Within the vermilion palace walls, every last soul is a man-eating demon.
Wei Mingshu died on a winter night in the thirteenth year of the Jinghe reign of Great Qi.
A cup of poisoned wine ended her life, from favored consort to deposed concubine.
As she lay dying, she heard the eunuch's shrill voice: “The Wei clan plotted treason. Execute the entire family!”
Eyes wide, she watched the emperor who had once held her close turn and walk away. She watched Li Wanyi, who called herself her “sister,” cover her mouth and laugh softly. She watched the empress and the noble consort look on coldly.
When she opened her eyes again, she had returned to the night before her palace selection, at the age of fifteen.
This time, she wanted neither favor nor affection. She wanted power.
Those who had harmed and betrayed her: she would send each and every one of them to hell with her own hands.
But when she had plotted her way to the very top of the palace walls at last…
The emperor who had once looked on coldly asked her, eyes red: “Mingshu, in this life, did you ever have even the slightest sincere feeling for me?”
Wei Mingshu looked at the phoenix seal in her hand and smiled softly.
“Your Majesty, within these vermilion palace walls, you want to talk about sincerity?”
“Let us talk about life and death instead.”
From favored consort to empress dowager, she walked a bloodstained road. At its end was not the emperor's love, but the power to ensure no one would ever dare make her kneel again.
