She hid her personal sword under her pillow and rubbed the blade with her fingertips over and over again. Her unspoken dream of being a general was hidden in the cold touch.
When he saw her, he flew into a rage, pointed at her nose and cursed: "As a concubine, you don't want to be safe, but you care about the belongings of a foreign minister. It's so shameless!"
…
She was lingering on the hospital bed, her breath was as weak as a candle in the wind. The imperial doctor knelt down and asked for life-sustaining pills to save her life, but he waved his hands with a cold face: "She is just a concubine with evil thoughts. It is not worth wasting the pills."
…
The moment the truth was revealed, he saw clearly that all the "inappropriate things" he disliked were made by grinding her sharp edges into powder with his own hands, and then using the "concubine's" paint to forcibly paint them in false colors that even he found annoying.
