In her previous life, Xie Huai was the sharpest blade in the imperial family's hand.
She was a perfect shadow, with no name of her own.
Whoever the imperial family wanted her to be, that was who she became.
She was the noble eldest princess of Jiang, the aloof imperial preceptor who defended the throne, and the decisive leader of the hidden guards.
But she knew all too well that she could stand above everyone but the emperor as The Outcast, or fall from her pedestal into the mud.
None of those honors belonged to her, and neither did that love.
Later, when the imperial family no longer needed her,
she died without a sound, forgotten by all.
What if she hadn't died?
She crawled out of a mass grave, her delicate face smeared with blood and grime, and pulled the spear from her abdomen without a change in expression.
If she hadn't died, she would live for herself.
*
On the day the eldest princess of Jiang died, the cold-hearted new emperor sat alone in his imperial study all night.
When news arrived that the imperial preceptor, with whom he had struggled for years, had passed away, the regent's brush paused, ruining the painting beneath it with a smear of ink.
The hidden guards, each loyal to a different faction, got a new leader. The sword in the chief of the overt guards' hand veered ever so slightly as he silently watched the traitor meet a swift death.
Later, they saw her again.
She was nothing like the person they remembered, yet she held a new and fatal allure for them, drawing them to follow one after another, all just to catch her eye.
Xie Huai tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and lowered her eyes calmly.
