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."

After the death of her eighth husband, Shirley stayed at home for half a year and decided never to marry again, planning to find work out of town.

As she put it, not marrying meant she had to earn her own living and wouldn't end up pitifully in old age.

I was very happy about her decision.

Marriage isn't everything in life. I hoped Shirley could find her own path.

I even told my boyfriend that since Shirley had taken care of me when I was young, I would take care of her when she got old.

And when I was gone, the kids would take over, ensuring she wouldn't be left alone in her old age.

My boyfriend didn't dare disagree and readily agreed.

But two years later, Shirley told me she was in love again.

The outside world was both exciting and lonely.

The man was Maurice Congreve, a colleague of hers, handsome and courteous.

His pursuit was passionate and relentless. He would wander the city at midnight just because Shirley wanted pizza.

He would take care of her meticulously when she was sick.

Shirley had turned him down for half a year.

But her heart, dry like an arid well, was stirred by this man like a pool in spring.

She would chat with me on the phone about his virtues, and while I was happy for her, I was also a bit worried.

Once, I asked if she had told Maurice about her past.

Shirley was silent, then sighed deeply.

"Polly, I'm afraid.

"You know, except for my first husband, the other seven were just because I didn't want to accept my fate.

"I didn't love them. They were attracted to my looks or wanted to win a bet. They didn't truly love me.

"But this time is different. Maurice loves me, and I love him.

"Polly, you know what? I really love him!

"I really want to try again!"

Her tone was firm, as if she were staking everything on one last gamble.

The words of caution I had ready got stuck in my throat.

I told my mother about my worries.

She said Maurice Congreve had a good name.

She also consulted a fortune teller, who said that nine was the ultimate number, and once the ninth trial was over, everything would be fine.

The fortune teller said that Maurice would seal Shirley's curse. They were a perfect match.

But I wasn't convinced.

This time, I could clearly see that Shirley was serious.

And I was terrified of her seriousness.

What if Maurice couldn't last a year? What should Shirley do then?

Would she attempt suicide like the first time?

After her first husband drowned, his parents came to our house, insisting that Shirley had cursed him.

They demanded she return all the wedding gifts and pay extra compensation.

They also insisted that during the burial, Shirley make a doll in her likeness, dressed in her clothes, to be buried with him.

In our culture, this was called a ghost marriage, which was considered very bad for the living.

But Shirley agreed without hesitation and secretly drank poison, intending to follow him in death.

Luckily, I discovered it in time; otherwise, she would have been gone.

I could hardly bear to think about it. If something happened to Maurice...

Would Shirley attempt suicide again?

But my worries were in vain.

During the holidays, Maurice came with his parents, traveling a long distance to propose.