The Eccentric Young Lady

This is probably the blurb:

To put it simply, this is a historical romance in which a treasure sets the plot in motion, an attempt to escape an arranged marriage kicks things off, and love is the central theme. The heroine, Shu Ya, dreams of wandering the martial world, but she's far too full of herself. Worse still, she's saddled with an utterly useless cousin. On the run from her wedding, on the road to starting a business... Oh, heavens! Does she really have to be this unlucky? Her independent life is still only a tiny sprout, and already it's been crushed.

And this person, neither quite a woman nor a man, half gentleman and half rogue, behaving so strangely toward her... is actually the hero. What, you're not satisfied? Fine, no problem. We still have other candidates.

Fortunately, she still has a fiance. Just as Miss Shu lets out a long sigh of relief, word comes from him: "We're calling off the engagement. We're calling off the engagement." What? What do you mean, calling it off? The beautiful and clever Miss Shu can't believe anyone would dare break off their engagement to her. It's too humiliating! She'll get revenge, revenge...

"Cousin, if you can't find a husband, I'll look after you for the rest of your life."

That's what her damn cousin said. She was about to get angry, but then she started crying.

What turned yesterday's sunshine into today's gloom? What made what was once so beautiful become so unbearable? I really miss... I miss the innocent, naive people we once were. (That's just nonsense! It doesn't really matter.)

Well, put simply, this is a story about one woman and several men. Novels mostly use the same old plots, but what makes them different is the writing! Whenever I think about the quality of my writing, I get tangled up in knots. My reasoning skills are really terrible. To be honest, I'm good at reading other people's novels, but when it comes to writing my own... well, every line gives off an unbearable feeling that makes people want to stop reading. I only realized this after forcing my best friend to read my novel. Every time I saw her, or them, struggling to read it with weary determination, I could only cry out, "Oh, alas! What a tragedy!" Never mind, I'm just not cut out to write novels. But whenever night falls and all is quiet, I find myself picking up my phone and writing away with a smile. I suppose it's just a hobby! I'll try to keep it going, and maybe something good will come of it. All right, that's enough rambling. Please look forward to it! Just how bad can it be? And exactly how bad will it be? The mystery will soon be revealed, so don't miss it!