They said the Lin family was cursed, but Liu didn't believe in curses.

She married into the family with open eyes, knowing their fortunes had declined. The once-grand mansion was shabby now, the gardens overgrown. But Liu saw beauty in the neglect—a wildness that felt more honest than the manicured perfection of her childhood home.

Her husband, Feng, was a gentle man with a passion for gardening. Together, they restored the west garden, planting vegetables among the ruins of marble pavilions. They were poor by their family's standards, but rich in ways that mattered.

The tragedy that everyone expected—the disgrace, the downfall, the deaths—never came. Instead, there was a quiet happiness: morning tea in the garden, the birth of their first child, the simple pleasure of a repaired roof when rain threatened.

Liu sometimes wondered if they had escaped the curse or simply outlived it. But then she would look at Feng, smiling as he weeded the carrots, and decide it didn't matter.

Some stories, she realized, could have happy endings.