A Blade Beneath Frosted Boughs

In her previous life, she was the lowliest servant in the Prime Minister's residence. For ten years, the legitimate daughter Ji Lingge tormented her, forced her to drink an herb that left her infertile, then threw her into a dry well. Her final sight before death was a small patch of sky at the mouth of the well, illuminated by moonlight. Reborn at the age of thirteen, Yin Hanzhi opened her eyes and found herself kneeling at her enemy's feet. This time, she had learned to smile. A timid, obedient smile, utterly harmless. Beneath it lay ten years of hatred, ten years of memories, and secrets enough to bring the entire Prime Minister's household down with her. She knew every shady account in the Ji family, every hidden agent, every letter of treason. She knew who would betray whom, and who would die, and when. She also knew that the Regent Xiao Yanmo, who claimed to be too ill to appear in public, was the one who would hold the knife in the end. From a servant who poured tea and fetched water to a hidden piece stirring the court, Yin Hanzhi honed herself into a blade kept in its sheath. With the lowliest of manners, she laid the deepest of plots. Ji Lingge's path to becoming an imperial consort, Prime Minister Ji's grip on power, Noble Consort Lu's ambitions in the imperial harem: everyone was a piece on her chessboard. Until the Regent, who had watched her performance with cold eyes, held out a lantern to her. “Come home.” Only then did she understand that revenge did not end with her enemies' blood. Its true end was finding someone willing to live through the darkness by her side. From dry bones, flowers bloom; the cold blade leaves its sheath. In this life, she would not be a chess piece. She would be the board.