A Royal Arrangement: The General's Daughter (Short Novel)

End of text

Epilogue of Wu Shin

The blood dripped from Wu Shin’s trembling hands as he knelt amidst the smoldering ruins of the General’s estate. The once-majestic courtyard had become a desolate graveyard, the air heavy with the stench of smoke and death.

Before him lay Yuren, his beloved cousin, her sword arm limp and lifeless, her face pale yet strangely serene, as though merely in slumber. Beside her, Fang, his younger brother-in-arms, was as still as stone, his defiant spirit extinguished in the chaos.

Shin had arrived too late.

The Fifth Prince—Yuren’s husband—had drawn the General’s family into his treachery. The rebellion was doomed from the start, yet Yuren, loyal and proud to the end, had been sacrificed as a pawn in the prince’s desperate schemes. Forbidden to wield her sword and trapped in gilded walls, her fire had been slowly extinguished.

Shin clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. If only I had acted sooner, he thought bitterly. If only I had stopped her from marrying such a wretched man.

He had failed her.

The memories played like an unending torment in his mind: Yuren’s wedding to the Fifth Prince, her forced smiles at court, the whispered rumors of mistresses and treason, and finally, the emperor’s order for her execution.

Shin and Fang had stormed her husband’s estate to save her, but they had arrived too late. The guards had been unyielding, and Yuren’s lifeless form had greeted them.

Now, Shin knelt alone among the ruins, his heart shattered. The General, who had taken him in as a boy, was gone. The family that had given him love and purpose was no more. His tears blurred the scene before him.

When the imperial guards seized him and dragged him to the palace for execution, his thoughts were not of vengeance but of regret. As the blade of the executioner rose, his final prayer was a desperate plea:

Grant me another chance. Let me protect her.

- - -

Shin awoke to the sound of birdsong and the faint scent of plum blossoms drifting on the breeze. The weight of sunlight fell upon his face, stirring him from sleep.

*Poke.*

A small but sharp finger jabbed his cheek. “Min-ge, Father summons you to the study,” a stern yet childish voice declared.

Shin’s eyes fluttered open, and he blinked at the sight before him. A young girl with fiery eyes and an impatient expression loomed over him. His breath caught in his throat.

“Mei-mei?” he whispered.

Yuren frowned, tilting her head. “Who else, Min-ge? Are you unwell?”

His heart swelled with an indescribable warmth. Yuren, alive and full of spirit, stood before him—a child of seven, untouched by the sorrow that would one day claim her. He sat up abruptly and touched his own face, his hands trembling.

The reflection in the bronze mirror confirmed his suspicion: he was once again a boy of nine, newly adopted by the General’s family.