The pearls in her hair remain still as she furrows her brows. With all her makeup faded away, her true self shines through.
That year, pomegranates bloomed. She was no more than an ordinary woman in the imperial harem, yet she witnessed countless consorts rise and fall.
Beauty and intelligence were never in short supply in the harem. These splendid halls had been stained with unknown amounts of blood and become the resting place of countless souls.
Caught between power and authority, entangled in love and hate, who can weather all the storms and still remain true to their heart?
If there is another life, you can be an ordinary young man and I an ordinary young woman. Would that be all right?
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