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After rebirth, Mu Zhaoning became the legitimate daughter of Ningguo Mansion who returned from the countryside. Compared to the cowardly and stupid seventh lady, the people in Ningguo Mansion preferred the down-to-earth young lady. As far as Mu Zhaoning is concerned, she only has the title of seventh lady of Ningguo Mansion, and the others do not belong to her. Her position in Ningguo Mansion is in jeopardy. In order to take revenge, Mu Zhaoning ran among the powerful, but accidentally provoked the powerful chief minister. The face that looked like the one the powerful minister loved became a bargaining chip for his friendship with the powerful minister. Even though Shen Qingzhi was extremely bored with her, he tolerated Mu Zhaoning in every possible way because of her face. Everyone felt that Mu Zhaoning only got Shen Qingzhi to look at her because of her face. Just a stand-in. Even Mu Zhaoning thinks so. Until one day, Mu Zhaoning got married...

There are eight kinds of suffering in the world: birth, old age, illness, death, separation from love, meeting with resentment and hatred, and not being able to get what you want. Su Xingwan once thought that she could always live such a carefree, innocent and free life, but God never treated her kindly. The first sight that Yaotai saw became the root of everything. From then on, she could not love but not receive, seek but not see, the pain of losing a child, the pain of destroying a family... She had tasted all the love and hate in the world. In the middle of the night, the snow falls on the city, and we meet each other in a deep dream. We raise our hands to hold our souls. The flowers in the moonlight mirror are floating on the city, and the past is hard to survive. "Don't cry... Maybe this is the price I... Should pay..." Rumor has it that the master of Si Xuan Pavilion had his true love for a year, and in the end he was willing to avoid reincarnation for her and be wiped out in ashes. It turns out that the ending of the story has been doomed from the beginning. The falling temple sign in Qingtan Temple at that time became a prophecy: "Falling flowers are saddened by light smoke." The whispers and falling flowers finally went away. I pushed aside the light smoke in the south of the Yangtze River but could no longer see the road in front of me clearly. I recalled the first meeting in a daze. It turned out that the beginning of the story had already laid the foreshadowing, floating like light catkins, and finally turned into spring mud.