I helped her rise step by step to the throne as empress. I helped her eliminate her rivals and seize control of the court. I was the Imperial Tutor, whose power eclipsed all others. But in the end, at the banquet celebrating my birthday, she placed a cup of poisoned wine before me. She wanted me dead. Fine, I died. But why did she go mad after my death, digging up my bones and turning them into a doll to keep in a secret chamber? She kept eighteen male lovers, all because each of them bore some small resemblance to me. She spent the wealth of the entire empire building temples and tombs for me, heedless of the lasting infamy. In the end, surrounded by rebel troops, she leapt from the palace walls. She said, "Master, in our next life, let us not be born into the imperial family. Could I be your..."
