The Regent Empress of the Han Dynasty

Emperor Wu of Han died, entrusting the young emperor to Huo Guang, and all power across the realm fell into the hands of the Huo clan. Liu Bingyi, a previously unremarkable member of the imperial family, unexpectedly ascended the throne, while Huo Chengjun, who was supposed to become empress, fell into a cursed, unending sleep on the eve of entering the palace.

No one knew that, during those three days of sleep, her soul had crossed the boundary between life and death. She had witnessed with her own eyes the Liu Bingyi massacre that wiped out the entire Huo family: more than three hundred lives bathed Chang'an in blood, and she was the last ghost to lie beneath the executioner's blade.

When she opened her eyes again, Huo Xian was about to hand Xu Pingjun the fatal cup of poisoned tea. The empress's murder, the Huo clan's destruction, the ruin of her family: the wheels of fate had just begun to turn.

Huo Chengjun stopped the cup from reaching Xu Pingjun. She no longer sought the throne of empress. Instead, she said to Huo Guang, "Father, let me join the army."

From then on, Chang'an had one fewer arrogant, overbearing Huo heiress, while the Northern Army gained a female strategist who made all three armies take notice. She helped command the imperial guards, kept her clan in check, and read people's hearts. She transformed the Huo family's foundation from a single chair of power held by a minister into a web of connections threading through the court and the military. In three years, she made Huo Guang personally request an imperial edict appointing her regent.

The court officials all harbored their own schemes. Liu Bingyi lay in wait in the shadows, and Huo Xian plotted in the inner quarters. Huo Chengjun stood at the heart of the storm, able to hear every person's schemes and ambitions. She could predict which side the officials would take, how loyal the generals would be, and how much restraint her clansmen could manage. But there was one thing she could not predict: why the emperor, who should have hated her to the bone, would pick up his brush and then set it down again as he gazed at her portrait in the imperial study late at night.