Chapter 7 - 7

 🪷 The Promise

The rooster's cry shattered the dawn, golden light creeping over the rooftops. Life stirred, sluggish and unhurried—except for Xian Lian. She stood rigid, eyes locked on the commotion at the gates. A farmer argued with the guards, their voices sharp against the morning hush. A perfect distraction.

She moved swiftly, silently.

The marketplace hit her senses—the tang of pickled vegetables, the oily richness of fried dough, and the chorus of merchants shouting their wares. It was a world in motion, yet she felt adrift with her body present but her mind elsewhere. She should have been with Zhiyong. Was he safe? Did he think of her?

A palanquin's embroidered curtain snapped shut, jolting her back to the present.

"Aiyah! Do you not know who I am? Move aside!" A sharp voice cut through the market's din. Xian Lian tensed. Then—movement beside her. A poised and deliberate woman brushed off her sleeve with an air of quiet authority as if she dictated the pace of the world rather than succumbed to it.

"Did they hurt you?" The woman's voice was steady and soothing. Xian Lian swallowed hard and shook her head, fingers curling against the fabric of her sleeve. She wished it were Zhiyong standing beside her.

The nobleman emerged from the palanquin, his smirk faltering when he saw the confrontation.

"What's going on here?" he sneered as his eyes narrowed at the woman beside Xian Lian.

She met his gaze with cool defiance. "A leader's strength lies in restraint. Yours is… lacking."

The man's irritation flared. "Do you know who I am?" he demanded. "I am Shilang Shijue!"

The woman remained unimpressed. "And that means what? A leader who disregards his people is no leader."

A vein pulsed in Shijue's temple. Fury twisted his features. "How dare you!" he roared. "Seize her!"

The palanquin bearers tensed, but a cool, unhurried voice interrupted.

"What's happening, Lord Shijue?"

A noble boy, Lui Hao Jian, spoke lightly, almost indifferently, but his presence carried weight. Shijue turned as his rage morphed into exaggerated humility.

"Young Lord, this lady ran into my palanquin. I was hurrying to meet your father," he explained smoothly. Hao Jian barely glanced at him. Instead, his gaze lingered on Xian Lian. She felt his stare like a chain tightening around her, but she kept her head bowed, willing herself to be invisible.

"My father never summoned you. He left for a hunt this morning," Hao Jian said flatly. He waved a dismissive hand. "Return to your residence."

A quiet snicker escaped the woman beside Xian Lian. Shijue stiffened as his face burned with humiliation. Without another word, he retreated, barking at his men to carry him away.

"Return at once!" he barked tingly with barely controlled rage as the palanquin pulled away.

The woman turned to Hao Jian, bowing deeply. "Thank you for your help, Young Lord Lui Hao Jian."

Hao Jian nodded, but his gaze lingered on Xian Lian, who was still hidden behind the woman. She could feel the weight of his stare but remained still as her anxiety was simmering beneath the surface.

"I will take my leave now," the woman said with her voice soft yet final.

"Okay," Hao Jian replied though his curiosity was still evident, and he offered no further comment. The woman grabbed Xian Lian's hand, pulling her gently toward the edge of the marketplace, away from prying eyes. Once they were hidden from view, she knelt down, concern in her gaze.

"Are you all right?" she asked gently.

Xian Lian nodded as her voice barely a whisper. "Thank you... I owe you."

The woman exhaled as tension drained from her shoulders. "It could have been worse. That young noble saved you from a worse fate."

Xian Lian stayed silent while her mind replayed the scene, each detail sharper than the last. The nobleman's sneer. The woman's defiance. The anger bubbling beneath the surface.

The woman studied her for a moment, then lowered her voice. "Do you have anyone here? Family?"

Xian Lian hesitated, feeling her heart heavy with the weight of the truth she couldn't reveal.

"I... I'm searching for someone," she murmured, carefully choosing her words. A flicker of resolve steadied her. "I seek to sow harmony and uproot deceit."

The woman's eyes sharpened with quiet curiosity, but she didn't press further. She glanced around to ensure they were not being watched, then lightly grasped Xian Lian's arm. "Come with me. I know a place where you can rest."

Xian Lian recognized the name of the inn—Ruqi's—and nodded, a small spark of hope reigniting within her.

Days at Ruqi's passed in a blur of routine—serving meals, cleaning tables, and the rhythmic clash of wooden swords at night. But beneath the surface, uncertainty gnawed at her. Zhiyong's absence was an unanswered question, a void she could not fill. Every night, before blowing out the candle, she often found her fingers tracing the space near her chest as if the pendant still rested there, a lingering memory of the last time she saw Zhiyong. She had given it to him before they parted, entrusting him with the only piece of her mother's legacy she had left. Zhiyong saved her. Zhiyong was supposed to return. Ruqi noticed her restlessness.

"You still believe he'll come back?" Ruqi asked one evening, her voice softer than usual.

Xian Lian nodded while she tightened her throat. "I have to."

But peace never lasted long.

Hao Jian continued his visits. He watched her—not with the idle flirtation of a bored noble, but with something deeper. Something wrong.

Ruqi leaned against the counter, her tone laced with quiet warning. "A noble's patience is never without intent. Before, Hao Jian chased distractions. Now? He's watching. Waiting. And that's far more dangerous."

Xian Lian felt it, too. His gaze followed her like a shadow, lingering, assessing. Sometimes, it wasn't just curiosity—it was possession, a silent demand she had no desire to meet. He wasn't Zhiyong—he wasn't the one she wanted.

One evening, the inn buzzed with chatter and clinking cups—until Hao Jian stepped inside. The air shifted. Laughter softened. A few patrons straightened their backs. His gaze locked onto hers, a smile forming. Too soft. Too knowing.

Xian Lian's stomach twisted. She nodded stiffly, ready to flee.

"Xian Lian." Ruqi's voice. A lifeline. She handed her a book. "Take this to the back. Bring me the pagers."

She turned, grasping the excuse—

"Xian Lian."

Hao Jian's voice. Soft. Insistent. Trapping her mid-step.

Her breath caught. A whisper of panic curled in her stomach, but she forced herself to remain composed. She turned slowly, meeting his gaze with carefully measured coolness.

"Sir Lui," she greeted steadily but distantly.

"Are you busy tonight?" His tone was warm, but something oily slithered beneath it, something that made her skin crawl.

"I… I have duties," she answered quickly, stepping back. "I can't."

Hao Jian smiled, unfazed. "Then how about joining me for the Lantern Festival?"

Xian Lian's heart pounded. A refusal could wound his pride, a noble's pride. And that was dangerous.

She swallowed. "I don't know, Sir Lui. I'll think about it."

With a quick bow, she turned and hurried away, feeling his gaze burning into her back.

Lord Lui returned from Nanjiang, unaware of his son's growing obsession.

"The house is too quiet," he mused as his sharp gaze swept across the grand hall. "Where is Hao Jian?"

The steward hesitated. "He… has been frequenting an inn."

The air stilled. The flame of a nearby candle flickered, its soft glow reflecting in Lord Lui's narrowed eyes.

"Summon him," he ordered coldly and deliberately. "I will meet this woman myself."

The night deepened, shadows stretching long across the cobbled streets as a carriage departed from the Lui estate. Within the hour, the heavy doors of Ruqi's inn swung open.

Hao Jian's men escorted Hao Jian back to the Lui residence. Their grip was firm but not rough, and though his hands were bound, he carried himself with tense dignity. He straightened his robes while the tension coiled in his stance as he waited—waited for what came next.

Elsewhere, the murmur of customers dulled, a hush spreading through the room as Lord Lui entered the inn, flanked by three guards.

Behind the counter, Ruqi stiffened, sensing the shift in the air. Before she could move, Xian Lian stepped forward while her expression was composed despite the unease curling in her chest.

"Welcome. How may I assist you?" Her voice was steady, even as anxiety gnawed at her.

Lord Lui exhaled slowly, studying her. "Would you grant me a moment of your time? There's something I wish to understand."

Xian Lian nodded, fingers clenching in her sleeves. She gestured toward the door. "Of course. We can speak privately."

Inside, the silence stretched between them.

"I hear my son has taken an interest in you," Lord Lui said. "Is that true?"

Xian Lian's smile was faint, a mask. "Yes, but I've made it clear—I don't return his feelings."

He paused as his gaze was unreadable. "Why?"

The weight of her next words pressed against her ribs. One wrong move and she could lose everything. But an unfamiliar flicker of doubt stirred in her chest. Was she truly certain? She had waited for Zhiyong for so long, but what if… what if he never returned?

"I'm waiting for someone," she said quietly. "Someone who hasn't come back."

Lord Lui's expression shifted—less nobleman, more father. "Hao Jian's mother died when he was a boy. I was distant, and he…" A sigh, brief but heavy. "He struggles to reach people."

Xian Lian's throat tightened. She forced a polite but measured response. "I appreciate your concern, but my heart lies elsewhere."

She met his gaze, unyielding. "I want to see the world—not stay in this village."

A long silence. Then, finally, Lord Lui nodded. "I respect your honesty."

Tension bled from her shoulders, but she didn't fully relax until he was gone.

Outside, Ruqi caught her arm. "Everything all right?"

Xian Lian forced a smile. "Everything's fine. Let's get back to work."

Ruqi didn't push, but her gaze lingered a moment longer as if sensing the lie.

The inn returned to its usual hum—clinking cups, murmuring patrons—but outside, the world felt different. A hush had settled over the streets, subtle but undeniable. Xian Lian exhaled slowly, but the unease remained.

What if the world she had been waiting for no longer existed?

She had clung to hope, to memories—Zhiyong's voice, his promise—but what if time had unraveled them? What if he was gone, not in distance, but in a way that could never be undone?

At the far end of the marketplace, a merchant's voice cut through the quiet, drawing her eye.

"Another lost traveler," he sighed, nudging an old pendant across his stall. Tarnished metal, the string frayed with time. "Poor fool must've dropped it on the road."

Xian Lian stared at it, her pulse quickening. The sight of it—forgotten, abandoned—made something twist deep inside her. Had she become just like that? Waiting, believing… only to be left behind?

A sudden chill prickled down her spine.

She turned toward the village gates, but there was nothing—just the night wind stirring the dust. Yet, something pulled at her, an unshakable feeling that she couldn't name.

Far beyond the walls, beneath the silver glow of the moon, a lone rider sat motionless atop his horse. The lantern light from the village flickered in the distance, but he remained in the shadows—watching. Waiting.

The wind stirred, rustling his cloak, but he did not move. Only his grip tightened around the hilt of his sword, where a pendant swayed—a silent echo of the past, a promise yet to be fulfilled.

His breath left him in a slow, measured exhale. His gaze never wavered from the village.

Did she still remember? Had she stopped waiting?

Fingers brushed over the pendant, tracing its familiar weight. For a long moment, he lingered, caught between hesitation and resolve.

Then, his whisper cut through the night, low and unwavering.

"Wait for me, Xian Lian."