Chapter One: A Chance At Life

Rain mid-season was not common in the Meng dynasty's capital especially when that season was winter.

The night sky was filled with nothing but lighting and storm clouds, the rain poured heavily and thunder roared as if the heavens were giving their divine punishment. This day was an omen and all who lived in the Capital knew no good thing would be born on this wretched night.

'Ághhh!' Another scream came from the Duke manor.

The duke's manor located in the edge of the capital far from all the hustle and bustle of the merchants stood tall, its curved rooftops arched like the wings of a resting crane, tiles glazed in dark jade that shimmered subtly beneath moonlight.

The stone path that led to its red lacquered gates was flanked by ponds where golden carp drifted lazily beneath lotus blossoms, and the rustle of bamboo in the wind was the only voice the estate welcomed freely. Serenity lived here like an honored guest.

This was the manor of the Duke of the Zhao family—a name not taken lightly, nor earned by mere blood. Over a century ago, it was bestowed by none other than Emperor Yuanzhen, a ruler known for his discerning eye and fierce loyalty to virtue. The Zhao family had once been simple stewards of land and people, quiet men and women of honor, until their deeds in a time of great unrest drew the Emperor's gaze. For service beyond self, for sacrifice made in silence, he granted them not only title but name. Thus, Zhao became their banner.

Above the grand gate, carved from sandalwood and blackened by time, hung a plaque untouched by weather or neglect. The calligraphy, once brushed by the Emperor's own hand, still gleamed with the faint shimmer of gold leaf. The three characters read: 忠 义 家 — Loyalty Duty Family.

Visitors who passed beneath those words often paused. There was weight in them, not of stone or wood, but of generations shaped by principle. Inside, the manor flowed like a poem—courtyards opening to rock gardens, shaded pavilions for quiet study, and corridors that meandered rather than marched, as though even the architecture preferred contemplation over command.

And in every corner of the manor, in the hush of its tea houses and the order of its scroll-lined halls, the Zhao family lived not in the shadow of their legacy but in its light—still loyal, still dutiful, and ever bound by family but on this wretched night that loyalty would be tested and that peace would come to an end.

"Aghhh!" Another scream tore through the air, refusing to be drowned out by the heavy downpour and rolling thunder.

The scream—no, the screams—came from the chamber of the Duchess, who lay on her bed with her legs spread wide, her face drenched in sweat and tears. Her handmaiden clutched her right hand tightly while the midwives bustled around her. Outside the room, the maids moved in and out, some carrying bronze basins filled with bloodied water, others bringing in fresh ones.

"How much longer? Mother has been in there all day," said Zhao Jie, a boy no older than eight, his voice trembling with worry. "What… wh…at if Mother d…dies?"

"Zhao Jie!" snapped Zhao Yǔ, the Duke, pressing his hands together in a futile attempt to calm his rising frustration. "Do not say such things. You are frightening your sisters. And do not worry—your mother will be just fine." Yet even as he spoke, the Duke himself was gripped by uncertainty.

"My lord, please calm yourself. The Duchess will be fine," said Concubine Zhǐ Ruò, the Duke's first concubine, her expression gentle. She added, "I will take the children to bed." The Duke nodded, waving her off.

Concubine Zhǐ and her maid led the sobbing Zhao Jie and his two sisters away to their rooms. Only the Duke remained, standing outside the Duchess's chamber, listening to the thunder mingling with her anguished cries. An hour passed, and then came another scream—but this one did not belong to the Duchess.

The door burst open. A midwife stumbled out, drenched in sweat, her eyes wide with terror.

"How is her ladyship? And the baby?" the Duke asked urgently, his exhaustion evident as he turned to the wet nurse who followed.

The wet nurse looked at him, her face pale and stricken. She could not speak. She simply turned her gaze away.

Seeing the wet nurses expression dread filled Zhao Yǔ'seyes but quickly deflated when he heard the cry of a baby, excited he left the wet nurse there and went inside the duchess's quarters.

Inside, the atmosphere was solemn. The only light in the room came from the disheveled Duchess and the crying baby in her arms, whom she held tightly, kissing its forehead.

"Xuan…" Zhao Yǔ stopped mid-sentence as his gaze fell upon the baby cradled in the arms of his first and legal wife, Duchess Murong Xuan. He froze, staring silently.

The baby was a girl. In most noble houses, that might have been a concern—but not in the Zhao household. No, the problem was not her gender. It was her hair.

The newborn had arrived with a full head of hair, rare but not impossible. Yet this hair was unlike anything seen before. It was pure white, with blood-red tips. This was not just unusual—it was legendary. A myth known to many spoke of a child born with such hair, destined to alter the course of the world. She would be a curse upon the imperial family, a reckoning for their sins, and a gift to the common people. But in the same breath, the myth warned that all around her would suffer. She would bring calamity to the house that birthed her, and noble families would fall, the innocent would perish, and the world would burn before it united. The tale was cryptic, but one thing was certain: this child was believed to be cursed.

As the Duke stood lost in thought, staring at the baby, the door behind him burst open. A drenched subordinate rushed in, collapsing to his knees, gasping for breath. He dragged himself into a proper kneel.

"My lord… dra…gon," he wheezed.

Zhao Yǔ looked at him, confused. "What? Explain, boy!" he shouted, just as the baby's cries grew louder, mingling with the thunder.

"The Emperor Dragon is here. His Majesty is here," the subordinate finally managed to say.

With those words, the Duke felt the ground vanish beneath his feet. "I should have known… with the lightning," he muttered with a nervous sigh. "Where is he now?" he asked quickly.

"Her Ladyship is keeping him busy."

The Duke patted his chest, exhaling sharply. "Good. We don't have much time." He turned to face the Duchess and the baby. A small, sorrowful smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he saw her cradling the girl.

"Xuan, let go of the baby. You know we cannot keep her," he said, his voice low.

Murong Xuan clutched the baby to her chest, tears streaming down her face. "No. I can't. I won't. She is our daughter. We cannot abandon her. Please, we can't," she pleaded, her voice cracking from pain and exhaustion.

The Duke bit his lip, his eyes glistening. "Xuan… please. We must. The Emperor will kill us all if he finds her."

"We will plead for her life. He will hear us. Give her a chance. The tale is just a myth," she insisted.

The Duke shook his head, holding back tears. "Xuan… my Duchess. Let her go. She will suffer a far worse death at the hands of the Emperor. Show her the mercy of dying by our hand."

The Duchess sobbed harder, and the baby cried with her.

"Rúge, take the baby. Give her a merciful death," the Duke commanded.

Rúge, the common-born maid and personal attendant to the Duchess, was stunned to hear her name. She stood frozen beside the bed.

"Rúge, hurry!" the Duke shouted, snapping her out of her trance.

She quickly took the baby from the Duchess's arms and ran out of the room. Behind her, she could hear the Duchess's anguished cries as she raced through the rain, clutching the crying infant.

She reached the back shed of the manor, trembling and soaked. Inside, she placed the baby on a stack of hay. The child continued to cry, but thankfully the storm muffled the sound. Drenched and shaking, Rúge grabbed a shovel and raised it high, preparing to strike.

"You can do this, Rúge. Give her the mercy of one swift blow," she whispered, meeting the baby's red-stained eyes through tears. Time seemed to stop. Even the raindrops hung still in the air.

"Forgive me. I cannot disobey the lord. He is my savior," she said, closing her eyes and swinging.

The crying stopped. A loud clatter echoed through the shed.

But it was not the sound of death. Rúge had dropped the shovel. She fell to her knees, tears streaming down her face, mucus in her nose, her sobs wracking her body.

"I can't do it. I can't kill a baby. My lord, I have failed you," she cried.

Then she heard a laugh.

She looked up and saw the baby on the hay, smiling brightly, a light in her eyes. In that moment, Rúge saw not a cursed being, but an innocent soul full of life. She reached out and touched the baby's white hair, smiling solemnly.

She looked at the blanket wrapped around the child. Embroidered on it was the name: Zhao Yuexin.

Rúge smiled gently, a tear falling from her cheek. "Yuexin, you will live. Just as your parents saved mine, I will save yours," she whispered.

She picked up the baby, wrapped her tightly in the blanket, and held her close. Then she ran out into the rain, through the storm, determined to protect the child from the fate others had feared.

She ran along the back route that wound through the forest, a path she had often used to collect herbs and plants. Familiar with every bend and bush, she stopped at a specific shrub bearing white berries. She plucked three, chewed them quickly, and spat the pulp into the baby's mouth. These berries were known to induce deep sleep for extended periods, and it didn't take long before the newborn slipped into unconsciousness.

Rúge pressed forward through the forest, her breath shallow and her steps hurried. She glanced back and saw the Emperor's dragon circling above the Duke's manor. Her heart pounded, but she turned away and continued toward the empty market.

The stalls were closed, their awnings flapping in the wind. Rain lashed the cobblestones, and no sane person would have kept their business open in such weather. She ran through the deserted square, her vision blurred by darkness and storm, uncertain of where she was headed until she spotted two figures outside a brothel.

Quickly, she ducked behind a wall, fearful of being seen, and listened.

"Make sure this shipment isn't late. I'm not paying you to be slow. My ladies in other dominions need dresses too," the brothel mistress barked.

The man nodded hastily and extended both hands for payment, but the woman shook her head.

"No. First get the crates inside. Then I'll pay you," she said with a smug grin.

The man rushed inside to retrieve the remaining crates, and the woman followed.

Rúge saw her chance. She slipped from the shadows and approached one of the crates on the large cart. She opened it quickly and nestled the unconscious baby inside, using the dresses packed within to cushion the sides and make it comfortable.

"This is the best I can do, Yuexin. The rest is up to you. Pray you end up in a kind brothel," she whispered, closing the crate tightly. It already had small air holes.

Footsteps echoed nearby. Rúge darted into the shadows and watched from a distance as the final crates were loaded onto the cart. It began to roll toward the port.

A tear slid down her cheek as she watched it disappear into the storm.

"I have done my best. Please, goddess, watch over her. May she live a good life and never return to this city," she whispered.

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