Shen Zhaoning died once, so she knows things other people don’t.
For example, poisoned wine is warm and doesn’t taste bad.
For example, the calming soup her stepmother sends isn’t poisoned. It will only make her sleep through her coming-of-age ceremony, after which her marriage, dowry, and all the days she has left in this life will be arranged for her as a matter of course.
Reborn at fifteen, she gains a rather unreliable ability: sometimes she can see the consequences behind a choice. Its accuracy is hard to say. Sometimes it’s frighteningly precise; other times, she finds herself eyeing a pot of chrysanthemums with suspicion.
In this life, she sets herself three rules:
One: Never kneel.
Two: Never cry.
Three: Never drink soup handed to her by anyone.
From the General’s Residence to the imperial harem, from cast-off daughter to master of the game, she moves forward one step at a time. Halfway through, she realizes she may not be the only one changing the game. Someone else entered it before her, and someone had already begun making moves before she was reborn.
Then they can’t blame her for flipping the board.
