Broken Engagement

I stayed by his side from his impoverished youth until he held the world in his palm.

Yet, I was forced to watch as he elevated my half-sister to the status of equal wife and executed my entire family.

I met a miserable end. Given a second chance at life, I watch as his back bows in defeat, his body trembling with regret.

I burn our marriage contract. I wish him a meteoric rise and a boundless future.

A boundless future, without me.

After my fiancé, Xie Zhao, left on a long journey, I wrote him two letters asking him to make a decision.

The first was about my stepsister, who wanted my betrothal goose and had been crying and throwing tantrums over it.

The second was about his younger brother, who had taken a fancy to me and was being far too attentive and far too hard to shake off.

Xie Zhao had never liked my meek, timid nature to begin with. He had always wanted to call off this engagement.

So on the very day I sent the second letter, he had an old man bring me a message:

“Since she wants it, just indulge her.

“She’s young and doesn’t know any better. Surely you do?”

W-who was he talking about?

Seeing that I suspected him of delivering the wrong message, the old man lost his temper too.

“From ancient times to now, I’ve heard of giving away a wife, but never of giving away a betrothal goose!

“Besides, Second Young Master Xie is half a month younger than your sister.

“He obviously means for you to marry someone else!”

My mother waited for my father her entire life.

Even when illness confined her to her deathbed, she never got the snowy stroll among plum blossoms he had promised her.

So when Second Young Master Cui and I took a liking to each other, I told him I would wait for him only three times.

The first would honor the joy of our meeting.

The second would honor the bond of truly knowing one another.

The third would honor the love we had shared.

After the third, our ties would be severed, and we would have nothing more to do with each other for the rest of our lives.

Second Young Master Cui agreed with a smile, saying that such a fine match was a blessing from Heaven and that he would never dare cast good fortune away.

Later, he rescued a young woman.

For her sake, he made me wait again and again.

The final time, he sent word that our wedding would be postponed and that we could discuss it again after he had safely brought the young woman back.

I gave a cold laugh and asked, “Whether I marry, and whom I marry, is no concern of yours, Young Master Cui.”

The wedding went ahead as planned after that.

Only the groom had changed.

Anyone who tried to steal my betrothed was certainly detestable.

But anyone who tried to steal Cui Zhaoyu’s bride was, in my eyes, utterly adorable.

My celebrated fiancé casts me aside for the brilliant female thief who became his partner in solving the capital’s most sensational cases.

Branded a discarded woman, I am forced by imperial decree to marry Li Fu, an unlettered general whose rough manners could not be further from the refined husband I once imagined.

Yet beneath his beard and battle scars lies a loyalty steadier than any storybook romance, while I discover that managing a difficult household may demand more courage than grieving a broken engagement.

When the applause fades and ordinary life begins, both Gu Huaichuan and I learn which kind of love can truly survive beyond the stage.

The day the bandages came off my eyes, he never showed up; instead, I received a message from his childhood sweetheart.

“You may have saved him, but don’t try to hold it over his head. He doesn’t have time to pick you up, so make your own way home.”

I called him, only for him to hang up the instant his phone rang.

When I finally saw him again three days later, he demanded to know why I had sent such a message to slander his precious childhood sweetheart.

I watched the aura of fortune above his head hemorrhage away.

Suddenly, accepting that I was the heroine of a melodramatic angst novel did not seem so difficult after all.

The day I decided not to get married, Chen Shuo was at the market buying a bass.

He sent me a photo and asked, “This one’s nine hundred grams.

Too big?

Mum said you liked it steamed.”

I stared at the fish lying in its plastic basket for ten or fifteen seconds, then replied, “Chen Shuo, let’s not register our marriage next week.”

He probably thought I was stressed about the wedding again.

After a while, he replied, “Sure.

We can push it back.

You’ve been busy with your project lately anyway, haven’t you?”

I said, “I don’t mean push it back.”

There was nothing from him for two minutes.

“What do you mean?”

I put my phone facedown on my desk and didn’t answer.

At 4:27 that afternoon, I was sitting in a windowless meeting room with a final account for a construction project worth forty-seven million yuan spread out before me.

The printer kept spitting out paper next door.

The air vent hummed overhead.

My supervisor, Wei, was arguing with the contractor’s people over a hundred and seventy thousand yuan in additional works claims.

Everything was ordinary.

So ordinary it hardly seemed like the afternoon a woman had decided to cancel her wedding.

No one had been caught cheating.

There had been no slap, no other woman, no sudden revelation of anyone’s true colours.

Chen Shuo hadn’t betrayed me.

He was, by most standards, a decent man.

He didn’t smoke, didn’t throw money around, wasn’t violent, and had no interest in going out for what men called “a night with the boys.”

If you drew up a job specification for a suitable husband, he’d score eighty-five out of a hundred.

So everyone asked me, “Then why on earth won’t you marry him?”

That turned out to be the hardest question to answer.

Because when an adult truly wants to leave a relationship, there often isn’t one devastating piece of evidence against the other person.

Just one small bill after another.

And suddenly you realise that, for seven years, every one of those bills has had your name on it.

Yang Bufan never took anything seriously.

Not even marrying me.

An auspicious date for the betrothal?

Too much trouble to choose.

How much to offer in betrothal gifts?

Too much trouble to think about.

He left every last detail to his cousin.

He would sooner spend an entire afternoon beneath the flowering trees, stringing jasmine for our dear Miss Meng, than spare a second glance at the marriage contract I had sent him.

He was getting annoyed.

“She’s changed it twice already.

Last time, I left two strokes out of her name.

What is it now?

Did I leave something out of mine too?”

The servant who had brought it faltered.

“The names have been corrected, sir.

It’s just that Miss Lu would still like to know what you think…”

Yang Bufan propped his chin on his hand, already losing interest.

“As long as it’s fixed.

Tell her to stop hurrying me.”

“The sixth day of the sixth month, isn’t it?

I’ll be back.”

In the fifth year of our marriage, I got pregnant, and Fu Chi wept with joy.

Everyone said I was lucky, that I had married an up-and-coming tycoon like Fu Chi.

But no one ever mentioned the actress he was keeping on the side.

It was as if everyone had forgotten that I, too, was the girl he had confessed to at seventeen, his eyes red-rimmed with emotion.

Behind his back, one of his friends warned him, “You’re being such a bastard. Aren’t you afraid Xu Man will divorce you?”

Fu Chi had nothing to fear. He only gave a lazy smile and said, “She won’t.”

Later, without making a scene or saying a word, I aborted the child.

When the news got out, Fu Chi flew back from London overnight.

My betrothed had become entangled in a love affair in Yangzhou.

The woman was a courtesan named Li Pengpeng, the most celebrated beauty in the city’s pleasure quarters.

She bought her freedom and stood alone outside the Xie family’s ancestral residence, waiting in silence for an entire month before she was finally granted an audience with Old Madam Xie.

In the end, a sedan chair carried her into a house on Four Wells Lane.

When I reached the capital, I happened to hear that she and Xie Shijing had held a proper wedding feast.

They went everywhere together, basking in their newfound glory.

Though only his mistress, she enjoyed all the privileges of a lawful wife.

Everyone in Shangjing was watching for my humiliation.

Occasionally someone voiced indignation on my behalf, but other voices soon drowned them out.

Some busybodies even opened a betting pool, wagering that I would swallow the insult.

After all, the Song family of Luochuan had long since fallen from its former standing, while the Xies were a pillar of the imperial court.

On the day the betting began, I went alone to the Xie family’s principal residence, just as Li Pengpeng had done.

I had not come to demand justice.

I had come to end the engagement.

Xie Shijing was unworthy of being my husband.

My sister-in-law is the famed Rouge Tiger of Linan.

With a powdered face and thunderous methods, she keeps my brother so obedient he doesn’t dare take a concubine.

All the men of Linan laugh at him for being henpecked.

One day, my brother brought home a shy young woman named Yaoniang.

With a trembling voice, he stood protectively in front of her and said to my sister-in-law:

“Yaoniang and I have already been intimate. Whether you approve or not, I will make her my concubine today.”

My sister-in-law did not pick up the rolling pin again.

She only smiled and said, “Very well – I’ll let you have her.”