In the fifteenth year of Jian'an, Gu Yanzhi, Prince of Zhennan, returns to the capital by imperial decree. The whole city says he is about to marry a princess. No one knows that he keeps a mute woman of unknown origins hidden in his estate.
Shen Yuanshi cannot speak and has no memories. The only clue is a scarlet birthmark on her wrist, like a curse branded into her skin. Day and night, she grinds ink and lays out paper for him, watching him write secret reports, memorials, and letter after letter of condolence to the northern border, for the families of fallen soldiers. His words are warm and gentle, each character steeped in grief.
Everyone says the Prince of Zhennan is benevolent.
Only Shen Yuanshi knows that late at night, this man opens her door and trails icy fingers along her neck, his voice a hoarse hiss like a snake's. “This face... is seven-tenths like hers.”
She thinks she's a substitute for some other woman.
Until a secret report arrives from the northern border, saying that on the night the entire Yanbei Marquis's household was wiped out, a lone girl who could read lips escaped through the flames. Twelve years ago, the Marquis of Yanbei had personally promised his daughter in marriage to the Prince of Zhennan's heir.
At last, Shen Yuanshi remembers everything: who was behind the massacre, why she lost her memory and ended up in this prince's estate, and whether the emotion hidden in Gu Yanzhi's eyes as he grips her throat each night and says, “No matter how much you resemble her, you aren't her,” is hatred or something else.
Later, on the day the imperial court is purged in blood, she stands in the great hall with a secret letter in hand and tells the truth, word by word, before the assembled officials. Gu Yanzhi is forced to his knees, covered in blood, yet suddenly smiles.
“Shen Yuanshi,” he calls her by name, his voice gentler than she has ever heard it. “Who do you think helped you deliver that letter to the throne?”
