The blood-red walls are an indelible mark she will never forget.
As the chancellor’s daughter, Shen Qingci once believed that marrying into the imperial family would be the height of glory. But only as she drew her last breath in the Cold Palace did she see the murderous intent buried in the eyes of the man who shared her bed. The three-foot strip of white silk ended more than her life: it also strangled every dream she had of love and power. The one who plotted against the Consort had not been a jealous woman of the harem, but the Son of Heaven himself, who had handed her the killing blade.
For three years, her wandering spirit watched the celebrations surrounding the new emperor’s ascension and grew tired of hearing the people praise him as a “wise ruler.” Only the silver-armored figure guarding the border brought her comfort, appearing through the snow on every cold night to whisper at her desolate grave, “If there is another life, let me protect you this time… even if that means helping you take the throne.”
When she opens her eyes again, she has returned to the year of her coming-of-age ceremony.
The girl reflected in the bronze mirror has frost in her bright eyes. In this life, she tears up the imperial decree summoning her to the palace and enters Zichen Hall in the plain robes of a court lady. The road to becoming a high-ranking palace official is full of thorns, and the court is treacherous as thin ice, yet she wields the blade of her past-life memories and makes every move in the game of power without regret.
When her childhood sweetheart, General Xiao Jinghan, knocks on her family’s door again, their hands clasp beneath the candlelight, sealing their pact: “You command the armies; I’ll govern the court.” There is no trust in the depths of the palace. He alone is her blade, her shield, and her only accomplice on the road to rebellion.
