The Shen family and the Chi family were both military families, with just a single wall separating their homes.

General Chi often disciplined his child with a whip, and every time the whip cracked, Shen Qinghe, sitting under the peach blossom tree next door basking in the sun, could hear it loud and clear—she felt both pained and envious.

Shen Qinghe, frail and often sick since childhood, couldn’t practice martial arts. She most envied the Chi family’s young general next door, who could run, jump, and cause mischief without getting tired, often climbing rooftops if left unsupervised for three days.

Chi Heng, the spirited and lively young general, couldn’t bear the way Shen Qinghe would softly smile and gaze at her with those gentle, water-clear eyes-eyes shimmering like rippling waves. Just one glance from this delicate beauty left her feeling as if her throat had been flooded with burning liquor, igniting a lingering heat that refused to die down.

At sixteen, a matchmaker came to the Shen family to propose a marriage for Shen Qinghe. But Qinghe wasn’t interested in marriage and convinced the young general Chi Heng to sneak her out for some carefree adventures, traveling through mountains and rivers, living happily without a care in the world.

One night, Shen Qinghe came down with a high fever. Chi Heng carried her on her back to the medical clinic, pleading with her not to fall asleep.

In her fevered haze, Shen Qinghe leaned weakly against Chi Heng’s thin shoulders, her voice hoarse as she teased her: “If you promise to marry me when we grow up, I won’t fall asleep.”

Not daring to upset her in her fragile state, Chi Heng nodded frantically, her head bobbing like a drum: “Marry, marry, marry! As long as Wanwan gets better, I’ll do anything-even have children with you!”

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