In the twelfth month of the seventh year of the Tianqi era, Shen Qingci, the deposed empress confined to the Cold Palace, died after drinking a cup of poison sent by her elder half-sister. Only before her death did she learn that the emperor had treated her eight years of devotion as nothing more than a chess piece: once he was done with her, he could simply throw her away.
“If I am granted another life, I, Shen Qingci, will make him pay for every drop of blood.”
She opened her eyes.
The swaying carriage, the familiar green curtains, and the youthful face of fifteen-year-old Qingzhu: she had returned to the day of the palace selection.
In this life, she would no longer be the naive, innocent daughter born to a concubine. She knew who would frame her three years later, who would betray her five years later, and when that cup of poison would be delivered to her. She also knew that everyone in the imperial palace was putting on an act, and everyone had their own plans.
But what she didn’t know was this:
The emperor had been reborn too.
The man who had personally sent her to the Cold Palace in her previous life now looked at her with a complexity that made her uneasy. He said he wanted to make amends and would never let her suffer again. But she only wanted to ask: Have you come to repay your debt, or to meet your end?
Deep in the Cold Palace, a woman with eyes exactly like hers was being held prisoner. She was Shen Qingci’s birth mother, the woman she had believed dead for years.
Beneath the rockery in the imperial garden was a secret passage leading outside the palace. It held proof of secret meetings between the empress and Prince Duan.
Who had poisoned the bowl of soup served at the empress dowager’s birthday banquet?
And who was standing behind Shen Qingci’s gentle, dignified elder half-sister?
When every clue pointed to the same answer, Shen Qingci finally understood: she hadn’t been the only one moving the pieces in this game from the very beginning.
But this time, she would no longer be a pawn.
