A bowl of poisonous red-date porridge ended the meek, obedient life of Ning Susu.
In her father's eyes, she was a bargaining chip. To her husband's family, she was a tool for carrying on the family line. In the name of clan honor, she was a sacrifice.
When she was reborn at the turning point of her fate, inside the bridal sedan that would decide the course of her tragic life, she asked herself: Why?
Why should a woman's fate be decided by men and their families?
This time, she chose to fight back.
From outsmarting bandits to survive, to stirring up turmoil around the marriage between two families; from cautiously navigating life after marrying into a powerful household, to farming and doing business in Meng Mountain with knowledge from the future; from scheming for personal revenge in the inner household to establishing a women's workshop for the liberation of women as a group, Ning Susu walked a narrow path between feudal propriety and the tides of her era with a seemingly frail body.
She fought not only a wicked sister-in-law and a selfish father. Nor was she struggling only for family property and status. She was fighting the invisible, devouring rules, and striving for a woman's right to hold her head high and live for herself.
She was no longer the second Miss Ning who meekly accepted her lot. She became "Boss Su," a meticulous woman who planned every step. She used her excellent cooking to win people's hearts, built her wealth with business insight far ahead of her time, and united women from the lower classes with her compassion.
She turned the barren land that came with her dowry into a fortune, and the abandoned dye house into the renowned "Women's Workshop."
She once believed love was the only light in her life, but in the end, she discovered that her business and her sisters were the backbone that truly helped her stand tall.
This is an epic of self-rescue by women in the old era. There is no miraculous golden finger that shakes the world, only a powerful heart that refuses to be at the mercy of others.
