The sudden appearance of the National Preceptor threw a wrench into their fortune-telling deception plan.
If he truly was the “National Preceptor”— Who knew if he actually had real abilities?
If he turned out to be the real deal, their scam would fall apart instantly.
It was obvious now: the Emperor’s real focus was on the Preceptor. The street-side fortune tellers like them were probably just brought in as an afterthought, something to cross-check against the rumors he’d heard.
“I thought the plan was going smoothly,” Fu Changxun said, lounging casually on a low couch by the window. “Turns out we only made it halfway.”
He looked up. A single fallen leaf drifted down outside and landed neatly in his hand.
Dong Zi’s gaze lingered on him for a long while. He didn’t look away.
Night fell, but there was still no summons. Fortunately, the Emperor hadn’t forgotten them. After learning that the fortune-teller had brought along three disciples, he sent over imperial cuisine for them.
Xu Zhengyi accepted it in his mystical old-sage persona, saying solemnly to the eunuch, “His Majesty’s generosity in bestowing food upon my disciples is deeply appreciated.”
The moment the eunuch left, the old sage act vanished. He scooped up Xiao Xiao and placed her on a stool, beaming. “Xiao Xiao, come eat! This is real imperial cuisine, the kind that’s been lost for centuries! I never thought I’d get to taste it in this lifetime.”
Xu Xiao wasn’t particularly fond of food, but to support her goofy dad, she made an effort and replied sweetly, “You eat too, Daddy.”
“My daughter is the best!”
Xu Zhengyi was all smiles, basking in the joy of bonding with his obedient little girl, the epitome of a doting dad.
Fu Changxun, ever cautious, had Xiao Hei catch a mouse to test the food for poison. Only after confirming it was safe did he let them eat.
The black cat, having devoured the well-fed rodent, slinked off and curled up just outside, ears pricked on alert. Its sharp teeth continued to crunch and tear at the leftovers.
After dinner, Xu Xiao grew sleepy. Xu Zhengyi took her to the left-side chamber to put her to bed.
The right chamber only had one wide bed—just enough for two grown men to lie side by side.
Fu Changxun hesitated.
“…Wanna share?”
He was gay, after all. Dong Zi didn’t seem to mind in the slightest.
“Yeah, I’ll go fix the bedding.”
Fu Changxun immediately felt like he was being overly self-conscious. After all, they’d roomed together through all three years of high school. He was gay, but Dong Zi wasn’t—so why was he making this awkward?
The thought relaxed him. All his tension melted away.
He crossed one leg over the other, watching Dong Zi bustle around the room. Suddenly, he found him kind of… domesticated. For a guy nearly 1.9 meters tall, it was unexpectedly cute.
Fu Changxun: “…”
What the hell was he thinking? Dammit, it’s Lu Qi’s fault. After dating a scumbag, now even Dong Zi looks like a pretty boy to him.
No, absolutely not. Xiao Dong is straight. Gay men should never make a move on straight guys.
Lost in a spiral of thoughts, he barely noticed Dong Zi waving at him after finishing the bed.
“Come on, time to sleep.”
Feeling slightly guilty, Fu Changxun nodded quickly and dove into bed—fully clothed.
“Isn’t that uncomfortable?”
Turning over, he found Dong Zi frowning, serious. “Why aren’t you undressing?”
Fu Changxun laughed it off. “Well, y’know, this is a game instance. What if something happens at night? Easier to run if I’m dressed. That said, our luck’s been insane so far. We got so much intel early on, we figured out the backstory in under half the time. And now we’re just… stuck.”
Seeing Dong Zi listening intently, he felt a little embarrassed. But he powered through, rambling on, “Let’s just hope our luck hasn’t run out.”
Dong Zi hummed softly in response. He sounded drowsy.
Fu Changxun couldn’t tell if that sigh of his was from relief or resignation as he rolled over and tried to sleep.
But Dong Zi quietly opened his eyes, watching him in the dark, memorizing every strand of his hair.
After a long moment, he let out a quiet sigh of his own.
***
Their luck hadn’t run out.
The next day—the fifth day of the instance.
At the crack of dawn, a eunuch arrived to summon them for an audience with the Emperor. With a meaningful glance, he specifically mentioned that the National Preceptor would also be present in the imperial study.
Fu Changxun stifled a yawn and whispered to Dong Zi, “This eunuch’s got something up his sleeve.”
Xu Zhengyi was too far ahead to chime in, so Dong Zi naturally took up the role of banter partner, lowering his voice: “What makes you say that?”
Fu Changxun replied at once, “It’s a power play. Throwing the National Preceptor in our faces first is meant to rattle us—makes it more likely we’ll mess up or embarrass ourselves when we meet the Emperor.”
“True,” Dong Zi said, now a little worried. “You think Xu-ge can handle it?”
At that moment, Xu Zhengyi was walking between two eunuchs, perfectly wedged in the center of the group.
Fu Changxun chuckled. “Relax. Xu-ge’s not some naive rookie—he knows the basic tricks.”
They passed through layer upon layer of palatial architecture until they finally reached the imperial study.
A delicate fragrance of incense filled the air. The Emperor sat at the head of the room, looking full of vitality.
You’d never guess a building had collapsed on him yesterday.
Just as Yun He had said, he was tall, imposing, and impressively good-looking—commanding in appearance but with a haughty air. Of course, ordinary folks might not dare look directly at the Son of Heaven, but they weren’t just anyone. They’d been invited to read the Emperor’s fortune. He wouldn’t dare offend them.
By his side sat an old man with a long white beard—presumably the mysterious National Preceptor.
The Preceptor said nothing at first. It was the Emperor who spoke: “I’ve heard it was you who foresaw the collapse?”
Xu Zhengyi stepped forward without a trace of fear and answered calmly, “It was. Emperor of the mortal realm, your fate has reached a perilous juncture. This old man has come to help you through it.”
He’d rehearsed this moment hundreds of times in his mind. It came out smooth as silk.
His calm and collected manner made the Emperor take a second look. Sitting straighter, he asked, “Sir, one thing puzzles me—how old are you?”
Xu Zhengyi looked about thirty-five at most. In ancient times, he could’ve passed for under thirty. Yet he called himself an old man. The Emperor was visibly surprised.
“I’ve seen seventy-four summers,” Xu Zhengyi said solemnly, lying through his teeth.
The Emperor’s eyes widened. “Over seventy? That’s past the age of rare longevity… Someone, fetch this gentleman a seat!”
Xu Zhengyi replied, “No need. Your Majesty is too kind.”
He stood firmly, then raised a hand, beckoning Xu Xiao forward. “This is my youngest disciple.”
Xu Xiao, quick on the uptake, put on an adorably clueless expression and said, “Your Majesty, let’s go outside! Master says this place is gonna fall down too. We don’t know when!”
At those words, the Emperor immediately stood, taking two steps forward as he turned to look at the National Preceptor.
Until now, the old man had remained silent. But suddenly, he snapped, “Nonsense!”
His white beard trembled with indignation. “I don’t know how you’ve managed to peddle your frauds, but this is the imperial study, not the decrepit Chengluan Pavilion. It would never collapse without cause. I’ve already read the signs thoroughly! And His Majesty is blessed with divine fortune—no one was harmed in the pavilion yesterday. How could that be called a disaster?”
Faced with his accusations, Xu Zhengyi remained completely unfazed. “That only proves your skills are shallow and your knowledge lacking.”
With a dismissive wave, he said, “Your Majesty, this old man cannot afford to take the risk. I’ll be outside.”
And with that, he turned and walked out.
Fu Changxun and Dong Zi immediately followed, pulling Xu Xiao along. The four of them exited in unison, blatantly ignoring the Emperor.
The attending servants were left stunned.
What kind of fortune-teller prioritized their own life and left everyone else to die?
But since he’d said it so confidently—and even taken the lead to leave—the Emperor, startled though he was, didn’t dare ignore the warning. After a moment of hesitation, he quickly followed them out and motioned for a eunuch to help the National Preceptor exit as well.
The Emperor feared death. And so did everyone else.
Once the room had been cleared, it was time.
Just then, the National Preceptor’s young attendant rushed past Xu Xiao and tripped, landing face-first on the ground.
Xu Xiao, ever quick-witted, flopped down too, hiding behind her sleeve—knocking over the block tower.
Creak—BOOM!
In the stunned silence that followed, the imperial study collapsed in a thunderous crash—right behind the National Preceptor.
Amid the cloud of dust, Fu Changxun’s voice rang out, clear as day: “Master, your prediction was right again!”
Xu Zhengyi was coughing hard from the dust, but still managed to stay in character: “Cough cough—When has your master ever been wrong? The timing may have been off, cough cough, but it was all foreseen—cough!”
The Emperor snapped out of his daze. When he looked at Xu Zhengyi again, his attitude had completely changed—deferential, even reverent.
“Elder, don’t strain yourself! Someone, take him to the side hall to rest!” He turned sharply and scolded the eunuchs, “Why hasn’t anyone invited this Daoist to sit? Do none of you listen to your Emperor?”
The eunuchs who had been doting on the National Preceptor all scrambled to fuss over Xu Zhengyi instead.
The National Preceptor was left completely ignored.
Once they were in the side hall, Fu Changxun finally relaxed. He knew that after this display, Xu Zhengyi’s status in the Emperor’s eyes had probably caught up to—if not surpassed—the National Preceptor’s. That was good news.
But just then, the Emperor walked over to Xu Xiao and stood beside her.
All the eunuchs and guards were busy clearing rubble. No one noticed that the Emperor himself had approached an inconspicuous little girl.
Fu Changxun’s heart skipped a beat. In the blink of an eye, he was ready to use his ability.
Dong Zi instinctively stepped forward half a pace. Xu Zhengyi looked on anxiously.
“You—how old are you? Have you passed tiaonian yet?”
The Emperor asked softly.
Everyone: “…………”
Fu Changxun’s mind raced. Suddenly, he remembered: it had been exactly eight years since General Yun had disappeared.
He coughed deliberately.
Xu Xiao’s eyes widened. She saw her doctor-gege subtly flash her eight fingers.
“I’m eight!” she chirped. She didn’t know what tiaonian meant, but she understood she needed to lie about her age.
The Emperor stood still for a long time before murmuring, “I once had an old friend. If she’d reincarnated… she’d be your age now.”
Wasn’t that precisely when Yun Qing disappeared?
From the look on his face, it was clear: Yun Qing was dead, and he had known it all along.
Xu Xiao didn’t receive any cues from her doctor-gege or her father this time, so she simply followed her own thoughts and said, “But, Your Majesty, even if someone’s reincarnated, they’re not the same person anymore. They don’t remember you—they’re just a stranger.”
The Emperor stared at her for a long moment. Just as Xu Zhengyi was about to snatch his daughter back, the Emperor suddenly laughed. “You speak wisely. Elder, you’ve taken in a fine disciple.”
With that, he brushed off his sleeves and returned to his seat on the dais.
Fu Changxun looked at Xu Xiao in amazement. It was becoming increasingly clear that she really did have phenomenal luck.
The preserved data from her encounter with “Cheng En” hadn’t been erased, the palace collapsed without injuring a single person, and now she’d coincidentally struck a nerve of imperial guilt while talking to the Emperor… and so on.
In just a few days, her “luck stat” was obvious to everyone—enviable, to say the least.
