My sister, Shirley Bacon, was just thirty years old this year and had been married eight times.

It was not that she divorced her eight husbands, but her every husband had been taken away by death.

Every time before her wedding, she consulted a fortune teller, who always looked troubled upon seeing her.

The straightforward ones said, "You are destined to bring misfortune to your husbands. Marriage will lead to disaster. You shouldn't harm others."

The more tactful ones said, "This isn't your true match. You will only find stability after sixty. Better wait."

But Shirley, though she consulted, never listened.

And now, she was preparing for her ninth marriage.

I prayed this man had a stronger fate.

1

When Shirley was eighteen, she was set to marry her first husband and consulted a fortune teller before the wedding.

The old lady, looking at the Tarot, shook her head. "Dear, you are destined to bring misfortune to your husbands. If you marry, it won't last a year."

Shirley came back furious, calling the woman a fraud.

She and her first husband had known each other since childhood. How could it be possible that their marriage wouldn't last a year?

Our family didn't believe it either.

But who would have thought, ten months later, her husband drowned while swimming in the lake in the village.

Shirley refused to believe she was cursed.

We didn't want to believe it either, thinking it was just a coincidence.

That lake claimed lives every year, and her husband died because he was reckless. We couldn't entirely blame Shirley, could we?

So two years later, Shirley got married again.

Before the wedding, she had another consult, and the fortune teller again said they wouldn't last a year.

Though Shirley didn't believe it, she couldn't help but feel anxious, living cautiously.

Her second husband was a truck driver, often traveling long distances.

That year, Shirley didn't dare let him go far. They rented out the truck and kept him close to home.

They lived on tenterhooks for a year, finally reaching the last day.

Shirley excitedly told me, "I knew that fortune teller was a fraud. See, we're almost at a year!

"Bart went to buy a cake. Once he's back, I won't let him out, just to prove that fraud wrong and stop the gossiping!"

Shirley was beaming, and I also thought the fortune teller had exaggerated.

Just as she finished speaking, we heard a commotion outside.

It turned out that as her husband was approaching the house, a truck veered off the road, crushing him to death.

The blood mixed with the white cream from the cake, a scene I would never forget.

This incident didn't just shock our family but the entire village, cementing Shirley's reputation for bringing misfortune to her husbands.

But there were always those who defied fate.

In our rural area, there were fewer eligible girls and more boys.

Plus, Shirley was slender and beautiful, the most beautiful girl in the village.

Many, even knowing her reputation, would still pursue her by any means.

Rumor had it they even set up a betting pool on whether they could survive a year after marrying her.

And Shirley, never accepting her fate, kept marrying to prove herself.

Her third husband drowned in a ditch while watering the fields at night.

Her fourth husband died of a sudden heart attack while drinking with friends.

Her fifth husband was bitten by a poisonous snake while hunting rabbits in the hills.

Her sixth husband mistakenly drank pesticide, thinking it was soda, during a midnight trip to the bathroom.

Her seventh husband mysteriously disappeared. When his body was finally found in a ravine, it had been dried out and gnawed by wild animals, not a single piece of flesh intact.

The police investigated for a long time but couldn't determine how he died.

By the eighth marriage, we were terrified of Shirley remarrying.

But the eighth husband seemed obsessed, falling in love with her at first sight and refusing to leave, insisting on marrying her.

He claimed his fortune reading declared him invincible, that Shirley couldn't harm him, and threatened to hang himself if she didn't agree.

At first, Shirley resisted, but she eventually gave in to his relentless persistence and married him.

Not even a year into the marriage, Shirley's mother-in-law, after hearing some rumors, forced Shirley to divorce.

At that time, Shirley had just discovered she was pregnant. The cruel old lady secretly put aborticide in Shirley's food.

During an argument with his mother, the eighth husband fell from the stairs and died on the spot.

Shirley was utterly devastated.

Year after year, it was like a curse that tightly gripped her fate.

She wasn't yet thirty and had already been married eight times.

They were not separated by life but by death.

This time, Shirley finally believed in fate.

She told me, "Polly, I never believed in fate before, but now I understand. Everything is predestined, and we have no control over it."

These words made my heart broken.

I remembered the last time she got married, as I had also started dating, we decided to consult a fortune teller together.

This time, the fortune teller was an old man who looked quite kind.

He looked at Shirley and remained silent for a long time before speaking softly, "Dear, according to your fortune, your true match hasn't arrived yet."

Shirley asked in a daze, "Then when will my true match come?"

The old man stroked his beard, calculating for a long time before saying, "Your marriage will stabilize only after sixty. Better wait."

Shirley, with no expectation of her marriage, wasn't surprised anymore.

Every fortune teller said almost the same thing.

The straightforward ones said, "You are destined to bring misfortune to your husbands. Marriage will lead to disaster. You shouldn't harm others."

The more tactful ones said, "This isn't your true match. You will only find stability after sixty. Better wait."

But life was only a few decades long. Who knew if one could live to sixty? What was the point of getting married by then?

Shirley was only down for a moment before she pulled the Shaman to read my fortune.

The Shaman looked at me and beamed. "This girl has a good fate, destined to bring luck to her husband. Any man who marries her will be fortunate."

Shirley eagerly asked, "What about Polly's boyfriend? Is he her true match?"

The Shaman nodded. "She has a good fate. She won't encounter any bad relationships. As long as it reaches the point of discussing marriage, it will be her true match."

That day, Shirley was very happy when we left.

I, however, felt a bit bittersweet. Shirley and I were very close.

When we were little, our parents were away working to earn money, so we grew up with our grandparents.

But they were old and had difficulty getting around, so most of the caretaking fell on Shirley.

She was five years older than me.

Since I was born, she learned to change my diapers, wash clothes, and feed me formula.

The first word I said was "Shirley".

When I first tried to walk, I fell into her arms.

To me, Shirley was like a mother, even closer than my real mother.

I wished nothing but the best for her.

But thinking of her misfortunes made my throat tight, and I couldn't breathe.

Shirley seemed to sense my thoughts and patted my head affectionately.

"Polly, you don't need to worry about me. This is my fate.

"My only wish is to see you live a safe and happy life."