The night drum in Qingchi trembled three times, and the sound of silk stopped.
Shi Ling died at that feast and became an abandoned concubine.
Once reborn, she was still the head of the embroidery department, but she was no longer the meek chess piece.
She changed the ritual accounts, moved the tribute silk, and tore down the dragnet woven by the Queen Mother and the Prime Minister.
Everyone laughed at her for not overestimating her abilities, but who knew that the cold-faced emperor actually stopped the silence for her with his own hands.
——Etiquette is not a sound. I look at people, not at silk.
She weaves a new life with every stitch, and he exchanges his machinations and coldness for her stability.
From temptation to trust, from gaming to exclusive favor,
In the deep palace, she became the only person he wanted to protect.
