The General's Unfinished Promiseby VidaVivido

PART ONE MYSTERIOUS REBIRTH CHAPTER ONE Her eyelids parted heavily, as if weighed down by invisible stones. Shadows clung to the damp walls of the cave, the oppressive darkness pierced only by the sputtering amber glow of a solitary torch. She pushed herself up, her muscles trembling with the effort, and surveyed her surroundings. It was stark—nothing more than a rough-hewn stone bed beneath her and a low wooden table nearby. Her left arm and leg were bound in coarse linen bandages, secured at the ends. While her right hand moved freely, a sharp ache flared whenever she shifted her right leg. Yet, the physical pain paled in comparison to the void in her mind. Her head felt empty and hollow; grasping for a name, a memory, or a reason for her presence in this cave yielded nothing but blankness. Forcing herself to stand, she approached the table. A bundle of bamboo slips lay beside a clay bowl filled with a dark, stagnant liquid, alongside an assortment of dried provisions and preserved fruits. She unrolled the bamboo slips, her eyes tracing the elegant ink strokes. The letter read, "Young girl, drink your medicine first. It will give you enough energy to return to your town. When you get out of the cave, go straight west, and when you see the road, go north. It's not far..." Setting the slips aside, she reached for the bowl. The clay was still faintly warm against her fingertips. Pinching her nose, she downed the dark liquid in a single gulp. Her features twisted into a deep grimace as the sharp, astringent bitterness burned down her throat, forcing a harsh cough from her lips. She stared toward the cave entrance. Perhaps this person left right before I woke, purposefully leaving directions to my hometown. A chill crept down her spine. Did he already know my memories were gone? She picked up the bamboo slips again and continued reading, "I left a walking stick at the cave entrance. Your wounds have almost healed, and you will be fine. As for what happened to you and who you are, I do not know. An old friend brought this body here. She already died. He asked me to call your soul back to be reborn in this body. He gave up his life for that, and I buried him here as he had wished. When you go down, you will see his grave. He left you a letter and a box. I placed them next to his grave. Young girl, the direction of the town that I told you was the hometown of this body. She had a tragic fate, maybe because of this. My method of returning the soul this time worked. Not all people get a second chance in life like you do. Start a new life and be happy. I do not know if one day you will remember your memories; it all depends on your fate." Her palm pressed hard against her temple. The characters echoed like thunder in her mind—"This body," "call your soul back," "second chance." What did that mean? Did it mean she had already died once, and the man who brought her back to life was dead because of her? But why? Who was she to him? She forced her trembling fingers to uncurl from her scalp. One breath, then another. She reached for the dried food and swallowed water in slow, rhythmic gulps until the shaking in her hands subsided. Then, stowing the bamboo slips into her sleeve, she walked out of the cave with small, measured steps. Halfway to the entrance, she paused, turned back to the table, and gathered the few dried apricots into her sleeve. Stepping outside the cave, her breath caught. The world was a vibrant tapestry of lush, emerald foliage and wild blossoms swaying in the gentle breeze. It appeared to be the dawn of spring. Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply, letting the crisp, floral-scented air fill her burning lungs. "Let's see what awaits me," she murmured. She started down the incline, leaning heavily on the wooden walking stick left at the entrance. Fortunately, the cave was hidden away from prominent paths. When she reached the bottom, she spotted a mound of earth. The soil remained dark and damp. A gravestone bore the carved inscription, "An old friend." She thought this person did not want to leave his name in this world, leaving only the epitaph on the gravestone. But what about her? What was his relationship to her? She picked up the wooden box resting at the base of the stone, found a bamboo slip placed beside it, and began to read. "I feel no remorse for what happened. We were enemies; we had different paths and different ambitions. But two years after your death, I learned you were the only sister of that person. I owe him my life, your brother. If I had known that, I would never have tried to hurt you for his sake, but I did not know. Now, all I can do is ask my friend to do me a favor: bring back your soul. He said 'this is an old and dangerous method and requires a lot of energy.' If I were uninjured, perhaps I could have survived, but your soul could not hold on. It would vanish. I had one chance to try. Whether you returned to life and remembered your past or not is not my concern. I want to tell your brother I truly tried to correct my mistake and repay his life by giving up mine for you. I found this young girl's body at the bottom of the cliff. She had already died from blood loss, and I did not know who she was. She had the pendant I placed inside the box." As she finished the letter, her brows drew together in a tight knot. Someone had surrendered his life to bring her back—not for her, but to repay a debt to her brother, who had died long ago. Worse still, this man might have been the very culprit behind her death in her previous life. He was simultaneously her killer and her savior. She forced her erratic thoughts to calm. Since her memory was a blank slate, she resolved not to let the paradox consume her just yet. She knelt, her gaze fixed on the rough stone, and whispered, "Thank you, Benefactor, for saving me." Opening the wooden box, she examined its contents. Inside lay a beautiful jade pendant, though its curved edge was rough, indicating it was only half of a complete set. Beside it sat a weathered red sachet embroidered with the character 兄 . She picked it up, running her thumb over the stitching, and brought it to her nose. A faint, lingering scent of azaleas clung to the fabric. "Is this from my brother?" she whispered to herself. She did not head straight for the town. Instead, she retreated to the safety of the cave. She needed time to fully recover her strength and carefully plan her next steps. This time, she explored her surroundings thoroughly, discovering a small, crystal-clear underground river flowing deep within the cavern. Kneeling by the water's edge, she studied her reflection. Almond eyes, slightly upturned at the corners, stared back at her. She had a small, straight nose, full pink lips, and flawlessly smooth, pale skin. She touched her cheek, the water mirroring the gesture. "This face might bring a lot of trouble," she whispered. She recalled the words from her savior's letter: he had stumbled upon this body at the bottom of a cliff. She wondered who could be cruel enough to push someone so beautiful. Or had she jumped? Was it murder, or a desperate escape? With ample free time in the solitary cave, she passed the hours by finishing the provisions, starting with the tart apricots and ending with the sweet red bayberries. Wrapped in a rough blanket on the stone bed, she decided she needed a starting point. The most logical step was to find the original body's home and family. She could not be entirely certain the fantastical story of her soul's rebirth was true, but since she inhabited this flesh, she owed it to the girl to uncover the truth of her demise. Lost in her plotting, she did not realize when sleep finally claimed her. In her dream, the wind howled as she plummeted from the jagged edge of a cliff. She woke with a violent jolt, her heart pounding furiously against her ribs. The cave was already bright with morning light. Staring at the golden rays streaming through the entrance, her racing pulse slowly settled. What a terrifying dream... Was that my memory, or the memory of the girl who died? She placed a hand over her chest, steadying her breaths. When she stood, she was relieved to find the agonizing ache in her left leg had faded to a dull throb. The medicine had worked its magic. After washing her face in the icy river water, she twisted her hair into a simple bun. She paused to examine her hairpin, noting the chipped edges likely caused by the fall, though the craftsmanship suggested it was an item of significant value. The original owner's family must be wealthy, she concluded. She cast one last glance at the empty clay bowls. All that remained were a few pieces of heavily spiced dried radish, which she had nearly choked on the night before. She stepped out of the cave, finally ready to face whatever fate had orchestrated for her. She followed the letter's crude directions. It was not a vast distance, but her weakened body betrayed her; soon, she was breathless, a sheen of sweat coating her forehead. Wiping her brow, she assumed this delicate body was unaccustomed to strenuous travel, and her muscles still ached deeply from the trauma of the fall. She could not help but shake her head in amusement. If enemies were chasing me right now, I would be dead before my story even began. A soft laugh escaped her lips as she pictured her pathetic attempt at a grand escape. The sudden, thunderous drumming of galloping hooves shattered her amusement. Before she could react, a troop of armored riders tore past her at breakneck speed. The violent rush of wind and flying dirt threw her off balance. She tumbled backward, hitting the hard earth with a sharp cry of pain. A harsh voice rose above the dust. "Halt!" They all halted. The lead rider looked down at her, his voice full of concern. "Young Miss, are you harmed? Did we hurt you?" What kind of appearance did she present? Her face, which could supposedly bring trouble, was now coated in dust, her hair untidy, and her eyes red from the sting of the fall. She was ready to lash out, but when she saw the young man's worried expression, she swallowed her anger. The gentleman appeared to be in his early twenties, perhaps even younger. He had warm, luminous eyes, a well-defined nose, slender lips, and a subtle dimple on his right cheek. His long hair was tied in a high bun. With sincere concern, he looked at her. She stood up, brushed the dust off her robes. "It is nothing. I am fine." The young man hesitated, then turned back to the others and ordered, "Search carefully. Ensure nothing gets missed." All the men rode off, except for one who remained. His horse was positioned behind the young man's, so she couldn't see his appearance clearly. All she could distinguish was that he was dressed entirely in black. The young man turned to her again. "Young Miss, I am very sorry. We were in a hurry and caused you harm." She wiped her face with her sleeve, smiled, and waved her hand dismissively. "No harm done. I was not paying attention and did not see you coming." The young man's gaze swept the empty dirt road behind her, then dropped to her empty hands, noting her lack of a travel bundle. A crease formed between his brows. "Young Miss, are you lost? Or are you being pursued? Do you need help?" She thought of her earlier imagined flight from imaginary enemies, but replied warmly. "No. I am heading to that town over there—almost there." She pointed toward the gate of Qingyao Town. "Thank you for your concern, Young Master. You should go finish your work." A cold voice cut through the air from behind the young man. "Hanyue, give her some coins. Let us go." She felt her ears tingle when she heard his voice; it was like touching zither strings after a long time, still pleasant to the ears. Yet after his words, her jaw tightened. Forcing her shoulders into a meek slouch, she allowed a sharp, mocking edge to slip into her quiet voice. "No need, Young Master. If I fall again, it will be quite a training to collect coins from the ground." Hanyue's face froze. He could not imagine that a girl who was warm and easygoing a moment ago could answer his master with such a sharp, double-edged remark. He did not dare to look at his master's face. The man behind him moved his horse forward. Now, she could see him clearly. He possessed a cold, noble aura and appeared to be in his late twenties. His horse was pure white, adorned with golden tack—a stark contrast to its master, who wore simple, elegant black robes, entirely free of patterns or accessories. That profound simplicity only made his fair skin stand out more. The only thing shining on him was his sword. A red ribbon gently shifted in the wind, tying a small section of his long black hair, while the rest cascaded loosely. His lips were thin, his nose straight. He sat upright in his saddle, broad-shouldered and well-built. But what made her heart still for a breath were his eyes. A pair of cold black phoenix eyes. Dark as a foggy forest, she could not see their end. He looked at her calmly, like a man in a marketplace who found everything unworthy. She looked back, equally calm. Neither spoke. But inside, she praised him. This appearance, combined with his cold attitude, was definitely the kind that brings trouble for its owner. Seeing boldness in her eyes, the man's eyes narrowed. A dusty young girl—yet she dares mock me with such composure.... If that person were here, she would be laughing out loud at this sentence. Thinking about that person made his eyes grow foggier. He looked down and covered his emotions with his long black eyelashes. A self-satisfied smirk danced on her lips, but as a deep, sudden sorrow clouded his dark eyes, her smile faltered. Trying to lighten the heavy atmosphere, Hanyue said, "Well then, young miss, be careful on the road. We are leaving." Her calm expression softened into a warm smile once more. "Very well. You too." She glanced at the man, but his gaze was fixed on the distant horizon. Hanyue said respectfully, "Master, let us go." They galloped off. She stood still in the settling dust, her fingers absently rising to press against a sudden, hollow ache in her chest. She had done nothing wrong; he was the one who had treated her like a beggar in the first place. She repeated that justification to herself as she headed toward the town gates. CHAPTER TWO Inside the gates of Qingyao Town, everything was a stark contrast to the desolate cave; it felt like stepping into another realm. People were working, coming and going, shouting, laughing, and busy with their daily lives. She could describe it in a single phrase: full of life. She narrowed her eyes, looking for a place to gather information to find the original body's family. A teahouse seemed like the best option. As she went in, a merchant at the nearest table paused mid-drink, his gaze lingering on her dusty hem, while a finely dressed woman subtly pulled her silk veil closer. She wore no servant's garb, yet lacked the trailing entourage of a noble lady. That contradictory air drew every eye in the room. Soon, the owner approached her in a friendly tone, "Welcome, welcome. Come in, young girl. What can I do for you?" She smiled softly, answering in a hesitant, sorrowful tone, "Actually... I... I..." She purposely let her voice trail off as her almond eyes pooled with unshed tears. The owner saw this, and his tone became more gentle. "Come, do not worry. Sit here... tell me everything. I'll help you." He gestured to a chair. She sat down slowly. Then he turned and shouted to a boy nearby, "Hey, boy! Go quickly and bring some tea for this young girl!" She blurted, "No need... no need, Shopkeeper." The owner smiled. "Do not worry about it..." Noticing the boy still standing there and staring at her foolishly, he snapped: "What are you standing there for? Go quickly!" Turning back to her, he smiled again."Heh... this brat. Do not worry, you are safe here. Tell me everything." She gently wiped the unshed tears from the corners of her eyes. "I do not know where I should go. I got separated from my family on the road and could not find them, but I know they are passing through this town, so I came here, hoping they will find me. Shopkeeper, do you think they will?" The owner studied her carefully from head to toe, with a strange glint in his eyes. Then, he replied in the same gentle tone: "Of course... of course. Do not worry. You can stay here. They will definitely come to find you." Her eyes sparkled with joy. "Thank you, Shopkeeper..." Then, her expression fell slightly. Her voice softened. "But... I do not have any coins with me." The owner waved his hand carelessly. "It is okay... It is okay." Just then, someone else entered the teahouse. The owner glanced at the new guest eagerly. "You sit here... I would be right back," he said and hurried off. She watched his back for a moment. He was middle-aged, with an enormous belly that strained against his robes. The boy returned with a cup of tea. She offered a gentle smile. The boy blushed and departed with quick steps. She took a sip, then subtly wrinkled her nose, setting the crude porcelain cup down on the wooden table. The muddy, low-grade leaves left a bitter aftertaste on her tongue. She had not come here to drink tea anyway. She tuned her ears to her surroundings. Her ears picked up on the loud voices at a nearby table. Three men were drinking and speaking animatedly. One of them asked, "Have you heard? They say that traitor Shen Yueran was spotted nearby. His Majesty sent troops after him." Another replied, "So that is why we have seen so many unfamiliar faces in town... Did they catch him?" The third man grunted, "No one knows. But soldiers are everywhere, and a lot of sword-wielders have come to our town and the surrounding areas. Maybe they have already captured that wicked man..." The first one added darkly, "He was truly evil...What he did seven years ago still makes my scalp go numb." The third added quickly, "Yes, yes, who can forget those days? He was close to dragging our country into a bloody war..." The second one said, "Not only that, there were rumors about the late emperor's death and the former crown prince, dep—" The first one warned, "Hush.... do not talk about royal family affairs. Are you a fool? " The second one said hurriedly, "Alright, alright..." Then, they lowered their heads and continued in hushed voices. There was not any other significant news. Everyone was just chatting about daily gossip. Was the disappearance of this body not big news for people to talk about? Or had it already become old news? Or is there one other possibility: perhaps they never even knew. After a while, she stood up to leave the teahouse. Just as she reached the door, the owner hurried over to her. "Young girl, where are you going?" She dropped her shoulders before turning to the shopkeeper; she forced a tremor into her voice. "I am going to search for them. They may have come to town. Maybe someone saw them, or they are staying at an inn." The owner's eyes flickered, but his voice remained steady. "Of course, of course. But it is not safe out there. If you go alone, who knows what kind of trouble you might run into... There are bad people around. You should not go alone." Her eyes widened in feigned innocence. "Then... what should I do? If... if I had someone with me, someone I could trust, like you..." She lowered her head and tightly clutched the fabric of her robes. "... I could quickly check the inns and come back." The owner thought for a moment, then said: "Alright, do not be sad. I will send my servant with you. But do not take too long—come back quickly. It is dangerous for a young woman to be out there alone." She lifted her head and said joyfully, "Would you really do that for me, Shopkeeper? I do not know how to repay your kindness... Thank you." Her eyes reddened with gratitude. Her lower lip trembled, and she drew in a sharp, shuddering breath. Yet, even as she thanked him, she purposely withheld a bow. The owner did not seem to notice the slight. His gaze was glued to her tear-shimmering eyes, and his lips curled into a satisfied smile. He called out, "Hey, boy! Come here!" A young boy came running over. He looked about eleven or twelve years old, his clothes dirty and worn. He stood in front of the owner, nervously clutching the sides of his shirt. She noticed his fingers—they were cracked, calloused, and far too rough for a boy his age. He spoke in a thin, reedy voice. "Yes, Master." The owner ordered in a strict voice, "Go with the young miss and show her the inn. Take care of her carefully and come back quickly. Do not make a fool of yourself." She and the boy stepped out of the teahouse. As soon as they were outside, her pitiful expression vanished. Her gaze turned distant, her steps slowing as her mind raced. The boy walked slightly ahead of her, careful with his steps. He never lifted his head, nor dared to look at her face. In a humble voice, he said, "Miss... the inn is this way." He pointed to the right, down the narrow street beside the teahouse. She nodded. "Alright, thank you... By the way, how old are you?" Hearing her soft voice made him blush. His fingers tangled together even more. "This humble one, Miss? I think... I am twelve." She lifted her gaze from his trembling fingers and smiled gently. "Twelve, hmm... You are already a young man." The boy's cheeks turned redder, but he said nothing. "Do not call me 'Miss'," she murmured. "I am not a miss. Just call me..." She paused, her smile fading as she realized she did not remember her own name, nor did she know what name belonged to this body. How pitiful I am, she mocked herself. Trying to brush aside these thoughts, she turned her gaze back to the boy. He was waiting for her to finish her sentence. When she did not, he risked raising his head just enough to glimpse her bright eyes. The moment their eyes met, he hurriedly looked away again. A genuine, bubbling laugh escaped her at the sight of his furiously blushing cheeks. "What is your name?" The boy's eyes widened. "T-this humble one? Miss... I do not have a name." She chuckled. "How could that be? Everyone—" but she froze mid-sentence. Could it be... he lost his memory too? The boy murmured, "My master always calls me 'foolish boy' or just 'hey, boy.' I do not have any relatives, so... no one ever gave me a name." Hearing this, her eyes dimmed. She spoke in a gentler tone. "How can you be foolish? Are you not the one leading me to the inn so easily? If I were alone, I would probably wander around for a while. I bet you already know so many things at your young age. If the people around you were not smart enough to give you a name, then so be it. You can give yourself a good one." The boy's voice barely rose above a whisper. "But I do not know any characters... I only know 'bái'." Her eyes lit up. "That is perfectly fine. Let us just use 'Bai'... and create two beautiful names." The boy blinked. "Two?" She smiled brightly. "Yes—one for you and one for me. I do not have a name either. Let me think..." She pressed a hand to her chin, examining him as though he were the finest porcelain. "Aha! Your name will be Bai An —it means calm and peaceful." She paused, then added with a gentle smile, "And I will be Bai Ran —like blank paper. A fresh start." The boy repeated the name under his breath, in a thin, trembling voice: "Baian... Baian..." In his happiness, he forgot to wonder why this young girl did not have a name, too. She looked at his small, cheerful face—so thin, yet glowing with delight. Her gaze softened, and her voice grew warmer. "Yes... Baian. That is your name. Do you like it? If not, I can think of other names, too." But Baian shook his head, as if afraid someone might take the name away from him. "No! Miss—I mean, I like it. I like it very much!" Bairan chortled, "Okay, I am glad you do. But what did I tell you? Do not call me 'Miss.' Just call me Bairan." Baian nodded, "Yes, Miss Bairan." She shook her head, "Did not I tell you not to call me 'Miss'?" In a warm voice she added, "You know what? You can call me Jie-jie . I am older than you, so it is only right for you to call me that. Of course, only if you want to." Baian shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Is that really okay?" Bairan chirped, "Of course it is okay! I am telling you—call me Jie-jie! Got it?" As they talked, they arrived at the inn. Baian said slowly, "Bairan-jie ... this is the town inn." Bairan smiled and nodded; then they went in. It was the hour of the midday meal, and the place was crowded with patrons. The clatter of bowls and the murmur of voices filled the space. Among the patrons, Bairan noticed a few swordsmen; their calloused hands rested on their hilts, and they were clad in worn, dark-colored robes. A young innkeeper spotted them, a smirk tugging at his lips. The moment his eyes landed on Bairan, his gaze lingered. He stepped forward, his gaze sweeping over her lack of traveling bags, quickly marking her as a solitary traveler, though he recognized the nervous boy trailing behind as Uncle Mu's teahouse servant. He asked with a gleeful glint in his eyes, "Young miss, how can I help you?" Bairan gave him a sweet, arrogant smile, playing the role of a pampered young beauty. "I want a room." The young innkeeper smiled, "Just for yourself?" Bairan gave a curt nod. Then, as if speaking to herself, she muttered in annoyance, "Tch... he said the most beautiful girl would be here in this town... but I have not seen a single special woman. The town is not even that nice." The young innkeeper chuckled, "Oh, Miss, may I ask why you did not like our town? Are you saying our town is not beautiful enough?" Bairan waved her hand lazily. “Your town is not that bad, but I do not know. Someone told me this place is full of stunning beauties, yet I have not seen anyone who could even compare to me.” The young innkeeper laughed. "Of course, young miss, you are indeed very beautiful. But... our town has some well-known beauties." Bairan widened her eyes in disbelief. "As beautiful as me? No, I do not believe it!" She pouted and rolled her eyes at him. The innkeeper laughed cheerfully and raised both hands. "Do not take offense, Miss. People say that. Not me. They say there are a few women in town known for their looks, but I have not seen them with my own eyes, so I cannot say if they are as beautiful as you..." Bairan hurried him to speak, eager to know her rivals' names, "Tell me their names quickly!" The innkeeper leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial rasp as he shielded his mouth with a calloused hand. "Actually, there are two daughters in the Lin family. The older one is Lin Ruolan; she is said to be a peerless beauty, gentle and elegant like an orchid. I once saw her from afar, but unfortunately, she was wearing a veil." He sighed. "What a pity. That glimpse only made me more curious. And her younger sister, Lin Ruomei, is second; they say she is soft and pure." Baian just stared at them, totally puzzled. That whole conversation earlier, and how Bairan's tone had suddenly changed when they walked in—he just did not understand any of it. Bairan kept arguing with the innkeeper, insisting that she did not believe such a small town could have such beauties, until the innkeeper, finally flustered, gave in and shared the location of the Lin family residence, along with many details about them. Once Bairan got what she wanted, she said to the innkeeper lazily, "Okay, okay, I will check it out myself. Now... can you bring me some food? Just something simple." The innkeeper nodded his head with a smile, "I will tell the chef to prepare the meal for you," but he did not move. Bairan raised an eyebrow. "Oh..." she added carelessly, "I did not give you any money." Then, as if suddenly annoyed by a memory, she pretended to scold the person who had angered her and muttered, "Because that idiot, he made me so angry, I did not even bring anything with me." She looked at the innkeeper and said, “Look at my hairpin. It is a special item. Do not think of me as a poor woman—I was just in a hurry. Take it as a rental. When my family arrives, they will pay you." The innkeeper glanced at the shiny hairpin and replied, "I will show you your room upstairs, then I will go tell the chef right away." As he led Bairan upstairs, he exchanged a meaningful glance with the man sitting quietly in the corner. Baian followed them silently. During all this, Bairan did not even glance at him, as if she did not know him at all. The innkeeper led the way.