Bitterly Awaiting Your Return for Sixty Years

Early morning. The white frost accompanied a slightly cold wind, blowing away the lingering drowsiness of the previous day.

Luo Bai woke up slowly.

He didn’t know how he had fallen asleep, but it was a very comfortable rest, and he had a beautiful dream. He dreamed that he and Long Miaoming were married. He lifted the red bridal veil of the beauty before him; between two wisps of light smoke sat a single cinnabar mark—a beauty so breathtaking it could intoxicate the world.

Luo Bai also dreamed that he took Long Miaoming’s hand and swore a vow to grow old together, never to leave or forsake her.

And then… the dream ended.

Luo Bai stretched. No matter what, a dream was just a dream; one had to face reality while alive. Besides, wouldn’t this dream be turning into reality very soon anyway?

Suddenly, Luo Bai felt something was off.

Usually at this hour, Long Miaoming would have brought him food. Today, he was already feeling hungry, yet she hadn’t arrived.

It was strange.

Luo Bai stood up, intending to check if the girl was sleeping in, when his eyes fell upon a piece of paper on the table.

He froze.

The handwriting wasn’t beautiful; in fact, it looked a bit like chicken scratch. At the very end, there was a large blotch of ink that ruined the overall neatness.

But Luo Bai’s brow furrowed deeply.

This was written to him by Long Miaoming. It was a bit embarrassing to admit, but although her handwriting was a mess, it was undeniably the result of Luo Bai teaching her hand-in-hand. He could recognize her script at a single glance.

But her tent was right next to his; what could be so important that she had to write it down?

Luo Bai picked up the paper and began to read.

“Beautiful Brother, when you see this letter, I may already be gone. Our feelings were real, but in the end, we are immortal and mortal…”

Luo Bai read line by line. His face grew paler with every word, but he forced himself to finish it.

When he reached the end, a sense of profound powerlessness washed over him.

He was angry. He was incredibly angry. Just like that… leaving without a word?

Luo Bai crumpled the paper into a ball, intending to throw it away. But his hand hung in the air for a long time. In the end, he didn’t throw it; instead, he carefully brought it back and began to smooth it out, bit by bit.

The paper still held a faint scent of ink. It hadn’t been left right when he fell asleep; it was likely left around the Hour of the Tiger (3:00 AM – 5:00 AM).

White River City was hundreds of miles away.

That meant if he chased her now, he might still catch up. But even if he did, what then? Luo Bai wasn’t naive enough to think he could simply bring her back.

But sometimes, logic isn’t necessary. Even if it was just to see her one last time…

Luo Bai stood up and rushed out of the tent.

“Someone! Bring me a horse!”

A servant quickly ran over leading a horse. Luo Bai flipped into the saddle, his only hand gripping the reins. He took nothing else. With a squeeze of his legs, the horse raised its hooves and galloped toward the camp gates.

The general had just stepped out of his own tent. Having just woken up, he was rushing to report the military situation to Luo Bai.

They were currently only one step away from the Emperor’s throne. There were only twenty or thirty thousand Imperial Guards left inside the Capital, while they held nearly three hundred thousand troops. This was a battle they couldn’t possibly lose.

The general was full of confidence. As long as they took the Imperial City, he would be a high-ranking noble. Of course, he didn’t dare have designs on the supreme throne itself.

As the general walked onto the main path of the camp, a horse suddenly came flying toward him. He scrambled out of the way, barely avoiding being trampled.

Cold sweat broke out on his forehead. Just as he was about to burst into a string of curses, he realized the rider looked familiar.

Wasn’t that Commander Luo?!

“Commander! Commander, where are you going?!” the general shouted, chasing after him on foot.

Luo Bai looked back at the pursuing general. “White River City!”

He didn’t slow down, tossing the words back over his shoulder.

The general was stunned. White River City? That was hundreds of miles from the Capital!

“Wait! You’re going to White River City now?!”

The general couldn’t understand. In five days, they would break the city. Before them was the throne of the Son of Heaven—the dream of countless men.

“What about the throne?! What happens if you leave?!” the general screamed.

Luo Bai paused for a fraction of a second, as if he had finally considered the question. This was the goal he had pursued for so many years. And yet now, for Long Miaoming, he was throwing it away without a second thought.

Suddenly, he turned back and gave the general a smile.

“The throne… it’s yours.”

Luo Bai threw a small object toward him. The general fumbled to catch it; it was cold and oddly shaped.

“This is… the Tiger Tally.”

The general stood there, utterly lost. Luo Bai didn’t wait for a reaction. He accelerated, disappearing into the distance.

The general didn’t chase any further. He stared blankly at the piece of black stone in his hand. To be honest, this all felt… a bit like a dream.

The White River Dragon Palace

“You stay right here! Don’t you dare go anywhere!” Long Heng barked before storming out.

Long Miaoming looked around. It was her old room, unchanged. The only thing that had changed was probably herself. She hadn’t been back in seven years.

“Quite a lot of feelings, isn’t it?”

Suddenly, an out-of-place voice rang out.

Long Miaoming froze, her eyes widening in disbelief. Someone had managed to enter her room right under her father’s nose.

Sitting on her small bed, at some unknown moment, was a woman.

Hua Qianluo.

“It’s you… how did you…”

“How did I appear here?” Hua Qianluo squinted her eyes and finished the sentence with a smile.

Long Miaoming nodded dumbly.

“What’s so hard about that? In the heavens or the earth, inside or outside the three realms, there is no place I cannot go.” Suddenly, Hua Qianluo leaned in with a mysterious look. “Let me tell you, I’ve even been to the bedchambers of that old hag the Empress and that old man the Emperor. I’ve witnessed some… limited edition performance art.”

“Ah… that…”

Long Miaoming’s face turned red instantly, and she tried to move away from this “female rogue.”

But before Hua Qianluo could react, Long Miaoming started to laugh.

“Heh, you’re happy now, right?” Hua Qianluo curled her lip. “I just shared a secret that invites heavenly lightning just to cheer you up.”

“Why are you helping me?” Long Miaoming asked.

“Purely out of interest.”

“Oh.” Long Miaoming thought the reason was nonsensical, but coming from her, it felt strangely logical.

“Alright, I have to go. If I stay any longer, your old man will find me. Any words you want me to bring to your Beautiful Brother?” Hua Qianluo asked casually.

Long Miaoming froze. First, excitement flared up, but then she fell silent.

“If it’s possible…” Long Miaoming’s voice sounded pained. “Help Beautiful Brother find another wife.”

Hua Qianluo was stunned. After a long silence, she laughed helplessly.

“You girl… you really are beyond saving.”