Half My Life Was the Price of His Love

The year we got engaged, Horace Gilbert fell gravely ill.

The fortune-teller said his nature was missing wood.

For a life of peace and good fortune, he had to claim the peach tree in the courtyard as his guardian godmother.

Only when the peach tree bloomed could he marry and build a home.

So, year after year, I burned incense and bathed clean, loosened the soil around the peach tree and fed it.

Hoping only that once it flowered, I could marry Horace Gilbert.

But I waited from twenty to sixteen, and the peach tree never bloomed.

What I saw instead was him scattering quicklime under the tree with his friends.

One friend asked, puzzled.

"Horace, if you don't like Melinda Dotson, just break it off. Why pick a fight with a tree every single year?"

Horace frowned and answered, irritated.

"If the fortune-teller hadn't said our birth charts matched, why would I ever marry some country bumpkin."

"There's no getting out of this marriage now."

"Still, Melinda is devoted to me, heart and soul."

"Let me have my fun a few more years, then I'll give her a title."

I looked at the yellowed, withered branches and lowered my head with a bitter smile.

There was no more waiting. My mother was dying.

Her last wish was to see me settled with a family of my own.

If this tree's blossoms would never open for me

then I had no choice but to marry someone else.

When my father heard I wanted to break the engagement, he was silent for a long while.

"Daughter, it's not that I want to stop you."

"You and Horace Gilbert made a life-and-death pact."

"Breaking it now, out of nowhere, I'm afraid the mountain spirit will punish you."

Back when Horace was dying of his illness, I had stood before the peach tree and sealed a life-and-death blood pact with him to give him more time

"In life and death we do not part, in fortune and misfortune we are bound. Whoever betrays this will be struck down by heaven."

Mountain folk fear the gods and spirits above all.

My father was still wavering.

When a familiar figure suddenly cut into my view.

"Horace, sweetie, you promised you'd come to my party. Why are you standing here staring at this dead tree?"

"You're not still thinking about Melinda, are you?"

Horace froze for a moment, then quickly came back to himself.

He kissed Lillian Summers on the cheek, doting, and laughed.

"Silly girl, what are you talking about."

"How could that country bumpkin Melinda ever compare to you."

"It's just that today is her birthday. I was worried about how to smooth things over with her."

Lillian leaned in closer, pressing half her body against him.

"But I went to all this trouble to prepare a surprise for you today."

"Here's an idea. Tell her you found another folk remedy that'll help the peach tree bloom."

"As long as it has anything to do with this dead tree, Melinda will believe every word of it."

The friend beside them burst out laughing.

"Horace, you two really have a talent for pulling people's strings."

"Remember that time you faked being sick and said you needed... wild lotus root from the dead of winter for your medicine."

"That idiot Melinda actually went looking for it. They say when she fell through the ice, she still had half a lotus root in her hand."

"And last month, you said music would help it flower, and she really did come out every night to sing to the peach tree."

"I've seen fools before, but a fool like this is a first for me!"

The more they talked, the more they egged each other on.

And without warning, a text came through on my phone.

"Melinda, I heard there's a spring up on South Ridge that can make the peach tree bloom faster. I'm going to look for it."

"I can't be with you on your birthday tonight, but once I find that mountain spring, I can marry you home that much sooner."

The old me would have been moved beyond words at the sight of those messages.

I'd have run off to South Ridge like a fool, chasing after that so-called mountain spring.

But now I stood where I was, and for a long time I said nothing.

When Horace fell ill all those years ago, every hospital wrote him off as a dead man.

But I refused to accept it. I begged doctors everywhere, prayed to every god I could find.

I walked endless roads and bowed my head until my forehead was raw, and at last I bought him one slim chance at life.

After that, I held everything in heaven and earth in reverence.

Anything that might do him good, I was always willing to try.

And he used that love of mine.

Again and again, he toyed with me like something in the palm of his hand.

Now the last of my stubborn hope drifted off like smoke.

I lifted a hand to wipe my tears and said quietly,

"Dad, let's call off the engagement."

"The one who'll be struck down by heaven for breaking the vow isn't me."

When he heard that, my father stopped pushing.

"All right. As long as you've thought it through for yourself."

"Don't worry about who you'll marry. Dad will find someone for you from the village."

"They're all boys I've watched grow up. More reliable than Horace!"

I murmured my agreement and hung up.

If the engagement was about to be broken, there was no reason for me to stay in the Gilbert house any longer.

I packed a few things and planned to leave at first light.

I had just fallen asleep when a phone call jolted me awake.

"Melinda, I went looking for spring water and got lost up in the hills."

"You're a mountain girl, you know the land. Come get me and bring me back, now!"

My stomach dropped.

Then Lillian's voice came through the line.

"How long do you think it'll take Melinda to come this time? I bet two hours."

"It won't take that long. With how much Melinda dotes on Horace, half an hour at most. A bet's a bet, Lillian, and if you lose, you owe Horace that striptease, like we agreed."

So it was another of Horace's little games to torment me.

Only this time, he'd forgotten to hang up in time.

And I didn't go rushing off the way I always had.

I put the phone on silent and went back to sleep.

In the gray light of dawn, someone yanked the covers off me.

Horace stood there glaring, his face dark with fury.

"Why didn't you come for me last night?"

"Do you have any idea that I lost the bet do you have any idea how long I wandered around in those hills?"

"I nearly died out there trying to marry you sooner, and you could just lie here at home sleeping like a baby!"

A reek of liquor laced with perfume rolled off him.

I frowned and held my phone up to his face.

"This is what Lillian posted last night at midnight."

The two of them in the picture wore matching couple's outfits.

Holding hands, leaning into each other.

Zoom in, and you could even make out the lipstick mark on Horace's face.

He took the phone from me.

A flicker of guilt hid in the crease between his brows, almost too faint to catch.

But soon enough, he turned it back on me, just like always.

"That's Lillian's prank, AI-generated."

"After all these years together, you don't even have that much basic trust in me?"

"No wonder that peach tree refused to bloom all this time. I'd say it's because you never gave me your true heart at all!"

The words had barely left his mouth when Lillian pushed the door open.

She had Horace's coat draped over her shoulders, and she stretched into a lazy yawn.

"Horace, why'd you come back so early? I'm not even awake yet."

"Come keep me company a little longer, won't you?"

The fury vanished from Horace's face in an instant.

He turned to her with a soft little laugh.

"Grandfather's coming back to the old house today. I have to get over here ahead of time to get things ready."

"Stay and eat with us. Grandfather loves a proper, well-bred young lady like you."

With that, he turned his eyes back on me.

Go make a few of the dishes Lillian likes.

I want pork and potato stew, crab-stuffed meatballs, and steamed fish. And no scallions or cilantro in any of it. Lillian doesn't like them.

He didn't care how I felt, but he knew every last one of Lillian Summers's preferences by heart.

To him, his fiance was nothing more than a maid who'd never be fit to show in public.

I pulled the blanket up over me and refused to look at Horace.

I need to rest. I don't have time to cook.

Beside him, Lillian pursed her lips and looped her arm through Horace's, all wheedling charm.

How is it that the moment I show up, Melinda always feels unwell?

She wouldn't be faking it to avoid me because she can't stand me, would she?

Losing face, Horace started to lose his patience.

He grabbed my arm roughly and dragged me off the bed.

Quit putting on an act. Everyone knows you mountain folk are sturdy as oxen. You can do hard labor all day and be fine. So why are you suddenly so delicate?

Get up and cook. The Gilberts don't keep idle mouths around. I didn't get engaged to you so you could play the lady of the house!

My bones cracked under his grip.

A sharp pain shot through the arm that had been injured all those years ago.

At my breaking point, I snatched the pillow from behind me and hurled it.

Horace, you know full well why I can't stand her!

The pillow grazed Lillian's cheek, leaving a faint red mark.

It was nothing serious, but it was enough to set Horace off.

He froze for three seconds, then seized the crystal ornament off the table and flung it hard at me.

Melinda, you just won't stop, will you!

I'm talking to you nicely, and this is how you treat a guest?

Do you know who Lillian is? If you leave a scar on her face, you'll see exactly what I do to you!

The ornament struck my head.

A thread of blood trickled slowly down my forehead.

Horace realized he'd gone too far.

He hurried to take my hand, wanting to tend to the wound.

I shook him off, no patience left for any of it.

I don't need your help. I can walk on my own.

From this day on, I will never set foot in the Gilbert house again!

That's not what I meant

Horace started to explain on instinct.

But when he glanced at Lillian beside him, he pulled his hand back.

I know there's some misunderstanding between you and Lillian, but what happened back then wasn't all her fault.

It's been so many years. Do you really need to keep clinging to such petty things?

Back then, my mother was gravely hurt saving old Simon Gilbert.

To repay the debt, the Gilberts brought me into the city for schooling.

They treated me with courtesy at every turn, yet there were always those who bullied me on purpose for where I'd come from.

Lillian was the worst of them all.

She cut off my hair. She pushed me down the stairs.

She even tried to tear off my clothes and take photos to ruin my future.

At the last moment, it was Horace who stepped forward and shielded me with his own body.

He faced Lillian and said, his voice ringing with conviction,

Where someone is born doesn't decide everything.

Melinda has done nothing wrong. Her birth is no excuse for you to bully her.

That day, the setting sun fell across Horace and stretched his shadow tall above me.

From that moment, I fell hopelessly in love with him.

I would rather give up half my own lifespan than fail to save him.

But how could the girl I was back then ever have imagined it.

The one who had once stood up for me.

Now stood on the other side, against me.

Too exhausted to argue anymore,

I let out a sigh and said, flatly,

Horace, let's end the engagement.

Since you care about Lillian this much, I'll let you have her.

Horace stalled for a moment.

The guilt of a second ago curdled into the cold laugh of someone caught out.

"Break it off? Melinda, are you out of your mind?"

"You clung to my side like a leech for eight years and wouldn't leave. And now you want to break it off? Who's going to want you?"

Lillian let out an open sneer.

"Country girls really are the scheming type. She's even learned to play hard to get."

"I heard you nearly got defiled saving Horace back then. A woman like you, leaving the Gilberts? They'll probably run you out of town in disgrace."

What I'd done for Horace back then went far beyond that.

I'd climbed the nine thousand steps of the temple stairs on my knees. I'd prayed in hundreds of shrines.

Anything that might save him, no matter how bitter or hard, I was willing to do it.

Everyone said I'd throw away my own life for Horace.

A few con men heard that and set their sights on me.

In the end I slit my wrist and threatened to die before they finally backed off.

I'd thought all of that was proof of how I loved him.

I never imagined that in their eyes it was only leverage to use against me.

The memories tightened around me like a halter until I couldn't breathe, until I couldn't stand one more moment in this place.

Just then a message from my father came through on my phone.

"We've settled on someone for you to marry. A man from the village, someone we know inside and out."

"He knows you love peach blossoms, so he reserved half a hillside of peach trees just for you. Come home and we can hold the wedding right away!"

Horace looked down and caught the word "marry."

Whatever guilt he'd had drained away, and he grew bolder still, laughing coldly.

"See? You can't actually leave the Gilberts."

"That little village of yours is so backward and superstitious. Where can you go, besides marrying me?"

Anywhere.

Anywhere was better than here.

When he saw me still walking toward the door, still refusing to come to my senses, Horace lost the last of his patience.

Staring at my back, humiliated and furious, he shouted.

"Melinda, take one more step and I'll chop down the peach tree in the yard right now!"

My foot stopped. I didn't turn around.

"Do whatever you want."

That tree was tied to Horace's own fate, not mine.

I moved out of the Gilbert house, and a cold war began between us.

In eight years, it was the first time.

Before, the moment he was unhappy, the moment he used the peach tree to vent his temper at me, I'd bow my head right away.

But this time, no matter how many threatening messages Horace sent, I didn't waver.

In the end, Horace sent me one line.

"Melinda, you'll regret this."

I thought he was going to bring up the peach tree again.

I didn't expect that not long after, I'd get a call from my father.

"Melinda, your mother's not going to make it. Come quickly, come see her!"

"Somebody sent your mother a video. I don't know who."

"It said the Gilberts' peach blossoms haven't bloomed for years because you've broken your marriage vows. Your mother couldn't take the shock, and her condition suddenly took a turn for the worse"

Who else could it be.

The only people who could have gotten that video were Lillian and Horace.

By the time I reached the hospital, my mother had barely a breath left.

She clutched the bridal gown she'd embroidered with her own hands and looked at me.

There was bitterness in her eyes, and heartache.

And I didn't even have the strength left to cry.

Kneeling at my mother's bedside, I wept and told her everything that had happened lately.

In the end, we agreed to hold the wedding early.

To cut every tie with Horace, once and for all.

There was no time, so the wedding was set near the hospital.

Apart from the closest family on both sides, there wasn't a single extra guest.

I had just changed into the bridal gown and was ready to go out and be married when Horace suddenly burst in.

He took in the bright red of my bridal dress, and his face twisted.

"I kept asking how Lillian could fall sick out of nowhere. So it really was your witchcraft!"

I had no idea what he meant.

It was only piecing together Horace's wild, scrambled accusations that I understood any of it.

The peach blossoms at the Gilbert estate had bloomed for no reason.

And right on its heels, Lillian had taken to her bed, gravely ill.

Someone had said I'd used mountain witchcraft to force a marriage to Horace.

That I'd stolen Lillian's life-essence to make the peach tree flower.

"The Master said only the one who tied the knot can loosen it. To save Lillian, the curse has to be broken with your blood."

"Melinda, this is a sin of your own making, and you're going to pay for it!"

All those years, every time the vow at the mountain-spirit shrine came up, Horace had sneered at it.

Called me a superstitious peasant who'd say anything to marry him.

But the moment it touched Lillian, he was ready to believe anything, do anything.

I rubbed my wrist where his grip had left it red and aching, out of patience.

"I don't understand a word you're saying. And I'm about to be married. Whatever's going on with the two of you has nothing to do with me."

"Still won't admit it!"

Horace's eyes were red as he looked around the courtyard.

"Why else would you have everything laid out so neatly? You're forcing a wedding."

"Melinda, how can you be so shameless? You'd dream up a scheme that hurts people, just to marry me."

He wouldn't let me get a word out. Horace dragged me to the peach tree in the middle of the yard.

"I don't want to lay a hand on you. But if you keep on like this, don't blame me for what comes next!"

His grip caught the cut from before, and the pain brought tears streaming down my face.

I gritted my teeth and screamed at him, furious. "I didn't do anything!"

Lillian heard and came out of the bedroom.

She shot me one taunting look, then leaned softly into Horace's arms.

"Melinda, I know you've always wanted to marry Horace. But did you really have to come after me like this?"

"We had our quarrels before, sure, but that's all in the past. Why won't you let it go?"

The sight of her only made Horace ache for her more.

He pulled out a knife and held it up at me.

I couldn't stand it anymore, and slapped him across the face.

"Horace, eight years ago I gave up half my life to save yours. I sealed a life-and-death pact with you."

"And now you'd raise a hand to me over a few taunts from Lillian."

"You do this, and you're not afraid the heavens will strike you down?"

The blossoms fell from the tree, all of them at once.

Horace's eyes went red too, and he slashed open my wrist.

"What life-and-death pact? Lillian was the one who brought a famous doctor from overseas and saved me."

"I didn't want to hold any of it against you. But you just keep pushing, trying to kill her."

"Since you won't see sense, don't blame me for being heartless!"

"Last time I went easy on you for old times' sake. Not this time. I'm cutting down this wretched tree right now, and putting an end to whatever hope you've still got!"

With that, Horace raised the axe and swung it down hard.

Blood dripped onto the peach tree, and the petals scattered on the wind.

This tree, that had stood eight years in the Gilbert courtyard.

In that instant, it crashed to the ground.

The blossoms fell. The pact dissolved.

A violent pain tore out from somewhere inside me.

When I looked up again, the clear sunlight had been swallowed by black clouds.

The wind whipped the petals into a storm across the sky.

Horace, who had worn nothing but contempt, was staring fixed in my direction.

And in that instant, his face went deathly white.