I am Jiang Luo, Princess of Zhaoyang Commandery, and I have an imperial betrothed: Song Li, the Northern Garrison General. Three years have passed since our engagement, and I still haven’t met him. Two days ago, the Northern Garrison General returned in triumph, covered in glory. And with him... came a newly widowed cousin. When we first met, she wept and begged me to drink the tea that would welcome her as a concubine, while Song Li stood by her side, his face full of concern. My embroidery needle pricked my finger. They say blood on a red bridal veil is an ill omen. It seems this marriage was never meant to be.
