The Anming Empire was vast, but for the last three years, Yue Xinyi's world had been the size of a single courtyard.
The city of Yongzhou, known for its mild weather and prosperous trade, was famous for one other thing: the House of Returning Spring. It was said that its master, the divine Sage Healer Bian, could pull a soul back from the brink of hell itself.
He hadn't been wrong.
"Your left hand is steady now, Lin-jie," Bian Qing said, her voice cheerful as she tied off a bundle of dried herbs.
Yue Xinyi—who only answered to "Lin Xin"—paused her grinding. She flexed the fingers of her left hand, watching the smooth, practiced movement. Not a tremor. Not a single hitch of pain. The web of scars on her palm and forearm was faint, but the memory of the mangled, useless limb was strong.
"Sage Bian is a miracle worker," Lin Xin murmured, her voice soft.
"Father only healed what was broken," Qing said gently, her eyes full of a familiar pity. "He told you, Lin Xin. You are free to stay until your memories return. Your body is healed... but the wounds on your mind are beyond his needles."
Lin Xin's hand automatically went to the back of her neck, her fingers brushing another, older scar hidden beneath her dark hair. Three years here, and her past was still a suffocating fog.
She knew two things.
Her name was Lin Xin.
And she had a son.
"Niang!"
As if summoned, a small body launched himself through the doorway and into her arms, nearly toppling her stool.
"A-An!" she laughed, her arms wrapping tightly around him.
Lin An was three years old and the center of her entire, fractured universe. He was a whirlwind of energy, but what stunned everyone in Yongzhou was his hair—a vibrant, fiery red, so bright it seemed to soak up the sun.
He looked up at her, his face streaked with dirt from playing, and grinned. "Qing-jie, Niang! I found a three-leaf... no, a five-leaf clover!"
He had his father's hair.
He had her black eyes.
As she looked at the impossible, beautiful color of his hair, the world blurred at the edges.
The scent of sandalwood and old wine. She was leaning back against a hard chest, her body tense. A low, amused voice rumbled by her ear, the words a teasing caress.
"My Goddess of War," the man's voice whispered, his face hidden by a curtain of his own red hair. "You can command ten thousand men with a single look, but you still blush when I hold your hand in court?"
Lin Xin gasped, her hand flying to her temple as a sharp pain lanced through her skull. The memory, like all the others, vanished, leaving only a familiar ache and a deep, confusing sense of... longing.
"Niang?" Lin An's small hand touched her cheek, his black eyes wide with worry. "Are you hurt again?"
"No, my sweet," she whispered, pulling him close and hiding her face in his hair, breathing in his scent of sunshine and dirt. "Just a passing cloud."
"The past is a heavy burden," Sage Bian said, entering the courtyard. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "But you are safe here, Lin Xin. You and Lin An are family. You need never..."
BOOM.
The words were cut off by a sound that did not belong in peaceful Yongzhou. It was not a market crash or a thunderclap. It was the sound of a heavy, iron-shod battering ram striking the main gate of the House of Returning Spring.
"Father!" Bian Qing shrieked.
The heavy wooden gates burst inward, splintering from their hinges.
Lin Xin didn't think. She snatched Lin An, pulling him behind her as she scrambled to her feet, her eyes wide with a sudden, unfamiliar adrenaline.
A phalanx of imperial soldiers in black and gold armor stormed the courtyard, their movements precise, deadly, and utterly silent. They formed a perimeter, their spears creating a cage of steel, their faces hidden behind cold, impassive masks.
Sage Bian stood his ground, his thin frame trembling with rage. "This is a house of healing! By order of the Emperor himself, we are neutral ground! How dare you—"
A single man pushed past the soldiers.
He was tall, broad-shouldered, and his black armor was trimmed in silver—the mark of a High General. He pulled off his helmet, revealing a hard, handsome face and eyes as cold and sharp as winter.
This was General Xie Ren, the Emperor's personal blade.
His gaze swept the courtyard, dismissing the healer, the daughter, and the terrified servants.
Then, his eyes landed on Lin Xin.
He froze.
The entire courtyard went silent. The only sound was Lin An's small, frightened breathing.
Xie Ren's cold, professional mask shattered. His eyes, which had seen a hundred battlefields, went wide with an expression of pure, unadulterated shock. He looked, for a moment, like a man seeing a ghost.
He stumbled forward one step. Then another.
"General... Yue?" he choked out, the name a question, a prayer.
Lin Xin stared, her heart hammering against her ribs. "Who? I... I don't know who you are. My name is Lin Xin."
Xie Ren ignored her. He was staring at her face, at her stance, at the way her hand was protectively shielding her son.
Clang.
The heavy, plumed helmet fell from his numb fingers, rolling across the stone courtyard to stop at her feet.
"It is you," he whispered, his voice cracking. He fell to one knee, his fist striking the ground, his gaze still locked on her in disbelief.
"By all the gods... Yue Xinyi... you... you are alive?"
Here is the continuation of Chapter 1, flowing directly from the scene you provided.
---
Xie Ren remained on one knee, his world tilted on its axis. The ghost he'd mourned for three years was staring at him, alive, and holding the hand of a small, red-haired child.
"General?" his lieutenant finally called out, his voice sharp with concern, breaking the spell. "The men... Private Feng is fading."
Xie Ren flinched, remembering his purpose. He scrambled to his feet, his professionalism slamming back into place, though his eyes never left Lin Xin.
"Sage Bian," he said, his voice rough. "Forgive the intrusion. We are here on an urgent matter. One of my men was struck by a poisoned arrow on the northern border. Our physicians... they were useless. We were told only you could save him."
This, Sage Bian understood. His anger at the intrusion instantly gave way to a healer's duty. He nodded curtly.
"Qing'er," he commanded, turning to his daughter. "Prepare the Silver Needle detoxification kit and three beds in the infirmary. Attend to the injured soldiers."
Bian Qing nodded and rushed off. Sage Bian then turned back to the General, his gaze hard. "You and I will speak in my study. Now." He cast a protective glance at Lin Xin. "Lin-jie, please, wait here. You are safe."
"Wait," Xie Ren said.
He stood, his gaze finally falling from Lin Xin's face to the small boy clutching her robes. He stared at the child's fiery red hair and then at his black eyes, a perfect match for the woman beside him.
Xie Ren's mind, trained for strategy, did the math.
Three years.
The boy was three years old.
Yue Xinyi had died three years ago.
The blood drained from the General's face. This wasn't just a miracle. This was a matter of succession.
"The boy..." Xie Ren whispered, his voice thick.
"He is my son, Lin An," Lin Xin said, her voice trembling as she pulled the child behind her.
"General." Sage Bian's voice was iron. "My study."
Xie Ren tore his gaze from the child—the prince—and gave a stiff nod, following the old healer.
The study was silent for a long moment as Sage Bian lit a stick of calming incense.
"You looked at her as if you'd seen a spirit," the healer said.
"I did," Xie Ren stated, his hands clenched at his sides. "Sage Bian, you don't understand. That woman is Yue Xinyi, the Ninth Consort, the 'Goddess of War.' We... His Majesty... we buried her. A state funeral was held. The entire Anming Empire mourned her."
The Sage nodded slowly. "I found her three years ago, washed up on the banks of the Yong river, half-dead. Her hand was mangled, her meridians shattered. I healed her body, but her mind... General, the woman you knew is gone."
"What do you mean?"
"She remembers nothing. Not her name, not the palace, not the Emperor. She is, in her mind, Lin Xin, a simple herbalist. To drag her back to that life..."
"She must return," Xie Ren interrupted, his voice absolute. "His Majesty has been a ghost for three years. This... this will save him."
"And what of the child?" Sage Bian asked, his eyes sharp.
Xie Ren's expression softened. "He has his father's hair. He is the Imperial Heir. Sage Bian, this is no longer a request. Amnesia or not, the mother of the Crown Prince must return to the palace."
Sage Bian sighed, the fight going out of him. "Then you must be the one to tell her. But I warn you, General, her mind is fragile. The past, for her, is only pain."
---
Xie Ren returned to the courtyard. Bian Qing was in the infirmary; the soldiers were being treated. Lin Xin stood alone, her small son clinging to her hand. She looked terrified, but her stance was defiant.
"Lady... Lin Xin," Xie Ren began, his voice softer now. "We must talk."
"You called me 'Yue Xinyi'," she said, her voice shaking. "You called me 'General'."
"It is who you are," he said gently. "You are Yue Xinyi, of the famed House of Yue. The Ninth Consort of the Anming Empire."
Lin Xin flinched at the title. "The Ninth?" she whispered, a strange, cold feeling seeping into her confusion. "Then... he has others?"
Xie Ren's expression tightened. He couldn't lie. "Yes. His Majesty has his court. There are eight other consorts."
A wave of dizziness hit her. The phantom man with the red hair... his voice whispering My Goddess of War... felt like a betrayal. "Was I just... one of many?"
"No," Xie Ren said, his voice fierce. "Never. The others... they are alliances. Politics. You were his Goddess of War. You were his partner. You were the only one he ever truly saw. The only one he... cherished."
He paused, his gaze filled with a deep, painful memory. "In the three years since your 'death,' the palace has been a tomb. He has taken no new consorts. He speaks only of you. He built a monument to you in the capital."
Lin Xin's eyes filled with tears, not of sadness, but of overwhelming confusion. She looked down at Lin An, who was staring at the tall General with wide, curious eyes.
"And my son..." she asked, her voice breaking. "Does he...?"
Xie Ren knelt, bringing himself down to Lin An's level. The child, surprisingly, didn't flinch. The General smiled, a rare, true smile.
"He has his father's hair," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "And his mother's eyes. He is the Prince of the Anming Empire."
It was too much. The fragmented memories, the red hair, the inexplicable longing—it all slammed into her. This was the truth.
"I... I don't remember," she whispered, her hand clutching Lin An's. "I don't remember this Emperor. I don't remember being a... a 'Goddess of War'."
"It does not matter," Xie Ren said, standing. "We will help you."
Lin Xin looked at her son, then at the hard, kind face of the General. She had lived in a fog for three years, a guest in someone else's life. But now, the fog was clearing. She had a past. She had a name.
And her son had a father.
"I will go back," she said, her voice gaining a strength she didn't know she possessed. "I will go back to the palace. I need to know who I was."