The year we got engaged, Horace Gilbert fell gravely ill.

The fortune-teller said his nature was missing wood.

For a life of peace and good fortune, he had to claim the peach tree in the courtyard as his guardian godmother.

Only when the peach tree bloomed could he marry and build a home.

So, year after year, I burned incense and bathed clean, loosened the soil around the peach tree and fed it.

Hoping only that once it flowered, I could marry Horace Gilbert.

But I waited from twenty to sixteen, and the peach tree never bloomed.

What I saw instead was him scattering quicklime under the tree with his friends.

One friend asked, puzzled.

"Horace, if you don't like Melinda Dotson, just break it off. Why pick a fight with a tree every single year?"

Horace frowned and answered, irritated.

"If the fortune-teller hadn't said our birth charts matched, why would I ever marry some country bumpkin."

"There's no getting out of this marriage now."

"Still, Melinda is devoted to me, heart and soul."

"Let me have my fun a few more years, then I'll give her a title."

I looked at the yellowed, withered branches and lowered my head with a bitter smile.

There was no more waiting. My mother was dying.

Her last wish was to see me settled with a family of my own.

If this tree's blossoms would never open for me—

then I had no choice but to marry someone else.

……

When my father heard I wanted to break the engagement, he was silent for a long while.

"Daughter, it's not that I want to stop you."

"You and Horace Gilbert made a life-and-death pact."

"Breaking it now, out of nowhere, I'm afraid the mountain spirit will punish you."

Back when Horace was dying of his illness, I had stood before the peach tree and sealed a life-and-death blood pact with him to give him more time—

"In life and death we do not part, in fortune and misfortune we are bound. Whoever betrays this will be struck down by heaven."

Mountain folk fear the gods and spirits above all.

My father was still wavering.

When a familiar figure suddenly cut into my view.

"Horace, sweetie, you promised you'd come to my party. Why are you standing here staring at this dead tree?"

"You're not still thinking about Melinda, are you?"

Horace froze for a moment, then quickly came back to himself.

He kissed Lillian Summers on the cheek, doting, and laughed.

"Silly girl, what are you talking about."

"How could that country bumpkin Melinda ever compare to you."

"It's just that today is her birthday. I was worried about how to smooth things over with her."

Lillian leaned in closer, pressing half her body against him.

"But I went to all this trouble to prepare a surprise for you today."

"Here's an idea. Tell her you found another folk remedy that'll help the peach tree bloom."

"As long as it has anything to do with this dead tree, Melinda will believe every word of it."

The friend beside them burst out laughing.

"Horace, you two really have a talent for pulling people's strings."

"Remember that time you faked being sick and said you needed... wild lotus root from the dead of winter for your medicine."

"That idiot Melinda actually went looking for it. They say when she fell through the ice, she still had half a lotus root in her hand."

"And last month, you said music would help it flower, and she really did come out every night to sing to the peach tree."

"I've seen fools before, but a fool like this is a first for me!"

The more they talked, the more they egged each other on.

And without warning, a text came through on my phone.

"Melinda, I heard there's a spring up on South Ridge that can make the peach tree bloom faster. I'm going to look for it."

"I can't be with you on your birthday tonight, but once I find that mountain spring, I can marry you home that much sooner."

The old me would have been moved beyond words at the sight of those messages.

I'd have run off to South Ridge like a fool, chasing after that so-called mountain spring.

But now I stood where I was, and for a long time I said nothing.

When Horace fell ill all those years ago, every hospital wrote him off as a dead man.

But I refused to accept it. I begged doctors everywhere, prayed to every god I could find.

I walked endless roads and bowed my head until my forehead was raw, and at last I bought him one slim chance at life.

After that, I held everything in heaven and earth in reverence.

Anything that might do him good, I was always willing to try.

And he used that love of mine.

Again and again, he toyed with me like something in the palm of his hand.

Now the last of my stubborn hope drifted off like smoke.

I lifted a hand to wipe my tears and said quietly,

"Dad, let's call off the engagement."

"The one who'll be struck down by heaven for breaking the vow isn't me."

When he heard that, my father stopped pushing.

"All right. As long as you've thought it through for yourself."

"Don't worry about who you'll marry. Dad will find someone for you from the village."

"They're all boys I've watched grow up. More reliable than Horace!"

I murmured my agreement and hung up.

If the engagement was about to be broken, there was no reason for me to stay in the Gilbert house any longer.

I packed a few things and planned to leave at first light.

I had just fallen asleep when a phone call jolted me awake.

"Melinda, I went looking for spring water and got lost up in the hills."

"You're a mountain girl, you know the land. Come get me and bring me back, now!"

My stomach dropped.

Then Lillian's voice came through the line.

"How long do you think it'll take Melinda to come this time? I bet two hours."

"It won't take that long. With how much Melinda dotes on Horace, half an hour at most. A bet's a bet, Lillian, and if you lose, you owe Horace that striptease, like we agreed."

So it was another of Horace's little games to torment me.

Only this time, he'd forgotten to hang up in time.

And I didn't go rushing off the way I always had.

I put the phone on silent and went back to sleep.

In the gray light of dawn, someone yanked the covers off me.

Horace stood there glaring, his face dark with fury.

"Why didn't you come for me last night?"

"Do you have any idea that I lost the bet… do you have any idea how long I wandered around in those hills?"

"I nearly died out there trying to marry you sooner, and you could just lie here at home sleeping like a baby!"

A reek of liquor laced with perfume rolled off him.

I frowned and held my phone up to his face.

"This is what Lillian posted last night at midnight."

The two of them in the picture wore matching couple's outfits.

Holding hands, leaning into each other.

Zoom in, and you could even make out the lipstick mark on Horace's face.

He took the phone from me.

A flicker of guilt hid in the crease between his brows, almost too faint to catch.

But soon enough, he turned it back on me, just like always.

"That's Lillian's prank, AI-generated."

"After all these years together, you don't even have that much basic trust in me?"

"No wonder that peach tree refused to bloom all this time. I'd say it's because you never gave me your true heart at all!"

The words had barely left his mouth when Lillian pushed the door open.

She had Horace's coat draped over her shoulders, and she stretched into a lazy yawn.

"Horace, why'd you come back so early? I'm not even awake yet."

"Come keep me company a little longer, won't you?"

The fury vanished from Horace's face in an instant.

He turned to her with a soft little laugh.

"Grandfather's coming back to the old house today. I have to get over here ahead of time to get things ready."

"Stay and eat with us. Grandfather loves a proper, well-bred young lady like you."

With that, he turned his eyes back on me.

“Go make a few of the dishes Lillian likes.”

“I want pork and potato stew, crab-stuffed meatballs, and steamed fish. And no scallions or cilantro in any of it. Lillian doesn't like them.”

He didn't care how I felt, but he knew every last one of Lillian Summers's preferences by heart.

To him, his fiancée was nothing more than a maid who'd never be fit to show in public.

I pulled the blanket up over me and refused to look at Horace.

“I need to rest. I don't have time to cook.”

Beside him, Lillian pursed her lips and looped her arm through Horace's, all wheedling charm.

“How is it that the moment I show up, Melinda always feels unwell?”

“She wouldn't be faking it to avoid me because she can't stand me, would she?”

Losing face, Horace started to lose his patience.

He grabbed my arm roughly and dragged me off the bed.

“Quit putting on an act. Everyone knows you mountain folk are sturdy as oxen. You can do hard labor all day and be fine. So why are you suddenly so delicate?”

“Get up and cook. The Gilberts don't keep idle mouths around. I didn't get engaged to you so you could play the lady of the house!”

My bones cracked under his grip.

A sharp pain shot through the arm that had been injured all those years ago.

At my breaking point, I snatched the pillow from behind me and hurled it.

“Horace, you know full well why I can't stand her!”

The pillow grazed Lillian's cheek, leaving a faint red mark.

It was nothing serious, but it was enough to set Horace off.

He froze for three seconds, then seized the crystal ornament off the table and flung it hard at me.

“Melinda, you just won't stop, will you!”

“I'm talking to you nicely, and this is how you treat a guest?”

“Do you know who Lillian is? If you leave a scar on her face, you'll see exactly what I do to you!”

The ornament struck my head.

A thread of blood trickled slowly down my forehead.

Horace realized he'd gone too far.

He hurried to take my hand, wanting to tend to the wound.

I shook him off, no patience left for any of it.

“I don't need your help. I can walk on my own.”

“From this day on, I will never set foot in the Gilbert house again!”

“That's not what I meant……”

Horace started to explain on instinct.

But when he glanced at Lillian beside him, he pulled his hand back.

“I know there's some misunderstanding between you and Lillian, but what happened back then wasn't all her fault.”

“It's been so many years. Do you really need to keep clinging to such petty things?”

Back then, my mother was gravely hurt saving old Simon Gilbert.

To repay the debt, the Gilberts brought me into the city for schooling.

They treated me with courtesy at every turn, yet there were always those who bullied me on purpose for where I'd come from.

Lillian was the worst of them all.

She cut off my hair. She pushed me down the stairs.

She even tried to tear off my clothes and take photos to ruin my future.

At the last moment, it was Horace who stepped forward and shielded me with his own body.

He faced Lillian and said, his voice ringing with conviction,

“Where someone is born doesn't decide everything.”

“Melinda has done nothing wrong. Her birth is no excuse for you to bully her.”

That day, the setting sun fell across Horace and stretched his shadow tall above me.

From that moment, I fell hopelessly in love with him.

I would rather give up half my own lifespan than fail to save him.

But how could the girl I was back then ever have imagined it.

The one who had once stood up for me.

Now stood on the other side, against me.

Too exhausted to argue anymore,

I let out a sigh and said, flatly,

“Horace, let's end the engagement.”

“Since you care about Lillian this much, I'll let you have her.”