At the moment when he was burned by the fire, Nian Shilan finally knew that his life was just a carefully designed scam.
The musk in Huanyi incense is the sterilization poison given by the emperor himself; the bowl of red flowers poured into Concubine Duan's mouth is the queen's clever chess move to kill people; her unborn child, her proud pet, and her vigorous life are all the moves on someone else's chessboard.
She hates it. Hated so much that Leng Gong's head was smashed, hated so much that the fire burned his body, and hated so much that his soul was shattered.
Then she woke up.
Back in the first year of Yongzheng's reign, I returned to the first day of the first lunar month when I was seventeen years old. There is still time for everything. Huanyixiang has just been lit, the queen has not yet gained complete power, Concubine Duan has not been completely destroyed, and Zhen Huan has not yet entered the palace.
Nian Shilan, who has been reborn, is no longer the knife in someone's hand.
She wanted to use her body as a chess player and the Forbidden City as a game to recover the debts owed to her in her previous life, to Concubine Duan, and to women who had been trampled upon by the empress and emperor, one by one, with interest.
