On her first day transmigrated into the body of a love-struck empress, Su Niannian is thrown into the Cold Palace.
Her predecessor was hopelessly lovesick. She personally embroidered the late emperor to death to help the tyrant seize power, only to be discarded once he no longer needed her. In the Cold Palace, the eunuchs mock her for falling out of favor, the consorts gang up to humiliate her, and the tyrant passes the hall with his new beloved in his arms, without even glancing her way.
Su Niannian smiles.
No one knows that the needle between her fingers does not stitch clothes. It stitches fate.
The needle rises, and the Grand Tutor dies suddenly. It falls, and the Noble Consort loses her voice. One more stitch, and the commander of an enemy army of a hundred thousand drops dead, bleeding from every orifice in his tent. The whole nation is shaken. The tyrant kneels at the Cold Palace gates that very night, begging her to embroider another imperial robe.
Su Niannian opens the hall doors and looks down at him. “Want to stay alive? Get in line.”
Others rely on schemes to survive palace intrigue. She uses an embroidery needle to decide who lives and dies. With the lives of the entire court hanging by a single thread, it is time for the palace to change hands.
