In the last life, I was in the cold palace and had bitter almonds.
She would remember the bitter taste until her death, and her words before her death, "My life is not worth it."
When she opened her eyes again, she went back to the day when she entered the palace draft——
There were still red walls and yellow tiles outside the sedan curtain, Aunt Liu still thought her clothes were shabby, and Xia Dongchun still humiliated her in public.
Zhen Huan took off the begonia and wanted to put a hairpin in her hair; Shen Meizhuang stood on one side and spoke warmly to save her.
Everything is exactly the same as in the previous life.
But this time, An Lingrong gently avoided the branch of crabapple.
She no longer depends on others, she no longer collapses because of the word "Concubine Oriole", she no longer acts as a knife in the queen's hand, and she no longer envies Zhen Huan's bright moonlight.
She knows everyone's cards and remembers the outcome of every move.
In this life, she wants her singing voice to be her weapon and her spices to turn into silent fangs.
Fight for a place in the palace from the desperate situation of being rejected, and carve out a path that no one has traveled from the undercurrent of the palace.
Is it better to be a bird in the palm of others?
Or should I be the oriole with its first cry, the sound that shakes the nine realms?
An Lingrong said: In this life, I will not borrow anyone's light.
