Work Text:
At first, Jing Yuan thought that Fu Xuan was simply being stubborn. She moved only her advisors, elephants, and horses across the board, as if deliberately avoiding what truly mattered.
The General remained untouched, standing in the center of his own palace as motionlessly as if he did not exist at all. And the longer the game dragged on, the clearer it became to Jing Yuan: this was not a mistake, nor caution, and not even her usual demonstrative coldness.
She was waiting for something.
He looked up from the board. The Master Diviner sat straight, impeccably composed, with an expression that held far too much calmness for someone backed into a corner. Her fingers glided over the pieces with the same confidence with which she read the destinies of others. But she did not touch him, she left the General aside on purpose, like a point that was not yet meant to be reached.
"You are bypassing the General again," he remarked lazily, though curiosity was already warming his voice. "Why?"
"Because not everything should be deployed at once, General."
"Even if enough time has passed?"
"Especially if enough time has passed."
He offered a cat-like smirk and turned his gaze back to the board. The moves were forming a beautiful, flawless line. Jing Yuan made a move, anticipating a familiar response. A cautious retreat. One of those options he could calculate in advance or, at the very least, consider probable.
Fu Xuan looked at the board. The pause stretched just long enough for him to catch a hint of strangeness in it.
And then she made a move. Not where he expected. Not according to the scheme, nor probability, nor the kind of luck that even the most fortunate player could hope for. Her piece settled onto the square so precisely, it felt as though she hadn't anticipated his move, but already knew it.
The General was surprised at first, then shifted his gaze from the pieces on the board to the figure before him. Fu Xuan was still looking at the board, but by the barely noticeable tension in her fingers, he understood: she, too, felt that something had just changed.
He made another move. A testing one. Almost careless. She answered instantly, and a faint, cold current seemed to run down his spine.
This was no longer calculation, nor chance, nor the usual precision of the Master Diviner of the Divination Commission. This was a different kind of sight. A deeper one. Fu Xuan finally met his gaze. And in that moment, for the first time, Jing Yuan truly understood who rules over destiny. Everything that was. Everything that could be. Everything that was only just about to become destiny.
"So that's what it is," he said softly. "You are no longer looking at the moves. You are looking at the outcome."
"Do not act as if this surprises you."
"That is not what surprises me."
He leaned forward, placing his palm on the edge of the table, right next to her hand. Too close. So close that only a few inches of air remained between their fingers, and that air already felt redundant.
"I am curious about something else, Fu Xuan," he said in a near whisper. "Will you be able to predict my next move?"
"General..." she began, after holding a pause.
Fu Xuan rose abruptly, as if intending to retreat, to step out of this far too tight circle where the board had suddenly ceased to be just a board. However, as she moved, her elbow caught the edge of the table.
A sharp, dry click echoed. Deprived of their support, the pieces tumbled onto the floor. Red and dark stones mingled on the marble, scattering across the hall, rolling toward their feet, her hem, and his shadow.
She froze, her breathing catching. Jing Yuan only slowly rose from his seat, never taking his eyes off her.
Now, there was no board left between them, no rules, no propriety to hide behind. Only the distance that he closed so calmly, as if this, too, were a calculated move. He stopped right beside her.
"It seems," he said quietly, "you failed to predict this after all."
"You think far too highly of your own predictability, General."
"And you think far too highly of your composure."
This time, she genuinely grew flustered. Jing Yuan noticed how her fingers trembled, how her breath hitched for a moment, how her gaze darted away for a second, as if unwilling to meet his.
And it was then that he leaned down toward her, so close that his voice brushed her lips before the touch itself:
"If I make the next move... will you claim you calculated everything again?"
"Try it, and you shall see if you are not overconfident," Fu Xuan squeezed her fingers, then slowly, almost defiantly, tilted her chin up.
He kissed her lips calmly, and Fu Xuan’s breath hitched for a moment. The kiss was brief, but it held far too much promise, far too much left unsaid, for it to be called a mere coincidence or caprice.
She only had time to catch her breath before he softly, yet without the slightest hesitation, caught her by the waist and turned her so that her back rested against the table. The wood of the table chilled her shoulders through the thin fabric, while his face already hovered over her, casting a shadow across her cheeks and the strands of hair scattered over her temples. The girl snapped an indignant look at him, but there was too little real anger and far too much bewilderment in this attempt to maintain her dignity.
"You, General... are a scoundrel!"
"And you, Fu Xuan," he braced his hand against the table beside her shoulder and leaned lower, never breaking eye contact, "have pretended for far too long that you do not care whenever I draw closer."