The General Says She Won't Marry - Chapter 56 Part 1

Lin Aoxue was imprisoned in the dungeon of Zheji’s palace. This time, however, she wasn’t shackled hand and foot like she had been at Míngtíng Mountain. Although Zheji had captured her, no punishment was inflicted, nor was she interrogated about Xingbei Pass. Instead, she was simply confined to a small cell.

The cell was small but clean and orderly. On the makeshift bed made of straw mats, there was even a thin blanket.

There weren’t many prisoners in the palace dungeon. Though dimly lit, it had a window for ventilation, preventing excessive dampness. Lin Aoxue seemed as though she had just been moved to another place to recuperate. She meditated to heal during the day and slept soundly at night, shutting out the outside world. Every day, someone delivered meals to her at a fixed time, which only deepened her confusion—she couldn’t figure out what Zheji was planning.

After four or five days of this, Lin Aoxue’s internal injuries had improved somewhat. One day, as she lay on the bed resting, the iron gate at the end of the dungeon was suddenly pulled open with a loud clang, startling her awake. She opened her eyes, sat up from the straw mat, and looked toward the now-open iron gate.

She saw the guards pulling the door open, and after several days of absence, Zheji stepped inside with an unhurried gait. She walked up to Lin Aoxue’s cell and signaled for the jailer to unlock the door.

Separated by the iron bars, Lin Aoxue and Zheji locked eyes. Once the cell door was opened, Zheji lowered herself to step inside. She glanced around as if visiting an old friend and casually asked, “Are you getting used to life here?”

Lin Aoxue did not rise to greet her. Their identities had already been laid bare—Lin Aoxue, as a general of Beichen, would certainly not bow to the princess of the barbarians. Upon hearing Zheji’s question, she smirked slightly and responded coolly, “Your Highness’ concern is appreciated. I’m getting by.”

Zheji turned to look at Lin Aoxue, her expression open and composed as she praised, “County Commandant Lin, both your martial skills and your courage have earned my admiration.”

Lin Aoxue lifted her eyelids slightly, then leaned back against the wall, crossing her arms in a relaxed manner. She asked leisurely, “Your Highness need not beat around the bush. You wouldn’t have come all this way just to compliment me.”

Zheji raised her eyebrows and smiled, replying playfully, “You’ve got it exactly right, sir. I did come here today just to compliment you.”

At these words, Lin Aoxue’s eyelids twitched. She realized that, in this regard, she was still far behind Zheji. The princess had a far more flexible and smooth nature than she did. It was precisely because Zheji knew how to speak, how to maneuver, and when to advance or retreat that she could so effortlessly rally so many foreign warriors under her banner, earning their unwavering loyalty.

Taking a deep breath, Lin Aoxue coldly issued an eviction order, “Well then, Your Highness has given your compliments. It’s time to leave. The dungeon is cold and not a suitable place for Your Highness to linger.”

Such a blunt response made Zheji chuckle in surprise. A smirk played at her lips, and amusement flickered in her eyes. Lin Aoxue was truly bold—daring to speak to her so rudely, even while imprisoned in her territory. She must have quite the death wish. But it was precisely because Lin Aoxue had the same unyielding spirit as she did that Zheji regarded her differently.

With a soft chuckle, Zheji spoke again, “I admire your courage and respect your skills. Why not stay in Boka? If you want to fight on the battlefield, I’ll make you a great general of Boka. What do you think?”

She offered exceedingly generous terms. If it had been anyone else, they might have been tempted. However, Lin Aoxue merely raised an eyebrow and let out a helpless yet mocking laugh. “Fight as your general against my own people? Have you lost your mind?”

Zheji hadn’t expected Lin Aoxue to agree immediately. With an unchanging smile, she continued persuading, “If you refuse to serve me, you’ll be met with suspicion when you return. You know better than I do what kind of man Beichen Long is. Why give up such a good opportunity only to pledge loyalty to that paranoid, petty old fox?”

These were words Zheji had spoken to Lin Aoxue before. But at that time, she hadn’t known Lin Aoxue’s true identity, nor her significance in Xingbei Pass, nor her standing in Beichen Long’s eyes. Without those crucial details, persuading her had been difficult.

Now, however, the situation was different. Lin Aoxue’s identity was clear. With this leverage, Zheji felt there was still a chance to win her over.

That was why she had come today—to make another attempt.

Lin Aoxue sighed lightly, casting a resigned glance at Zheji before responding, “Your Highness needn’t waste any more words. I must return to Xingbei Pass. If you won’t let me go, then you’ll have to keep me locked up here forever—or simply kill me and take my life. Otherwise, if I ever find an opportunity, I will escape. There is no third option.”

Hearing this, Zheji burst into hearty laughter. She patted Lin Aoxue on the shoulder, her eyes filled with admiration rather than anger at her defiant words. Raising an eyebrow, she swayed her head slightly and said, “Then it seems I’ve brought a real headache upon myself. Maybe I should just kill you and be done with it.”

Lin Aoxue shrugged, offering no comment.

Zheji shook her head lightly, then said, “Get some rest.” With that, she turned and left.

She had abandoned the idea of persuading Lin Aoxue to surrender. If she wanted someone to serve her, that person had to be truly convinced—forcing them into submission would only sow resentment.

Now she understood: Lin Aoxue was someone who could never be turned.

So, she had to carry out the second plan and maximize Lin Aoxue’s value as a bargaining chip.

The prison door clanged shut once more. Lin Aoxue watched Zheji’s figure disappear into the distance, let out a soft snort, then lay back down on the straw mat. Pulling the thin blanket over herself, she closed her eyes and continued her nap.

***

Spring had passed. Early summer had arrived, but Xingbei Pass had yet to feel the stifling heat. The soldiers within the pass continued their drills as usual, and the atmosphere remained unchanged. The absence of Lin Aoxue had brought no visible shift—life went on, and those who had once been present were gradually forgotten.

The marketplace in Xingbei Pass remained bustling. The common folk cared little for struggles over power or the ambitions of barbarian warriors; as long as they had rice, oil, and salt, nothing else mattered to them.

Yet amid this ordinary liveliness, there was one place that had remained silent for nearly a month—the Yanxue Medical Clinic, located across from Fuyun Manor in the marketplace.

Since returning from the military camp last time, Yun Yan had handed over all clinic affairs to the elderly physician who regularly treated patients. She had not seen a single patient herself since. Instead, she spent her days in the small courtyard, tirelessly sorting through intelligence reports from various sources. She buried herself in endless work, the only way to temporarily pull her thoughts away from Lin Aoxue.

Her heart had only truly ached once—when she heard Beichen Long utter the words confirming Lin Aoxue’s death. After that, she felt as though she had become numb. It no longer hurt as sharply, yet the emotions she felt were impossible to describe.

From the very beginning, she had never believed that Lin Aoxue was truly dead. That person had once told her to wait for her return. If Lin Aoxue was truly never coming back, then she would stop waiting. She would not dwell on her any longer. It was Lin Aoxue herself who had broken that promise, so how could she expect Yun Yan to keep waiting?

Her hands, which had been sorting through a stack of letters, suddenly trembled. Her vision blurred for a moment, and she felt a damp sensation at the corner of her eyes.

She had already decided not to think about her, so why was she remembering her again?

Her heart felt empty. In every letter she received, she searched for news of Lin Aoxue. Though she had been disappointed hundreds of times, each time she received a new message, she would unconsciously repeat the same hope—again and again, an endless cycle.

This obsession had trapped her in this small world. Until she received news of Lin Aoxue, she could not move forward.

At last, she set down the stack of letters and lay against the stone table, burying her face in the crook of her arm.

She did not cry. Not a single tear fell.

Yet it felt as though someone had gouged out a piece of her heart. Even under the early summer sun, she could only feel the bitter cold wind.

It had been a full month. An entire month, and she had found no trace of Lin Aoxue.

Had she known it would come to this, she would have ignored the risk of exposing her secrets. Even if it meant giving Beichen Long leverage over her, she would have sent people to follow Lin Aoxue and stay by her side.

But the world was full of regrets, and none of them came with an “if only.”

She missed Lin Aoxue. But this longing was different from before, when Lin Aoxue had still been in the military camp. Back then, even if she couldn’t see her or touch her, she knew she was there. Even if Lin Aoxue was injured, she could heal her.

But now, it was different.

There would be no more surprise visits on rest days, where Lin Aoxue would appear outside the clinic, shy and hesitant. No more moments of that stubborn, awkward woman acting spoiled in her own clumsy way. No more warmth, no more security—that one embrace that could banish all her worries was forever out of reach.

What Lin Aoxue had left her was nothing but a lingering ache in her soul, a fleeting happiness, and an endless torment that would haunt her for the rest of her life—along with a promise that would never be fulfilled.

“You really are a terrible person,” Yun Yan gritted her teeth, her lips trembling as she muttered to herself, hiding her sorrow in the crook of her arm.

She felt a surge of resentment. If Lin Aoxue had to leave, she should have just gone. Why did she have to leave behind all this heartbreak, making it impossible for Yun Yan to return to the person she once was—calm, unshaken, untouched by sorrow?

She had thought she was merely intrigued, that she was only beginning to hope for love. But she hadn’t realized—this feeling had already consumed her, loud and fierce. Only when Lin Aoxue was truly gone did she understand—she had already sunk too deep. There was no way out.

She didn’t know how long the silence lasted.

Then, suddenly, a shadow appeared behind her.

A hand respectfully extended a sealed bamboo tube toward the table, presenting it with both hands.

Yun Yan took a deep breath, let out a long sigh, and then, as if nothing had happened, reached for the message. She pulled the letter from the tube, her pale fingertips smoothing it open.

Halfway through, her fingers trembled. Her entire body stiffened.

Time seemed to freeze.

She remained in the same posture for a long time, unmoving.

Even the shadow beside her—the secret guard delivering the message—noticed something was wrong. He raised his head slightly and called out in a voice filled with confusion and concern, “Miss Yun?”

At the sound of her name, the shock in Yun Yan’s eyes and the dazed expression on her face faded rapidly. Within moments, she had regained her composure. 

She let out a soft “hmm” and then fully unfolded the rest of the letter. Aside from that brief moment of loss of composure, she showed no further signs of panic or unease.

She remained as calm and composed as ever, making it impossible for anyone to discern her true thoughts from her expression or eyes.

After a while, she read the barbarian script on the letter more than ten times before finally reaching out for the brush and paper placed on the stone table. The moment the brush tip dipped into the ink, her wrist trembled slightly—a minute detail that no one noticed. But when she started writing, she appeared as composed as usual.

She deliberated over each word, revising a reply of just a few short sentences over and over again. If she was dissatisfied, she would raise her hand and toss the paper straight into the brazier, burning it completely. The black-clothed messenger waiting beside her grew increasingly puzzled—what kind of earth-shattering message could this be, to make the usually composed and self-restrained Yun Yan so hesitant?

A reply of just ten or so characters took her a full half-hour to finalize. Only when she finally put down her brush, rolled up the paper, and sealed it inside a bamboo tube did she realize that the messenger had been kneeling the entire time. She had been so indecisive that she had forgotten to let him rise—his legs were probably numb by now.

Yun Yan coughed lightly, feeling slightly guilty. Even though she had tried her best to restrain herself, the words in that barbarian message had made it difficult for her to maintain her usual composure.

Yun Yan exhaled a deep breath, then handed the bamboo tube to the messenger beside her, saying, “You’ve worked hard. Deliver this message. If all goes smoothly, you may take five days off to rest.”

The black-clothed messenger was pleasantly surprised. Their duty required them to be on standby at all times, and breaks were rare. Even when they were allowed to rest, it was usually only for a few hours, at most a single day. But now, Yun Yan had granted him a full five-day leave—this was truly unexpected.

He received the message with both hands, bowed in thanks, and then swiftly disappeared into the shadows. With careful precision, he would personally oversee the delivery of Yun Yan’s handwritten reply beyond the pass.

Once the messenger left, Yun Yan seemed to lose all her strength. Her shoulders slumped, and her entire body felt weak.

Forcing herself to stand, she clenched the letter she had received from the barbarians tightly in her hand and turned to walk back to her room.

As soon as she shut the door, she collapsed onto the floor, pressing her back against the wooden panels. Hugging her legs to her chest, she buried her face into her knees, her body trembling uncontrollably.

The message had come from the Boka Tribe. It bore the unique secret mark of the Boka princess. The message was short, hastily written, yet crystal clear.

“I have captured a Beichen prisoner. There is a flaw on his face. He’s called Aoxue, a county commandant under the grand general’s command. Gravely injured but alive. I wish to negotiate—shall I kill or release?”

Yun Yan unfolded the paper again, rereading it over and over. It wasn’t a mistake—she wasn’t hallucinating. Lin Aoxue’s name was written there. Though the surname was omitted, the details—her rank as county commandant, the injury on her face—left no doubt. This was the Lin Aoxue she had yearned for, day and night.

Zheji wanted to negotiate with her over how to handle Lin Aoxue. But in reality, she was just looking for a price.

For a moment, Yun Yan nearly picked up her brush and wrote back immediately, willing to offer anything Zheji wanted—anything, as long as she let Lin Aoxue go.

But just as the ink touched the tip of her brush, she realized that such a reply would be inappropriate.

So she deliberated, weighing her words over and over, until she finally settled on a brief response.

“What is your price?”

***

Inside the palace, Zheji was idly flipping through a military strategy book, feeling somewhat bored. She turned a page and glanced at her attendant.

“The Beichen prisoner—is he still the same?”

The attendant, bowing respectfully, nodded and replied, “Yes. He wakes, treats his injuries, and goes back to sleep as soon as night falls. His routine is steady, nothing unusual.”

Zheji chuckled and shook her head. Lin Aoxue certainly had patience. 

Anyone else would have been frantic by now, yet Lin Aoxue remained composed.

It even made Zheji start to doubt whether Lin Aoxue truly had a reason to return to Xingbei Pass as she had claimed. If she wanted to go back so badly, why was she so calm?

Zheji shook her head again and murmured with a smirk, “Interesting, very interesting.”

Just as she finished speaking, a servant hurried into the hall. Stopping ten steps away, he knelt and bowed deeply before reporting, “Your Highness, a message has arrived.”

“Oh? Bring it to me.”

That cunning Beichen woman had finally replied. A new round of bargaining was about to begin.

Zheji set aside her strategy book and unfolded the message brought by the attendant. Tiny characters written in precise calligraphy came into view. She raised an eyebrow and read aloud, “What is your price?”

She burst into laughter.

That woman was as stingy with words as ever.

But judging from the content of this reply, there was room for negotiation.

Resting her chin in her hand, Zheji pondered for a moment before quickly drafting a reply and sending her men off once more.

***

Two days later, Yun Yan received the second letter from the Boka princess. Her heart was filled with tension, anticipation, and a vague sense of unease, though she forced herself to remain composed as she unfolded the message.

After reading Zheji’s demands, her lips pressed into a thin line.

This time, her response was swift. She wrote only two words.

“Too expensive.”

After sealing the letter and dispatching it, she leaned back and smirked. Her eyes gleamed with laughter.

Four days had passed since the last letter arrived. She had adjusted her mindset by now. Knowing that person was still alive—injured, yes, but in no immediate danger—filled the hollow space in her heart once more. Though she still worried, it no longer consumed her thoughts or left her restless with anxiety.

Knowing that Lin Aoxue was alive allowed her to handle this matter with a clear mind.