On the day the prince was assassinated, I was three steps away from him, and everyone felt that I should step forward and block the knife for him. In my last life, I really did this. I was seriously injured and had to go south to recuperate for three years. I thought I was paying for our future, but after I recovered, I discovered that the position I had protected with my life had already been occupied by someone else. My cousin lived in my yard under my name and enjoyed everything that should belong to me. My family all advised me to be considerate of her difficulties. Even the prince said that he would never forget that I had saved him, but she was more suitable to be the prince's concubine. I made trouble, cried, and begged, but all I got was a word of ignorance. The last glass of poisoned wine ended my life.
