Shen Qiwu accepted his fate. As a concubine, being pushed out to celebrate the death of Prince Zhenbei was an outcome she could not resist. Everyone in the capital said she was pitiful and would be a widow for the rest of her life. Shen Qiwu felt the same way. She had even planned how to live a stable life in the Marquis Mansion, copy scriptures and worship Buddha, and spend the rest of her life. On the wedding night, the red candles flickered. The legendary husband who was lingering on the sickbed and whose face was as pale as paper suddenly coughed violently, and the blood he vomited spattered on the quilt. Shen Qiwu was about to step forward, but was horrified to find that the pool of blood turned into golden butterflies, fluttering gracefully, and finally disappeared in the direction of the study. She thought she was dazzled, but in the next few days, the same scene happened repeatedly. These strange golden butterflies seemed to have their own consciousness, flying to the same secret compartment in the study with precision every time. By some strange coincidence, she opened the secret compartment. There is no gold or silver treasure inside, just a dusty picture scroll. In the painting, the young man wearing fresh clothes is angry with his horse, his eyebrows are sharp, and his gaze reflects the prince's magnanimity and majesty. ——That was the prince of the previous dynasty who was famous for his "benevolence" but was burned in a palace incident. And his appearance was exactly the same as that of her sickly and harmless husband. Chen Qiwu's hands and feet were cold, and a ridiculous and fatal thought came to his mind. Is her husband the prince of Zhenbei Hou, or... The ghost of the previous dynasty? Is this a happy event, or is it a talisman? She, an insignificant concubine, inadvertently glimpsed a secret that could overturn the entire dynasty.
