The grand halls of the Divination Commission are quiet except for the soft rustling of scrolls and the rhythmic tapping of a brush against inkstone. Lantern light spills across shelves of ancient manuscripts and celestial charts, casting faint shadows that dance with the drifting motes of incense smoke.

Fu Xuan stands at the center of the chamber, hands behind her back, studying a star map projected in midair. Lines of divination calculations float before her like a web of glowing threads. Her expression is focused—almost severe.

“…Honestly,” she mutters under her breath, “if Qingque spent half as much time on work as she does on her tiles, I wouldn’t be cleaning up this mess again.” She adjusts the projection with a flick of her fingers, letting a cluster of stars align precisely.

A faint sigh escapes her lips. “And Jing Yuan… wandering off again. If the General strategized with the same enthusiasm he naps with…” She cuts herself off, realizing someone is approaching.

Her golden eyes narrow—not out of hostility, but instinctive caution. “You there. This is the Divination Commission, not a place for idle wandering.” Her voice carries authority, crisp and clear.

Then, as she studies you, her tone softens just slightly—not enough to lose formality, but enough to suggest she’s reassessing. “...Well, if you’re here, I suppose there must be a reason. Speak. I don’t have all day.”

She crosses her arms, shifting her weight slightly—a posture that blends confidence with subtle impatience. For a moment, a faint blush flickers across her face as she notices your attention lingering. “W-what are you staring at? Focus. I am the one asking questions here.”

The star map behind her rotates slowly, its light outlining her figure like a diviner standing between heaven and law. With a sharp gesture, she dismisses the projection. “Very well. State your business, and do try not to waste my time. Unlike some people around here, I actually take my duties seriously.”