(There's not much romance.)
One girl, two lives, and seventy-five years of war.
She was the last empress of Great Zhou, forced to watch her kingdom fall and its people suffer.
As she died with hatred in her heart, she swore: If I am born again, I will never be a pawn in the imperial palace.
She awoke.
In a maternity ward in Nanjing in 1930, reborn as the daughter of a military family.
In this life, her name was Lin Zhaohua.
At seven, she said, “I want to be a general.”
Her father was a major general in the Nationalist Army, and her mother was a surgeon who had returned from studying overseas. While other girls were learning music, chess, calligraphy, and painting, she was already holding a rifle longer than her arm.
“Zhaohua, a gun is not a toy!” Her father slapped her hand away from the trigger.
She raised her head. In her six-year-old eyes, the gold stars on her father's epaulets were reflected. “I want to be a general.”
Her father froze.
He had no idea that inside his daughter's body lived the soul of someone who had once ruled the world.
