Three years ago, she had written the words “We each get what we need” into their pact, believing her confinement in the Eastern Palace would eventually come to an end. Three years later, he stood in a dragon robe embroidered with the Twelve Imperial Symbols and tore to pieces the petition to depose her, its pages soaked with the blood, sweat, and tears she had poured into it. “Xiao Yu, our agreement came first!” She clutched the phoenix seal and sneered. The new emperor gripped her chin, the scent of dragon’s incense mingling with the stench of blood as it filled her nostrils. “Shen Qingyan, what belongs to me can only be discarded by me.” The daughter of a powerful minister versus a scheming emperor: in this marriage that began as a transaction, who will be the first to fall in love?
