A letter from home lifted the bloodstained curtain. Shen Wanwan learned that the truth behind her family's slaughter concealed something she dared not face. Behind Si Yu'an's gentle, jade-like facade lay a blade aimed at the throat of the Shen family. He had a face like her elder brother's, and in the arms that held her captive and claimed her night after night lurked the monstrous guilt of patricide and usurpation.
Deep in the palace, a young child clutched the Memorial on the Expedition Against Wei and sobbed. On the dragon bed, the tyrant gripped her waist and said fiercely, “Wanwan, I can scheme against even my own children, but I can't fathom your heart.”
When the flames of the coup lit the tiger tally in her hands, the father and son who had once promised to stay together until their hair turned white finally aimed their crossbows at each other.
Love is a poisoned cup; hate is a searing drug that burns through the gut, with no regrets. In this prison of love woven from lies, who is the true player moving the pieces?
