The Divine Farmer: The Princess Consort’s World in Her Palm

In the eighth year of the Qianyuan era, the chill of early spring still lingered. I, Su Wanqing, sat in a drafty thatched hut in Huaihua Village, staring at a hazy glow in my palm that only I could see. Yesterday, I was Su Wan, a PhD in agronomy, recording data in an experimental field. Today, I was the eldest legitimate daughter of the Su family, abandoned in the countryside for nine years. Old Madam Zhang from next door was at it again, sneering indirectly: “A jinx who brings ruin to her family. No matter how pretty you are, you're still a peasant!” I looked down at my fair, luminous hands, nourished by the spirit spring, and smiled. A peasant? Just you wait. These “peasant hands” of mine will carve out a path to the clouds. On my journey to the capital to find my father, I'll also come across a little beggar covered in blood, with eyes like a wolf cub's. Many years later, Lu Huaijin, Prince Rui, a man powerful enough to command the court, will pin me against the door of his study, his breath burning hot. “Wanwan, that steamed bun you gave me back then was the sweetest thing I've ever eaten.”