There was one thing the villagers of Tich all knew too well, the fact the heir of Ly family was thoroughly blessed.

What a blessed, fortunate young man! The day he was born all stars seemed to align, business started to thrive and the Ly soon became the most prosperous and prestigious family in town. One day, a respectable Buddish monk, while on his holy journey through the village, happened to chance upon the blessed child. One look at the little one's back and he quickly degreed that the child was indeed blessed, for he possessed a very rare and holy "fortune mole" on the left cheek of his backside. The child's parents were filled with pride and joy, so much that they decided to throw a feast for their son inviting the whole village. They even sought guidance from the wise monk, fixed a tray of offerings and asked for permission from the ancestors to have their son's name changed into something more holy and poetic: Thien Phuc, which meant "a blessing from Heaven" in an old saying.

And he was a blessing from Heaven indeed.

As Phuc reached his third summer, he once sneezed out while sleeping soundly on his mother's bussom, despite the fact it was very warm inside the house and the servants had thoroughly dusted the hall that same morning. To no one's surprise, this one little sneeze caused quiet a scare for the mother, so much that she dropped the half-finished tangerine on the floor, which was then swiftly rolled under one of the servant's foot, causing him to slip and fell against one of the pillars, which in turn became so shaken that the joint gave out and the stringer fell down, taking the intruder who had been hiding on it. The intruder then broke his neck and was quickly united with his ancestors, who would no doubt chastise him for making such a bad choice of hideout. The Ly later found out the deceased was in fact a blood-thirsty, cruel, dangerous criminal who could have slaughtered them all in their sleep. Husband and wife then bursted out crying, carrying their little heir running around the village telling all willing to hear about the holiness of it all.

Aye it was holy alright. How could it not be? Phuc clearly saved their lives and there was simply no other way to put it.

He was truly the son of Heaven.

It was no wonder that day the holy monk kept insisting there must either be a "Thien" or "Phuc" in his name! Never doubt the wisdom of the wise one, they said.

That fateful incident had opened the doors for our blessed little boy to a world of adoration and worship so vast that he literally became the talisman of the whole village. The large amount of affection he was able to garner from others had somehow seeped into his own bone and blood, creating the magical effect on his way becoming the most desirable man in town, for he had grown to be so beautiful that bedazlling others was becoming quite an easy task.

Aye, he was a pretty one. Not the kind of refined, genderless beauty found in those famous pansies who played female leads in travelling acting troups, or the kind of harsh, dignified handsomeness much favored by powerdul warlords and mighty warriors. The beauty bestowed upon Phuc the-blessed-one-from-Tich, was the enchanting gleam in his eyes, the seductive quirk of his mouth and the rakish, charming way he carried himself, all promising unspeakable pleasures to those who was on the receiving end, making them feel like silvering little buds waiting for the chance to bloom under the hot, blazing sun.

And Phuc knew. Oh yes he knew. All of it. His effects on people and the power he wielded with the kind of unholy beauty possessed. He knew it, and used it all too well. One look at his harem and one could conclude as much. Why, the man was only twenty but already experienced matrimony bliss thirteen times! Heaven forbid but the man seemed to find unexhausting favor with the God of love. There could be no other explanation for this, judging by the fact that none of the wives had to be coerced and forced into marriage. They all threw themselves at his feet, much like the way moth throwing itself at the burning fire, to hell with consequences. And like flowers Phuc grew in his own backyard, the wives came in all colors and shapes. Whether it's a songstress renowned in all over the city, an accomplished lady of noble blood, or even a devoted nun who had taken Refuge with Buddha; he could easily enticed any of them in just a matter of time, that is to say if he actually needed to take on the task in the first place. His look would just do all the enticing work even before he was aware of it.

And that, was the indisputabe blessing of the son of Heaven.

Each time the Ly sailed North for those pleasure excursions they loved so much, it was quite a view to behold. The villagers would all pour out on both river banks to chance a look at the infamous harem. Heaven bless the man for having such beauties in possession! Beauty that makes flowers turn green with envy, beauty that blinds the eyes that see, beauty that quietly creeps into thou mind like a slinky snake.

Aye, he truly had it all, that blessed one. How enviable!

But did he?

That year's outing event had started to shake some of those long-time beliefs. It all happened when the man had seemed to indulge himself in the pleasure game of hide-and-seek with his pretty wives too much that he tripped on his own feet and fell into the water.

The scene that followed, was the sight that worth giving up one's eyes for.

Flowers falling, floating on the river...

So did the under attires of the fallen maids.

(In Asian old days's context, flower was usually used to indicate a maiden)

The harem threw itself into the river trying to save its sole master, without the care for itself or anyone in it.

Save for one.

Aye, among the avid audience that were too busy admiring the one-of-a-life-time view, there was always that bored one with an eye for boring subjects. That one had found out the harem was all over the water, except for one that was still sitting on the ship, calmly sipping tea and looking at the chaotic scene with the most serene expression on her face.

The shrew of the house, the least favored of them all, the First Wife.

Why, she even laughed!