A young lady with raven-black hair cascading like silk and startling sky-blue eyes sat gracefully among the family members and guests, her crimson robes adorned with golden embroidery that shimmered under the lantern light. Her beauty was ethereal, delicate like a plum blossom in late spring — yet her serene posture gave away nothing of her inner thoughts.
Her name was Yu Meishan, the illegitimate daughter of General Yu Zhongxian, head of the prestigious Yu family. Born to a courtesan and raised under the cold gazes of her legitimate siblings, she had long since learned how to keep her face calm while storms brewed beneath.
Today was supposed to be her engagement banquet, yet the man she was to marry — General Wen Renshu, famed for his victories at the northern border — was nowhere to be seen.
"Today is the engagement banquet, yet General Wen isn't here? Looks like she might really end up marrying General Luo's son instead…" whispered Lady Zhang Rui, the daughter of the Minister of Rites, her voice dripping with pity and delight as she hid behind a silk fan.
"I truly feel bad for Meimei. He hasn't even married her yet and he's already cheating?" said Yu Lianhua, Meishan's elder halfsister, her honeyed tone loud enough to ensure it reached the ears it was meant to sting. Lianhua wore rose-colored silk and a mocking smile, her almond-shaped eyes gleaming with cruelty.
Yet Yu Meishan sat unfazed, gently lifting her teacup with steady fingers. Her gaze remained fixed on the floating lotus candles as if she hadn't heard a word.
'If only he were cheating openly,' she thought, her lips curling ever so slightly in amusement.
'Then I'd have grounds to cancel this farce of a wedding. I could live peacefully… A carefree life in the countryside doesn't sound too bad either.'
Her eyes flicked toward the entrance, not in hope, but in calculation. If Wen Renshu dared show his face tonight, she'd have to act the part. If he didn't — she might just have the perfect excuse to rewrite her fate.
And this time, she wasn't going to die for anyone.
---
As the murmurs continued around her, the golden lantern light flickered — and for a brief moment, Yu Meishan felt the weight of another time, another life, pressing heavily on her chest.
The scent of blood. The thunder of hooves. The screams.
Her teacup trembled slightly.
The banquet hall faded away.
---
In her past life…
The palace had burned red against the twilight sky.
Yu Meishan, once dressed in bridal red, had stood before the gates of the Luo Manor, her hands chafed raw from scrubbing floors no servant dared touch. They said she was lucky to marry into General Luo's family — a match arranged when Wen Renshu mysteriously disappeared from the capital and her own family discarded her like broken porcelain.
She remembered that wedding day clearly.
"Smile," her husband, Luo Zhenyu, had hissed through clenched teeth, gripping her wrist so hard her bangles shattered. "You're the general's daughter. Act like it. Or are you thinking of seducing some other man?"
"No, I—"
Slap.
The taste of iron flooded her mouth. That had been the beginning.
Luo Zhenyu — son of General Luo Yuanhai, celebrated in court for his valor and filial piety — was a devil behind closed doors. Paranoid. Violent. Humiliated by Meishan's quiet grace and inability to bear children. His insecurities sharpened into cruelty.
He had accused her of infidelity. Locked her in a dark storage room during the winter. Once, he nearly pushed her off a tower during a drunken rage.
But she never cried. Not once.
Because there was no one who would listen.
Not even Wen Renshu, her only friend from youth, who had returned too late from the northern border. He had tried to intervene once, and that was the last time she saw him.
Years passed.
When the empire fell into war, Luo Zhenyu was conscripted to the front lines. Meishan had watched from the city walls as the enemy banners rose higher than the capital's towers. She was already coughing blood by then — from illness, from injuries too long untreated.
They said her husband died a hero.
They said she died in her sleep.
They were wrong.
---
Back to the present…
"Meishan?" A soft voice interrupted her thoughts.
It was her younger cousin, Yu Shuying, a shy girl with round cheeks and gentle eyes. "You're holding the teacup too tightly."
Yu Meishan blinked, as if waking from a long, cold dream. The porcelain had cracked in her grip.
She smiled gently. "Thank you."
Her fingers relaxed, and she set the cup down.
'Not this time,' she thought. 'This time, if I must marry, I'll choose the devil myself. Or no one at all. I am sure General Wen will not come.'
The doors creaked open.
All heads turned toward the entrance. A tall figure entered — clad in ceremonial black armor trimmed with silver, his deep-set obsidian eyes scanning the hall like a hawk. His jaw was sharp, his brows furrowed in what might have been worry… or fury. The cloak trailing behind him was dark as a storm cloud.
Wen Renshu had arrived.
The hall fell silent.
Wen Renshu's presence sucked the air from the room — not because he was fearsome in appearance, though he certainly was — but because no one had expected him to appear. Not after the whispers. Not after the delay.
Certainly not Yu Meishan.
Her breath caught.
The golden embroidery along her sleeves fluttered faintly as a draft from the open doors swept through the room. She stared — stunned, unreadable — as the man she'd thought had abandoned her strode forward with a soldier's confidence and a gaze locked only on her.
He looked different from the boy she remembered in that other life. Taller, broader, his face carved with the discipline of war. Yet beneath the cool edge of command, there was something startlingly familiar in the way his lips curved slightly — the same soft warmth in his eyes she hadn't seen in years.
Wen Renshu halted a few steps away, ignoring the stares, the murmurs, even the sharp, curious glance from her father at the head of the table.
"Meishan," he said, his voice low and clear. "Forgive me for being late."
His tone held no mockery, no pretense of nobility. Only sincerity — the kind that turned heads.
Yu Lianhua scoffed behind her wine cup. Lady Zhang Rui's fan fluttered frantically in front of her face as she leaned in to whisper something scandalized. But Yu Meishan barely heard them.
Her heart thudded once, hard, against her ribs.
She schooled her expression quickly, the years of cold etiquette pulling her spine straight, but her voice came out slightly thinner than she would have liked. "General Wen is not late. The banquet has only just begun."
His eyes softened at her words — not because of the courtesy in her tone, but because he saw past it.
"I would have arrived sooner," he said, stepping closer. "But I wanted to come in proper form. You deserve nothing less."
His gaze dipped to the cracked teacup on the table before her. A flicker of concern crossed his face.
"Did something happen?"
Yu Meishan blinked once. Then, for the first time that evening, she smiled — not the faint, amused smile she offered her enemies, but a quiet, uncertain one. As if she were being offered something she wasn't sure she could trust.
"No," she murmured. "Nothing at all."
Wen Renshu hesitated, then bent slightly — not enough to bow, but enough to place himself just below her eye level, his voice pitched only for her to hear.
"I came back for you, Meishan. I won't disappear again."
Her fingers curled slightly beneath the tablecloth.
She didn't answer.
She didn't believe him. Not yet.
But it was the first time someone had said they came back — for her.
And it shook her more than she wanted to admit.