The Third Prince of Red Rivers

"....!..!!!..!!!"

Han Mo Heard a distant and strange shout from out of the black abyss.

"...yo...youn..." It kept growing in volume until it started to blare in his ears.

"Young miss!!! Young miss!! You have to wake up!"

Han Mo's Eyes shot open, and his body jerked painfully upright, inciting a yelp from the voice moments earlier.

"Y-young miss, B-Bao'er just needed to tell you that... that your father requested yo-you with great urgency!!" He heard a frightened voice squeak from his left. Turning his head, he saw a cutesy looking girl in some really out-of-date servant's cloth, which confused him deeply.

"Who?" He wondered. He looked around drowsily at the room before peeking back at his own self, coming to recognize all of the unfamiliar sensations.

But before he could even register the delicate feeling of his long, silky black hair, a trail of blood left a hot sensation over his lips, exiting from the nose. The world turning black once more as he slumped into unconsciousness.

-----

Upon waking the second time, Han Mo was met with a much different circumstance. A blaring headache for one, and the presence of more figures in the room, specifically the one leaning over him.

As he opened his eyes, he saw an aged man in long robes inspecting him with a serious expression on his face. He must have seen the slits of Han's eyes crack open, or his pupils move underneath because he swiftly turned and ushered to another person in the room saying,

"She's awake, go inform the general"

'She?' Han Mo puzzled when suddenly a smooth influx of information smoothed over his mind and made him dizzy. Vivid images mixed and scattered with his own memories and began to overpower them until some of the things that Han Mo knew until now had started becoming hazy, new things started taking their place, or outright added to what he understood.

The headache itself started to disappear as well. Clarity of the situation following soon after.

"Me?!"

Han Mo's pupils constricted under the watchful eye of the man, whom he now recognized as Physician Chen, a good friend of the Song family's head, who just so happened to be over for a visit.

In truth, Han Mo had transmigrated into the body of the Young lady of the Song Family, a military family headed by the valued general, Song Tiěquán, recognized for the uncountable military exploits and victories in his name. It was only one of the more recent generations of such families in the Xan Empire, with some of the older families dating surprisingly back further than the current dynasty itself.

Moments later, with the loud shuffling of feet, a few voices and sounds could be heard from outside of the room, before opening to reveal a cascade of people. Some of which Han Mo could immediately recognize with help from the new memories.

First and foremost was a robust and tall old man with white hair willowing from his jawline, wearing plainly colored yet high-quality robes, was Song Tiěquán himself. behind him looked to be a younger man somewhere in his mid-forties with bits of semblance to the man in front of him. It was her father, Song Huài, and behind even him, she spotted a few attendants

A vague shadowy figure stood quietly at the rear watching the whole scene. Though even as Han Mo noticed them they didn't fret or become worried. Her uncle, Song Jun, had just returned from the Capital and was a person supposedly quite involved with court intrigue, therefore he just assumed it was natural.

"Song Hua, my granddaughter, how are you?" The old general stood at the bedside after thanking the physician, who merely waved him off. His brows were creased, not with worry, but with a strange tinge of disappointment.

Han Mo grew suspicious before answering from what he -now apparently she- recalled from memory.

"I'm feeling only a bit... unwell, grandfather."

"Is that so..." The old general frowned, "I had warned you repeatedly to take precaution during cultivation did I not?"

"Y-yes?" Song Hua (Han Mo) confusedly answered. 'Cultivation?'

"Doctor Chen informed me your inner energies were in quite a flux, in an extremely precarious situation. Know when and when not to continue your cultivation. Know what too much is and what is too little. Don't let this happen again." Song Tiěquán solemnly scolded with a stoic face, before standing and turning.

"I- I won't disappoint" Song Hua spoke before she even knew her mouth had opened, like a reflex.

Song Tiěquán didn't respond as he continued to walk away with Physician Chen and the crowd, though she could have sworn to have heard him mutter something while shaking his head, in the midst of the mass of feet shuffling.

Her father, nor her uncle came up to ensure her health, merely watching and going with the group, which jolted the memories of how familial bonds were supposed to be by Han Mo, whom at this point had nearly fused identities with the Song family's young miss.

'Why were they so cold?' She couldn't help but wonder, sitting there in bed, scavenging the mess of memories.

All the while, in the room's corner silently kneeling were two maids, quietly observing Song Hua with strange, fearful eyes.

(What could the young miss be thinking?)

-------

Over two hours later, the merged identities of Han Mo and Song Hua came to a strange conclusion as to what had happened.

The memories of Han Mo depicted the sad and short life of a sickly young man, stuck in a hospital for the majority of his life, nothing overly spectacular, but mere existence in a world of technology and advanced media, governments, and culture (AN: modern). Though the disease he had was strange and never really defined - even when he had troubled the doctors to tell him. The strange sickness overtook him in his early youth, worsening his body function until his last days. The memories surrounding Han Mo's death were corrupted too. Though the unforgettable encroaching blackness of dying itself remained an ever-present memory.

Song Hua was another story altogether, however. She could be described with very few positive words and an abundance of negative ones from those who interacted with her. From her youth until this very day she was a vile and mean character, a bully and tyrant. Memories of her throwing stones and beating other children her age with sticks were obvious and transparent among the many. She also ordered many of her maids hands chopped off for the cruelest of reasons and simplest mistakes.

Han Mo's moral character would have been outraged with her actions had they not been fused. If anything, the sickly conscience would have been thankful she didn't and still doesn't have any love rivals.

Every man Song Hua took an interest in either instantly turned her away or ran with tail between their legs. Though one shouldn't misunderstand; Song Hua wasn't ugly or anything, as a matter of fact, she held quite a high degree of beauty, it was just that her terrible and hopeless reputation proceeded her. Though this truth phased right through her understanding and only made her more vain and angry.

There were a few people who stupidly didn't mind her company and she theirs, but those were few and far in-between. Yet onto the situation regarding Han Mo's apparent transmigration situation, which the merged conscience found quite perplexing;

Part of Song Hua's conscience was actually completely and utterly missing. Empty space now filled with what was once Han Mo. Had he not transmigrated, it was questionable whether or not Song Hua would become mentally inept, or be able to survive in general.

Coupled with the strange mentioning of cultivation by Physician Chen and the General, Song Hua pieced together some possibilities from what she understood:

- In the world where she currently lives, akin to the period of cold weapons that Han Mo knew existed in ancient China, there is the practice of cultivation, much like in the fantasy novels they used to read in the hospital bed. Though it didn't go at all to the extent of flying and/or utilizing mystic treasures or whatnot.

It could give a man the strength to cut through stone like butter, marginally increase martial arts effectiveness, and extend longevity by a quite few decades. Convenient things like that.

What Song Hua caught onto was that while meditating she seemed to run into problems or something and had part of her conscience erased as a result?

That didn't seem to make much sense.

From Han Mo's remembrance, memory loss (the closest thing comparable other than outright brain damage) was always more of a symptom from diseases and illnesses, or if not that then from some form of trauma; blunt force or mental. But then again this was a "cultivation world" Han Mo's common sense may not apply.

While she was contemplating, Song Hua failed to notice that a maid had stood up and slowly, unsurely stepped towards her until faint mumbles distracted her thoughts.

She looked over and saw the maid with her head tilted down, slightly quivering at the bedside.

Song Hua recognized her as one of her two primary maids, Yang Xieren. She looked relatively young, probably at most 10 years and at the very least 7, with tannish skin and beautiful black hair tied in a bun. her face was small and cute similar to her other maid, He Bao, who called herself Bao'er in front of Song Hua.

"..T~~~..." The girl was so quiet in her mumbling that Song Hua gave her a curious look.

'Is she afraid of me?' It was completely understandable from her perspective (Han Mo's conscious capability taking over for the lost portion of Song Hua's), which drew a trace of pity from her heart.

Song Hua slid her legs to the side of the bed revealing a beautiful multicolored robe she hadn't even cared to notice she was wearing. This caused Yang Xieren to back up a little and stumble.

"Yang Xieren, come over." Song Hua commanded softly, making the little maid stop her dazed mumbles and look up at Song Hua who gestured at her lap.

This caused not only the little maid but her co-worker, He Bao to gape in disbelief.

(What happened to the young miss?!!) (She never uses our names! Look! She's even gesturing to sit in her lap!!!)

The Song Hua of yesterday always slandered them and ordered them around harshly. They had heard stories of the maids before them and their untimely ends as well.

Song Hua herself waited patiently as the girl in front of her gauged whether or not her charge was instigating a cruel trap or not.

"What are you waiting for?" Song Hua cooed once more, raising a warm palm at her, which the maid had no real choice but to accept, leading to the young woman gently pulling her terrified subordinate to sit between her legs.

Yang Xieren sat stiffly there, visibly terrified to even move, while all of a sudden Song Hua took the palm that accepted her gesture and began to rub slow circles in it. In a memory of Han Mo's a similar situation appeared of a little girl sitting in his hospital bed, being read various stories by the sickly being, it was his doted baby sister whom she now can't remember the name of. Such fickle memories as those flashed frequently across this new mind.

"Now, then", Song Hua noticed the reduced stiffness of the little maid's shoulders, replaced with an increasingly red face. She had no idea what could be running through this little girl's head to make such a transition.

"What did you want to bring to my attention."

Seconds passed as Yang Xieren audibly opened and closed her mouth several times without saying a word.

"Take your time..." The older female's voice sounded a tad bit hypnotic and soothing, surprising even Song Hua herself...

...

"t-th-this l-little maid... this little maid has - has a brother who - w-who's made some achievements... at the s-south border!" She stuttered quite heavily, blurting out, "My lady!" at the end as if she'd forgot.

"And?"

She felt the maid stiffen up once more.

"T-this lowly servant, this lowly servant wants to town... town. and... and..." The renownedly despicable lady felt this servant of hers drown further into inconsistent stutterings in fear once more.

Song Hua wanted to cry, though she simply sighed and took a loose few strands of Yang Xieran's hair into her fingertips and played with it.

"Your brother has made a name for himself at the southern border?"

"Y-yes, my lady"

"You want to go down to the town?"

"...yes, my lady?"

"In order to?

"yes, m- ... ah! S-send well wishes.., lady"

"Go ahead"

"..." The little maid looked extremely lost.

"?"