chapter 1

chapter 1

The truth of my birth came to light by accident.

The marchioness had gone to a temple in Qingzhou to fulfill a vow when heavy rain overtook her journey. She stopped beneath a roadside pavilion just as I passed with two bundles of grass for the pigs. One look at me left her transfixed.

The reason was simple: I looked almost exactly as she had in her youth.

Suspicion took root. She quietly sent people to investigate and discovered that I really was her daughter.

Twenty years earlier, the marquis had been caught in a dangerous struggle at court. Pregnant with me, his wife had taken their son to Qingzhou for safety. Rain had fallen that day too, forcing their party to shelter in a ruined temple.

There, the marchioness unexpectedly went into labor. A peasant woman traveling alone was also giving birth in the temple. Taking pity on her agonized cries, the marchioness sent the midwife to help and gave her a piece of fine cloth for the baby.

The night was chaotic and pitch-black. By dawn, both infants had been wrapped in the same rich fabric, and the midwife could no longer tell them apart. In her panic, she chose one at random and handed the child to the marchioness.

Two decades later, the midwife was old and near death. The moment she was questioned, she knew she had indeed switched the babies. Consumed by remorse, she confessed and died that very night.

With the midwife gone, the marchioness had nowhere to direct all her grief and fury.

All she could do was embrace me through her tears. “Zhen’er, come back to the capital with me. I will make it up to you.”

I stood in my dilapidated farmyard, staring blankly at the crowd of richly dressed servants. I had no idea how to respond.

My adoptive parents, at least, had treated me well. Life had been hard, but they had always believed I was their own daughter and had spared me what suffering they could. Sadly, both died of illness when I was thirteen.

And so I followed the marchioness to the capital.

The household was skeptical when she revealed who I was. Every close relative performed a blood test with me.

Our blood mingled.

My father’s eyes reddened. My elder brother could only sigh.

Guo Mingyi, the young lady who had taken my place, clasped my hand. After struggling for a long while to speak, she wept. “I’m sorry. I took twenty years of your life.”

My thoughts drifted as I studied a face that somehow resembled both of my adoptive parents.

Her palm was soft and delicate; mine was rough, dark, and callused. Shame flooded me. I awkwardly pulled my hand away. She froze, and her tears fell even harder.

Mother gathered her into her arms. “Yi’er, this was not your fault. It was the midwife’s mistake. You are innocent.”

Father consoled her too. “You are with child. You mustn’t upset yourself and harm your health. Let it go, Yi’er.”

My brother added, “Exactly. If Mother had not gone to Qingzhou, you would still be the only young lady of this house.”

I stood alone, unbearably humiliated.

I felt like the criminal who had broken apart their happy family.

I understood what they meant. Everyone still alive was innocent.

My twenty lost years could be summed up in one sentence: fate had played its cruel trick, and nothing could be done.

There was no one to blame, so I could only blame myself for not having been born fortunate.

Later, Guo Mingyi’s husband—the heir of a ducal household—came to see me.

He was refined and striking, handsomer than any gentleman I had ever seen in Qingzhou. With Guo Mingyi in his arms, they looked like a perfect couple stepped straight from a romance.

But when he looked at me, there was faint disgust in his eyes.

“You and I may have been betrothed,” he said, “but Mingyi is the woman I married. I respect her, cherish her, and none of this accident of fate is her fault. The ducal household stands behind her. If you refuse to let this go, you will only bring misery on yourself. If you accept it, I will compensate you.”

Then he left with his arm around her.

Mother took my hand and sighed. “Ah Zhao and Yi’er grew up together. Marriage depends on two people loving one another. It cannot be forced.”

I withdrew my hand and said quietly, “Mother, I never meant to force anything.”

“Good. I knew you were a sensible child.”

I settled into the marquis’s estate.

I wore clothes I would once never have dared look at twice and silk shoes made from brocade. Mother brought me the finest face creams and scented balms, telling me a woman must protect her skin from wind and sun.

Everything in the estate was wonderful.

Yet at night, lying in that vast, soft bed, I could never sleep.

Mother came to speak with me again one evening. Beaming, she announced that she had found an excellent young man for me.

As I listened, I watched the osmanthus perfume drift across the courtyard and suddenly missed the pigs back home, with no one to tend them.

“Mother,” I said, “I don’t want a marriage. Please let me go home.”