On a rainy night in the south of the Yangtze River, my father died under a silver hairpin. He only had time to say half a sentence before his death: "Salt... Is for..."
Fifteen-year-old Song Chaoyu was thrown into the deep palace by her father's "old friend" Deng Jing. From then on, there were no more Song daughters in the world, only the palace maid Jiang Qingyan.
Her ears are so sharp - she can hear the sound of poisoning in silk and bamboo, she can recognize the cold light of hidden knives in laughter, and she can even hear Xu Zhouye, who always wears half a jade pendant, and the other half that is compatible with her hidden in his waist.
The empress dowager's kind eyebrows, Concubine Jiang's smiling eyes, Deng Jing's gentle words, the boy's teasing... Everyone hides secrets, and everyone steps on the bones.
And the blood-stained half-sheet of salt in her arms was being revealed bit by bit: the so-called "serving the people" was just the most honorable butcher's knife of the powerful.
Concept: Alienation of power and individual struggle