The word “grind” hangs in the palace, while the word “lie low” stays in my heart.
As a child, civil lawyer Liu Yuejian was an unlucky sort. The unluckiest thing that ever happened to her was tripping over her own foot and transmigrating. She landed in the unfamiliar Great Qi, where she was about to be sent into the palace.
While others stroll beneath the moon and among the flowers with the emperor, she’s busy studying sales psychology. While her close friends tear at each other over their interests, she’s working herself to the bone in the palace, grinding out workplace KPIs. While the concubines cry over losing the emperor’s favor and influence, she’s making PowerPoint slides to analyze his preferences and preparing for certification exams. While the consorts mourn the emperor’s fickleness, she treats him as nothing more than a group project.
Except for one shadow guard from the Western Palace: Another gloomy workaholic? I’m in love.
At last, she grinds her way to becoming empress dowager, rules from behind the curtain, and wins the submission of all the officials, who cry, “Long live the empress dowager!” The man stands behind her like a shadow, then kneels: “I would die ten thousand times for the empress dowager.”
