When I traveled through time and became Feng Liao, history said that I would become a famous female diplomat.
But no one told me that behind the few words in the history books, "Always holding Han Festival as an envoy to the princess," are countless cold nights spent drinking cold wine to warm up, and the sting of watching the one you love walk into someone else's tent again and again for the sake of the overall situation.
The modern soul I brought did not become a weapon to change the world, but instead became a magnifying glass of pain. I know too well what "freedom" and "self" look like, so I see our dazzling prison with more despair.
What I fell in love with was the toughest princess in history, a woman whose back was bent and scarred by the times. I use knowledge that spans a thousand years to plan, not to open up new territories, but just to give her a moment of genuine smile in a deserted place and lighten the burden on her shoulders.
Together we create a legend. I travel around the world, but she sits firmly in the royal court. Historians will write about our achievements, but they will never be able to write them down: every time I went to war with integrity, her fingers that tied my cloak trembled undetectably; every time after her political marriage, I swallowed the bloody blessing alone.
We finally lived the way history wanted us to, and we also lived the most profound and silent echo in each other's lives.
Intention: I turned time travel into a grand secret love, and finally, together with my princess, I wrote it into the history books.