My own sister, Su Mingzhu, ordered someone to lock me in the dungeon.
When I saw her again, I was dressed in coarse, worn-out clothes, desperately begging her to spare the child in my womb.
She had become empress, dressed in finery, looking down at me from on high.
Her eyes were red, and her hatred was about to spill over. She demanded, voice sharp, to know if the child I carried was Gu Yunchuan’s.
That one question sealed my fate: from then on, I would never know another peaceful day.
