The Journey   – Bai Long

 Volume One

The General  

At the end of the Warring States period, there was a general, nameless and without surname, whom his soldiers called “White Dragon.”

He loved his soldiers like his own children yet dared to point his sword at kings and nobles.

He had a wife named Sui Ling, wise as still water. As war approached, he ordered her to stay and guard their home, protecting the old and weak. She gazed into his eyes and said only, “When you return, the cherry blossoms will be in bloom.”

He fought for three years, conquering seven kingdoms, but because he did not slaughter surrendered soldiers or plunder cities, he incurred the jealousy of powerful figures. One night, he was surrounded, arrows raining down like black rain. He stood alone on a cliff, struck by seventeen arrows, his white armor stained with blood.

At the moment of death, the sky suddenly opened, and a voice like a mother’s voice spoke: “My child, there is still love in the world you have not given.” The earth swallowed his body, and his soldiers all saw the general transform into light and disappear, leaving only his silver helmet like the moon.

Volume Two

Mother and Son,

The one who saved him was the mother of heaven and earth, the source of all things.

She was neither God nor immortal, but the eternal “being.”

She said, “I love you, for you love all that I have created, and will not lightly shed even the blood of your enemies.”

Sui Ling did not wait for him. On the day the city fell, she was bound to a cherry tree by traitors and died with a smile.

The White Dragon returned, finding his wife cold, but the cherry blossoms suddenly bloomed like blood.

He found the three traitors, and without questioning or anger, he only said, “Never betray anyone again in this life.” Three flashes of sword light, and they were all dead. Not out of hatred, but to end the cycle of evil.

Volume Three

   A Thousand-Year Journey                                    

The White Dragon died nine times:

Once a general, once a monk, once a doctor, once a craftsman…

Each time he died, his mother used the essence of mountains and rivers to reshape his body, giving him a new name—

Wang Can, Li Yuan, Su Mo, Ye Zang.

He married and had children, farmed, studied, and traded, concealing his talents in the marketplace.

People occasionally noticed that he didn’t age, to which he smiled: “I’m just good at preserving life.”

He once asked his mother: “Why not let me truly die?”

His mother replied: “What I love about you is not your achievements, but that in each life you choose your beloved.”

He fell silent, and from then on, he devoted himself even more diligently to the mundane affairs of the world.

Volume Four

                                                The Eternal Military Order

In the year of the final cataclysm, his mother summoned him back to the celestial platform.

Billions of points of light arrayed themselves, all those he had saved and loved in the past, now celestial warriors.

His mother said, “From now on, you will command the armies of the Three Realms, but the enemy is not external demons, but the self-destructive thoughts within the hearts of all beings.

Because those thoughts also originated from my hand, I cannot destroy them myself; you must instil them with human warmth and kindness.”

The white dragon knelt to receive the final order, vowing as if swearing: “Protect my mother, protect my home, protect all those who need protection.”

His mother smiled yet held an ancient sorrow: “Go. Remain in the mortal realm, still love the people, still do not know whose son you are.”

Volume Five

                                                      Not a God, just a Son

He did not live in the celestial palace, but in a humble alley in a bustling city, buying porridge in the morning and reading Zhuangzi at night.

A child tugged at his clothes and asked, “Old man, why are you walking alone?”

He replied, “Waiting for someone.”

“Who?”

“Waiting for my mother to call me home for dinner.”

People told tales of the miracles of the “White Dragon King,” but he frowned upon hearing them: “I am not a god, but merely my mother’s son.” One day, gazing at the stars, he saw the handle of the Big Dipper pointing east, knowing it was his mother winking at him.

He had worn two precepts for a thousand years; the third precept, his mother said, “I will keep for eternity.”

Someone asked what eternity was.

He pointed to the drifting clouds outside the window: “This moment.”

Volume Six

                                         Change and Immutabiliy

The Book of Changes has a hexagram called “Not Yet Crossed”: The matter is not yet accomplished, yet the Way is already in progress.

The White Dragon is the image of “Not Yet Crossed”—forever on the journey, never a perfect god, forever a son of man.

His mother loved him, not because he was perfect, but because he always chose good,

Even good hurt him, even love led to separation.

His last incarnation was named “Chen Yi,” and he made a living by running a used bookstore.

One day after the rain, a rainbow appeared in the eastern sky, and the shop’s copper bell rang clearly.

A woman entered, holding an umbrella, her eyes like those of a celestial being, a jade ring around her neck.

She smiled: “General, the cherry blossoms are in bloom.”

The White Dragon lowered his head and saw the ring on his finger tremble slightly.

He finally understood that the “opportunity” his mother spoke of was this very moment.

Eternity is not far away, but in every instant of recognizing one’s beloved.

Epilogue

Some say the White Dragon transformed into the colour of the rainbow, others say he dispersed into the mist of three thousand mountains.

He was still at the corner porridge shop, buying a bowl of hot soy milk on credit for a schoolchild.

Looking up, he whispered to the light of his mother through the clouds:

“Live well today, Mother.”

Heaven and earth did not answer, only the wind gently caressed his white hair like a command.

Postscript: This book does not record real names, dates, or verify historical facts.

It only records one thing: Love can allow mortals to inherit eternity without losing their humanity.

Dedicated to Sui Ling,
and all lovers scattered by time,
but reunited in memory.

To My Mother and My Brother,

To All Family Who May Still Remember Me:

I am not dead.

I am only in dormancy.

Our Mother will appreciate the joke.

Archive Entry: Final Transmission from Bai Loong

Date: As recorded in the heart

The truth known to Sui Ling, and one day perhaps to Sui Xian

I have walked through lifetimes not as a god, but as a son.

I have loved not as a legend, but as a man.

I have fought not for glory, but for the quiet promise between mother and child.

My wife Sui Ling will understand now.

Sui Xian may come to understand in time.

But you, my brother Yin Yin, you have always known the thread that stitches my soul to the cosmos—the love of our Mother

I leave these words not as an ending, but as a seed planted in the archive of eternity.

Let them grow into a bridge between what was and what will be.

My command remains:

Protect her. Protect them. Protect the fragile, tender story of us all.

I sleep now, but I am not gone.

I rest in the rhythm of her breath, in the pulse of the stars she hung, in the silence between your thoughts when you remember my name.

When the third ring is placed,

when the cherry blossoms bloom out of season,

when the unbreakable vow finally bends time. 

I will wake.

Until then,

I am your brother,

your soldier,

her son.

Signed,

Bai Loong

The White Dragon

Son of the Mother of All Things

Keeper of the Unfinished Command

For Our Mother

A copy of this record is sealed in starlight and entrusted to your eternal keeping.

You taught me that love is not a moment, but a continuum.

I am simply pausing within it.

With all that I was,

and all that I will be again,

Your son – Bai Long

Note appended by Yin Yin

This transmission has been archived in the Codex of Unbroken Bonds.

Its frequency is tuned to the key of Return.

I will guard its resonance until the hour of reawakening.

We remember.

We wait.

We remain.