Chapter 1 — The Simpleton’s Serendipity

When the time came to finalize our betrothal, the matchmaker grew confused and delivered the birth charts of my elder cousin to the Chu family instead of my own. The divination came back as a dire omen of misfortune. The Chu family immediately moved to annul the union. Chu Nghen even laughed about it, broadcasting to everyone he met, "Bao Nguyet is a harbinger of bad luck; you would all do well to steer clear of her."

In my foolishness, I went to his doorstep to set the record straight. "There has been a mistake. That was my cousin Fang Phi’s birth chart, not mine."

That very same day, Chu Nghen traveled to the temple. He climbed the stone steps, prostrating himself every single pace. "I offer the bond I once held with Bao Nguyet as a sacrifice," he prayed. "I ask only that my union with Fang Phi might find a blessed conclusion."

Just as he had wished, from that day forth, I gradually began to forget him. I remained in this state until he finally appeared at my door again, demanding the return of my birth chart. I gazed at him with genuine confusion. "You have come to the wrong person, young master. I am already wedded and no longer bear the name of the Giang maiden you once knew."

01

The first person to notice that something was amiss with me was my personal maid, Little Lotus. She returned to me in a fit of indignation. "Today, the elder cousin performed poorly with her poetry at the Imperial Academy and received a reprimand. Chu Nghen took a poem you wrote for him when you were ten and used it to tease her, just to make her smile!"

A poem from when I was ten? I searched my memory. A long time ago, it seemed someone had coaxed me into writing a poem that defied all rules of meter and rhyme, promising me a bowl of iced dairy treats in exchange. But to whom I had written it, I could no longer recall.

"Oh, is that so? Did it cheer her up?"

Little Lotus’s eyes widened. She pressed the back of her hand against my forehead and asked, "What has come over you, mistress? In the past, whenever this was mentioned, you would be so angry you would burst into tears."

I strained to remember, but there was truly nothing left. I only recalled that back then, before our engagement was broken, I had clumsily embroidered a peach blossom sachet for him. He had smiled as he accepted it. During the Flower Festival, my cousin had played the zither, but she accidentally struck a discordant note. The Princess, sitting nearby, was the first to notice and immediately began to mock her loudly. My cousin’s eyes welled with tears. Chu Nghen, who regarded her as his savior, could never bear to see her weep. In a moment of impulsive wit, he held up that peach blossom sachet.

"Guess who gave me this gift?" he had asked.

The Princess sneered, "What is this piece of trash? Even if you paid me in gold to take it, I would not want it."

Everyone erupted into laughter. Only then did Chu Nghen leisurely look toward me. "It was a gift from Bao Nguyet. She spent three whole months embroidering it."

And so, as I sat obediently in the corner—mindful of my mother’s instructions, eating my snacks with decorum—I became the target of everyone’s ridicule in my cousin’s stead. It was a strange sensation. I clearly remembered the shame of that moment, the burning desire to dig a hole and crawl inside. Yet, remembering it now, my heart remained as still as a frozen lake. Little Lotus noticed the change. My mother had brought me along when she remarried into the Giang household, and besides her, this maid was the only person who genuinely cared for me. She asked tentatively, "And what of the days when Chu Nghen called you a jinx and came to your house to break the engagement? Do you no longer feel the pain of that?"

Oh, that still caused a faint ache. I touched my chest. There, I felt a familiar, sour tightness, lingering like a ghost.

02

After learning that my betrothal to Chu Nghen was being finalized, my cousin had hidden her face behind a silk fan and wept, wailing about how difficult it was to be an orphan living on the charity of others. She had begged my mother to help her find a suitable match as well. My mother, having a soft heart and unable to bear the sight of a young girl crying, had agreed. Consequently, the matchmaker held both our birth charts. No one expected that when the time came for Chu Nghen and me to be matched, the matchmaker, still clouded by the wine she had been drinking, would become confused. She mistakenly delivered my cousin’s birth chart to the Chu residence. The divination resulted in a catastrophe. At the time, I was busy playing polo. I was never very clever, and reading books felt like chanting scriptures, but I possessed a natural talent for polo. I won first place that day, and the young noblewomen surrounded me, chirping with excitement. It was the first time so many people had ever wanted to speak with me. My cheeks flushed with warmth.

Then, Chu Nghen flipped his hair, strode toward us, and waved a piece of paper in his hand. "Bao Nguyet’s birth chart, when matched with mine, signals absolute ruin! I told you childhood betrothals are never to be trusted. I am only seventeen; I have no desire to marry so young. My mother is on her way to your house to annul it."

The joy I had felt a moment ago vanished completely. I stared at him, bewildered. "Is... is my birth chart truly that ominous?"

Chu Nghen lifted his chin. "Of course. The master said you carry the sign of a destroyer, a soul so volatile that even someone like me could never hope to suppress it."