attention back to the paperwork on the desk. Now that her vision is no longer clouded, she notices something peculiar about some of the details on it. “…This isn’t supposed to be part of your normal workload,” she observes.
“Umm…” Qingque hums, putting her hands behind her back in a very suspicious manner. “So what if it isn’t?”
“Well, I’d appreciate an explanation. I know you didn’t just volunteer for this.”
“Er…”
“Qingque.”
“I’m really not supposed to tell you!” Qingque pleads.
“Qingque.”
“Okay, fine! So mayyybe a certain diviner in charge of scheduling messed up the dates of a bunch of divinations and knew you’d be mad about it, so she dumped all the paperwork on my department so that you wouldn’t find out. And maybe also I spent all of today trying to get out of doing it, which didn’t work, and that’s why I’m staying so late,” Qingque explains through clenched teeth. “…Is this the part where you bite my head off?”
“Not yours,” Fu Xuan says, gathering up the paperwork into a pile. “Go home, this work is no longer your responsibility. I’m going to have a talk with the guilty parties tomorrow, rest assured this won’t be traced back to you. I appreciate you informing me of this.”
“Huh.” Qingque stands up and brushes herself off. “Y’know, you’re not so bad, boss.”
“I am offering you a way out of work, I suggest you take it,” Fu Xuan says.
“Oh, believe me, I’m heading out,” Qingque responds, gathering her possessions. “But one good deed deserves another, right? Let me give you some advice, Boss.”
“If I ever need your advice, Qingque, it’ll be when Lan shakes hands with Yaoshi.”
“If you’re worried about not having a social life, you just gotta get better at putting yourself out there!” Qingque continues, either ignoring or oblivious to Fu Xuan’s comment. “Go out and meet people! Touch some grass! Don’t be afraid to make some mistakes, y’know? That’s what I think, anyway.”
Fu Xuan pinches the bridge of her nose. “Qingque, go home.”
“Already on it,” Qingque calls back, making her way out the door. “See you tomorrow, Boss!”
As soon as Qingque is out of earshot, Fu Xuan allows herself to let out a sigh. That foolish slacker is a near-constant source of headaches – and, to make things even more irritating, she’s right. It’s been centuries since Fu Xuan made a real friend outside of work. She simply can’t tear herself away from the omniscia long enough to maintain a relationship for any length of time.
…Maybe she can change that? She won’t be becoming a party animal overnight, of course, there are still plenty of duties that will occupy her hours for the foreseeable future. But perhaps she can start small, such as attending a social gathering sometime this week! That shouldn’t take too much effort. She makes a mental note to search social media for any sort of non-invitational parties or celebrations in the area.
But that is a concern for another time. For now, she has to close up the Divination Commission, and then tomorrow, she’ll focus on correcting Huixing’s scheduling mistakes and ensuring proper consequences for her attempted cover-up.
After all, there is always more work to be done.
(She takes the box of chocolates with her when she leaves.)