The forest stretched endlessly before her—dense, green, and whispering with memories. Mo Shan Shan moved quietly between the trees, the soft crunch of dried leaves beneath her feet the only sound breaking the silence of the woods. Her face, though calm, bore traces of recent tears—trails left behind by the weight of truth and the ache of remembrance.
The flute hung at her side, and her thoughts spun like the surrounding wind. He lost his sight of me… for my mother. All this time, he knew. And yet… he said nothing.
She paused near a wide-barked tree, lifting her hand to its rough surface for balance. The cool air of the forest kissed her cheeks as she closed her eyes and breathed deeply.
Then, as if struck by a sudden realization, she opened them.
"The remedy…" she whispered.
She remembered. Her mother—skilled in northern healing—once showed her an ancient herb, a rare root that could reverse the blindness caused by specific poisons and herbs. It only worked if the damage wasn't permanent. And if Lu Bai's blindness was caused by her mother's special herb, then there was a chance—just a chance—he could see again.
Without wasting another moment, she pushed forward, weaving deeper into the forest.
After miles of silent determination, she reached a small glade hidden behind mossy boulders. The air smelled faintly of wet soil and mint. She knelt at the base of an old tree, brushing aside leaves and ivy until she saw it—slender green stalks curling around the roots like gentle serpents. She recognized the shape immediately.
There it is.
With delicate hands, she harvested the root and wrapped it securely in a small silk pouch she carried in her robes. Her fingers lingered over the pouch for a moment, her heart filling with something she hadn't felt in days—hope.
But her peace was short-lived.
As she turned to begin her journey back, the sudden snap of twigs nearby made her freeze.
Voices followed—gruff, alert.
"…thought I saw someone over this way."
"…check the clearing."
Mo Shan Shan ducked low behind a fallen log. Peering between the branches, she saw several men dressed in armor—crudely fashioned and worn by travelers. Their insignia was faint, but recognizable: a snarling tiger etched on the shoulder pads in red ink.
Her eyes narrowed. Northern rebels?
They stepped into the clearing, and their eyes met hers before she could move.
One of them, a tall man with a long scar across his cheek, smirked.
"Well, look what we have here."
Mo Shan Shan stood slowly, placing her foot behind her subtly in a defensive stance. "I'm just a traveler," she said coolly.
Another stepped forward, hand on the hilt of his blade. "A traveler… dressed like a palace servant? Seems strange, don't you think?"
They began to circle her.
Mo Shan Shan's breath steadied. Her eyes sharpened. "I don't want trouble," she said.
"You already found it," the scarred one sneered.
One of them lunged.
But Mo Shan Shan was faster.
In one fluid motion, she sidestepped and grabbed the man's wrist, twisting it until he dropped his weapon with a grunt. She struck him in the neck, sending him stumbling backward. Two more came at her, but she rolled beneath their blades and used the heel of her boot to knock one to the ground.
Her movements were precise and swift—skills she had sharpened under Lu Bai's guidance.
But the numbers were too many.
More rebels appeared, and she realized she couldn't take them all. Her eyes darted ahead—and she spotted another group in the distance. They wore similar armor and were moving quickly through the forest.
A plan began to form in her mind.
If they believed she was just a helpless maiden, perhaps they would take her somewhere useful. Somewhere she had not seen in many years.
Her hometown.
She allowed herself to stumble, loosening her limbs just enough to feign exhaustion. Her breaths grew ragged and her vision fluttered—acting so convincingly that the rebels paused.
"She's fainting," one of them said.
The scarred man caught her before she hit the ground. "Looks like she's from the north," he muttered, scanning her features. "We'll take her back to General Liang. Maybe she's worth something."
Mo Shan Shan, still playing unconscious, let the world spin around her as they lifted her off the forest floor and carried her deeper into the woods.
And though her heart beat wildly in her chest, one thought anchored her:
I have to see where this leads. To the north. To my past. To the truth.
A dim, warm light filtered through the slit of the wooden window. The room smelled faintly of herbs and mountain air, with stone walls that bore the marks of age—cracks where moss had started to take root. Mo Shan Shan stirred, her head heavy but her senses slowly sharpening.
Her eyes fluttered open to find herself lying on a thick mat layered with furs. The ceiling above was carved from wood and woven branches. The unfamiliar softness under her stirred a vague discomfort—this wasn't the forest, nor the Lu residence.
She was somewhere else.
The moment her feet touched the floor, the wooden door creaked open.
A tall man stepped inside.
His presence was firm but not harsh, his black armor dulled from battle and wind. His beard was short, face stern yet composed, and his eyes held a quiet kindness.
General Liang.
"Don't be afraid," he said in a low, steady voice, raising one hand in a calming gesture. "You're safe here. My men found you collapsed in the forest. They brought you back."
Mo Shan Shan stayed silent for a moment, adjusting to the unfamiliar surroundings. She studied his face carefully—searching for cruelty, suspicion, or hostility. She found none.
"You're not in danger," General Liang continued, walking to the side table and pouring water into a clay cup. "This city… it's not what the capital says it is. We're not savages. We protect our own."
She slowly nodded and accepted the cup of water he offered.
"I'll have the maids help you settle in," he added. "If you need anything, ask."
With that, the general bowed slightly and left the room.
Moments later, two women entered, both dressed in simple but elegant northern attire. Their hair was braided with thin red cords, and they smiled as they greeted her.
"My lady, we've brought your things," one said gently. "General Liang asked us to take good care of you."
They bathed her with warm herbal water and massaged her shoulders with oils from the northern pines. Her body, tense from days of travel and shock, slowly began to relax.
Then they brought in food: steamed buns, roasted venison, and wild vegetables. She ate quietly, and though the tastes were unfamiliar, something about them stirred memories. This is what we used to eat in the mountains… she thought.
When she had finished, the maids helped her into new clothing—a traditional dress of the Northern City. It was a deep, smoky blue lined with silver thread, embroidered with subtle phoenix patterns. A soft shawl hung across her shoulders, and her hair was pulled into a simple half-braid style, held with an ivory pin.
She turned to the mirror and stared at her reflection.
For the first time in many years, she looked like she belonged.
Like home, she whispered inwardly.
She walked to the window and pulled the curtain aside. The city stretched below—a place carved from stone and raised on the bones of mountains. Its streets bustled with villagers, soldiers, traders. Children laughed as they chased one another through the narrow alleys. In the distance, beyond the city walls, snow-capped peaks guarded the horizon.
This was the city her parents once called home. The place her mother fled from, and the place her father died defending.
Now, she was back.
Her heart swelled with emotions too tangled to name—grief, wonder, pride, longing.
I must know more, she told herself. About my family. About the past. And what this city truly stands for.
The wind whispered through the trees beyond the wall, carrying with it the scent of pine and old secrets.
Mo Shan Shan took a breath, straightened her shoulders, and prepared to explore the city of her blood.