When he drank that cup of poisoned wine, he thought he would never see her again in this life. But after his death, her heart turned to ashes. With only her lonely courage to sustain her, she left the palace to pray for blessings, traversing mountains and rivers in search of an elusive dream.
Then, one night, beneath the moonlight, she saw the figure who should have been laid to rest, leaning against a withered plum tree and coughing up blood. It turned out he had taken a fake-death drug, but the drug had clashed with the poisoned wine. Every day, he endured a pain that gnawed at his bones, wishing he were dead.
She rushed to embrace him, tears streaming down her face. “This time, no one will ever tear us apart again.”
But behind them stood the laws of the entire realm, the new emperor's growing suspicions, and the surging undercurrents of bloodline and birthright.
How could she keep him alive? And how could he protect her?
The deepest love in this world is choosing to do what you know cannot be done.
