The Phoenix Sings at the Vermilion Gate

Reborn and back at the manor, she is willing to play the “meek and lowly” bedchamber maid once more.

This time, though, her dressing case hides a deadly incense, and a bone-scraping knife is tucked in her sleeve.

On the surface, it is a tale of rouge and blade-flashes among women in the inner chambers. Beneath that lie military tallies from the previous dynasty and the secrets of the dragon veins.

Then the dissolute marquis she should have stayed far away from grips her wrist and laughs softly:

“Miss Shen, you’ve laid this game beautifully… Pity that a chess piece, after playing its part for too long, may forget its own heart.”

She catches his fingertips in turn:

“Aren’t you a player in this game too, Marquis? Why don’t we make a deal?”