Reborn, she opens her eyes to find a divorce decree driven three inches into her coffin.
Shen Qinghuan traces the green parasol poison marks on her wrist. Her healer's bones are tempered in blood, her poisoned veins gnaw at her heart, yet she insists that the ninefold palace kneel and drink the poisoned wine she brewed.
When the black iron token smashes the soul-locking nails, and the hidden guard's long blade cuts through the poisoned nuptial wine, the Crown Prince of the Eastern Palace pins her against the bloodstained edict, his eyes scarlet.
“My lifeline was bound long ago to the fingertips you've soaked in arsenic.”
An orphan of the previous dynasty and a corrupted crown prince, locked in a deadly struggle over the throne: which of them will drown first in this cup of poisoned wine, bestowed by the emperor himself?
