Awakening in a pool of blood, Jiang Wan clenched the past life crushed beneath the marquis's wedding sedan in her hands. In this life, ice sharpened her almond eyes, and she hid poison and honeyed dates behind a gentle smile. The rouge her half-sister offered became medicine for the old madam's toxic sores, while the seemingly tender concern of the physician clan concealed the Third Prince's murderous blade. Then, on a snowy night, she pushed open the woodshed and found a fallen scholar, who would one day bathe the court in blood, feeding the last half-bowl of thin porridge to a young child.
The torn page in Lu Chen's hand still held the warmth of her fingertips. Clues to his family's wrongful case were as clear as the merchant's daughter's schemes. On the day his eligibility for the imperial examinations was revoked, he gripped her by the throat and pinned her against the red wall. "The pieces you want to play, Madam, better not put them in the wrong place." Yet when she muttered feverishly, he heard her say, "Don't die for me like you did in my previous life."
As the wedding robe fluttered in the fire, two scarred chests throbbed in unison. It turned out that beneath the redbud tree by the grave, two reborn souls had long since planted the seeds of salvation in each other.
