The chamber was heavy with incense, its smoke curling toward the rafters like restless spirits. Outside, the winter wind rattled the bamboo shutters, carrying the distant sound of temple bells.
Earlier that day, the priest had spoken with grave certainty.
“This child was born beneath the Fire Serpent star. Such a sign heralds calamity. If she remains, ruins will follow your household.”
Her mother’s arms trembled as she held the newborn close. The girl looked ordinary,small, fragile, innocent and rather cute her mother thought, but the weight of the prophecy clung to her like shadow.
To the priest, she was a curse. To the mother, she was beautiful, harmful and a sight to behold.
Tears streamed down the woman’s cheeks as she whispered, “Xueyao… my daughter. Forgive me. You are not a curse. You are mine. Yet the stars have marked you, and the world will not accept you.”
Her heart warred with duty. She wanted to defy the priest, to keep her daughter hidden, to protect her from the world’s cruelty. But fear pressed in from all sides the villagers’ whispers, her husband’s silence, the weight of tradition.
At last, she made her choice.
Under the cover of night, she carried the infant to the riverbank. Her sobs were muffled against the child’s blanket as she placed her in a woven basket, lined with straw. She kissed her forehead one last time, her tears falling onto Xueyao’s skin. The baby stirred, her eyes flickering open, as if sensing the loss.
The river accepted the offering, carrying the basket into the darkness.
Hours later, a figure stood by the water. His robes were plain, but his presence carried the a heavy weight of steel hidden beneath silk. He noticed the basket drifting toward him and pulled it from the current.
The infant gripped his finger with surprising strength.
“So the priest calls you cursed,” he murmured, voice low and steady. “Seems like otherwise but since the river has delivered you to me I will take that as a blessing rather than a course”
From that night onward, Xueyao was no longer a burden left to the water. She became his ward, raised not with tenderness but with discipline. He would shape her into something the world could not ignore.