The air in the Main branch's courtyard was thick with the scene of sandalwood and medicinal herbs. It was the hour of Chou—the time of the Ox.
Inside the birthing chamber, the first madam lay bare with face full of sweat. Around her, servants scurried with basins of hot water and silk swaddling cloths. This was the moment the clan had waited for, the birth of the first child of the eldest son.
"A girl," the midwife whispered, her voice trembling not with disappointment, but with a strange awe.
The child didn't cry. She opened her eyes—dark, deep, and unnervingly calm—and looked directly at the Astrologer who stood behind a silk screen.
The Astrologer held a Bronze Mirror and a tray of Millet seeds. He was there to calculate the child's Bazi. He cast the coins, his fingers shaking. Outside, the clear spring sky suddenly turned a bruised, sickly purple. A sudden gust of wind blew through the courtyard, knocking over a heavy Bronze Ding that had stood stable for three generations.
"A Jinx," the Astrologer gasped, dropping the bronze mirror. It hit the stone floor and cracked right across the center. "She is born under the Tiansha Guxing—the Lone Star of doom. She will wither the plum blossoms; she will bring the pillars of this house to dust."
The grand matriarch's face, who was listening to the astrologer paled. "Seal the room," a thunderous voice commanded. "No one speaks of this birth. "
3 HOURS LATER
The atmosphere in the Second Branch's courtyard was the polar opposite.
The younger brother's wife had gone into labor early—almost as if the heavens couldn't wait to correct the mistake of the first birth.
As the second miss was born, the servants gasped. "Look!" a maid cried, pointing toward the roof.
The atmosphere in the Second Branch's courtyard, just across the lotus pond, was the polar opposite. The younger brother's wife had gone into labor early—almost as if the heavens couldn't wait to correct the mistake of the first birth.
As the second miss was born, the servants gasped. "Look!" a maid cried, pointing toward the roof.
A pair of Golden Pheasant had landed on the eaves of the Second Branch's hall. The sun broke through the clouds, bathing the room in a warmth that felt like a blessing.
The Astrologer, still shaken from the first birth, cast the coins again. This time, his face lit up with a terrifying greed.
"The Phoenix Fate!" he proclaimed, his voice echoing so loudly it could be heard in the Main Branch's silent wing. "This child carries the light of the Empress. She will elevate the 2nd Branch above the 1st. She is the luck that will save the clan from the shadow of the Eldest."
Long Zhenyuan's indifference was more terrifying than any outburst of rage. He viewed his daughters like pieces on a Go board. The defective were swept away, and the superior were moved to the center.
While the second branch's daughter was a sunbeam of playfulness, the true eldest daughter had spent her first thirty days in an eerie, watchful silence. She did not cry. She did not fuss. It was as if, even in her cradle, she already understood the cold fate awaiting her.