Secret of a Thousand Beauties Read Online Free

That’s why I’m here!”
    She looked puzzled. Not surprising since the whole thing was ridiculous. I couldn’t think of any explanation other than the truth, bizarre as it was.
    “Big sister, I ran away after my wedding to a ghost.”
    Her eyes were as round as two kumquats. “Oh, Heaven, a runaway bride! From a ghost! I’ve heard about that kind of horrible marriage. You better not be seen—both of your families are probably coming after you right now! So maybe I should be glad that we don’t . . .”
    As if thinking of something, she suddenly stopped.
    I asked, “Don’t what?”
    “Nothing; anyway, what happened?”
    Should I trust this total stranger? After I’d told her everything, would she report me to the police?
    But I was already asking, “Big sister, can you keep a secret?”
    She looked around even though the street was empty. “Of course I will.” Then she chuckled nervously. “Since I assume no one knows you here, who would care about your secret anyway?”
    “Please don’t report me to . . .”
    She stared hard at me. “But why would I do that?”
    “So you’ll get a big reward?”
    “Little sister . . .” Now her eyes were filled with sympathy. “I am an ill-fated woman myself. Would I be so cruel as to betray an unlucky sister, or so stupid as to generate more bad karma for myself?”
    “Big sister, can you be as ill-fated as I?”
    She didn’t answer my question, but said, “Hurry, before someone sees you or you’ll be in big, big trouble! Follow me.”
    “Where are we going?”
    “To my place so you can change. You want people to see you in a wedding dress but with no husband?”
    “Of course not.”
    “Then put this on,” she said, taking off her thin shawl and draping it over my shoulders.
    When we started to walk, she asked, “What’s your name?”
    “Spring Swallow.”
    She shook her head. “It’s a pretty name, but not a very lucky one, I’m afraid. Just pray that your fate won’t be a swallow who keeps flying, never finding her nest.”
    I was digesting her saying when she asked, “How old are you?”
    “Seventeen.”
    “Good. My name is Purple and since I am six years older than you, you can call me Sister Purple. All right now, let’s go to my place.”
    “Sister Purple, why did you come out so early in the city?”
    To my surprise, she blushed. “That’s none of your business, little sister.”
    “Sorry.”
    Maybe feeling bad for her abruptness, she smiled, and asked, “Are you hungry?”
    I nodded emphatically. From my years living with a mean aunt, I’d learned never to pass up a chance to have food to warm my stomach—even if I was not hungry, or downright stuffed. One never knows where the next meal will come from.
    “I’m now taking you to Aunty Peony’s house and will get you something to eat.”
    “Who’s Aunty Peony?”
    “My and the other girls’ embroidery teacher. Older than us and mysterious.”
    Either I was crazy or just desperate, because without any resistance, I followed her.
    It turned out to be a very long walk. After leaving the store-lined street, we crossed a bridge onto a long and narrow path. The path led us by numerous alleys until we were outside the city. We stopped to rest a few times and eventually arrived at a two-story brick house. A short distance away rose a mountain. It struck me as very strange to build a house here, for there were no other houses or people around.
    I inhaled deeply, then asked, “Sister Purple, why have a house here with nothing else around?”
    She shook her head, smiling. “You’re a little Miss Curious, eh? Aunt Peony likes to be left alone. But don’t ask me why because I don’t know. Also, don’t worry, there’s a very small village a short walk past the mountain. It’s quiet here, but we can get what we need.”
    Since there was a nearby village, I was tempted to ask again why she was in the city so early in the morning. Instead, I swallowed my question with a big gulp of