My Red String Is Black in the Matchmaker’s Temple

For eight years, I tied Red Threads for others at Yuelao Temple, yet I had no marriage fate of my own. On the night of Qixi, a Black Thread suddenly appeared around my wrist, its other end bound to the Young General who had died in battle three years ago. My master said that if I cut it, I could live. He said, “Do not cut it. I still owe you a springtime.”