Everyone says that Shen Qingci, the Princess of Zhenbei, has gone mad.
After poisoning her beloved pet, she alternates between crying over cats and laughing at the moon, her deranged words turning the prince’s estate upside down.
Only when she faces the mirror late at night does a trace of the cold clarity of a modern public relations director glint in her eyes.
Madness is her armor, and words are her blade.
She uses absurd poetry to silence the gossip of the realm while quietly building a network of secret income and informants that stretches across the capital.
Until the cold-faced prince pins her against the wall, holding the secret report she “accidentally” dropped.
“How much longer will you keep pretending, my love?”
She smiles sweetly and trails a fingertip over his Adam’s apple.
“My lord, would you really believe the words of a madwoman?”
This is a contest of wits that began with a lie, but neither player nor pawn knows when they started to fall for each other amid the ashes.
