Well, once a person resorts to spying, she really isn't any different from the very girls she'd been sneering at.
To be fair, Zhou Qingmu's original intention had genuinely been to find a suitably steady, reliable "older ally."
There was nothing wrong with the logic. Given how popular Little Gu was, the women drawn to him were bound to be plentiful — and young men, by and large, tended to favor girls closer to their own age.
Under such circumstances, if the "older woman" camp wanted to compete at all, they needed some kind of strategy.
Zhou Qingmu's original plan had been to pool information with the Flowing Cloud Moon-Tracing Sovereign — first probing exactly what type of older woman appealed to Little Gu, then gradually, step by step, leading him to appreciate the virtues of a mature woman.
Reliability, for instance. Knowing when to advance and when to hold back. Being able to cover for him when it mattered most — and, when Little Gu stirred up some outrageous incident, calmly suppressing the paperwork from the Night-Watch Bureau, the Imperial Academy, and the Imperial Astronomical Bureau all at once, without so much as a change of expression.
—It should have been a win-win arrangement.
And yet — would you believe it — this ten-thousand-year-old Sovereign senior turned out to be even quicker at bailing than she was.
Watching the moon-pale figure in the water-mirror fumble to change the subject, Zhou Qingmu felt, for the first time, what it truly meant to have entrusted a task to the wrong person.
She sighed quietly again, then began looking for ways to console herself.
On reflection, at least she'd done her part to cover for the Sovereign.
Last night's arrangements had, after all, won the Flowing Cloud Moon-Tracing Sovereign a genuine chance to be alone with Little Gu. Even if the Sovereign had dropped the ball at the crucial moment, the opportunity itself had been real — and given her standing and skill, she'd surely be able to claw the situation back, little by little, in time.
So Zhou Qingmu consoled herself, her vermilion brush leaving a small red mark on the document before her.
But turning the thought over only made her feel a touch more pathetic still.
Here she was, wielding the full authority of Deputy Director of the Night-Watch Bureau, with every natural advantage close at hand — and yet the very first time she'd truly "abused her office," it had been to pave the way for someone else.
At the thought, she suddenly felt a strange prickle atop her head — as if she'd somehow made herself the cuckold in her own courtship.
—Could it be that she genuinely harbored some unspeakable kink?
She pushed the thought down and set about talking herself around.
No, no, that wasn't it. All the effort she'd poured into smoothing the Sovereign's path was simply because a Sovereign like her made a rare, excellent ally. If she extended some goodwill today, how could the Sovereign fail to return the favor down the line? This was a long-term investment, plain and simple — it had absolutely nothing to do with any strange kink.
With this self-reassurance, she finally managed to press the unsettling thought back down into the depths of her heart.
Zhou Qingmu turned her gaze back to the water-mirror and let out a long breath.
Next time, no matter what, it would have to be her turn.
Meanwhile, on the other side of things, Gu Chengming naturally had no idea his Deputy Director was busy "abusing her office."
Just as the Flowing Cloud Moon-Tracing Sovereign had said, this Eternal Life Sect Perfected One was a factor that had to be dealt with. If Gu Chengming could locate the man, he was more than willing to lend what small strength he could toward helping the Sovereign root out this festering threat.
Of course, all of this hinged on first actually "finding" the Perfected One.
As a Sovereign who had proven a Dharma-Station on the main trunk of the Unfettered River, if this Eternal Life Sect Perfected One truly meant to stay hidden, most Sovereigns wouldn't stand a chance of finding him — let alone Gu Chengming.
But since both the Imperial Astronomical Bureau and Zhou Qingmu had hinted they wanted him involved in this matter, they must already have a lead on the Perfected One's whereabouts.
Sure enough, just as Gu Chengming had guessed, the very next day a Sovereign whose name he'd only ever heard — never met — came calling at the Night-Watch Bureau.
—The Director of the Imperial Astronomical Bureau.
The Director wore a robe of blue-grey, his frame slender; there was no imposing pressure in his brow or eyes, only a mild, scholarly warmth.
He stepped into the hall, nodded first to Gu Chengming, and offered a few warm, approving remarks — something about how "the young are truly formidable" and how "the whole matter of the Capital's dragon-qi owed everything to young friend's effort" — that sort of thing.
Hearing this, Gu Chengming grew wary instead.
As a rule, the more pleasant an elder's praise sounded, the more troublesome the task waiting behind it.
Sure enough, the Director raised his teacup, took a light sip, and got straight to the point.
"As young friend already knows, Great Qian's present situation isn't nearly as bright as it might appear," the Director said, his tone even and unhurried. "Thanks to your help, most of the danger in the Capital's dragon-qi has been resolved. But Great Qian faces fiend incursions from the north without and roiling undercurrents among the sects within — one matter piled atop another, and no hands enough to manage them all."
He paused, his gaze settling back on Gu Chengming, his expression frank. "So it isn't that the Court has chosen to set aside the threat of the Eternal Life Sect on purpose. It's that the more urgent fires already burning have wrung nearly all our energy dry."
"As for the matter of this particular Eternal Life Sect Perfected One, this old man discussed it with several colleagues, and we all agree it would be most fitting to leave it in young friend's hands."
Something flickered between Gu Chengming's brows at this, and he was about to offer a polite refusal when the Director added another line.
"There are matters not ordinarily meant to spread beyond a select few — but young friend is now a pillar of Great Qian, and ought to know them."
Hearing this, Gu Chengming realized the real substance was about to arrive. He swallowed back even his polite deflection and straightened in his seat.
Only then did the Director continue. "The reason we've never managed to root out the Eternal Life Sect entirely isn't unwillingness — it's incapacity. Young friend has surely heard the names of the sect's several 'Jìntian.'"
"The Jìntian are the highest rank within the Eternal Life Sect, wielding authority left behind by a long-fallen Dharma-Station main trunk." The Director's tone sank. "To put it plainly — every Jìntian of the Eternal Life Sect ought, by rights, to possess the caliber of a Sovereign."
Gu Chengming's hand, holding his teacup, stilled for a moment.
The Director nodded, as though he'd expected exactly this reaction. "For several hundred years, we've leaned on the pressure of the Great Tribulation, layer upon layer, to seal this lineage's cultivation ceiling at the Fifth Realm."
"But with the Great Tribulation approaching, that suppression is failing faster by the day. And more troubling still — by some method we haven't yet identified, they've somehow gained the ability to 'pull past generations of Eternal Life Sect Perfected Ones out of former ages and into the present.'"
"The Imperial Astronomical Bureau once observed that, in the battle at the Harmonious Joy Sect, young friend slew one aspect of the three-in-one Jìntian known as 'Sorrow-and-Joy.'"
"And the Bureau's latest observations show.." — the Director's gaze dropped slightly — "...that 'Sorrow-and-Joy' herself has vanished. In her place, now occupying that Jìntian seat, is the very Eternal Life Sect Perfected One young friend once encountered atop the Emerald Screen Range."
Something subtle crossed Gu Chengming's face.
So all along, what he'd thought was a kill at the Harmonious Joy Sect had really just been clearing a vacancy for that Jìntian seat?
He swallowed the complaint and kept his expression still, listening as the Director continued.
"Lately the sky over the Capital has shown repeated disturbances. By the Bureau's calculations, it's most likely another Sovereign trying to use the Wanton Joy Sovereign's remains to achieve some purpose of his own."
The Director lifted his teacup again and took another sip, his expression grave. "While working through the calculations, this old man found several faint threads of causality running between this matter and young friend. Combined with the evidence at hand, the Sovereign looking to come knocking is, seven or eight times out of ten, that same Eternal Life Sect Perfected One."
"As for the exact location — the Unfettered River lineage is naturally inclined toward concealment, so the best the Bureau can offer is a rough range."
With that, the Director slid a thin scroll of charts across to Gu Chengming.
Gu Chengming took it and swept it with his spiritual sense; the chart marked out a range of mountains in the northern outskirts of the Capital.
The Director offered a few more details about the search, then gave a light cough, as though about to move on to the next matter, his tone taking on a note of hesitation.
"There's one more thing this old man must ask of young friend."
Gu Chengming paused, and heard the Director continue. "I'd ask young friend to keep a close eye on Deputy Director Zhou's safety over the coming while."
Gu Chengming blinked. "Her?"
By rights, Zhou Qingmu's fresh breakthrough to the Sixth Realm was a monumental event by any measure across the entire cultivation world — who would dare move against her at a juncture like this?
The Director read the doubt in his face and said slowly, "Has young friend ever noticed that every Sovereign you've met has never once given you their true name?"
Gu Chengming paused at that, running back through his memory almost on reflex.
The Master, the Director, the Flowing Cloud Moon-Tracing Sovereign, the Red Dust Immortal... every one he'd encountered along the way, he'd only ever known by title, Dao-name, or courtesy title. Indeed, not a single Sovereign had ever given him their real name.
The Director explained, "That's precisely because beyond the rank of Sovereign lies the single most perilous threshold in the entire cultivation world. Once a true name is exposed, others can use that name to invoke a death-curse across ten thousand li, channeled through the Dao of Causality."
"In this world, Sovereigns command endless methods, but no number of life-preserving techniques can withstand having one's own name seized by another."
"So the very first thing any cultivator must do upon ascending to Sovereign is erase their own name entirely from the three paths of Time, History, and Causality — so that from then on, that name exists nowhere in this world."
The Director paused, then said, "And Deputy Director Zhou is, right now, still in that dangerous window before her name has been erased."
Gu Chengming's heart sank.
The Director went on, "This old man isn't exaggerating for effect. The Eternal Life Sect's Perfected One is a master at stirring trouble through causality — should he learn of Deputy Director Zhou's breakthrough, he may well strike during this very gap."
"So this old man hopes young friend can keep close watch on Deputy Director Zhou's movements during this period."
Hearing this, Gu Chengming almost blurted out that the Director was giving him far too much credit.
Zhou Qingmu was a genuine Sixth Realm cultivator, Deputy Director of the Night-Watch Bureau, one of Great Qian's foremost powers. He, Gu Chengming, was nominally only Fourth Realm at best. If someone truly meant to curse Zhou Qingmu to death from a distance, was he supposed to charge in and take the curse for her?
But he couldn't very well say that out loud, given his own history.
In a certain sense, he did in fact make a habit of doing things a Fourth Realm cultivator had no business doing — let alone thinking of doing.
Gu Chengming considered for a moment, then nodded in agreement. "This junior understands."
Only then did the Director relax somewhat. He set down his teacup and, in the same motion, drew two items from his sleeve.
This caught Gu Chengming slightly off guard. The instructions he'd just been given already carried weight enough; he'd assumed the Director's visit had run its course. Yet now the man was pulling out something else — clearly there was more.
And where the Director's expression had been grave while discussing the Eternal Life Sect and Zhou Qingmu, the movement now was unusually gentle and slow — even the sway of his sleeve carried a certain careful delicacy, as if he were an entirely different person.
Just as Gu Chengming was puzzling over the change, the next instant he saw clearly what the two items were.
A delicately embroidered silk sachet, and a letter sealed with a pale-red wax stamp.
Gu Chengming froze for a moment the instant he took them.
The sachet was embroidered with a pair of butterflies circling plum blossoms, the stitching fine and dense; the letter's sealed paper even carried a faint trace of floral scent.
A young woman's presence washed over him so plainly that Gu Chengming needed a moment to gather his wits.
He looked up at the Director, a certain wariness creeping into his gaze. "Director, this is...?"
The Director gave a light cough, an expression rarely seen on him — the weary resignation of a father running errands for his child. "Huayi asked this old man to pass these along to young friend, since I happened to be coming this way."
"She's been buried under a rather pressing assignment lately and truly can't spare the time to come see young friend in person," the Director said, a touch of sympathy in his voice. "So she could only use this opportunity to send along a few things, to convey a little of what she's been missing him."
Only then did Gu Chengming understand. He hurriedly straightened and gave his thanks, then reached into his own storage pouch and picked out a smooth, warm jade pendant he habitually carried on his person, offering it to the Director with both hands.
"Might I trouble the Director to pass this along to Miss Huayi."
The Director glanced at the pendant.
The jade was smooth and warm throughout, plainly something Gu Chengming had worn on his person for a good long while. The stone itself wasn't especially rare, but the trace of warmth carrying its owner's presence would, for his disciple — outwardly lively but secretly tender-hearted — likely be more than enough to keep her lying in bed turning it over in her hands for three or five days straight.
A father's quiet gratification rose in the Director's expression. He nodded, accepted the jade pendant, gave Gu Chengming a few more pointers about watching for the Eternal Life Sect Perfected One, then rose to take his leave.
Only after watching the Director vanish through the courtyard gate via Shrinking the Earth to Inches did Gu Chengming turn back, sit down, and take out the wax-sealed letter.
The wax seal bore the character "Hua" impressed into it; a fine loop of red silk thread was wound around the seal itself, delicate enough that he hesitated to undo it too roughly.
Gu Chengming patiently unwrapped the envelope and spread out the letter paper inside, its edges delicately traced in silver powder.
"It has been many days since we parted at Snowfall Pass. Affairs at the Star-Gazing Terrace here in the Capital have grown steadily busier. Huayi often watches the stars at midnight, and now and then, when the starlight flickers toward the Northern Territory, she finds herself remembering that day's wind and snow, remembering Fellow Daoist raising his cup and laughing with her."
"Matters at the Imperial Astronomical Bureau are endless and trifling, documents piled high on the desk, the star charts never at rest. Huayi once thought a cultivator ought to be able to keep her mind still and tend to her duties, but lately, reviewing the star-tracks, she has caught her mind wandering now and again. It seems her Dao Heart is still shallow, that she should let half a page of star-chart go astray over the memory of an old night's moonlight."
"Fellow Daoist now bears the weight of so many matters of Great Qian upon him, and must be busier than ever. There is little Huayi can do to help, so she has chosen a safety-charm pattern from the stars and stitched it into this sachet — may Fellow Daoist's every endeavor go smoothly, and may he find a turn of fortune whenever danger comes."
"If Fellow Daoist has any spare moment, please do not forget to rest. A cultivator may be able to abstain from grain, but that is no reason to skip tea and meals too. That night at Snowfall Pass, when Fellow Daoist drank, his spirit shone so brightly — Huayi remembers it still."
"If the chance ever comes, Huayi hopes to once again share wine and moon-viewing with Fellow Daoist Gu."
The final line of the letter seemed to be written in a slightly lighter, more buoyant hand than the rest.
The instant that line settled, a thread of fragrance suddenly spread out across the letter paper, blossoming into a sky full of stars across the page.
The lamplight filling the room was swallowed whole by that river of stars, and Gu Chengming felt the scenery around him dissolve, thread by starry thread, into that night atop the walls of Snowfall Pass.
Snow drifted down with a soft rustle; a lone lamp on a distant beacon tower swayed in the wind. Atop the wall, a jar of osmanthus wine warmed beside a small brazier. A loose strand of hair at Xu Huayi's temple stirred gently in the breeze; she tilted her head, raised her cup, and drained it in one draught, the falling snow reflected whole in her eyes.
A vision like this took no small effort to craft. For an Imperial Astronomical Bureau cultivator, "painted intent" — the very meaning of Xu Huayi's own name — meant capturing not just a scene, but the stars and the heart's intent of that very moment. That she had managed to hide this vision inside her letter made clear just how long she must have spent preparing it.
Only once the illusion had slowly faded did Gu Chengming fold the letter closed and tuck it, along with the sachet, carefully into the storage pouch he kept close to his body.
Meanwhile, across the Capital, the lamps of the Imperial Astronomical Bureau's Star-Gazing Terrace had burned from the previous night straight through to this morning without going dark for even a moment.
Xu Huayi slumped over her desk, staring at the small mountain of star-track scrolls piled before her, feeling as though she were about to burn out completely.
An ordinary government office, when busy, at most piled case file upon case file, document upon document. When the Imperial Astronomical Bureau got busy, it was: today some anomaly in the southwestern stars, tomorrow the Capital's earth veins jumping erratically, the day after that some Sovereign's remains flickering with a Dharma-Station again — the moment the star-plate lit up, everyone had to scramble up and start calculating.
Xu Huayi propped her chin on one hand, staring blankly at the small mountain before her, silently calculating how many more hours she'd have to grind through before clearing away this whole miserable pile.
Just then, footsteps sounded softly outside the door, and the Director walked in, hands clasped behind his back.
Xu Huayi's eyes lit up instantly. She sat bolt upright, her gaze bright.
She pretended to still be poring diligently over her scrolls, while stealing glances out of the corner of her eye at whatever the Director held in his hands.
One look at her reaction told the Director exactly what his disciple was hoping for.
Without changing his expression, he strolled over to her desk, unhurriedly drew the warm jade pendant from his sleeve, and set it atop the mountain of scrolls.
"Here."
Xu Huayi's gaze snapped instantly onto the jade pendant.
She looked up, arranging her face into a carefully casual expression, as though merely making idle conversation. "Fellow Daoist Gu, did he—"
"He accepted the letter." The Director stroked his beard, a rare hint of teasing creeping into his expression. "Young friend asked me to pass this along to you."
A silly grin broke across Xu Huayi's face despite her best effort to hold her composed posture, while her fingers, resting on the scroll pile, crept inch by inch toward the jade pendant of their own accord — until, halfway there, she seemed to catch herself losing her poise and yanked her hand back into her sleeve.
"Thank you, Teacher." Her tone was reserved, but the smile at the corners of her eyes refused to be suppressed no matter what.
Watching her insist on playing it cool, the Director sighed inwardly, thinking that this disciple of his, who could hold her own at court without anyone's help, somehow reverted the instant she got anywhere near young friend Gu — straight back to how she'd acted before she'd even come of age.
Xu Huayi gave a light cough and, weighing her words carefully, chose a properly measured phrase. "Teacher, this recent divination assignment really has become rather too heavy a burden. Just today.. ahem, while working through the scrolls I let my mind wander a little. I'm afraid if I push on much further, I might make a mistake."
"Huayi was wondering... whether I might be granted a day off."
The Director took in her pitiful, thoroughly-burned-out expression, then glanced at the small hand tucked in her sleeve that still couldn't quite stop inching toward the jade pendant, and thought back to the little token of longing he'd just personally delivered. Ah, well — never mind, then.
"Go on, then." The Director waved a hand. "Just remember, you're to be back tomorrow."
Xu Huayi shot up from behind her desk in a single motion, her movements crisp and lively, nothing at all like the burned-out wage-slave she'd been just moments before. Thanking him even as she tucked the jade pendant into her sleeve, she spun and dashed straight out the door.
Several nearby Imperial Astronomical Bureau disciples watched her go, envy nearly solidifying into something physical in their eyes.
Someone murmured, "Senior Sister Xu actually got the day off."
Another said mournfully, "Love can't save an Imperial Astronomical Bureau disciple — but it can soften the Director's heart."
Xu Huayi pretended not to hear any of it.
She hurried back to her quarters, shut the door, threw the lock, shrugged off her outer robe, and collapsed onto the bed.
With that fall, it was as though seven straight days of Bureau paperwork had been flung out the door behind her.
She held the pendant up before her eyes for a long while. It was warm through and through, warm to the touch, as if it still carried the lingering heat of Fellow Daoist Gu's body from wearing it against his skin.
Xu Huayi felt her heart melt with an audible thud.
Clutching the pendant, she rolled over on the bed and wrapped herself completely in the blankets, then poked her head back out to hold the pendant to her nose and breathe it in again.
—Little Gu's scent.
A near-drunken haze rose in Xu Huayi's eyes. She pressed the pendant to her cheek and slowly drew it downward, past her jaw, past her throat, past her collarbone.
Clutching the pendant, she buried herself deep into the folds of the blanket.
Beneath the covers, the girl's fingers curled in quietly, then crept another inch lower.
Quite naturally, she began to touch herself.
The outer duty hall of the Imperial Astronomical Bureau.
The Director stood beneath the window, hands clasped behind his back, gazing thoughtfully in the direction his disciple had just gone. He stroked his beard and sighed, his expression mild.
"That child Huayi really has had a hard time of it lately."
Beside him, an old clerk who had just finished delivering some documents nodded in deep agreement. "My Lord Director—"
The Director stroked his beard, nodding with evident satisfaction. "Young people, well — they need a proper rest now and then."
"By now she's most likely back home, resting quietly."
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