Si Long, King of Hell, slaughtered the other nine halls and removed the character "Luo" from his title.
Heaven punished him, wiped his memories, and sent him into another cycle of reincarnation. He thought indifferently that once he survived this tribulation, it would all be over.
He never expected that when people mistook him for a lunatic with yin-yang eyes and beat him nearly to death in a street corner, someone would rush in to protect him, taking several kicks in his place.
The beautiful, frail girl was almost sickly, yet she studied military strategy so diligently that she could plan for every contingency. She served as the general's adviser, taught the little beggar to read, and kept at it until she reached the line, "Ten thousand banners raised to slay the King of Hell."
The greatest regret of Si Long's life was that he never got to see her one last time before she moved the capital with the army.
The next time he heard the people of the mortal realm cry out her name like a storm, he couldn't resist looking. He discovered they were about to burn her alive as an offering to him.
He hurriedly tidied his appearance and eased her suffering so she could cross the River of Forgetfulness without trouble. Then he leaned against the Three Lives Stone, full of anticipation.
His long-missed general, beautiful as carved jade and coolly composed, asked softly:
"Who are you?"
The underworld was too bitter, but at least she had been free in the mortal world.
Wait, what did she mean she'd been reincarnated forty times and never once lived past thirty?
On the day she refused to let a city be massacred, General Ying Yinzhuang was carried onto the altar to Heaven. Red earrings fluttered beside her face as her frail figure disappeared into flames that stretched to the sky.
One person in place of a city: the emperor stood on the high platform and read the sacrificial text, offering her to the King of Hell in place of a hundred thousand lives.
The King of Hell leaned beside the Three Lives Stone, waiting for her. A red cloth covered his distant-mountain brows and stunning eyes, and his voice held a smile. "Long time no see. I've come to repay my debt."
Eight hundred years passed in the blink of an eye. Ying Yinzhuang drank forty bowls of Granny Meng's soup and finally saw him again.
The low-ranking ghost official stood at the head of the Bridge of Helplessness, a red silk cloth covering his brows. He was handsome and a stranger to her. His voice was as still as an ancient well, yet for some reason she felt that something fierce lay beneath it.
"Long time no see," he said. Ying Yinzhuang, with no memory of him, looked at him in bewilderment. "The debt is paid."
Fortunately, eight hundred years of burning had settled the debt of life. The debt of death had finally been erased. Only the debt of love remained, and that could be repaid with "forever."
My next book is called Crossing the Line. Here's the blurb. Please add it to your reading list!
At the great gathering on Mount Pang, Yan Chen shot the red-and-gold ribbon from the talons of a falcon with a single arrow, defeating ten challengers to claim the championship.
A graceful gentleman perched high above the clouds, cold and upright. He was known by the courtesy name Yan Fuxue.
Hidden away in a secret place in the mountain foothills, beyond the reach of anyone's eyes, was the person he had rescued from a siege on all sides.
The demon woman from the Demon Realm, Yan Yao.
It was said she lived by sucking people's blood, and had a crimson poppy beneath her left eye. The more people she killed, the more brightly and vividly it bloomed.
When Yan Chen rescued her, her face was deathly pale and her slender fingers clutched his lapel, like a frightened lotus.
On the night of the full moon, she struck the same pose, and he watched a brilliant red poppy emerge beneath her left eye.
"Champion of Mount Pang, upright gentleman..." She lowered her voice at his ear and let out a tiny laugh. "Reject me, then?"
Yan Chen squeezed his eyes shut and pulled her against himself.
He whispered, "You know I can't."
Theme: The flames burn away debts, and spring blooms from the ashes.
