The lamp flickered softly inside the tent, casting golden shadows along the canvas walls. Zian sat upright in bed, his face pale but his gaze firm. Mr. Su stood beside him, arms crossed, eyebrows drawn in thought.
"You endangered your life," Mr. Su said slowly, "for a woman you know nothing about. Not her name. Not where she came from. Not even how she ended up like that. And now, when I offer her a new identity to keep her safe, you refuse. Why?"
He leaned in slightly, his voice quieter.
"General… do you know her?"
Zian didn't answer right away. His eyes drifted to the flap of the tent, to the shadows dancing in the distance — where she lay sleeping under the influence of herbs.
A pause. A breath.
Then quietly, he said:
"I don't know her identity… but she was my savior."
[Flashback Begins – Jiangxi Province, Fifteen Years Ago]
It was the festival of spring and also the birthday of Gao Weiren, Vice Minister of Revenue — Zian's father. Their home in Jiangxi was bathed in lantern light and red silk, alive with music and chatter.
Guests filled the courtyard: respected officials, scholars, performers, and local gentry. Zian's father sat at the head of a long table, a proud but humble smile on his face. His mother sat beside him in elegant silks, laughter in her eyes.
Children played nearby, weaving between dancers. Among them was young Zian, a restless boy of ten, and his elder sister Gao Yan, bossy, clever, and constantly on his heels.
Gao Yan (whispering):
"If you keep stealing sweet buns, the chef's gonna curse your future wife."
Zian (mouth full):
"Then I'll marry a chef and steal double."
Gao Yan rolled her eyes.
But joy turned to chaos in a blink.
Screams. Metal clashing. Blood.
Men in black masks burst in from the shadows — assassins. They moved like shadows, blades catching moonlight.
Vice Minister Gao stood to protect his wife — but was struck down. She screamed. Then silence.
Guests scattered. Dishes shattered. The music stopped.
From the side hall, Mr. Mao, the family's loyal old butler, emerged through the smoke and chaos.
"Zian! Yan! Come, quickly!"
Grabbing their hands, he shoved open a narrow wooden door behind the stage. The children stumbled after him as the house began to burn behind them.
Outside, he knelt and looked them in the eyes.
"Run. Don't look back. Don't stop. Don't trust anyone."
Then he was gone — back into the fire.
[Nightfall – Forest Edge]
Zian and Gao Yan ran through twisted brush and uneven rocks. The night wind was cold, but fear was colder. Behind them, flames reached into the sky.
By the next evening, they were still running. Clothes torn, feet bloodied.
When they finally stopped to rest under a tree, thinking they were safe — they weren't.
A whistle. A rustle.
The assassins returned.
Too tired to scream, they ran again, but suddenly — the assassins stopped. Melted into the darkness.
Then came a low growl.
Gao Yan clutched her younger brother's hand tightly, her breathing ragged, face streaked with soot and tears. They had run for what felt like forever—through woods, over rocks, stumbling through brambles—chased by death itself.
As dusk fell and the forest thickened around them, two wolves emerged from the underbrush. One growled low, baring its teeth, stalking toward Zian with blood-red eyes.
Zian froze in place. Gao Yan stepped in front of him instinctively—only for a sharp whistle to pierce the silence.
A man, clad in dark armor, stepped from the shadows. His blade glinted as he moved between the children and the wolf, steel singing through the air. With a few decisive movements, he drove the beasts away.
Behind him stood a girl, not much older than Gao Yan, her clothes simple but clean, her eyes alert. Around her neck hung a pale jade pendant, swaying gently as she stepped forward.
"You're safe now," the girl said softly, her voice calm against the wild of the forest.
"No one will hurt you. Not while we're here."
Zian and Gao Yan dropped to their knees, breathless and trembling.
"Thank you…" Zian whispered. "Thank you, sir…"
But the man—expression unreadable—shook his head and turned to the girl beside him.
"I came because she asked me to."
The girl stepped forward and gently helped Gao Yan to her feet.
"My name is Mei," she said. "This is Rui, my guard. We heard something in the forest and came to check."
She looked them over—two children covered in ash and grief, trying to hold themselves together.
"You've been running all night, haven't you?" she asked softly.
Zian could barely nod. His legs buckled beneath him, and he collapsed into a seated position, too drained to even cry.
Mei knelt and offered them a wrapped piece of flatbread and a flask of water.
"Eat," she said gently. "Rest. You're safe now."
Neither child said a word. Gao Yan took the food with shaking hands. Zian just looked at Mei, as if trying to understand why a stranger would come to their rescue when everything else had fallen apart.
That moment—the warmth of her voice, the gleam of the jade pendant, the steadiness in her gaze—seared itself into his memory.
Mr. Su's brow furrowed as he looked between the unconscious girl and the general who now stood beside her, eyes clouded with memory.
"But General…" he said cautiously, "how can you be so sure it's her? That it was this girl who saved you back then? You were just a child, and that was years ago. Could it really be her… just because of a pendant?"
Zian didn't answer immediately. He stepped closer to the bed, gaze fixed on the small, pale jade pendant that rested near her collarbone—its surface carved with faint, intricate swirls like dancing clouds.
He exhaled slowly, as if grounding himself in a memory buried too deep.
"This pendant," he began quietly, "is made of blue jade. Not just any blue jade, but the Yuelan type—from the mines beneath Mount Liang. The stone is said to reflect light like water… and it's nearly impossible to find now."
Mr. Su blinked. "Mount Liang's mines have been sealed for decades…"
Zian nodded. "There were only a few pieces ever carved from that jade, and this design—this spiral engraving? I remember it clearly. She was wearing it when she gave us food… when she told us we were safe."
He looked back at Mr. Su, voice steadier now, almost defiant in its calm.
"You're right. I was a child. And faces can change with time. But that day…"
He glanced down at her again.
"That moment… burned itself into my memory. I may have forgotten her face, but I never forgot her pendant. And I never forgot what she did for me and my sister."
Mr. Su remained silent, the weight of Zian's words sinking into the dim stillness of the tent.
Zian's gaze lingered on the pendant, his voice low but firm.
"And now that she's here, barely holding onto life and without a name of her own… I won't hand her off to a false past just to make things easier for us. She saved my life once. The least I can do is protect hers now—with truth, not with lies."