In her previous life, Shen Qingyi married into the general’s household and waited for six years.
Her husband, Xiao Yan, returned home fewer than ten times. He never even opened a single box of the osmanthus cakes she made by hand. Then, one winter night, she was given poisoned wine. She died without ever knowing why.
Reborn at sixteen, before the imperial decree of betrothal had arrived, she had only three words:
I won’t marry.
But Xiao Yan had been reborn too. He said, “I’ll be different this time.”
She replied, “I don’t blame you. Blame requires hope, and I have none left.”
The imperial decree forced her hand, leaving no way out. She changed into a moon-white dress and, just as he rode after her, leapt into the Bian River.
“Shen Qingyi! I want to see you alive or find your body!”
He didn’t know that downstream, in a reed marsh, she had climbed ashore, wiped away her tears, taken on a false name, and gone straight to Jiangnan.
In an alley in Hangcheng, beneath an osmanthus tree, she used the skills she had honed in the general’s kitchen in her previous life to open a little restaurant and live with a freedom she had never known.
Then she met Lu Zhao, a man who knew nothing of her past but was willing to stand by her side.
Later, the general who was trying to win her back found her. This time, he had finally learned how to pursue someone.
Too bad it was too late.
From the moment she leapt into the Bian River, it had already been too late.
