Seventy Subtle Promises

Orelan rushed back to her room in panic, closed the door, and sat down heavily on the soft divan. Her heart was filled with inexplicable unease. That old man, with his otherworldly bearing, had hinted at something profound—could there truly be a great change coming in the world?

Emerald Bamboo crouched by the door, her concern for Orelan obvious. “Princess?” she asked softly from outside the room.

“Come in,” Orelan replied, collecting herself.

“Princess, what happened to you just now?” Emerald Bamboo asked, seeing the pallor on Orelan’s face as she poured a cup of tea.

“It’s nothing. I’m just too tired lately. I told you there was no need to attend to me today. Do as you wish.” Orelan’s mind was unsettled. Since ancient times, the royal family had placed their faith in the legends of the divine valley. That old man kept speaking of the birth of the dragon and phoenix; at first, she thought he referred to her father and mother, but upon reflection, it seemed he meant something else entirely.

“Princess, I think we should go to the temple and pray for good fortune,” Emerald Bamboo suggested, rarely seeing Orelan so anxious.

“There’s no need to rush for a child.” With the old immortal’s words in mind, she felt a little more assured.

“I wonder if that wretched Yan’er has fallen to her death by now,” Emerald Bamboo said venomously.

“She’s struggling for survival herself now, so there’s no need for us to be impatient.” At Emerald Bamboo’s reminder, Orelan thought of Yan’er again. A woman’s dignity was above all else.

“Princess, even if that wretch survives by some miracle, you must find a way to remove her. Just think carefully—every time the general looks at that girl, there’s a tenderness in his eyes he’s shown no other woman. As long as she lives, she’s your greatest threat.” Emerald Bamboo’s words were well-intentioned.

After Emerald Bamboo’s instigation, the resolve Orelan had begun to lose about getting rid of Yan’er suddenly solidified. Indeed, whatever that old man said, she was the one living in the mortal world. She could never forget Pan Yueyang’s indifference toward her on their wedding night, nor how, drunk on fine wine, he gazed at her face and softly called out Yan’er’s name: “Unforgettable.”

Seeing Orelan nod resolutely, Emerald Bamboo finally relaxed a little. “Princess, rest well. I’ll wait outside the door.”

Orelan gave a cold, sinister smile, all the old man’s teachings forgotten.

Inside the cave—

Since Guan Canghai had gone out to forage for food, Yan’er had been left alone in the pitch-dark cave, growing increasingly panicked and helpless. She kept feeding wood into the fire, watching the blaze burn fiercely, muttering to herself for reassurance: “Wild beasts are afraid of fire. I’ll be all right. I’ll be all right.”

Her hands trembling, Yan’er kept feeling as though something was creeping up behind her. She dared not look back, her body stiff with fear, cold sweat breaking out on her back.

“Guan Canghai, you devil, why aren’t you back yet?” Yan’er’s hands never stopped feeding the fire. When she reached for more firewood at her side, she suddenly realized that she’d already used it all up. Now, staring at the roaring flames, she didn’t know how long the fire would last. If it went out, would wild beasts emerge from the darkness to attack her?

Guan Canghai, having circled the cliff outside, found nothing. It was winter, and the mountain air was bitterly cold. Not a scrap of food could be found. In summer, wild fruits and birds’ eggs could have filled Yan’er’s belly, but in this season, even snakes were hibernating, and he’d seen not a single wild animal. Frustrated, he flopped down on a bare boulder. Heaven truly seemed to delight in tormenting him—what began as a romantic tale of leaping off a cliff with a beauty had become a farce of two people, starving and facing each other with rumbling stomachs. The thought alone was enough to ruin the mood.

Suddenly, Guan Canghai detected a faint sound. He held his breath and listened—rabbit! Without betraying his excitement, a sly smile crept over his face as he waited for the unlucky little creature to draw near. With a sudden lunge, he caught the rabbit, its soft fur still radiating warmth. “Today you’re our feast,” he muttered, though he hesitated. If he tossed the rabbit before Yan’er, would she beg him to let the poor thing go? He couldn’t use his own venomous silver threads to kill it, or they’d both be poisoned when they ate it. Shaking his head, he gripped both of the rabbit’s ears and slammed it hard against a sturdy tree trunk.

“I know, ending you this way, you won’t rest easy. In your next life, don’t be born a beast,” he murmured apologetically, looking at the now-lifeless rabbit in his hands. He quickly skinned it and, once finished, headed back toward the cave.

Guan Canghai suddenly froze, his expression as dark as the bottom of a pot. He heard footsteps—disorderly and numerous. Pan Yueyang’s men had found them so soon? No longer daring to linger, he rushed back to the cave.

As he neared the entrance, his eyes widened in disbelief. He hadn’t been gone long, yet the cave was ablaze! From afar, he could see the fierce glow of fire deep within—was this some sort of cosmic joke?

“Who’s there?!” Yan’er shot to her feet, her face flushed from the firelight, gasping for air.

“Hmph.” Guan Canghai scoffed contemptuously.

“Guan Canghai?” Hearing his familiar voice, Yan’er could not contain her relief and excitement. She stumbled toward him and, in a burst of emotion, threw her arms around him. “Why did you take so long? I was terrified.”

This sudden display of vulnerability made something stir in Guan Canghai’s heart. “I caught a rabbit. We’ll roast it.”

“I… I can’t breathe,” Yan’er gasped, leaning against him. With him back, her body quickly surrendered to exhaustion.

“No wonder—you built the fire so high. With the vent so far from here, you’ll suffocate if you’re not careful.” Guan Canghai shook his head, thinking this woman had no survival skills at all.

Before he finished, Yan’er slid down his body in a faint. Fortunately, Guan Canghai caught her in time. Lifting her in one arm and the rabbit in the other, he returned to the fire, pulled out some unburned wood to dampen the flames, and finally reduced the blaze. He ignored Yan’er and began roasting the rabbit.

Yan’er was jolted awake by two hard slaps—just a light tap for Guan Canghai, but stinging as a blow for her. She sat up, clutching her cheek, glaring at him in confusion.

“Get up and eat,” Guan Canghai said with a grin, handing her a rabbit leg.

Starving, Yan’er tore into the meat, but immediately gagged. “What is this? It tastes so gamey.”

“This isn’t your general’s mansion—what did you expect?” Guan Canghai sighed, closing his eyes in resignation. Even he felt a distaste for the roasted rabbit after her comment.

Yan’er forced herself to swallow, eyeing the meat uncertainly—should she eat it or not?

“If you don’t want to starve, eat it,” Guan Canghai remarked, not pressing her. Just outside, he’d sensed soldiers closing in. If his guess was right, they would be found by tonight or, at the latest, by morning. Whether Yan’er ate now or not hardly mattered.

Without hesitation, Yan’er chose survival. She was alive, and now was not the time to let hunger kill her. It was just meat, not poison—why not eat? She tore off the skin and nibbled tentatively. Though the taste was unpleasant, at least it filled her stomach. Resisting the urge to vomit, she managed to eat a little before tossing the leg back to Guan Canghai.

“You eat. I’m full,” Yan’er said, having lost her appetite. As long as she wasn’t hungry, it was enough.

“Hmph.” Guan Canghai glanced at the half-eaten leg but did not touch it. “I sensed Pan Yueyang’s men searching this area. They’ll find you soon.”

At the mention of Pan Yueyang, Yan’er tensed and clutched her collar tightly.

“As for last night… I’ll not utter a word,” Guan Canghai said, tipping her chin up, his ambiguous gaze making Yan’er nervous.

Yan’er took a deep breath, swallowing hard. “I won’t say anything either.”

“Ha! You’re so sure I won’t tell?” Suddenly furious, Guan Canghai gripped her throat as if enraged by her concern for Pan Yueyang—she’d already lost her virtue, yet still wanted to keep the secret from the man she cared for!

“Let go,” Yan’er gasped, prying at his hand, beating against him, glaring fiercely. “If you breathe a word, I’ll die before your eyes!”

“Your wretched life is worth little—I, Guan Canghai, have never feared threats.” He released her abruptly and strode toward the cave entrance. “Woman, I’m leaving. Take care of yourself.”

Panicked, Yan’er shouted, “Hey! Don’t go! What am I supposed to do if you leave? Guan Canghai! Come back!” Her cries echoed after his retreating figure, but he never hesitated, and soon disappeared from sight.

Yan’er dared not leave the fire, gasping for breath as her fear grew. She stared at the roasting rabbit, trying to calm herself. Guan Canghai had said Pan Yueyang’s men were searching the area, so she would be rescued soon. She just had to survive a little longer.

Her mind wandered. After spending the night with Guan Canghai in this cave, how would she explain it to Yueyang if rescued? No—she must not let Yueyang know her shame. She had been forced.

“Go check over there,” the squad leader commanded, and several men ran off in the opposite direction, while the rest continued south.

Guan Canghai, hidden behind a tree, had intended to keep them from finding Yan’er, but after glancing toward the cave, a cruel smile appeared on his lips. He flicked a stone, striking a guard’s knee.

“Ouch!” the guard cried, falling to the ground. “Someone’s here!”

At once, the others raced toward the fallen guard. There, beside his boot, lay a bloodied stone.

“Everyone, pay attention—search this way! There must be survivors at the foot of the cliff. Go alert the general—we’ve found a lead!” the young officer commanded swiftly.