She has two lives.
One is in the Tang Dynasty, in the household of the Grand Commandant: a sheltered young lady with a chronic cough, doted on by her parents. She later marries the son of the chancellor, a man willing to spend his whole life warming her medicine bowl. Red candles, bed curtains, and peaceful days.
The other is in a rented apartment in the city: an ordinary office worker who collapses from working overtime, whose bank balance can never keep up with the rent, and whose only company late at night is the cold glow of a screen.
Reality is cold and hard; dreams are warm and fragile. Little by little, she can no longer tell: which life is borrowed time?
Then storms sweep through the Tang Dynasty, her family is wrongfully accused, and her husband is in danger. In the real world, sunflowers bloom on her windowsill, someone brings her warm tea, and a new life quietly takes root.
When both worlds reach the point of choice, she finally hears the voice in her heart:
Her true home has never been in either world. It is in daring to love herself in this moment.
