Chapter Two Who Are You to Me, and Who Am I to You

Lin Miao-miao’s vision darkened, her head swimming with confusion and a sharp pain in her neck. She sensed something protruding nearby, something she could use to support herself and try to stand. So she grasped at it and pushed herself up, only to collapse back down. Once more, she tried to rise, only to fall again.

At that moment, Li Yanhe, sword in hand, was making his way toward her, guided by the noise. He saw Lin Miao-miao struggling to get up, clearly trying to lift herself to her feet. With a sigh, he reached out to steady her. Feeling someone supporting her, Lin Miao-miao suddenly thought a good Samaritan had come to her rescue. She turned to Li Yanhe, exclaiming, “Oh, brother! Thank you so much! Please, call an ambulance for me!”

As she finally managed to stand and opened her eyes, Lin Miao-miao realized the surroundings had changed completely. Instead of the familiar cityscape, she found herself among low, single-story houses. Many of the buildings were already burned, and bodies lay nearby—dead. It was her first time seeing such a scene, and the fear gripped her with icy fingers.

Then she looked at the man before her, sword in hand, dressed in ancient garb. Bewildered, she glanced down at her own small hands and feet. The world spun, her face felt damp, and when she wiped it with her hand, she saw red—blood.

“Blood. It’s blood,” she murmured, her eyes darting to the lifeless bodies. The first thought that flashed through her mind was that she had stumbled into a murder scene—a crime had just taken place. It was more brutality than she had ever witnessed. She could no longer contain herself and screamed.

Li Yanhe, startled by her outburst, quickly covered her mouth. Cold sweat beaded on his forehead—the marauders were not far off, and if they heard her shriek, they might return. Sighing, he kept his hand over her mouth as they quietly left the ruined house. Li Yanhe moved with caution, carrying Lin Miao-miao in his arms as they slipped away.

Just as they turned to leave, a fierce-looking man burst in, brandishing a blade, an earring with a stone dangling from his ear—a symbol of some unknown tribe. The man kicked the door open, surveyed the empty house, and, seeing no one inside, departed.

Lin Miao-miao watched this savage giant, weapon slung over his shoulder, while the man beside her kept her silent and hidden. She began to piece things together.

Li Yanhe sighed with frustration. The Lin family’s tragedy had been brought upon them because of him. The northern invaders had clearly been planning this for a long time. They only stole goods, women, and children—the men were killed outright. Li Yanhe’s brows furrowed as he spoke seriously to Lin Miao-miao, “Climb on my back and stay quiet. I know you’re afraid of me, but you also know I mean you no harm. If you’re scared, cover your eyes and mouth. I’ll take you out of the village.”

Hearing his words, Lin Miao-miao nodded. As the man hoisted her onto his back, she realized with a start that she seemed to be a child.

With Lin Miao-miao clinging to his back, Li Yanhe carried her out of the chaos. She was so frightened she could only stare wide-eyed, speechless. Li Yanhe sighed. The northern tribes had invaded, and as a general, he was their prime target. They had followed his trail, turning the village into an inferno of slaughter and pillage.

Yet there was nothing Li Yanhe could do—his first duty was to escape safely. Only then could the millions of troops in Dayong Bay avoid panic and disarray.

Slumped on Li Yanhe’s back, Lin Miao-miao gazed at the devastation. Clearly, this was a village, now consumed by flames. The attackers wore unfamiliar clothing, nothing like the people of the Central Plains, and each carried a blade. The man carried her through the woods, leaping from tree to tree.

At last, Lin Miao-miao understood—she had traveled through time.

She could feel Li Yanhe’s kindness. From his words, she learned that she had not only transmigrated, but her parents were likely dead. This man seemed to know her, for he knew of her parents.

Piecing everything together, Lin Miao-miao suddenly felt certain this man was connected to her in some way—otherwise, why would he say that she usually feared him?

Li Yanhe was wounded. He stopped at the mouth of a cave and looked back at the burning village. He knew the marauders would leave with their loot by nightfall, not wanting further trouble. They would not come this far, making this place relatively safe. Li Yanhe set Lin Miao-miao down, and she looked at his face.

He had striking features—handsome and resolute, with sword-shaped brows and phoenix eyes that now gazed intently at her.

Lin Miao-miao cleared her throat, licked her lips, and asked, “Brother, can I ask—what are you to me?”

Before Li Yanhe could answer, she continued, “And what am I to you?”

He was momentarily taken aback. The Lin family’s little girl usually avoided him like the plague, never daring to speak, always running away at the sight of him. Yet now she was asking, “What are we to each other?”

Li Yanhe pondered, just as Lin Miao-miao blurted out, “Brother, you’re not saying anything—don’t tell me I’m your child bride?”

Li Yanhe was dumbfounded, on the verge of protest, when Lin Miao-miao cried out, “Oh heavens! What is this? Are you toying with me, fate? Is this some kind of cosmic joke?”

“Is it because I used to offer you less incense during rituals? When my mother worshipped you, I’d secretly spit at your altar—so is this my punishment?”

Seated on the ground, she muttered under her breath. Though her voice was low, Li Yanhe, with his keen senses as a martial artist, caught every word.

He was at a loss for words when she suddenly mustered the courage to ask, “What’s my name, then?”

Li Yanhe raised an eyebrow, his tone cold. “You don’t even remember your own name?”

Trying to play it off, Lin Miao-miao replied, “Of course I know! My name is Lin Miao-miao, isn’t it?”

Li Yanhe said nothing. In truth, he only knew her by her childhood name, Miao-miao.

Seeing his silence, Lin Miao-miao ventured, “Well, um, brother, you…”

But as the man cast a glance her way, Lin Miao-miao immediately shrank back, her bravado vanishing. She licked her lips nervously, and with a fawning, ingratiating tone, ventured, “H-husband?”

When he didn’t respond, she tried again, “Darling? Sweetheart? Honey?”

But the man before her remained cold and unresponsive. Lin Miao-miao pouted and muttered under her breath, “So even in ancient times, men can have faces as stiff as stone? Aren’t they supposed to be elegant and gentle, paragons of their age? Why is this one so stern?”

She decided then and there not to be cowed—after all, she was a modern woman, raised under the banner of international communism, and would not tolerate such backward attitudes.

She confronted Li Yanhe, “Could you stop glaring at me? Who are you scowling at? So what if I’m your child bride? Can’t I ask you a few questions…”

Her voice trailed off, growing softer as Li Yanhe lifted his head and stared at her with that cold gaze. She wilted.

Li Yanhe felt a headache coming on. Clearly, this child had been terrified into madness, now spouting nonsense. Normally, when he was recovering from his wounds, she never dared approach him, let alone scold him.

Yet here she was, bold as brass. In all his life, no one had ever dared scold him to his face.

He did feel a twinge of guilt towards the Lin family, but he’d never considered making the child his wife. If anything, she was now an orphan he was duty-bound to care for. Raising a child was no great burden, and marrying her when she was grown would be acceptable, perhaps as a concubine.

But he hadn’t expected her to complain about his stern expression. What did she mean by “scowling”?

He said, “If you have questions, ask quietly. Don’t shout—you might attract wild beasts, or worse, those men from before.”

Lin Miao-miao stiffened, suddenly aware of the danger in the cave, which looked as though it had once housed some large beast.

She fell silent, and Li Yanhe closed his eyes to rest. When he realized the child had stopped talking, he opened his eyes, only to find her face streaked with tears.

With a sigh, he reached out his long arms and gathered her into a comforting embrace.