In the heart of City A, beneath the towering glass and steel that reached for the sky, a woman stood alone, her breath misting in the cold night air.
Bai Xueqing's memories of her past life came in fractured dreams—images of an ancient palace, of battles fought in moonlight, and of a man whose dark eyes had promised eternity. She had died with a blade in her hand and a kingdom at her feet. And now, she had awakened in this world of neon and concrete, her soul anchored to a new body with a name she barely recognized.
"Bai Xueqing," she whispered to herself, her voice steady despite the confusion in her heart. This name was hers now, and with it, she would carve a new destiny.
The alley was dark, lit only by the flickering neon sign of a run-down bar. She had followed rumors here—whispers of a traitor in her family's company, a betrayal that echoed the same treachery she had faced in her past life.
She didn't have time to linger on the memories. A rustle of movement behind her pulled her back to the present.
Three men stepped from the shadows, their faces half-hidden beneath caps. The leader was a burly man with a scar across his cheek, his eyes glinting with malice.
"Pretty girl," he drawled, his voice thick with mockery. "What's a delicate thing like you doing here alone?"
She didn't answer. Instead, she shifted her weight, her hand slipping into the folds of her coat to grip the blade she had stolen from a black market dealer earlier that day. In her past life, she had been trained in the art of war—she hadn't forgotten how to fight.
"Leave," she said, her voice cold. "This isn't your concern."
The leader laughed. "Oh, I think it is." He took a step closer, and his companions fanned out to block her escape.
She didn't wait for them to move. In a flash, she drew the blade, its cold steel glinting in the faint light. The leader's eyes widened in surprise, but he didn't back down.
The first man lunged, but she sidestepped his clumsy swing and slashed her blade across his arm. He howled in pain, staggering back.
The second man came at her from behind, but she twisted, her blade cutting a thin line across his cheek. Blood welled, and he roared in fury.
"You bitch!" the leader snarled, drawing a knife of his own. "You'll pay for that!"
She met him head-on, their blades clashing in the narrow alley. Sparks flew, the sound of metal ringing in the night. She was faster, her movements fluid and precise, but the leader was bigger, stronger—and he had no qualms about fighting dirty.
A sudden shove sent her sprawling against the wall, her blade clattering to the ground. She struggled to rise, but the leader's boot slammed down on her wrist, pinning her in place.
"You should have stayed home, princess," he hissed, raising his knife.
A voice cut through the chaos, low and calm—a voice that sent a chill down her spine.
"Let her go."
The leader froze, his head jerking up. A man stood at the mouth of the alley, his tall figure wreathed in shadows. His black coat billowed slightly in the wind, and his dark eyes gleamed with an icy fury.
Mo Chen.
The name rose unbidden in her mind, though she didn't know how she knew it. There was something about him—an aura of danger and control that made the air itself seem to hold its breath.
"Who the fuck are you?" the leader spat.
Mo Chen didn't answer. He took a step forward, his presence filling the narrow space like a storm rolling in. His gaze never left Bai Xueqing, and in that look, she saw something that made her heart stutter—recognition. Possession. A promise that had survived centuries.
"You have two choices," Mo Chen said softly, his voice a silken threat. "Leave now… or never leave at all."
The leader's lip curled. "Big talk—"
Mo Chen moved.
She didn't see the strike—only the blur of his coat, the flash of his hand. A moment later, the leader was on the ground, his wrist twisted at an unnatural angle, his knife skittering away.
The other two thugs turned to flee, but Mo Chen's cold voice stopped them. "Go," he ordered, and they bolted, leaving their leader moaning in the dirt.
For a moment, there was silence. Then Mo Chen turned to her, his expression unreadable. He reached down, his gloved hand brushing hers as he picked up her fallen blade.
"You fight well," he said, his tone deceptively mild. "But you are reckless, Xueqing. You always have been."
Her breath caught. "You… know me?"
He stepped closer, his dark gaze pinning her in place. "I have known you across lifetimes," he murmured, his thumb brushing a smear of blood from her cheek. "You are mine, Bai Xueqing. In this life, and in every life to come."
She shivered at his touch, at the cold possessiveness in his voice. "Who are you?" she whispered.
A faint smile curved his lips—cold and tender all at once. "I am the one who has always been yours," he said softly. "And I will not let you slip away again."
As he spoke, she felt the weight of the past settle over her like a cloak. In his dark eyes, she saw memories she could not name—wars fought and promises broken, and a love that had refused to die.
And she knew, with a certainty that shook her to the core, that her life—her fate—was no longer hers alone