The day the blood-red jade bracelet shattered, I died beneath Cheng Yixuan's scalpel, living as a female college student from the twenty-first century.
When I opened my eyes again, time had turned back to the first day I transmigrated. A reborn woman was clutching my wrist and weeping, but I clearly remembered how she'd shoved me into the cremator in my previous life.
Heir to an ancient medical tradition?
Doctor of the living dead?
When every clue pointed to the Cheng family's massacre a century ago, I gripped the fragment of my Embroidered Spring Saber and made my way carefully through a modern city bristling with surveillance.
Until the young head of the Cheng family pinned me against a CT scanner and said, "Miss Yin, when you dissected a corpse, did you ever feel the plum blossom birthmark beneath my collarbone?"
[Blood and bone steeped in two lifetimes of conspiracy. As a lady's embroidery needle pierces the cybernetic fog, I will send these demons wearing human skin to the eternal depths of hell.]
It looks so tense and beautiful