Fu Xuan had believed herself transformed. She had willingly accepted the Omniscia Eye, bearing its eternal, ceaseless agony in exchange for a power that promised infallible calculation—the ability to foresee the unseen.
She had believed that this power would be her shield, enabling her to protect those she cherished from the intricate, cruel webs of fate.
But the sight of Yu Xian lying broken in a hospital bed, his life trembling on a knife's edge, shattered that illusion. The delusion she had so carefully woven for herself collapsed in an instant.
A hollow, broken laugh escaped her. Heh... Hahahaha— So, in the end, it was all just her own desperate wishful thinking. Nothing more.
She had not calculated his collapse. She had not protected him. She was just as powerless as ever.
Even now, after all the tears she had shed, her vision remained blurred—not just by fresh tears, but by the crushing weight of her failure. She could not see the path ahead, nor the shape of her own destiny.
Perhaps it was this very blindness that made the frail, blurry outline of Yu Xian—pale and fitted with prosthetic limbs—begin to merge in her mind with the ghost of her master.
This moment was a perfect, painful echo of the past.
"Sob... why...?" she whispered into the sterile silence. "Why...?"
In a daze of desperation, she reached out, her fingers searching blindly for his. She refused to use the Omniscia Eye, relying instead on touch alone until her hand finally found his—the cool, unyielding wood of his prosthetic.
She seized it, clutching it with a desperate strength, as if the ferocity of her grip could transfer her own warmth into the lifeless grain, as if she could physically anchor him to this world and prevent him from vanishing like a wisp of smoke on the wind.
"No..." she gritted her teeth, the words a raw plea. "Don't..."
"Don't make me live through that again..."
Her master was gone, his spirit returned to the cosmos. That tragedy was a sealed chapter, immutable. But Yu Xian was different.
He was the second person, after Grand Diviner Jingtian, to carve a place so deeply in her heart. And he was still breathing. That was the fundamental, world-altering difference.
Yu Xian was still alive.
The thought was a lifeline. She drew a shaky breath, the mantra solidifying in her mind: He is alive. And the long, vivid dream I had of him... it wasn't a premonition. It was a warning. A chance to change his fate.
Yes. This was it.
Her grip on his wooden hand tightened until her knuckles were white.
Her master was lost to the past. But Yu Xian was here, in the present, needing her protection. Was this not the very reason she had endured the Omniscia Eye's torment? To have the power to shield someone when it truly mattered?
"Yu Xian," she said, her voice thick with tears yet firm with resolve. She wiped her nose with her sleeve. "I will protect you. Whatever comes, I will not let harm find you again."
A wry thought struck her. Over the past two years, she had often dragged him to her lectures, imparting the profound arts of divination. Their dynamic had always felt familiar, and now she understood why. In a twist of fate so dramatic it could not be ignored, the man who reminded her of her own master had become her disciple.
The irony was a vibrant, unmistakable stroke from fate's own brush.
Yet, her feelings for the two were worlds apart. When she thought of Jingtian, her heart was a shrine of reverence and awe. But with Yu Xian, such formal distance was impossible.
Despite the two centuries separating them, he felt… like a contemporary. A peer. There was an effortless closeness, as natural and seamless as water mingling with milk.
Not that she harbored any improper thoughts, of course. She simply found his presence… agreeable. That was all.
"Um… Master Diviner?"
Yu Xian's voice broke the silence, clumsy and utterly mis-timed. "What's going on? You're not… having a Mara Struck episode, are you?"
"Get lost!"
The spell was shattered. All the poignant sorrow and fierce resolve evaporated, replaced by sheer, unadulterated irritation. Could the man not read a mood to save his life?
Her melancholic trance broken, Fu Xuan's tears ceased instantly. Her expression shifted from vulnerable to vexed in a heartbeat. In one fluid, dismissive motion, she released his hand and flung his arm aside.
"Honestly! The Mara is the least of my concerns! Don't you dare jinx me!"
Cheeks puffed out in a huff, she stood up, briskly patting the back of her skirt where the edge of the bed had left a dull ache. The sound was sharp and final in the quiet room.
She snatched up the empty porridge bowl, turned on her heel, and marched out without a backward glance. She had no intention of wasting another moment on this utterly tone-deaf atmosphere-wrecker.
"Hey, hey, hey… what was all that about…?"
The door clicked shut with a definitive thud, leaving Yu Xian alone once more in the suddenly vast and silent room.
He let his head fall back against the pillow, utterly bewildered. He replayed the last few minutes in his mind: the torrential tears, the furtive glances, the sudden, intense hand-holding, followed immediately by the violent rejection.
It made no sense.
After a fruitless mental struggle, he gave up. He sighed, sinking back into the thin mattress and closing his eyes.
Forget it. What's the use? Qingque was gone, Fu Xuan was storming off, Jing Yuan had left… maybe the solitude was for the best. Sleep was a far more appealing prospect.
But was the room truly empty?
Unnoticed, the window slid open with a faint creak. A shadow, swift and silent as a night breeze, slipped over the sill and landed soundlessly on the floor. It left no trace, made no sound—a perfect infiltration.
"Heheh… a flawless entry," a voice murmured with smug satisfaction. "Even for a connoisseur of the craft such as myself, this is—"
"Oh? Is what? Do enlighten me."
???!!!
The infiltrator froze. They had been certain the room contained only the sleeping patient. But that voice—cold, flat, and devoid of any humanity—had spoken directly beside their ear.
It was the sound of a death sentence.
There's a third person in here? How?! I detected no one!
A single, blood-red character—DANGER—flashed behind their eyes. Every instinct screamed at once.
They twisted their body, muscles coiling to flee, but it was too late. The chilling kiss of a glaive's edge was already pressed against the soft flesh of their throat.
The blade held them perfectly, immovably in place.
A hair-thin line of crimson welled up on their skin. A single, slow bead of blood traced a path down their neck. The cut was superficial, a warning, but it was enough to paralyze the infiltrator with pure terror.
There was no doubt. A fraction of a millimeter more, and the glaive would have opened their throat like a parchment scroll.
"No way, man…" the infiltrator whispered, a cold sweat drenching their clothes. "Just… which great Aeon have I offended?"
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A/n: Hey over on my patreon there are currently two for the time being exclusive books which are
Zenless Zone Zero: Loving Daily Life Starting in New Eridu
patreon.com/deadlygoober