Descendants of Jialan

After a long silence, Liu Yunqi let out a soft sigh. “What a hauntingly beautiful love story.”

Zhong Yun guided the touring car down, leaned out, and picked two blossoms of Amethyst Trace, handing one to her.

Liu Yunqi brought it close, examining it carefully. Sure enough, on the oval petal was a faint, delicate mark.

“Did you know, this legend is actually true.” Zhong Yun inhaled the scent of the violet flower, holding it to his nose. “Little Amethyst was actually an alien. She ended up stranded on Earth after a space voyage accident. Later, her kin found her and took her away in their flying saucer.”

Liu Yunqi stared at him in astonishment. “How do you know all this?”

Zhong Yun smiled mysteriously and countered, “Guess which planet Little Amethyst was from?”

Liu Yunqi thought back over the story’s details, and suddenly an idea struck her. “Violet tears—could she be from Celandra?”

The Celandrans looked almost identical to the Davans, except for one unique feature: their tears were violet, a mark that set them apart from all others.

“That’s right, she was a Celandran.”

Zhong Yun gazed at the Amethyst Trace in his hand. “The truth of what happened is much like the legend, but the Amethyst Trace wasn’t born from Little Amethyst’s tears. She cultivated this new variety herself.”

Liu Yunqi was even more puzzled. “How do you know all this in such detail?”

Zhong Yun tucked the blossom into his breast pocket. “Niu Hou and Little Amethyst had a daughter. When she grew up, she married a young man named Zhong…”

Enlightenment dawned on Liu Yunqi. Her eyes widened in disbelief. “You mean… Zhong Yun… Little Amethyst’s daughter…”

Zhong Yun shrugged. “You guessed it. My family is their descendants.”

“Oh my god.” Liu Yunqi covered her mouth. Reality, it seemed, was even stranger than fiction. Then another thought struck her. “Does that mean… you have Celandran blood?”

Zhong Yun smiled. “Does it sound too fantastic to believe?”

He touched the ring finger of his left hand with his right. “I first read the story in my family’s genealogy. At first, I didn’t believe it either. Not until…”

He suddenly straightened up as the touring car came to a halt. The wind tousled his hair, obscuring part of his face, while morning sunlight cast a golden sheen over his profile. There was a burning light in his eyes that made Liu Yunqi afraid to meet his gaze.

“When I was fifteen, I discovered a secret about myself.” His voice took on a magnetic quality, enchanting and irresistible—he was using a Celandran charm.

“What secret?” Liu Yunqi was completely enthralled, a nervous tension rising within her.

Zhong Yun’s gaze was intense and unwavering. Liu Yunqi flushed, unable to hold his stare, her heart fluttering as she averted her gaze, her hand moving unconsciously toward her waist.

In that instant, Zhong Yun blinked, and a single tear slipped from the corner of his eye. He caught it with his fingernail and held it out before her.

Liu Yunqi was stunned, barely able to believe what she saw—a crystal drop of tear shimmered on his nail, bathed in sunlight, casting a faint violet glow. If she hadn’t looked closely, she would’ve never noticed it.

Violet tears—there really were violet tears. Liu Yunqi stared in disbelief. Though the color was subtle, it was unmistakably violet. Aside from the Celandrans, she’d never heard of any other humans possessing such a trait.

Since the destruction of the Celandran nation in the unprecedented cosmic catastrophe, only a handful of survivors remained scattered through the stars. In the vastness of the universe, their numbers were as insignificant as a drop in the ocean—a race teetering on the edge of extinction.

Thousands of years had passed. To find a pure-blooded Celandran now would be nearly impossible.

That the Celandran bloodline had survived was not surprising; that it appeared in a mid-level civilization, however, was truly astonishing.

In Liu Yunqi’s understanding, those from advanced civilizations would never mix with those from lower ones—not simply out of pride, but because it would endanger their own descendants.

It was as if someone from the electronic age chose to marry a person from a primitive village—only even more absurd.

From the dawn of recorded history to the present, Davo had developed for twelve thousand years to reach the level of a mid-ranking civilization—a relatively rapid pace.

To advance to a high-level civilization would optimistically take another ten thousand years, and that only with technical aid from the Galactic Union, granted to those who reached the mid-level. On their own, it might take forty or even fifty thousand years.

The gap between high and mid-level civilizations was measured in tens of thousands of years.

During the Age of Discovery, a few hundred colonists with matchlocks could wipe out entire nations. In the age of the vast cosmos, the disparity was even greater.

It was no exaggeration to say that, to high-level civilizations, all those of mid or low standing were as insignificant as ants—just as, to the Davans, the Orlandans thirty light-years away, who had only just broken free of their own system, were seen as little more than barbarians.

The gulf between civilizations was unbridgeable. To think that the bloodline of a once-advanced civilization would appear among the Davans was almost beyond belief.

No matter how far the Celandrans had fallen, surely they would never have mingled with a lesser civilization.

Yet the evidence was before her, leaving Liu Yunqi unable to deny it. She sat there, stupefied, as if in a dream.

Zhong Yun, sitting opposite, gazed out at the sea of flowers, letting her be.

The genealogy was real, and so was the story. Whether Little Amethyst was truly an alien, or even if she ever truly existed, no one could say.

He had merely let his imagination bring the two together. With the undeniable proof of his violet tears, no matter how far-fetched his tale, it carried conviction.

Of course, the violet tears were not the result of any Celandran ancestry; Zhong Yun was, in fact, a pure-blooded Davan. The color was simply a side-effect of his cultivation of Celandran energy within his body.

It wasn’t until the touring car stopped and Zhong Yun pulled her to her feet that Liu Yunqi snapped out of her daze. She looked up at Zhong Yun, her gaze complex, then lowered her head, lost in thought, letting him lead her forward.

Seeing she was silent, Zhong Yun tactfully said nothing. He presented a card to the staff, and they were allowed to pass.

They had arrived at the heart of the flower sea, its very core, renowned for housing the most complete collection of flowers imaginable. Any flower you could name could be found here.

Of course, not just anyone could enter. Zhong Yun held a membership card from the Floral Society, a gift from Old Huang, who had helped authenticate his “Seven Fairies.”

At first, he hadn’t thought much of it, but later, while researching flower data online, he found that some information required special access. Only then did he realize the privileges the card granted—not only access to crucial data, but also many unexpected benefits.

Such as now—the gatekeeper’s demeanor changed instantly upon seeing the card, his respect evident, allowing Zhong Yun and his companion to enter unimpeded.

Unlike the wild flower sea outside, this was a modern, high-end facility. Upon entering, they were greeted by a vast exhibition hall, where a tall woman in a sleek black uniform greeted them with a radiant smile.

“Welcome to the Flower Sea. How may I assist you?” Her voice was melodious and pleasant.

Zhong Yun couldn’t help but glance at her a few more times. She was tall and slender, and the fitted black knee-length uniform accentuated her graceful, curvaceous figure.