Bitterly Awaiting Your Return for Sixty Years

“You husband and wife are exactly the same!”

Hua Qianluo glared at Luo Bai with a look of deep frustration, her expression one of “hating that iron cannot become steel.”

“My tongue is nearly worn thin from talking—how can I not convince you? You are human, she is immortal; the two of you are destined to have no result.”

Luo Bai remained leisurely, staring at the tea in his hand as if he hadn’t heard a word she said. When the tea had cooled slightly, he took a small sip.

“Just tell me one thing: when will she come out again?”

“Who knows when!” Hua Qianluo felt her eyelid twitching. After all her incessant chatter, the man hadn’t listened to a single word. Her tone turned sharp and mocking. “It could be decades, a hundred years, or a lifetime that you’ll never see the end of. Do you still intend to wait?”

Most people, when faced with something they know is unattainable, choose to give up. Hua Qianluo believed Luo Bai was that kind of person—because he was smart, smarter than most. He wouldn’t choose to do something that looked so utterly foolish.

And then…

“I will wait.”

Luo Bai’s answer consisted of only those three words.

Fuming with rage, Hua Qianluo turned on her heel and left, muttering as she walked, “I have truly never seen a fool like you. So exceptionally, incredibly stupid!”

Luo Bai watched her leave. He didn’t stop her, nor did he ask anything more.

Luo Bai settled down in White River City. A lone man, he used the remaining silver he had to buy a restaurant to serve as both his home and his livelihood.

That year, he was twenty-eight.

In an ordinary household, a twenty-eight-year-old man would already be sending his children to school. Luo Bai remained alone.

That same year, living beneath the river, Long Miaoming received a reply from Hua Qianluo: I’m sorry, I couldn’t persuade him.

Just as Hua Qianluo had said, Luo Bai was indeed very smart.

The restaurant flourished quickly. In less than a year, it became the premier establishment in White River City. Meanwhile, news arrived that the rebel army had captured the Capital. Everyone knew the Heavenly Dynasty was about to face a change in the heavens.

But clearly, the changing of the guard had nothing to do with commoners like them. As long as they didn’t resist, no one would go out of their way to torment them. The only strange occurrence was a visit from a high-ranking official from the Capital, but they left in disappointment.

That year, Luo Bai was thirty. It was also the year of the new Emperor’s coronation.

Another ten years passed, and Luo Bai still had not taken a wife.

He often walked along the banks of the White River. Whenever he encountered fishermen catching fish, he would buy them and release them back into the water.

“Little fish, little fish… I wonder if you can take my thoughts to her?”

Luo Bai watched the fish vanish into the water in an instant and let out a self-deprecating laugh. Really, how could a common fish understand what he was saying?

He stood up and continued his walk along the river. He didn’t know that Long Miaoming could see everything. She watched as he missed the age for starting a family, watched as he transformed from a spirited youth into a middle-aged man.

Ultimately, she felt a profound sense of self-reproach. After all, it was all because of her.

That year, Luo Bai was forty.

Five years later, the world fell into chaos again. Once there was proof from predecessors, successors naturally followed suit. The King of Xizhou, who had endured for fifteen years, raised an army of 500,000 to rebel against the new dynasty.

Once again, the Capital sent people to White River City to invite Luo Bai back.

Luo Bai agreed.

Before leaving, he set out some offerings by the river. These offerings were not quite “traditional”—they were pastries and sweets, everything Long Miaoming loved to eat. Luo Bai said nothing, eating the pastries piece by piece.

Luo Bai left for five years. The rebellion was suppressed, the King of Xizhou was executed, and Luo Bai declined all imperial rewards. He wanted neither beauties nor high office. Upon leaving, he took only a single pouch of silver for travel expenses.

He remained a solitary figure. Aside from checking the restaurant’s accounts, he spent his days staring at the river.

That year, Luo Bai was fifty.

Perhaps only those who have witnessed disaster realize how small human beings truly are.

Heavy rains flooded the upper reaches of the White River. The floodgates failed to hold, and White River City, located downstream, bore the brunt of the catastrophe. Ruined walls were washed everywhere, and survivors huddled together, trembling.

Luo Bai was by the river at the time, murmuring to the water. The sudden flood left him nowhere to run. Just as he was about to be swallowed by the current, he saw a green dragon leap high from the surface of the river.

the divine dragon coiled around him, shielding him from the deluge. Before Luo Bai could confirm what he saw, the dragon vanished.

When Luo Bai returned, he used his entire fortune to build two drainage canals for White River City.

This year, he was sixty. An old man, and still alone.

Long Miaoming had acted without permission. When Long Heng found out, he was furious, but seeing the stubbornness in his daughter’s eyes, he finally sighed. He would pretend he hadn’t seen it.

The Emperor passed away, and a new monarch ascended the throne. The first thing the new ruler did was sweep away all obstacles. Generals with heavy troops and powerful ministers were all purged.

The new monarch, who had grown up listening to the stories of “Luo Bai the War God,” naturally took notice of him—even though Luo Bai was now an old man in his seventies with hair as white as frost.

Forced by circumstance, Luo Bai gave up everything and moved to a patch of wasteland by the river. The local people took the initiative to help him build a small thatched hut; after all, they or their parents had all been touched by Luo Bai’s grace. They knew how to repay a debt of gratitude.

Long Miaoming continued to watch him, separated by a surface of water, by thousands of mountains and seas.

Luo Bai became one of the longest-lived elders in White River City, now in his eighties. He dug his own grave. The residents of the city took turns bringing him food.

It was exactly as Hua Qianluo had said: Luo Bai had waited a lifetime, and it seemed he would never see Long Miaoming again. He was eighty; he didn’t know how many years he had left.

Long Miaoming tried to force her way out of the Dragon Palace, but her room was bound tight by Long Heng using Immortal-Binding Ropes. She had no way out. Luo Bai only wanted to see her one last time.

She pleaded, she went on hunger strikes, she even resorted to self-harm. She used every method she could think of, but she could not move Long Heng’s heart of stone.

For the first time, she hated her immortal body—she couldn’t even follow Luo Bai into the Yellow Springs of death.

But today, a guest arrived at the White River Dragon Palace. Unlike the last time she snuck in, this time, Hua Qianluo entered through the front gate.