Once Promised the World as a Betrothal Gift, Now Only a Single Soul Remains

It was unknown what Hua Qianluo had said to Long Heng, but after a gap of more than fifty years, Long Heng finally agreed to let Long Miaoming go ashore to see Luo Bai. Looking at the complex mix of anger and helplessness on her father’s face, Long Miaoming set foot on land once again.

It was another early spring, a time of new birth. A touch of fresh green dotted the withered branches along the riverbank as the sleeping Luo Bai woke up.

A person’s life can be said to be long, yet it is also short. Luo Bai had lived for more than eighty years—an age most ordinary elderly people never reach. But in his entire life, he had done only one thing, and it remained a distant, unfinished hope. Luo Bai felt he should have died long ago, but the obsession in his heart had kept him alive until now.

With great difficulty, he put on his clothes and stood up, preparing to go out for a walk. Outside the door of his thatched hut lay the surging White River. Propped up by his cane, he walked slowly and leisurely along the bank.

“Old Luo!”

On a fishing boat by the river, a young fisherman smiled and waved at him. These were the children of a new generation, now grown into adults. Everyone raised in White River City knew that such an old man lived by the riverbank.

In his youth, he had conquered the world, his blade pointing the way, with no one able to withstand him. In his middle age, his wealth was unmatched, and he saved the nation and its people without seeking reward. In his old age, he brought blessings to the entire city, yet in the end, he had nothing. He never married and was destined to die alone.

But perhaps only Luo Bai himself understood that he had never been lonely in his life. The White River was a mirror, separating them by mountains and seas, yet keeping them close.

Still, it is said there are three ways to be unfilial, and having no descendants is the greatest. He supposed he had failed his ancestors in that regard.

As Luo Bai continued walking, a sudden wave rose from the surface of the White River. As fate would have it, Luo Bai was standing right beneath where the wave would crash.

“Old Luo!” He heard the frantic shout of the young man nearby.

But it was too late. The wave was already upon him, towering higher than he was. At his age, his body wouldn’t survive such a blow. Luo Bai closed his eyes, accepting his fate.

A sigh sounded from nowhere, and the wave never fell. Instead, only a few stray droplets splashed onto Luo Bai’s face.

“Beautiful Brother, why are you so careless?”

The voice was hauntingly familiar. Luo Bai opened his clouded eyes and looked at the person before him. It was her—the one he had waited for for more than half his life!

Luo Bai stood dazed, his dry lips trembling. Two lines of murky tears rolled down his face.

“It… is…” Luo Bai’s lips quivered. For the past two years, he had been unable to speak in full sentences, mostly forcing out words one by one.

“It’s me,” Long Miaoming smiled, her eyes full of heartache.

“Good… good…”

The wave fell harmlessly back into the river, revealing Luo Bai and Long Miaoming standing on the bank.

“Beautiful Brother, let’s go back.” Long Miaoming took a deep breath, trying hard not to cry.

Perhaps sixty years is but a blink of an eye for an immortal. But for a human, it is an entire lifetime. The young people by the river saw Long Miaoming and were so stunned they couldn’t speak.

“That is… the Fairy of the White River.”

Long Miaoming helped Luo Bai back to the small thatched hut. There, Hua Qianluo had already been waiting for a long time.

When Luo Bai saw Hua Qianluo, he remembered the divination he had once cast. He never expected that single slip of paper would truly define his entire life. Seeing them return, Hua Qianluo smiled and waved her hand. Countless red silks flew in from nowhere, dancing around the small hut and decorating it like a bridal chamber.

“Go inside. I will witness your marriage.”

Luo Bai opened his mouth, but found he had nothing left to say. Hua Qianluo smiled, reached out, and two newly tailored wedding robes appeared on Luo Bai’s bed.

This was a wedding delayed by fifty years, one that had nearly been delayed by a lifetime.

The world says a human lives a hundred years for a lifetime, while a dragon passes a single year for every sixty. It was exactly as it appeared now: the general was in his twilight years, while the beauty remained as she was at the beginning. Yet, no one could have guessed that they had truly and deeply loved each other for a lifetime.

“Are you ready?” Hua Qianluo looked at the two of them.

Long Miaoming and Luo Bai both nodded.

“Then let us begin.” Hua Qianluo cleared her throat.

“First bow to Heaven and Earth, a fate destined for three lives and three worlds…”

Long Miaoming supported Luo Bai as they knelt toward the divine tablets on the table.

“Second bow to the Elders, a debt of gratitude greater than mountains and seas…”

Long Heng was unwilling to appear at their wedding, so they could only bow to Hua Qianluo. Supported by the girl, Luo Bai bowed again.

“Third bow to each other, wishing only to grow old together…”

At this, both Luo Bai and Long Miaoming smiled. They both knew that “growing old together” was an impossibility now. Yet they bowed with absolute sincerity. They were not bowing for this life alone, but for every life to come.

“Send them to the bridal chamber!” Hua Qianluo smiled, stood up, and stepped outside. She knew they needed time alone.

Inside the hut, Long Miaoming looked at Luo Bai.

“No… more… regrets…” Luo Bai said with great effort.

In the winter of that year, Luo Bai died.

Long Miaoming personally buried him in the grave he had prepared for himself by the river. Luo Bai’s soul stood before his own tomb. In that moment, he was no longer a withered old man; he had returned to the appearance of his youth.

Long Miaoming’s eyes were red, her body trembling as she fought back tears. Luo Bai reached out, wanting to comfort her, but his hand passed through her body without resistance. Two ethereal figures, one black and one white, appeared beside him.

Luo Bai gave a self-deprecating smile. A newly departed soul always forgets that they are already dead. The time had come; it was time for him to go.

“Beautiful Brother, I… I can’t let you go…”

“We… we just got together…”

Long Miaoming tried to grab Luo Bai’s hand, but she, too, passed right through him. Even the Ghost Messengers sighed. They had claimed many souls of lovers, but for the first time, even they felt a touch of pity. Luo Bai had killed too many in his life, and he had broken the taboo between immortal and mortal. Whether he could even reincarnate was still uncertain.

“Girl…” Luo Bai looked at her. “Promise me, if there really is a next life… don’t like me again.”

Long Miaoming watched as Luo Bai drifted further away, and Luo Bai watched her with lingering longing.

“Stop looking,” a Ghost Messenger sighed. “Once you drink the soup of Granny Meng, forgetting each other won’t be a bad thing.”

Luo Bai turned back and smiled. Once, he had wanted to be a savior, to achieve great deeds. But perhaps fate had purposefully made things difficult for him by letting him meet Long Miaoming. From that moment on, his heart held nothing else.

Luo Bai touched the journal in his sleeve. On the final page, there was only one sentence:

First the beauty, then the common people; I would rather fail the world than fail you.