I cried and cursed at the same time: "You said you'd be a turtle hiding in its shell! Turtles live the longest! I probably won't even get to be a widow—I'll have to make room for some other woman!"
Victor crouched beside me, one hand holding my long hair back, the other gently rubbing my back to help me breathe.
"Yes, yes. The turtle just wanted to be absolutely sure. Nobody can take your place. I'll never say such things again."
After wandering for half a month, we returned to the General's Estate in Sungate.
But it was only a brief stop.
Victor decided that after the wedding, he would take me personally to garrison Nanjing, leaving Sungate in Oliver's hands.
3.
The day we returned, Victor led me upstairs to the third floor, into the Elder General's room.
The air was still.
The scent of medicine mingled with disinfectant.
The room served as both bedroom and study, but much of the space was taken up by medicine bottles and medical instruments.
A servant had already drawn the curtains to let the sunlight pour in—beautiful and serene.
The man in the bed looked middle-aged, but his eyebrows were long and sharply arched—he looked formidable even at rest.
He lay quietly, breathing evenly, as if merely asleep.
Victor drew me to his side and put his arm around my shoulders:
"Old man, meet your daughter-in-law."
His voice was gruff, using his trademark arrogance to hide his grief.
I quickly bowed and said softly: "Father, I will take good care of Victor."
The man in the bed showed no reaction.
Victor gave a quiet laugh, avoiding my gaze, the corners of his eyes glistening:
"Old man, we've taken the north. What you couldn't do—I've done."
My eyes moved between the Elder General and Victor's face.
In that moment, I thought I saw the Elder General smile.
I tugged Victor's hand: "Father didn't smile when he heard you'd taken a wife, but he smiled when he heard the north was taken."
Victor laughed again, ruffling my hair as he guided me out: "Ignore him. That's just delayed reaction."
Perhaps because it was on my mind, I had a dream that night.
In the dream, the Elder General's eyelids sagged with age, but his gaze was alert and focused:
"When Victor was born, his mother died in childbirth. I was young then—I blamed him for it. I never gave him much affection. I sent him off to the military academy when he was just a boy. One of my subordinates raised him..."
Looking more closely at the waking Elder General, I felt that the two siblings didn't resemble him at all.
He seemed to read my thoughts: "Those two look like their mother."
Speaking of his wife, a smile touched his lips: "If she knew I'd held a grudge against a child, she'd punish me something fierce when I reach the other side."
He bowed to me: "My son is foolish. Please discipline him well from now on."
Startled, I hurriedly returned a deep bow: "No, no—we'll take care of each other, that's all."
I threw myself into happiness, busy with preparations every day.
Choosing the wedding dress, ordering the cake, selecting the menu and wine.
Three days before the wedding, Victor took me to a photography studio for portraits to publish in the newspaper announcement.
He looked into my eyes and asked abruptly: "A hundred years from now, do people still announce marriages in the papers?"
I was sorting through outfits for the photos, thinking of social media platforms where people shared their lives.
I lowered my head and smiled: "It's similar. People take lots of photos and post them on their personal pages for everyone to see."
If only we were a hundred years in the future, we could take color photographs.
But I had learned that some things you can't have are better left unmentioned.
On a rack in the studio, a white silk mermaid gown with cutwork embroidery hung alone—the back was completely open. It caught my eye at once.
Victor had always liked girls in white dresses.
Why not indulge his simple, straightforward preference right here?
Before I could say anything, the studio owner smiled: "This gown was designed by a famous French designer. It just arrived—no one's worn it yet."
I could imagine—such a daringly exposed back, probably no one dared to wear it.
Behind me, Victor stared at the gown, seemingly lost in some memory.
Then, uncharacteristically, he didn't object to the exposure at all. He bought the gown on the spot.
That day, I wore that gown, put on a veil to cover my bare back, and took so many photos with him.
Everything proceeded according to plan, until the day of the wedding.
I had no family here, but the Benevolence Institute had become my home once it was built, so naturally we chose a Western ceremony.
The church was beautifully decorated, and the lawn outside made a natural wedding venue.
The custom-ordered dress was set aside. On the wedding day, I wore the mermaid gown, draped in layers of pristine white tulle, and spoke my vows with Victor beneath the church dome.
A sense of déjà vu.
Just like the first dream I had when I arrived in this world.
Everything that had happened was like a dream within a dream, and this final one was so perfect.
After Victor and I exchanged rings, he lifted my veil, lowered his eyes, and kissed me gently.
His warm palm cradled my face, as if holding something unreal, a beautiful dream too hard-won to believe.
"Rose, this is all real..."
4.
On the lawn, guests mingled with wine glasses, while children from the Benevolence Institute ran and jumped about.
The live band played lively tunes.
Victor was the Young General, after all, and had many social obligations.
He left me with Grace, leaning down to whisper:
"I won't be able to stay by your side in a bit. Don't hold back—eat until you're stuffed, and just say I told you to."
Those were the last words he ever said to me.
Five minutes after he left my side,
a gunshot rang out from his direction.
Then came several more, louder and closer.
Female guests screamed in terror, scattering in all directions.
But I turned toward the sound of the gunshots.
Victor had been shot in the back of the head. The bullet had passed through his skull and exited through his brow.
His handsome face lost all its light in an instant.
Thick, dark red oozed from that small bullet hole.
I fought with everything I had to rush toward him.
"Victor!"
Against the flow of the crowd, I pushed my way to his side and held him tightly.
The assassin who had slipped in had already been gunned down, lying dead three steps from Victor.
Grace took two steps forward, saw her brother with a hole in his head, called out "Victor," and fainted.
Oliver frantically called for a doctor and tended to Grace.
Guests scattered in twos and threes.
They assumed the Young General was dead, and Sungate would be in turmoil once more.
But they didn't know Victor could be reborn.
He had been reborn many times.
What was one more time...
As long as we went back this time, we would never return.
I would stake my very life to keep him somewhere safe.
Only the great can save the world. An ordinary woman like me would be lucky just to look after herself.
Why had I pretended to be magnanimous? Why had I pretended to understand and support him?
Time and again I'd let myself be coaxed into compliance, only to watch him die again and again.
This era was still so far from peace.
And he was so fiercely competitive. This assassin could have been sent by the Japanese, or by remnants of the Green Gang, or by surviving northern warlords.
He was surrounded by dangers. How many lives would be enough to waste?
I wouldn't fight with him anymore, and he would stop trying to prove himself.
Just give us one more chance. One more chance...
If someday fate must part us, I hope it's when we've grown tired of each other, when we see each other as enemies and walk away with finality.
Not on my wedding day, on the happiest day of my life.
The newspaper showed two smiling figures embracing, with the bold headline: "Everything is the best arrangement" and "Please bind yourself to me for life."
So glaring.
As dusk fell, the lace wedding gown let in the night's chill, but it was nothing compared to the heart-rending grief that stole every sound from my throat.
The doctor, the steward, Mrs. Lambertu—they all tried to persuade me in turn. I knew I couldn't explain it to them.
I just clung to his body, repeating: "Victor isn't dead."
The only one in the household still standing was Oliver. He arranged everything, conducting a thorough investigation into the assassin.
Finally, he came and stood behind me.
He crouched in silence.
I spoke first: "Brother-in-law, whether you believe me or not, Victor isn't dead."
I stated it calmly, afraid he'd want to bury Victor like the others:
"I'm from a hundred years in the future. When Victor is near death, he appears in my home. Then he recovers little by little, and when he's healed, he comes back."
Oliver remained silent.
"When you were fighting, you must have seen it too—he should have died, but then one day he was alive again."
Oliver spoke slowly: "I know..."
I hadn't dared to hope he would understand, but now a spark of hope reignited.
Oliver continued: "That time he saved me—his body was hit by a shoulder-fired rocket. I thought he was dead, and then I watched him vanish..."
My breath caught, and I thought of his melted watch.
Then Oliver's next words drove a spike through my throat, robbing me of speech entirely.