Chapter 7 — The Simpleton’s Serendipity

Chu Nhan’s eyes brightened. He walked toward the door, throwing back a casual remark: "Don't hold your breath; I have no intention of coaxing you."

Once he had departed, Giang Phuong Phi sat upon the low bed, her gaze drifting vacantly toward the incense burner nearby. It was a rare, complex fragrance she had spent countless hours perfecting, tailored specifically to his tastes. Yet, Chu Nhan had never once noticed it. In contrast, a simple, withered blossom that Giang Bao Nguyet had plucked idly from the fields was something he would mention repeatedly in her presence, over and over again. She truly could not fathom it. It was painfully clear that Bao Nguyet was dim-witted, utterly incapable of reading the room, poor at her studies, and devoid of talent in the arts of zither, chess, calligraphy, or painting. The word "dignified" held no place in her character. And yet… how was it that everyone seemed to favor her?

The next time I heard news of Chu Nhan, it was said that while returning from Thanh Chau, he had stumbled upon a band of outlaws who had escaped the clutches of the imperial guards. He had faced a life-or-death struggle, but in the end, he had made it back alive. My maid, Tieu Lien, and I had been huddled behind a garden pavilion, eavesdropping on the gossip of the household matrons, when these details drifted our way. Tieu Lien cast a sidelong glance at me; seeing that I remained unmoved, she breathed a sigh of relief. Just as I was leaning in, eager to hear more of the commotion, a hand suddenly hoisted me into the air. The matrons scattered like frightened birds. Tieu Lien looked up to see Tieu Liem, who pressed a candied hawthorn skewer into my mouth and ruffled my hair. "My mother wishes for you to accompany her to Nam Son Temple to offer prayers," he said.

I nodded obediently. Consort Thuc was a remarkably kind soul. She would often summon the head chef from the pastry shop I loved most to the manor just to prepare treats for me. She had even hand-stitched a pink cotton-padded jacket for me, pinching my cheeks and calling me adorable. In private, she had once whispered to me that Tieu Liem carried the curse of a baleful star, as decreed by the Imperial Astrologer. She was deeply grateful that I had not cast him aside. I had looked at her with total sincerity and replied, "There is no such thing as a baleful star. I only know that Tieu Liem is a very good man."

Consort Thuc’s eyes had welled with tears, and she had pressed a magnificent jade pendant into my palm. I was more than happy to accompany her to the temple. As our carriage traveled north, a horse suddenly bolted, overturning a grain cart. Millet scattered across the road like spilled gold. The mother and daughter in the cart tumbled to the ground, scraping their limbs. I hurriedly stepped down, signaling for the driver and Tieu Lien to help. But the moment my feet touched the dirt, the horse veered back, and the rider leaned down, hoisting me onto the saddle. I shrieked, watching the landscape and Tieu Lien recede into the distance, my eyes stinging with tears of terror. I forced myself to remain calm. "I... I have a great deal of silver. Take it all, just please, let me go."

The man chuckled softly. "Tieu Liem did not lie to me. You truly have forgotten me. But tell me, by what right?"

Hearing those words, I immediately deduced his identity. There was only one person who had been forgotten by me. "You are... Chu Nhan? Tieu Lien said you loathed me; it seems that was true."

Chu Nhan’s grip tightened, and he pulled me to sit firmly before him. His voice was gravelly. "I do not loathe you. I merely misunderstood." Sensing my distress, his tone softened involuntarily. "I never intended to hurt you. It is only because Tieu Liem refuses to let me near you that I was forced to take such measures."

"Then... the mother and daughter on the cart—was it you who set the horse upon them?" I suddenly grasped the truth. "You knew for certain I would step down to help them."

Chu Nhan could not bring himself to meet my gaze. I let out a soft sound of realization and said calmly, "It appears it is not you who loathes me, but rather I who loathe you."

"That is not true!" Chu Nhan countered urgently. "How could Bao Nguyet ever loathe me? You used to love following me everywhere. Our families even arranged a betrothal when we were children. You were meant to be my wife!"

I remained silent, then added, "Then it seems I have finally seen you for what you truly are."

Chu Nhan fell into a brooding silence, carrying me into a forest. "This is the place we loved to visit most when we were children." He reached for my hand, but I pulled away and jumped from the horse myself. "Say what you must. If Consort Thuc realizes I am missing, she will blame herself."

Chu Nhan hesitated before drawing a ruby hairpin from his sleeve. Seeing my blank expression, he offered a bitter smile. "This was the birthday gift I gave you when you were nine."

Only then did I learn the truth. On the road back from Thanh Chau, Chu Nhan’s caravan had crossed paths with the escaped outlaws. At first, he had no intention of interfering. That changed when he saw this ruby hairpin in the hands of an outlaw who looked vaguely familiar. By pure instinct, he had led his guards into the fray. He captured the bandits, and in doing so, uncovered the past. It turned out his savior had never been Giang Phuong Phi, but Giang Bao Nguyet. To save him, she had surrendered her most precious possessions to those men. Yet, he had mistaken the identity of his benefactor. Throughout the return journey, he was haunted by the question: why had she never spoken? If only he had known sooner... but there was no place for "what ifs" in this world. He had sought out the Giang manor, waiting from dawn until dusk, until a princess had passed by, curious enough to lift her carriage curtain and ask: "Are you not here to see my sister-in-law?"