The General's Unfinished Promiseby VidaVivido

CHAPTER FIVE When Bairan emerged, the mask of dust had vanished. Her skin, pale and clear, caught the lantern light. She had gathered her hair back into a neat knot, and though her robes were simple, she wore them with the poise of someone used to silk. A clean strip of white linen was wound tightly around her forearm. She surveyed the room thoughtfully. The cold man sat alone, an imposing figure cloaked in his own shadow. Hanyue sat at the adjacent table, his gaze fixed on the hallway, clearly awaiting their return. Bairan gave a small smile and glided over to Hanyue's table, with Baian right behind her. Hanyue's gaze lingered on the fresh linen bound around her arm. Catching his look, Bairan said with a warm smile, "Master Fang's wife is a fiercely kind woman. I told her repeatedly it was not necessary, but she insisted on wrapping it." Hanyue nodded. "She did a fine job." A young waiter hurried over, balancing heavily laden trays. He set two down before Hanyue and carefully placed the third on the cold man's table. Wiping his brow with a towel draped over his shoulder, he bowed. "Young Master, do you require anything else?" Hanyue produced a gold tael, the metal clinking softly against the wood. "Ensure the rooms are spotless," he instructed, "and prepare hot water for bathing." The servant's eyes widened at the gold piece. He snatched it up, then bowed deeply. "Right away, Young Master. Rest assured." Baian stared at the steaming rice, seasonal greens, and glistening seafood as if he were looking at a mountain of gold. Bairan, however, poked at a piece of fish with her chopsticks, her nose wrinkling just a fraction. She surveyed the plates with a wary, critical eye, as though the meal were a puzzle she was not entirely sure she wanted to solve. Hanyue gestured gracefully toward the dishes. "Please, help yourselves." Baian swallowed hard, his hands hovering over his chopsticks as he shot an uncertain glance at Bairan. She lifted her own chopsticks with casual ease and nudged him. "Go on, eat, Baian. You had quite the training day, did not you?" The words hung in the air for a second. A training day... Her gaze drifted toward the cold man at the next table. He ate in utter silence, his posture impeccably straight, taking precise, measured bites. A faint heat crept up Bairan's neck. This morning, she had mockingly rejected his coin, claiming it was mere "training" to gather money from the ground. Yet here she sat, feasting on food bought with their money. Fortunately, the man seemed entirely indifferent to her existence; his dark eyes never strayed from his meal. Bairan offered him a silent, begrudging nod of respect in her mind—a genuine man, not the kind who would argue with a young girl over small matters. She turned her attention back to Baian, who was practically inhaling his rice. "Eat slowly, Baian." As she took a small, cautious bite of her own rice, she looked across at their host. "Young Master, forgive my lack of manners, but how should I address you?" Hanyue finished his bite, set his chopsticks neatly across his bowl, and smiled. "I am Pei Hanyue of Fenghua." Bairan lowered her head, matching his dignified tone. "I am honored to make your acquaintance, Master Pei." She quietly returned to her meal. Hanyue tilted his head. "And how should I address you, Young Miss?" Bairan paused, a soft, self-deprecating laugh escaping her lips. "Ah... I almost forgot. Please do not take this as a slight, Master Pei, but... I do not actually know my own name." She shifted her gaze back to the spread, prodding a vegetable leaf as if her lack of identity were merely a passing inconvenience. Hanyue's polite smile faltered into genuine surprise. "You do not know your name?" Bairan set her chopsticks down, her expression sobering. "When I entered the town this morning, I had hoped to find my family. But my mind is a blank slate. I do not know who I was, or where I belong. That is how I stumbled into the trouble you rescued me from." Hanyue leaned forward slightly. "Nothing at all? Why? What happened to you?" Bairan mentally ticked off his questions before answering with measured calm. "No, nothing. My head was entirely empty when I woke up yesterday morning. As for why..." She hesitated, her voice dropping. "I believe... I fell from a cliff." The sharp clack of porcelain echoed through the dining area. At the adjacent table, the silent man's chopsticks had frozen against the rim of his bowl. Bairan paused, glancing over, but his spine was rigid, his gaze locked intensely downward. Hanyue broke the sudden tension, his voice laced with disbelief. "You fell from a cliff?" Bairan pulled her attention back to him. "Yes. I awoke inside a cave. I was alone, save for a letter left by the one who rescued me. He wrote that he found me at the bottom of a ravine, identity unknown, but suspected I hailed from this town." She traced the grain of the wooden table. "I thought... if I simply walked these streets, someone might recognize my face." Hanyue observed her. "So you purposefully visited the teahouse and the inn, testing the waters?" Bairan's lips curved into a small, approving smile. "Yes." Hanyue frowned slightly. "But the boy from the teahouse calls you 'Bairan-jie'. Did he recognize you?" Bairan shook her head. "No... No one knows me." She turned to look at Baian, her gaze softening. "He calls me that because when we first met, neither of us had a name. So I chose two names with the character 'Bai'—one for him and one for myself. Now he is Baian, and I am Bairan." Hanyue slowly nodded. He only half-believed her tale; for a girl who had supposedly lost everything, her composure was unnervingly perfect. Every word, every gesture felt calculated, drawn with an invisible ruler. Yet, he could not deny his admiration. He lifted his teacup in a formal gesture of respect. "It has been a grueling day for you, Miss Bairan. I commend your grace under fire... and your remarkably clever mind." Bairan caught the subtle scrutiny in his eyes and silently praised her opponent's sharpness. Let him be cautious. She had not lied; she merely omitted the impossible truth. If she confessed to being a reborn soul occupying a dead girl's body, this polished gentleman would undoubtedly think she was mad. What mattered most was that Hanyue did not seem like an enemy. For now, that was enough. She returned his toast with a soft, melodic laugh. "I am but a young girl trying to survive the day. I was standing on the edge of ruin hours ago. It is solely thanks to you, Master Pei, that I made it through." Baian, entirely disconnected from the adult politics, kept darting hungry glances at a plate of meat near Hanyue's elbow, before guiltily snapping his eyes away. Hanyue caught the boy's longing. Chuckling softly at the child's bottomless appetite—this boy had already eaten half of the food on the table and still wanted more—he slid the platter across the wood, pushing it directly in front of Baian. "So," Hanyue asked, resting his hands on the table, "do you have any leads on finding this family of yours?" Bairan tapped Baian's wrist lightly with her chopstick. "Chew, Baian. The meat has not grown legs." Satisfied the boy was not going to choke, she met Hanyue's gaze. "Actually... I gathered a bit of intelligence at the inn. If my instincts are correct, I might be a daughter of the Lin family." Hanyue's eyebrow arched in curiosity. "What brings you to that conclusion?" Bairan let out a slightly awkward laugh, her fingers reaching up to toy with the stray lock of hair near her cheek, tucking it behind her ear. "Well... it is simply what the local gossip dictates. They say the Lin family daughters are the most beautiful women in the entire town." Hanyue's teacup halted midway to his mouth. He stared at her, taking in the sheer, brazen confidence masked behind her sheepish smile. He slowly lowered the cup, entirely speechless. Before the awkward silence could linger, the heavy thud of boots announced the return of Hanyue’s men. They clasped their hands respectfully toward the cold man, then turned to Hanyue. "Master, we have returned." Hanyue gave a small nod before turning his attention back to Bairan. "Miss Bairan, I will have my men investigate the Lin family's daughters—whether any of them have gone missing or if there have been any recent changes in the family. I will keep you informed." Bairan nodded with a gentle smile. "Bairan is grateful to you, Master Pei. I will leave this matter in your hands." She stood, smoothing the wrinkles from her skirts with a polite bow. "We will ask the innkeeper to show us to our rooms." She turned to Baian, who had just finished the last of the meat on his plate. "Baian." Baian scrambled to his feet. "Yes, Bairan-jie?" Bairan tilted her head, her eyes flashing a silent prompt. "After such a feast, what do you say to Master Pei?" Baian offered a deep bow, his cheeks flushing pink. "Th—thank you, Master Pei." Hanyue smiled. "It is nothing." Bairan and Baian left, allowing Hanyue and his men to speak in private. At the end of the corridor, Hanyue's sharp hearing caught Bairan teasing the boy: "You are shy about everything, but if your chopsticks had been a little longer and thicker, you would have ended up eating Master Pei, too." Hanyue shook his head and chuckled softly. The table was soon cleared by a silent servant, and the scent of fresh, steaming tea filled the air. Hanyue poured a cup for the cold man with steady, respectful hands. Then, he turned to the lead guard, whose clothes were still dusted with the grime of the road. "Did you catch him?" "Yes, Master. We have arrested him," the man reported. "He is with the others now. We beat him, but he keeps saying he has no idea who the traitor Shen Yueran is. He claims someone just paid him to buy food and herbs. We showed him Shen Yueran's portrait, but he denied knowing him. He said the one who gave the orders was a monk." Hanyue's eyes narrowed. "A monk? Then why did he run?" The man replied, "Master, he said when he heard soldiers were coming to town to arrest a traitor, he panicked. The herbs he was asked to buy were rare and expensive—used for treating serious injuries. He feared he might be dragged into something dangerous." Hanyue nodded. "Keep an eye on him for now. I will question him myself tonight." He turned to the second man. "What did you find?" The man responded respectfully: "Master, we took Master Tong and his men to the yamen, then went to arrest the innkeeper and the teahouse owner. We found them both nearby, breathless, as if searching for something. When we revealed our identities, they were terrified. The teahouse owner—a fat man—collapsed on the ground. But the innkeeper tried to run. We caught him quickly, and during his escape, this fell from his sleeve." He held out a shiny hairstick toward Hanyue. "Master, I believe this is the hairpin the young girl mentioned." Hanyue took the hairpin and examined it closely. "It is a fine piece. Quite expensive." The cold man gave it a sharp glance. "It is bruised... and one edge is broken." Hanyue nodded. "Yes. That young miss said she fell from a cliff, and the only valuable thing she had was this. So, the story about waking up in a cave might be true." Hanyue looked at his men. "Go rest for now, and investigate the Lin family's affairs, especially the two daughters. Inform me of any new information about Master Tong's case. I also want a portrait of that monk." As the men withdrew, the cold man spoke again, "Which cave is nearest to this town?" Hanyue knitted his brows. He said in a thoughtful tone, "There is only the cave we suspected Shen Yueran might be hiding in. But when we arrived, no one was there. Just a blanket on the stone bed and some leftovers. That means someone had definitely been there. Dongpo said the blanket smelled like a woman—could it have been this girl?" The cold man traced his finger along the rim of his teacup. Hanyue continued, "She is the only person we saw this morning near the town gate. And now she says she woke up in the cave, and the one who saved her told her to come to this town—her hometown. It must be close enough for her to have walked. Most likely, it was the same cave." He paused, then added, "But what about the grave at the foot of the mountain? Who does it belong to?" Hanyue looked at the cold man. "Your Highness, what do you think? Could she be related to Shen Yueran?" The cold man raised his head in the direction Bairan had gone. He said slowly, "We cannot be certain yet... but—" He set down his teacup, a cold gleam flashing in his eyes. "Shen Yueran is not the type of person who would bother saving someone's life." CHAPTER SIX On Bairan's side, after they went to ask Uncle Fang, she moved to her prepared room. Since Baian was a twelve-year-old boy, Uncle Fang said he could stay with the men instead—Baian himself was happy with that. Bairan bathed and changed into a green, wide-sleeved robe that Uncle Fang's wife had given her. It had belonged to their daughter, who had married far away. The fabric fit Bairan perfectly. Madam Fang had also offered some hairpins, but Bairan politely declined. Her damp, ink-black hair spilled over her shoulders like a dark river. She moved to the bed, her muscles aching as she simply let it dry by itself. She looked at the bed, and a bright smile touched her lips. "Finally, I have time to sleep." She lay down. Her injury was stable, but after running all day, her limbs felt like lead. Her thoughts drifted back to the events of the day. Hanyue had shown his green jade so openly—was he trying to help us, or was he revealing his identity to the whole town? She recalled the conversation in the teahouse about the Emperor's order to capture the traitor, Shen Yueran. And lastly, her thoughts drifted to the cold man, the cold man's identity and his martial arts... he was far from a simple man. Her eyelids felt heavy, sinking shut as the cold man's face flickered in her mind. He was truly a mysterious man. In the room on the other side of her wall, that mysterious man sat in the dark. His long hair was completely untied, the red ribbon resting between his fingers. He caressed it, as if the entire world had lost its color and only this silk still held any hue. His eyes, cold and fractured like broken glass, were filled with a sorrow that seemed carved deep into his bones. His voice, laced with cracks and trembling chords, broke the silence of the room. "Xinyi... This time I was so close to capturing him. I will not let him escape until I avenge you." He stroked the red ribbon even more tenderly, a broken smile tugging at his lips. "If I do that... will you come to my dream? Just once... I—" His voice wavered, and he closed his eyes, his lips trembled. "I genuinely... miss you." The next morning, Bairan was woken by a gentle knock on the door. Baian's happy voice came through, "Bairan-jie, are you awake? It is already late." She opened one eye, yawning lazily. The room was not fully bright yet. She muttered under her breath, "Why do I have to wake up so soon..." and shut her eyes again. Another knock followed. "Bairan-jie, Master Pei is downstairs." This time, she opened both eyes, brows furrowing. "Okay... I will be down soon." Baian replied warmly, "Then I will prepare some water for you to wash your face." Without waiting for her answer, he ran off. Bairan lay there without moving, her eyelids drifting shut again—until she suddenly threw off the blanket and stood up. Annoyed, she went to the window and pushed it open. Outside, the sun was only just peeking between the mountains. She yawned again. "Even the rooster has not—" Right then, a rooster flew onto the roof and crowed. "Cock-a-doodle-doo!" Bairan stared at the roof in speechless silence. Shaking her head, she put on her outer garment neatly and tied her hair into a simple bun. A knock came again. "Bairan-jie," Baian's voice called. She opened the door to find him standing there, holding a bowl of water in both hands. He carefully set down the bowl and the clean towel tucked under his arm before stepping back with a smile. She looked at Baian and smiled. "Thanks for your hard work. Why is our Baian looking so happy?" Baian's face lit up as he began chatting excitedly. "Yes! Uncle Fang and Auntie Chu were very good to me. They gave me a soft place to sleep and did not make me do all the hard work by myself. And Auntie Chu," he grinned, "gave me so many sweet things to eat! I told them my name is Baian, not 'Boy,' and since then they have been calling me Baian." Bairan washed her face while Baian talked. She said gratefully, "They are good people—they have treated us very well." Baian handed her the towel. She took it, drying her face as she continued, "Remember, anyone who is good to you, repay them when you can. And never repay good with bad. Okay?" Baian nodded. Bairan smiled. "Good... Now, can you bring me a knife?" Baian agreed and quickly left to fetch one. Once he was gone, Bairan took out the small box hidden under her pillow. Opening it, she examined each item: the two letters written on bamboo slips, the red sachet, and the pendant. She placed the red sachet and one bamboo slip back into the box. Baian soon returned, holding the knife he'd borrowed from the chef. Bairan took the other bamboo slip, cut some of the strings so it came apart, and then slipped the first half into her left sleeve along with the pendant. She placed the other half back into the box, which she then tucked into her right sleeve. Then she cut part of her waistband and handed the knife back to Baian, who was biting his lower lip, his eyes wide and fixed on her fingers. Seeing his expression, Bairan laughed. "What? Are you scared I might hurt my hand?" "Yes," Baian admitted. "I am worried you will get hurt. The chef said this knife is very sharp." Bairan smiled and reached out to pat his head. "Do not worry, I am cautious. Now, take it back to the chef and thank him for me. If he asks, tell him I cut part of my waistband to tie my hair. Have you had breakfast yet?" Baian nodded. "Yes, I ate with Uncle Fang and Auntie Chu. I will go return the knife now. See you downstairs." "Okay," Bairan replied. She wore a simple, green, wide-sleeved garment, her hair cinched back by a jagged strip of cloth still bearing the frayed edges of her waistband. As she descended, the morning sun struck the high point of her chin, which she held level. In the hall below, conversations faltered and heads turned, tracking her steady rhythm down the stairs. She spotted Hanyue and the cold man's table. Smiling, she walked over and saluted. "Master Pei," she greeted, then turned to the cold man. "Daren." Hanyue responded warmly, "Miss Bairan." The cold man only nodded. Bairan noticed the untouched food and said apologetically, "I am very sorry. I lost my manners and made the young masters wait." Hanyue replied, "It is all good. Come, have a seat." Bairan sat down, and they began eating. After a while, Hanyue asked, "Did Miss Bairan have a good rest?" Bairan replied gratefully, "Thanks to Master Pei's grace, yes." She then glanced over the dishes carefully. Hanyue looked at her closely. She did not eat like a noble lady. Instead of delicately bringing the bowl to her lips, she used the tip of her chopsticks to prod the vegetables, turning them over. She leaned in, catching the scent of the broth before taking a slow, calculated bite. He smiled faintly. "Happy to hear that. You—" At that moment, Bairan's brow furrowed. She had bitten into something, and her expression stiffened. Swallowing with slight difficulty, she quickly reached for the teapot and poured herself a cup of tea, drinking it in one breath. Hanyue paused, blinking at her. Bairan laughed awkwardly. "Haha... I made a fool of myself. Sorry, Master Pei. I do not remember what I like and what I do not like, so sometimes I... have trouble." Hanyue chuckled softly. "Miss Bairan, you are quite amusing." Bairan laughed as well. "I think so." Then she suddenly felt a heavy gaze on her. Turning her head, she met the cold man's deep, unreadable eyes. Bairan set down her chopsticks, thinking wryly, Not everyone thinks I am funny. One of Hanyue's men leaned close and clasped his hands in salute. "Master, everything is ready." Hanyue nodded, then turned to Bairan. "Miss Bairan, would you like to come with us as well?" Bairan thought silently, Would I like to... or must I? But she smiled politely and nodded. "Of course. How could I say no when Master Pei invites me himself?" Hanyue's lips curved knowingly. "Then let us go." He rose to his feet, and Bairan followed suit. The cold man, however, did not move, his eyes on the table as if reading a map only he could see. His gaze fixed entirely on the dish Bairan had just pushed aside. "Master," Hanyue called to him gently. The cold man finally shifted his eyes away, stood, and strode toward the door. Hanyue glanced at the dish again but found nothing unusual. Turning back, he met Bairan's gaze and said, "Miss Bairan, this way, please." They stopped before a building that masqueraded as a merchant's store, though the heavy wooden shutters were tightly bolted, and the air around it was deadly silent. The man guarding the door clasped his hands respectfully. "Master." His gaze flickered toward Bairan, lingering for a moment as if hesitating, then he stepped aside and pushed the door open. As the door groaned open, the shadows inside seemed to swallow the morning light. A faint metallic tang drifted out immediately—blood. Bairan instinctively touched her nose twice. Inside, the dim room revealed a scene. A young man was tied to a chair, his face and body marred by bruises and streaks of blood. A strip of cloth covered his eyes. Nearby, an older man knelt on the ground, trembling. Bairan's eyes narrowed slightly. So... this is what Master Pei invited me to see. But why? Hanyue's gaze drifted to her, a small crease forming at the corner of his mouth. He looked for a tremor in her hands or the frantic darting of her eyes, but found only a steady, unnerving stillness. She did not even offer the courtesy of a fabricated shudder. Hanyue smiled slightly. What a woman. He signaled to his man, who stepped forward and pulled the cover from the young man's eyes. The prisoner squinted, struggling to open them fully. His breathing quickened, and he glanced at the three of them with confusion. When his gaze fell on Bairan, his eyes widened even more. Then, turning to Hanyue, he broke into desperate cries. "Daren... Daren, I told you everything I know! Please let me go—please, Daren, please!" His voice cracked with panic. Hanyue spoke calmly, almost coldly. "You said you only did what that monk asked—buying for him. Where did you take the food and herbs?" The young man stammered, "Daren... I... I..." Hanyue's gaze sharpened. "You had better think carefully. This is the last time I will ask." Then, almost deliberately or perhaps by chance, his eyes flicked toward Bairan. Having endured a night of relentless beating, the man, seeing no other way out, trembled as he stammered, "It was... it was a cave." Hanyue's expression did not change. He did not even ask which cave. Instead, his voice stayed steady. "Tell me in detail what kind of food and herbs you brought him." "For the herbs... I do not know. He gave me a recipe, and for the food, most of it was dried goods," the young man said. Hanyue's tone sharpened slightly. "Was there dried radish among them?" Bairan's gaze did not falter; instead, her eyes traced the line of his jaw, lingering there. Hanyue braced for a flinch or a furrowed brow, but her expression remained smooth, her pulse steady at the base of her throat. A slow, sharp curve tugged at the corner of her mouth, and she gave him a single, infinitesimal nod. The young man hesitated. "I... I think so. I brought dried radish too." Hanyue fixed his gaze on the young man. "Was there anyone else with him in the cave?" The young man hesitated, stealing a glance at Bairan. "Daren... I think... she was there, too." Bairan's brow twitched, but the curve of her lips remained unchanged. "You think she was there," Hanyue asked evenly, "or you are certain?" The young man swallowed hard. "I did not go further inside. I only saw part of her face... I thought the herbs were for her... because she was unconscious." Hanyue fell silent for a moment. Then, the cold man's voice cut through the air. He tilted his chin toward the old man, "Is he the herb seller?" Bairan absently touched her ear. Why does it always feel like my ear tingles whenever he speaks? One of the subordinates stepped forward respectfully. "Yes, Master, he is the herb seller." After the cold man spoke, Hanyue turned to the trembling older man, his voice falling to a low, steady hum. "Do you know this man?" He pointed toward the young man tied to the chair. The elder's face was white as paper. "Yes, Daren... I... I know him. He has bought herbs from my store many times." Hanyue asked, "When was the first time he came to you? And what did he buy?" The old man stammered, "Daren... I cannot recall the exact day, but spring had not yet arrived. It was late at night when he came; he wanted herbs to ease pain and treat external injuries." Hanyue and the cold man exchanged a glance. The young man shouted, "Old man, stop talking nonsense! It was not me!" Hanyue turned his head slightly. "Dongpo." Dongpo stepped forward, raising his hand and striking the young man hard across the face. The prisoner cried out in pain, but Dongpo stuffed a strip of cloth into his mouth. "Shut up," he growled. The older man flinched, pressing his forehead to the ground hard. "Daren... Daren, I am not lying. Please do not let him drag my family and me into a charge of treason. Please, Daren, believe me!" Hanyue's brows knitted. "How do you remember it was him?" The old man trembled. "I remember him because it was so late at night, and he kept knocking no matter how many times I told him the shop was closed. Then he offered more silver." Seeing the old man keep pressing his forehead to the ground, Bairan bit the inside of her cheek. Finally, she said gently, "Old man, we cannot hear you clearly. If you keep pressing your forehead to the ground, why not raise your head instead? Speak slowly and tell us useful things. Since you say you are not lying, there is nothing to fear." Her soft voice cut through the heavy atmosphere of the room. The cold man and Hanyue looked at her at the same time. Bairan gave them a crooked smile. "I have bad hearing. Maybe... because of the fall." Hanyue nodded slightly, but the cold man's gaze lingered on her. She met his eyes in silence... Then, almost boldly, she offered him a small smile. "Raise your head," Hanyue said to the herb seller. The cold man looked away from Bairan, and she quietly let out a breath of relief. Why does it always feel like I owe him an explanation for everything I do...? Hanyue continued, "When was the last time he came to you? What did he buy?" The old man slowly lifted his head, his eyes flicking toward Bairan first. His wide, panicked eyes softened as he focused on her gentle demeanor instead of the imposing guards. "It was... about a month ago, maybe even less," he said. "This time, he gave me a bamboo slip and told me to prepare the herbs written there. The recipe was written carefully. Whoever wrote it clearly knew herbs well; every item was listed with the exact amount needed." The old man squinted, stared off at a fixed point on the floor, rubbed his temples, or stammered over a few broken words before finding the right ones. “The… The herbs were expensive. I told him so, but he only said to prepare them. He had enough money.” "Do you still have the bamboo slip?" Hanyue asked. "Yes, Daren. It is in my store," the old man replied quickly. Hanyue's gaze sharpened. "Do you remember what the herbs were used for?" The man nodded slowly. "They were for... repairing damaged bones, replenishing qi... and the last one, I remember well—it is something martial artists often use. It gives great energy but damages the body as well." Hanyue looked at Dongpo. "Send some men with him and bring me that bamboo slip, along with details about how much money this man gave him." The old man, his hands trembling slightly, asked in a low voice, "Daren, were my words useful?" Hanyue fixed his eyes on him. "Old man, we are not here to hurt or involve anyone unjustly. We are only looking for the traitor who committed so many unforgettable crimes. If you help us, there will be a reward." Turning to the young man, he said, "Dongyan, see how long this man can keep hiding things about that traitor, Shen Yueran." The cold man turned and strode out. Hanyue was about to leave as well, but he noticed Bairan still standing in her place. He looked at her in confusion. Bairan said calmly, "Master Pei invited me here. Was it not to see if I am involved in this case, too? It seems I am." Hanyue studied her for a moment, then let a faint smile curve his lips. "It seems you are; however, your involvement, Miss Bairan, is... rather complicated." Bairan nodded, smiling as well. "I think so... But if Master Pei is willing to grant me a little of his trusting grace, perhaps we may both find the answers we seek." Hanyue said, "Miss Bairan, for now it would be best for you to stay in your room." CHAPTER SEVEN Inside her room, Bairan glanced at the door. It was not locked, but she understood what Master Pei meant by saying, Stay in your room. She thought to herself: It is more and more likely that the person who brought my soul back was that monk. And his dead "old friend" he mentioned... most likely, was that traitor Shen Yueran, whom Hanyue and the cold man are searching for. She lay down, raising her hand, her fingers tracing the lines of the mattress. That man owes my brother a life debt. He was my enemy, and maybe he was the one who killed me in my previous life. Not only that, he committed serious crimes too—treason and harming the royal family. Bairan shook her head. Now... he has dragged me into dirty waters with him. I cannot tell Hanyue and the cold man that he is dead. Neither can I say I am a returned soul. Will they believe me? She wrinkled her nose. Why could not a good man have saved me? That would have been much better. Her fingers moved along another line on the mattress. And that monk... why would he be involved with the traitor? She bit her lip. If this body does not belong to the Lin family, it will be hard for Master Pei to believe me. I could have my portrait displayed throughout the town to find this body's real family... but that would ruin their reputation. Bairan looked at her unfamiliar hands. I need an identity to protect myself. If I am lucky, the Lin family's identity will serve well enough. Actually, any girl's identity in this town would work. It would keep me from being involved with Shen Yueran. He does not know who this body truly belongs to; he only found it by chance. She was lying on her back, and she murmured jokingly, "People get under house arrest, and here I am under inn arrest." Downstairs, beneath Bairan's room, Hanyue and the cold man sat in silence. From time to time, Hanyue glanced towards the inn's entrance. Eventually, unable to endure the silence any longer, Hanyue ventured, "Your Highness." The cold man looked at him but did not respond. "Do you think she truly does not remember anything?" Hanyue asked. After such a long silence that Hanyue almost thought he would not answer, the cold man finally replied, "Perhaps." Hanyue thought there would be more, but no other words came. Hanyue's chest tightened. Eight years ago, when he was just a boy of twelve, his elder brother Hanzhou would return from the palace smelling of dust and saddle leather, his eyes blazing with a fervor that only one man could ignite. "You should have seen the Crown Prince today, little brother," Hanzhou would laugh, tossing his cloak aside. He described how Ji Zhouyan had outmaneuvered generals at the war map or shattered a sparring partner's blade with a single, peerless strike. To Hanzhou, His Highness was a peerless light among men, carrying the weight of a great destiny as easily as a silk robe. Hanzhou used to boast that with the Crown Prince leading them, the entire world would soon rest beneath their horses' hooves. But after that accident, His Highness completely changed. He withdrew from the world. No longer chasing honor nor power. The only thing that could draw him out of his courtyard... was news about Shen Yueran. Hanyue let out a sigh. If my brother were still alive... maybe His Highness would not be so broken. But his brother would never return. He had stayed by His Highness's side because his brother always used to say: "Among all the people under heaven, I will only ever follow him." But now... His Highness did not care whether anyone followed him or not. He had let go of everything as though discarded by the world and no longer lived like a man who wished to live. Hanyue wanted to speak again, hoping His Highness would say a few more words, when Dongpo burst through the door, his chest heaving and his face flushed with the kind of grin that only comes from a successful hunt. He bowed to them with excitement and handed it to Hanyue. "Master, she is most likely a daughter of the Lin family!" Hanyue unfolded the square of silk. His breath caught. The woman in the silk portrait had the same high arched brows and the exact, haunting tilt of the eyes he had seen on Bairan just moments ago. Dongpo continued eagerly, wanting to report everything at once. "Following your order yesterday, we investigated the Lin daughters. Some of our men have already gone into the household disguised as workers. The head of the family is Lin Bowen, a famous silk merchant in town. His main wife passed away. She was the only daughter of the Chen family, and they were also a wealthy family. Their legitimate daughter, Lin Ruolan, is said to be extraordinarily beautiful. In addition, Lin Bowen has five concubines and three other children—only one son; the others are daughters." Before he could continue pouring everything out, Hanyue, still holding the portrait, said firmly, "Keep it short." Dongpo nodded but continued anyway, speaking like a storyteller. "Yes, Master. This subordinate shall explain briefly. Once our men got into the Lin residence, they searched for anything unusual. They looked through each courtyard to see if anyone was missing..." Hanyue leaned forward. "And?" Dongpo's eyes lit up. "Yes, Master. All the courtyards were normal except one. Miss Ruolan's courtyard was strangely quiet, as though no one had been living there for some time. One of our men overheard two servant girls speaking—" Hanyue interrupted, "What did they hear?" Dongpo replied, "They heard one girl sobbing, saying, 'My poor young miss, no one even knows where she has gone.' The other one scolded her, whispering, 'Lower your voice! If Master hears of this, none of us will be spared.' ...And that, Master, is why I believed something was wrong." He clasped his hands, grinning as he continued, "You must be wondering how I got this portrait." Hanyue raised an eyebrow, "How?" Dongpo puffed out his chest. "We invited a servant from Miss Ruolan's courtyard out for drinks. Once drunk, he could no longer distinguish whether he was dreaming or speaking. We asked him about Miss Ruolan's appearance, and he described her in detail, saying she was even more beautiful than her late mother, and furthermore, her father—" Clink. Ji Zhouyan placed his teacup down with a soft metallic ding—but it was enough. Dongpo instantly paused. He immediately bowed. "That is all, Master." Hanyue nodded. "Any news about the monk?" Dongpo straightened, speaking a little more seriously now. "Yes, Master. Dongyan took men into the town and the surrounding areas to make sure we get a true portrait of that monk. The young man we questioned didn't speak clearly, so Dongyan went personally to confirm things. They may return at any time." Hanyue nodded. "Ask Miss Bairan to come here." Dongpo clasped his hands. "Yes," then quickly headed upstairs. Just as he did, Dongyan entered through the inn's entrance. He was younger than Dongpo and, unlike him, rarely smiled, always carrying a straight, expressionless face. He bowed respectfully. "Master, I have returned." He drew a rolled piece of silk and a bamboo slip from his sleeve. "This is the monks' portrait. We made sure it is the right portrait of him. He helps so many villagers on the road; they recognized him immediately and told us more details about his likeness—and this is the receipt that the old man mentioned." Hanyue handed the portrait to Zhouyan. The latter unfolded it slowly. What appeared before them was a portrait of a shaven-headed monk with broad shoulders and a calm, composed face. His eyes were shaped like peach blossoms—gentle and warm. A straight nose and thin lips curved into the faintest smile, giving him a serene, almost benevolent air. Though his gray monk robes were plain, his bearing was not that of an ordinary ascetic; there was a quiet presence in him that was hard to overlook. Zhouyan stared closely into the painted eyes. Hanyue's gaze remained fixed on the portrait as well. "Master," he said quietly, "do you recognize him?" The cold man's fingers tightened slightly around the edge of the silk portrait. "...Yes." Hanyue stared at Zhouyan in silence for a moment. Finally, Zhouyan spoke, his voice calm and cold. "He and Shen Yueran were once close friends in their youth, more like sworn brothers. His name is Gu Yuxian, the second son of the Gu family." Hanyue's hand paused mid-air, his eyes widening as the name registered. "The second son of the Gu family...? I was too young to remember when he left to become a monk, but my elder brother once told me he was a peerless youth in the capital. There was no skill or art he did not excel in. Yet he chose to shave his head and enter the temple, no matter how his family begged him to stay, and no one knew why." As he mentioned his brother, Zhouyan's hand trembled slightly. But he answered faintly, "Yes... he was." Hanyue then unrolled the bamboo slip and held it out. "Your Highness, do you still remember his handwriting?" Though years had passed, Zhouyan instantly recognized the sharp, elegant sweep of the characters. He had read Gu Yuxian's poems only once in his youth, but the brushwork was etched perfectly into his mind. Even though the characters on the bamboo slip were written in poor-quality ink, the style of the strokes was unmistakable. After taking one look, Zhouyan gave a small nod. Dongyan spoke again. "Master, in the old man's records, we found out that the man who called himself Gangwe gave him three thousand taels of silver and visited him four times," he continued. "And Master, there have been some suspicious movements in town. Several men attempted to leave right after your announcement yesterday." Hanyue narrowed his eyes. "So we do have some of Shen Yueran's men here," he said coldly. "Keep your eyes on them. Let us see where they plan to gather... Is there any new news about that merchant case?" Dongyan nodded. "Yes. It was not his first time. He captured free women and children and sold them in other places as slaves. What is more, the teahouse owner confirmed that Master Tong was the one who sold that young boy to him. And when we searched his house, this is what we found." He placed a torn black square on the table. A large, rough 死 character was drawn in white. "We asked him about where he gets this," Dongyan went on. "He said that six years ago he bought slaves from a merchant in the capital, and they were given these. And he was not the only one doing this business; the innkeeper and Lin Bowen were involved, buying slaves from that group as well." Zhouyan's gaze locked onto the black fabric. For a split second, the cold mask of his face cracked, revealing a raw, jagged hatred that seemed to darken the very air around him. Hanyue touched the cloth, his voice low. "It is from the Yesha ." He looked at Dongyan. "You can withdraw now." After a while, Dongpo returned, bringing Bairan with him. After making his salute, he also withdrew, leaving only the three of them in the room. Bairan's gaze swept across Hanyue and Zhouyan. Before them on the table lay a bamboo slip and three unfolded portraits. Zhouyan did not even lift his eyes to acknowledge her; his brows were knitted, his gaze locked onto the empty space in front of him. Hanyue said politely and gestured. "Miss Bairan, please sit." When she had settled, he continued in his gentle voice, "You mentioned before that the one who saved you left behind a letter. May I ask you to show it to us?" Bairan smiled calmly. "Of course." She reached into her left sleeve and gave him the bamboo slip. Hanyue's brows lifted slightly in surprise-the slip was incomplete, with only three strips bound together. On them was written: "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 is not far. I left you 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." Hanyue studied the strokes. The handwriting was unmistakably Gu Yuxian's. Then, the one who had rescued her was more likely Gu Yuxian, not Shen Yueran. It fit better for that monk who had often lent aid to strangers along the road. But Hanyue noticed the frayed ends of the silk cords binding the bamboo—freshly cut. What is she trying to hide? Placing the bamboo slips back upon the table, Hanyue gave a small smile. "Miss Bairan, from the information we have gathered, the one who saved you may be this monk." he pointed to Gu Yuxian's portrait. Bairan leaned closer, studying the figure in the portrait, and let out a soft "hmm." Hanyue watched her carefully, searching for a flicker of recognition, but her expression remained as smooth and unreadable as a placid lake. He continued, "And your identity is most likely that of the Lin family's elder daughter—Lin Ruolan." He showed the girl's portrait to her. Bairan's eyes fixed upon the painted features. After a long pause, she murmured, almost to herself, “Yes... This looks like me." Hanyue paused. For someone with such a sharp mind, she stared at her own likeness with the detached curiosity of a stranger. His gaze lingered on her face a moment longer than before. His expression softened. even if she managed to return to the Lin estate, the path awaiting her would be fraught with daggers. From his sleeve, Hanyue drew out her hairpin and handed it to her. His voice was gentle. "This belongs to you... Now what do you intend to do?" Bairan took the hairpin and held it against her palm, inhaling softly. "Yes... This is what I gave to the innkeeper." She thought for a moment, then lifted her eyes. "Master Pei, may I ask one more favor of you?" Hanyue inclined his head. "What is it?" "I do not know what happened, nor why my family has not tried to find me," Bairan said slowly. "But I must return and make everything clear. When the time comes, you could speak as my savior, and I would be deeply grateful." "How do you plan to go back?" Hanyue asked. Bairan's lips lifted into a small smile. "If a member of my family—or better yet, my personal maid—were to come here by chance, would not she recognize me immediately?" Hanyue nodded with a smile. "That is a clever way. But Miss Bairan, or should I call you Miss Lin, can you lend us your help as well?" Bairan's calm facade held, but a slight flutter of her eyelashes betrayed her surprise. "My help... how can I help Master Pei?" Hanyue replied with a small smile, "As your savior, should not you invite us to your home and introduce us to your family?" CHAPTER EIGHT Bairan's brow twitched. She wondered what secret lay within the Lin family's courtyard that Master Pei was so eager to uncover. But she should be careful not to do something that hurts the original body's family. She smiled softly and traced her finger across her portrait. "Of course, it is what I must do to repay Master Pei, but Master Pei, I am worried my family will unknowingly offend you." Hanyue smiled even more. "Do not worry, if any misunderstanding happens, I will be the one who clears it up." Bairan nodded and clasped her hands. "I will thank Master Pei, then." Her gaze drifted across the last portrait on the table; it was a man with long black hair, phoenix eyes, a straight nose, and thin lips. Something about his gaze tugged faintly at her. Why do his eyes feel so familiar? Her glance flicked to Zhouyan, and her brows arched ever so slightly. Catching the shift, Hanyue tapped his finger lightly against the portrait. "Do you know him? Do you remember anything about this man?" Bairan shook her head, her gaze lingering on the ink strokes for a moment before she finally spoke. "No... only that he looked familiar." "Familiar?" Hanyue pressed. Bairan glanced at Zhouyan again. This time, Zhouyan looked at her directly. His expression was calm, yet in his eyes, Bairan caught the faintest trace of hate. Hanyue's gaze shifted from the portrait to Zhouyan's face. Of course, the familiarity was no coincidence. The man in the ink bore a striking likeness to the man sitting across from her. The same coldness in the brow, the same razor-sharp line of the jaw. It was the face of the man who had shared the same blood as Zhouyan—his third uncle, Shen Yueran. Hanyue caught the slight tightening in Zhouyan's expression at the mention of Shen Yueran. His gaze flickered before shifting back to Bairan. "Dongyan," he said calmly, glancing toward the roof, "go do what Miss Lin requested." Bairan did not hear any response—only a faint sound from above. Hanyue smiled at her. "Now the plan has begun. Soon, you will be reunited with your family." Bairan returned the smile, her voice warm. "Thank you, Master Pei." Her gaze drifted back to the portraits. So he was the one who asked for my soul's return. She looked up again, her voice thoughtful. "Then this must be Shen Yueran?" Hanyue asked calmly, "Why do you think so?" Bairan smiled faintly. "It is not difficult to see." She pointed at her own portrait. "This one is me." Her finger moved to Gu Yuxian's likeness. "And this is the monk." Finally, she rested her finger on the last portrait. "Then this must be the one you are searching for—Shen Yueran." Hanyue nodded. "You are right. He is the reason we came to this town." His voice grew heavier, his eyes turned cold. "He is a great evil. We intend to arrest him at any cost." At any cost...But Shen Yueran was already dead. Bairan thought. Her gaze lingered on Hanyue's calm severity, then shifted to Zhouyan. The air around him felt cold, his silence pressing in like a weight. A tight knot formed in her chest. She swallowed, the secret she carried suddenly heavier than before. It seemed Shen Yueran's crimes were not only betrayal of the country, but that he had personal debts with those men. She said softly, "What if he is dead?" Zhouyan raised his head, fixing her with a steady gaze. Bairan hurried to fill the silence. "There was a new grave... just below the cave where I woke up." Zhouyan's eyes never left hers as he spoke slowly, deliberately. "And?" Hanyue's gaze flickered between them. Bairan's eyelashes fluttered in surprise. The man who had been as mute as a stone statue had finally spoken to her—his first word was a single, sharp "And?" The corners of her lips twitched with suppressed amusement. He was certainly an interesting one. She straightened her back and continued, "When I went down into the cave, I saw the new grave. The soil was not completely dry, which means the person had not been dead for long. This morning, Master Pei questioned that prisoner about what he had bought and when. The prisoner told part of the truth—some of the things he brought were requested by the monk about a month ago—but he hid other details. The herb seller's testimony also had two parts. The first time the man went to him for medicine was nearly two months ago, before spring. He was in a hurry, desperately trying to get the herbs, which means the person was truly in need. And the herbs were meant for easing pain and treating external injuries. At that moment, you and Master Pei exchanged a glance. That suggests you either knew who had been injured... or perhaps you yourself were that person's enemy." Zhouyan's gaze deepened, but Bairan remained calm and unshaken. "You spotted him in the cave and came searching for him there. It happened to be the same cave the monk and I were in, so it held three people: me, the monk, and Shen Yueran. Master Pei said the one who saved me was the monk. And the first time I woke up, the letter instructed me to drink the medicine—the medicine bowl was still warm. That is a strong reason to believe the monk left just before I awoke." She ended with a small, knowing smile and pointed to the portraits one by one. "He is alive, and I am alive. The only one missing... is Shen Yueran. So he must be the owner of the grave." Hanyue's polite smile wavered for a fraction of a second, replaced by a glimmer of genuine astonishment. To piece all of this together after only two days... "Well, Miss Lin," he said, his tone shifting from courteous to deeply appreciative, "you have a real talent." Bairan, however, still sought Zhouyan's praise—which never came. He only looked at her, silent and unreadable. When Hanyue spoke, she turned to him and replied softly, "Master Pei must be joking. How can this be called talent? I'm just a scared bunny, worried about falling into traps." Hanyue chuckled. "If you are a 'scared bunny,' Miss Lin, then I fear the hunter is the one who should be checking his feet for traps." Bairan chuckled too. She did not know why, but with these two men, she was not afraid to show this side of herself. "Master Pei is mocking me with sweet words," she said lightly. "But it is fine—I would never set traps for someone who has helped me." The more she spoke, the deeper Zhouyan's gaze became. His fingers tightened slightly. That tone... that ease in her voice... it carried the echo of someone he could no longer reach. Hanyue smiled. "May I ask—was this bunny the same one who cut some strings from the bamboo slip?" Bairan's eyes sparkled with delight. "Maybe it was like that from the start." Hanyue raised an eyebrow. She did not even seem concerned that she might have hidden part of the bamboo slip. "He had long strips to write a receipt on," he said, "yet he used only three strips to write a letter to you." Bairan waved it off casually. "Maybe he was short of bamboo..." Then she tilted her head, frowning mysteriously. "Or who knows? Maybe someone cut it while I was still asleep." As she said "who knows," a sharp, piercing ache struck Zhouyan's temple, followed by a rush of jumbled voices. A man's angry roar cut through his mind: "Xinyi, who just knocked my head with something?" Then a woman's melodious laugh echoed: "Who knows? Maybe it was someone while I was sleeping." Zhouyan's brows knitted. He raised his hand to his temple, but the voices only grew louder. The man's anger escalated. "Who knows? It was you—wait, I will—" The woman laughed even louder, her tone teasing, pleading: "Zhouyan, help me! Hanzhou's gone crazy!" Zhouyan's hand trembled; the pounding in his head intensified. Hanyue rose, startled. "Your Highness..." he almost called, but instead worriedly asked, "Master, what is wrong?" Zhouyan lifted his eyes to Bairan, who was frozen in shock. But in her gaze, he saw none of the familiar concern that Xinyi had carried. He closed his eyes. How could there be someone like his Xinyi? When he opened them again, the cold, foggy distance had returned. He lowered his hand and stood, voice sharp and controlled. "It is nothing." Hanyue hesitated. "But Master... we should call a physician—" Zhouyan did not answer. He simply walked away. Worry etched on his face, Hanyue hurried after Zhouyan, leaving Bairan standing alone. Bairan watched his retreating figure, her brows knitting in concern. What was that look? Why did his eyes suddenly hold such despair and pain? Had I said something wrong? Bairan sat down, letting her gaze sweep over the portraits. Her fingers tapped lightly on Shen Yueran's image as she muttered to herself, "Just what was between you two? You bear his likeness, yet he hunted you to the edge of the grave. You felt no remorse for destroying me in my past life... did you do the same to him?" She shook her head. "Shen Yueran... oh, Shen Yueran. It seems in your lifetime, you made so many enemies for yourself." Her eyes drifted toward the door where Zhouyan and Hanyue had disappeared, and she touched her chin thoughtfully. If they knew Shen Yueran... perhaps they hold the key to discovering who I truly was. Not much time passed before Hanyue returned. He clasped his hands respectfully, a hint of apology in his tone. "Miss Lin, I am very sorry for leaving you like that." Bairan rose, concern in her voice. "It is alright. No need to apologize. How is your master now? Is he okay?" "He went back to his room," Hanyue replied with a soft sigh. They both sat down. He poured a cup of tea and handed it to Bairan, then poured one for himself. "He will be fine," he added. Though Hanyue still wore his usual gentle smile, Bairan could sense the deep worry hidden beneath it. She ventured carefully, "Just now... did I say something to upset your master?" He shook his head slowly, responding with a quiet gentleness. "You? No, I do not think so. It is just..." His gaze flicked toward Shen Yueran's portrait. "There are other things that trouble Master." Bairan did not press further. She sipped her tea in silence, letting the weight of his words settle. For dinner, Zhouyan did not show up, so they ate alone. Hanyue shared new information about Master Tong's case and the possibility that Baian may have been kidnapped as a child. He promised he would do everything he could to locate Baian's family and the others taken by those men. Bairan thanked him, feeling the guarded tension in her shoulders finally ease. Looking across the table at his earnest expression, she realized she was sitting opposite a truly righteous man. A warm sense of relief washed over her—having Master Pei as an ally in this unfamiliar world was a rare stroke of luck.