“I am an orphan. From the moment I was born, I never knew who my parents were, nor where I had come from.”

The gentle night breeze stirred not only the loose strands of hair at Shen Zhuxi’s temples, but also the scattered wisps at Li Wu’s.

His flying black hair half-concealed his dark eyes. He looked out at the night, out at the vast expanse of sky and earth. Shen Zhuxi did not know what was reflected in his gaze — only that in this moment, those eyes, which were always so full of vigour and light, held the faintest trace of bewildered loss.

“By the time I drifted to Yutou County, I must have been about five or six years old. I have been a beggar, and I have been a thief. Every food stall on the street — there was not one whose wares I hadn’t stolen at some point. To steal, you need quick eyes and quick hands. But no matter how quick your eyes and hands, once people recognized your face, no amount of speed or dexterity could bring you close to another’s stall. The moment they knew it was you, they would shout you down from a distance, curse you, and some of them — if you merely passed by their doorway — would come out brandishing a stick to beat you.”

“In the year I first arrived at Yutou Town, I managed to steal plenty of food at the start. But then I could no longer steal anything — and not only that, I was regularly covered in bruises. Once, they even broke one of my ribs.”

Shen Zhuxi couldn’t stop herself from asking, “Was it those stall owners who beat you?”

“It was the other beggars,” Li Wu said. “In any place, there is an order of seniority. Begging is no different.”

“Those older beggars swept away every coin and every scrap of food I managed to beg or steal each day. If what I brought back didn’t satisfy them, they would beat me with their fists and feet, using me as a punching bag for their amusement. That time, I brought back only four copper coins, and they broke my rib.”

Shen Zhuxi listened, transfixed, her eyes gradually filling with tears.

“I drifted through the streets for two days, spitting up blood. In the end, I collapsed at the entrance of the Suxin Hall, and it was Dr. Tang who saved me. After that, I would rather roam the streets than return to the beggars’ den.” Li Wu paused, his gaze moving toward the remnants of the fencing below. “I ate duck feed. I slept in the duck pen. I talked to the ducks. When the wind blew and the rain came down, I huddled together with the ducks for warmth. They never once looked down on me, never struck me, never cursed me.”

“The ducks were my salvation,” he said.

Shen Zhuxi’s tears broke free of her eyes.

The man before her spoke of his past with quiet, measured calm — no grief on his face, for to him, these were only hardships that had long since passed. Yet to Shen Zhuxi, they were a world entirely unlike anything she had ever imagined within the narrow confines of her own sheltered life.

That sky had been so crushing. That earth had been so muddy and treacherous. How had he held that sky up, how had he walked across that earth, and emerged in the end as the person he was today?

“Later, I rescued a scholar who had collapsed. He was running a high fever yet pressed on toward the capital for the imperial examinations and would not slow down. He was grateful that I had saved him and asked what I needed. I told him — I need a name.”

“He offered several, and I found none of them good enough. Finally he said: ‘You have neither father nor mother. You grew up beneath a wild plum tree and were sheltered by a flock of ducks. Given this — let your name be Li Wu.’ From that day on, I had a name.”

“Seven or eight years later, the beggar who had once broken my rib gathered more than a dozen men to surround and attack me. In the end — he died, and I survived.” Li Wu said. “There were many of them, but every one of them feared death. There was only me, and I did not fear death. And so it is always me who comes out on top in the end…”

Li Wu turned his head, and the sight of Shen Zhuxi’s tear-streaked face gave him a start.

“Why are you crying?”

Shen Zhuxi’s words came out strained and drawn, the way only a person in the middle of crying can speak. “My heart aches…”

“What is your heart aching for? These are my troubles, not yours.”

“It just aches…” Shen Zhuxi could not explain the reason. In a childish fit, she kicked her legs out a little.

Li Wu looked at her deeply, starlight glimmering in his eyes.

“…Little fool,” he said. “How old are you?”

“Sixteen…”

“I don’t know exactly how old I am. Either twenty-one or twenty-two.” He reached into his robe and drew something out — something jade-green — and opened his palm to show her.

Shen Zhuxi blinked in surprise, her eyes still glimmering with tears. “This is…”

“Something I have always had.” Li Wu said. “That scholar told me this is a jue — a jade ring with a cut in it. People only give this kind of jade when they mean to sever all ties. Perhaps this is what my birth parents wanted to tell me — don’t come looking for us.”

The jue resting in Li Wu’s palm was a piece of white jade of exceptional quality. Cloud patterns swirled across its surface, and its lustre was smooth and radiant — clearly it had been handled and worn often by its owner.

If this jade had truly been with Li Wu from birth, then his origins were surely not ordinary.

And yet — what did extraordinary origins matter? As that scholar had said, this was a jue — and a jue is given only when one wishes to make a final, absolute severance.

Shen Zhuxi did not want to see him sink into gloom. She tried to comfort him: “Perhaps — what if it was actually half of a pair? A jue?”

“What is a pair?” Li Wu looked over at her.

“A matched pair of jade rings, each with a notch cut out — together they make a complete circle.” Shen Zhuxi said.

Li Wu looked down at the jade in his hand and laughed, a little bitterly. “…But I only have the one piece.”

“Perhaps you lost the other half when you were small. Perhaps…” Shen Zhuxi racked her mind for something comforting to say.

“No need to comfort me.” Li Wu cut her off. “I never had any intention of tracing my roots and returning to my clan. They abandoned me — that is their loss.”

Shen Zhuxi had been aching for him a moment before, but now she found herself smiling through her lingering tears.

This was Li Wu. He had never needed anyone’s pity, and he would never pity himself.

“I…” Shen Zhuxi hesitated before speaking. “People have called me a lone cursed star — one who brings disaster to all those around her. Does that frighten you?”

“Who calls you that?”

Shen Zhuxi thought of the whispers among the palace servants, and the thinly veiled mockery from her brothers and sisters.

“…Many people.”

“They’re talking nonsense,” Li Wu said without a moment’s hesitation. “If you were truly a lone cursed star, why haven’t you struck them all dead yet?”

Shen Zhuxi laughed again, and the sadness that had begun to rise inside her dissipated entirely.

“Why do they call you that?” he asked.

“The people who got close to me… none of them came to a good end,” Shen Zhuxi said softly.

“Tell me.”

“When I was seven years old, I became close friends with one of the palace maids.”

“You entered the palace at seven?”

Shen Zhuxi quickly nodded, afraid he would press further, and hurried on: “Not two years later, she was beaten to death on charges of stealing a hairpin that belonged to my moth — the Noble Consort. But until her dying breath, she never admitted to taking it. I also believed her — she wasn’t that kind of person…”

“What does that have to do with you?” Li Wu said. “The Noble Consort was the one who beat her to death. You were a seven-year-old maid — how could that be laid at your feet?”

“And when I was ten, the Noble Consort offended the Emperor and had her title stripped from her and was placed under house arrest — for six whole years…”

“The Noble Consort being placed under arrest — what does that have to do with you? Weren’t you the Princess of Yue’s attendant?”

“I… the Princess of Yue lived in the Noble Consort’s quarters, so naturally I did too. The Noble Consort was also something of a mistress to me.” Shen Zhuxi said. “After the Noble Consort was confined, everyone in those quarters had a difficult time of it. A young eunuch close to my age looked after me a great deal — but before long, he too met with misfortune…”

“What kind of misfortune?”

“He was claimed by an old eunuch with unspeakable appetites, and within a short while, he was tortured to death…”

“Go on.”

“And then at thirteen, I made a friend — she was a commandery princess…”

“A commandery princess befriending you, a palace maid?”

“She… she probably took pity on me, a passing whim. Once, she said she would take me outside the palace to enjoy ourselves. I couldn’t resist the temptation, and I agreed. After we left the palace, we were abducted by bandits. Though we were eventually rescued, rumours spread throughout the capital that her… purity had been compromised. A year later, she was married off to a distant place — to Yunnan, far away in the mountains, wed to some man no one had ever heard of.”

Shen Zhuxi choked back her tears. “It was all my fault…”

A sharp knock landed on the top of her head. Shen Zhuxi let out an “Ouch” as the sting in her nose was driven back.

“I call you a little fool and you really are one!” Li Wu said with contempt. “What does any of that have to do with you — not even one copper coin’s worth? Are you handing out credit to yourself? Lone cursed star! If you’re a lone cursed star, then I’m the Immortal of the Gold Star. Go ahead — try to curse me.”

“You mustn’t say such things!” Shen Zhuxi was startled, and in a flustered panic she clapped her hand over his mouth.

The world fell still. Li Wu didn’t move, staring at her steadily.

His breath hit her palm, sending a tingling, ticklish warmth through her skin. Shen Zhuxi snatched her hand back at once, the temperature of her face rising sharply.

Silence settled over the treetop for a good while, nothing but the wind sweeping through the canopy and the wave-like rustling of leaves.

Li Wu said, “I’m not afraid of being cursed by you.”

“Hmm?”

That out-of-nowhere sentence made Shen Zhuxi look at him in puzzlement.

Li Wu did not look at her. He gazed out at the boundless night and said, “My fate is a hard one too. I’m not afraid of you.”

Such a simple sentence, yet it sent waves crashing through Shen Zhuxi’s heart.

Li Wu said, “Let’s go back.”

“…All right.”

When they returned home, the guests had all departed. Li Que had tidied the courtyard until it was clean and neat, leaving only a faint trace of wine lingering in the air.

Shen Zhuxi went back to the bedroom. After a while, Li Wu came in carrying a small wooden chest.

He opened the chest before her. Shen Zhuxi looked inside in surprise: several rows of silver ingots were stacked neatly within, and resting on the very top layer was her pair of earrings.

“This is a dowry I’m adding for you. Keep it safe and don’t spend it carelessly.” Li Wu placed the wooden chest in her hands.

Shen Zhuxi stared at him, bewildered. She had never heard of a husband adding to his wife’s dowry.

“Where did you get the silver?” she blurted.

“Earned through business.” Li Wu paused, then added, “Honestly earned.”

“…Aren’t you afraid I’ll take your silver and run?”

“Go ahead and run then — I’d be glad if you did.” Li Wu said. “If you ran, I’d have every reason to chase you down and break your legs.”

Seeing the frightened expression on Shen Zhuxi’s face, Li Wu pulled the corner of his mouth into something almost like a smile.

“There you go believing it again — you believe everything I say. You really are a little fool. Except in bed — I don’t hit women.”

Shen Zhuxi said quietly, “You could always ask Li Kun or Li Que to do it for you.”

“You really do know me well.” Li Wu suddenly reached out and tousled her hair until it was thoroughly dishevelled. “Stop frightening yourself. You’ve had a long day — get some rest.”

The unfamiliar sensation left Shen Zhuxi standing motionless where she was, long after the large hand had left her head.

In the beginning, she had thought Li Wu was a great villain. Then, she had come to think he was not so terrible after all. Now, she felt that Li Wu was a far better person than she had imagined.

After washing up, Shen Zhuxi lay down on the soft, comfortable new bed and thought to herself: from now on, she ought to treat Li Wu better in return.

That thought had barely had time to settle before Li Wu came barging in through the bamboo curtain, changed into his inner garments, sat himself down without ceremony, shoved Shen Zhuxi — who had been sleeping in the middle — aside, and lay down without the slightest concern for her stunned expression.

“You…you — what do you think you’re doing?!” Shen Zhuxi shrank into the corner, stammering.

“Sleeping. Aren’t you going to sleep?” Li Wu looked at her with perfect composure. “If you’re not sleeping yet, scoot over a little more.”

“This is my bed!”

“I paid for it.”

“We agreed that after the wedding, you wouldn’t take advantage of me!” Shen Zhuxi’s face flushed red with indignation.

“Who’s taking advantage of you?” Li Wu said. “Have I laid a finger on you? If anything, you’re the one who’d better not take advantage of me in my sleep.”

“You——”

Shen Zhuxi was so furious she could barely speak. She refused to get off the bed and let Li Wu claim it, but she also refused to simply let him have his way. She grabbed the blanket off him and gave him a firm kick on the backside.

“This is my blanket!”

With a thud, Li Wu rolled right off the bed. He looked up to find that Shen Zhuxi had already wrapped herself up in the blanket like a silkworm cocoon and turned her back to him.

A smile played at the corner of Li Wu’s mouth. He climbed back onto the bed and lay down at the very edge.

“Don’t go taking liberties with me while I’m asleep.”

“In your dreams! I would rather die than take liberties with you!”

“That remains to be seen. After all, I am young, handsome, and wealthy…”

“Shameless! Have you no shame!”