The north wind of the twelfth lunar month was like the razor-sharp claws of a demon, sweeping snow as thick as goose feathers against the mottled walls of the Cold Palace. The bronze brazier in the corner had long since gone cold, its surface covered in a crawling layer of rust. Shen Mingyue curled up on a moldy straw mat, the infant in her arms already breathless, the blood-soaked swaddling cloth frozen into dark red crystals. Gazing at the snow drifting through the hole in the roof, she was dazed, momentarily transported back to the embroidery room of the Shen Estate ten years ago. Back then, the window lattices were covered in fresh mulberry paper, the gilded warming stove glowed a deep red, and she had tilted her head to watch her mother embroider a pair of twin lotus flowers with golden thread.
"Clatter—"
The rusted iron gate was kicked open. Black, python-patterned brocade boots trampled over the mold-stained floor, startling a cluster of rats huddled in the corner. Shen Mingyue trembled all over, her fingernails digging deep into the cracks of the bricks as dust rained down onto her shoulders. The mandarin duck Jade Pendant at Lu Huaijin’s waist swayed gently with his every step. It was a token of love she had embroidered with gold thread herself on the day of her coming-of-age ceremony; now, the worn edges of the jade mirrored how her own heart had been trampled.
"Is my beloved consort waiting for me?" Lu Huaijin leaned down to pick up a strand of her loose hair, his fingertips brushing against her ulcerated lips. Shen Mingyue smelled the musk of the dragon-scent incense lingering on his sleeves, mixed with the cedar scent Noble Consort Shu favored, and a wave of nausea rose in her stomach. The lanterns from the Lantern Festival three years ago still flickered before her eyes; back then, he had held her hand while walking along Zhuque Avenue, promising to take her to see the misty rain of Jiangnan in March. But now, the tenderness in his eyes had turned into bone-chilling frost, and every word he spoke felt like an ice pick piercing her heart.
"Why..." A metallic tang surged in her throat, yet Shen Mingyue laughed. Beads of blood slid from the corner of her mouth, blooming into dark red flowers on her tattered skirt. She remembered that rainy night three months ago, when Lu Huaijin had placed the white silk around her mother’s neck with his own hands, his eyes wearing this same cold expression. Her father’s head had hung from the city gate, crows pecking at his graying hair; her younger brother had been run through with arrows, clutching the very Jade Pendant she had given him even as he collapsed in a pool of blood. These images burned in her mind like a red-hot iron; each time she recalled them, her hatred deepened.
Lu Huaijin suddenly gripped her chin, his thumb grinding heavily against a bruise on her cheekbone. "Shen Mingyue, do you know your crime?" His voice was low, yet it made Shen Mingyue tremble violently. The candlelight flickered in the draft, casting their shadows against the mottled wall, twisting them into grotesque shapes. The cracks on the wall were like her own shattered life, each one carved with humiliation and despair.
"What crime have I committed?" Shen Mingyue lunged, grabbing his wrist, her fingernails digging deep into his skin. The dirt from her child’s burial was still embedded under her nails, now mixing with blood as it seeped into his wounds. "It was you who listened to slanders, claiming I poisoned Noble Consort Shu and exterminating the entire Shen Family! It was you—" Her voice was choked with sobs, every word dripping with blood, pouring out three years of grievances and rage.
"Silence!" Lu Huaijin flung her hand away and whipped the white silk tightly around her neck. Shen Mingyue felt her throat bones emit a chilling, brittle snap; the agony of suffocation turned her vision black. In her haze, she seemed to see the tragedy of the day the Shen Estate was raided: her mother, just before hanging herself, still whispering for her to survive; her younger brother, on his way to the execution ground, turning back to give her that stubborn, fearful smile. She struggled frantically, her hand brushing against the Jade Pendant at Lu Huaijin’s waist—the heart she had spent three years embroidering had become the blade that pierced her. The jade pressed painfully into her palm, yet it was nothing compared to the agony in her heart.
"Shen Mingyue, this is what you owe Noble Consort Shu." Lu Huaijin’s voice sounded as if it came from the ends of the earth. The last thing Shen Mingyue saw was the swaying mandarin duck Jade Pendant at his waist, the gold-threaded wings of the female bird now tattered and ruined. The moment darkness completely consumed her, she made a solemn vow in her heart: if there is an afterlife, she would make Lu Huaijin pay in blood! Each word was steeped in resolve, carved into her soul before her consciousness faded.
...
"Mistress! Mistress, wake up!"
Chuntao’s tearful voice pierced the darkness, and Shen Mingyue bolted upright. The familiar scent of sandalwood flooded her senses. The twin lotus flowers embroidered on the carved bed curtains looked vibrant enough to touch, and the fine silk netting before the bed swayed gently in the warm breeze. She touched her throat with trembling fingers—no ligature marks, no blood, only smooth, delicate skin. The youthful face of a girl reflected in the bronze mirror, her brows arched and free of any sorrow, clearly the girl she had been on the eve of her coming-of-age ceremony! The shock and disbelief of her rebirth surged in her heart; she could not believe fate had actually given her a second chance.
"Are you having another nightmare?" Chuntao’s hands shook as she held the copper basin, her red-rimmed eyes reflected on the water's surface. "This servant heard you calling out for the young master in your sleep..." Chuntao’s voice was filled with worry, her eyes brimming with concern.
Shen Mingyue gripped the silk quilt so hard that her nails left crescent-shaped indentations in the magnolia-embroidered fabric. The ecstatic joy of rebirth and the bone-deep hatred were intertwined. She suddenly grabbed Chuntao’s wrist. "Today... is it really the eve of my coming-of-age ceremony?" Her voice was urgent, desperate to confirm this wasn't just another nightmare.
"What is wrong, Mistress?" Chuntao was startled by her appearance, spilling most of the water from the basin. "You personally inspected the ceremonial dress you are to wear tomorrow just yesterday, and said you had to finish embroidering the last peony..." Chuntao watched Shen Mingyue’s erratic behavior, filled with confusion.
Shen Mingyue released her hand, her fingertips unconsciously stroking the soft quilt. She remembered clearly: after her coming-of-age ceremony in her past life, she had been chosen to enter the palace, falling into an abyss from which there was no return. Now that she had returned to before it all began, this was heaven’s gift! She silently swore that in this life, she would rewrite her destiny and make those who harmed her pay the price.
"Go and invite Mother." Shen Mingyue threw off the quilt and stepped barefoot onto the cold floor tiles. The flames of revenge burned in her eyes, dispelling the confusion brought by her rebirth. She would prevent the extermination of the Shen Family; she would make Lu Huaijin pay for everything he had done! Each thought was firm as iron, bracing her resolve.
The bronze mirror reflected her determined face. Shen Mingyue picked up a white jade hairpin from the vanity. In her past life, she had given this hairpin to Lu Huaijin, only for it to become the evidence he used to frame her. Now, the twin lotus flowers carved into the head of the pin glinted coldly in the candlelight, like a blade drawn from its sheath. She stared at the hairpin, recalling the events of her past life, and the hatred surged again.
"Mingyue, are you not feeling well?" Madam Shen pushed the door open, the pearl tassels at her temples swaying with each step, her jade bracelets clinking crisply. Shen Mingyue looked at her mother’s still-young face and thought of the hideous rope marks on her neck before she hung herself in the past life; her eyes immediately turned red. The sight of her mother pained her heart, and she vowed silently to protect her mother at all costs in this life.
"Mother, I don’t want to enter the palace for the selection." Shen Mingyue grasped her mother’s hands, feeling the familiar warmth. In her memories, these hands had once styled her hair and wiped away her tears, and now they were destined to be destroyed by ruthless fate. Her voice carried a plea, hoping her mother would understand her fear.
Madam Shen was stunned, then sighed. "Have you heard some idle gossip? Don't take it to heart. Our Shen Family has been loyal for generations; if you can enter the palace as a consort, it will bring glory to the family. The Emperor is benevolent and will surely treat you well." She gently patted her daughter’s hand. "Besides, this selection concerns the family’s honor; it is not something you or I can easily decide."
"No, Mother." Shen Mingyue suddenly knelt, pressing her forehead against the cold tiles. "Last night, I dreamt... I dreamt the entire Shen Family was beheaded, Father’s head hanging from the city gate, and younger brother..." She deliberately choked back tears, her voice filled with just the right amount of terror and despair. "I am truly afraid. I beg you, do not let me enter the palace. I am willing to stay by your and Father’s side for the rest of my life and never leave." Her performance was laced with genuine fear, drawn from the marrow-deep memories of her past life.
Madam Shen’s face turned pale, and the hand supporting her daughter trembled slightly. "Nonsense! You must be exhausted lately..." Despite her words, deep worry surfaced in the depths of her eyes. Looking at her daughter’s reddened eyes and recalling rumors circulating in the streets about the palace, she could not help but feel a sliver of unease herself.
Deep in the night, Shen Mingyue sat alone by the window. The moonlight poured through the lattice, illuminating the list of those she sought revenge against—the list she had written in blood in her past life. Suddenly, a faint sound of roof tiles shifting came from above. She turned vigilantly, only to see a black shadow vault through the window. In the moonlight, the man’s face was clearly visible—it was none other than Lu Huaijin’s personal guard and commander of the shadow guards, Xiao Lin.
"Commander Xiao, why this late visit?" Shen Mingyue gripped the white jade hairpin, pointing the tip toward the intruder’s throat. Through the flickering candlelight, she noticed the bandages wrapped around Xiao Lin’s waist, seeping with dark red blood, and a fresh scar on his right cheek that was still bleeding; he had clearly just come from a fierce battle. Her eyes were full of caution, unsure why this man, who stood beside her enemy, would appear here.
Xiao Lin removed his straw hat, revealing his stern face. "Mistress Shen, I have come to warn you. Tomorrow, at your coming-of-age ceremony, someone intends to harm you." He pulled a crumpled note from his robes and handed it to her. "This is a portrait of the person who hired the assassins." Xiao Lin’s words were brief and powerful, setting off alarm bells in Shen Mingyue’s heart.
Shen Mingyue took the note and unfurled it in the moonlight. The person in the drawing had a cinnabar mole at the corner of their eye and wore the attire of an Imperial Household Department official, yet she had never seen this man before. But inexplicably, she recalled the head eunuch in Noble Consort Shu’s palace who always kept his head lowered. The overlapping image of her memory and the portrait gave her more theories about the impending crisis. She looked up at Xiao Lin, her eyes filled with doubt. "Why would Commander Xiao help me? As the Emperor’s confidant, you should be on his side."
"I once had a life-and-death friendship with General Shen." Xiao Lin avoided her probing gaze, staring at the moon outside the window. "And... there are those who do not want you to die." Xiao Lin’s words held a hint of hesitation, as if hiding more secrets. He paused, then continued, "Mistress Shen, do you know that in the current imperial court, various forces are surging beneath the surface? The Emperor... is also not his own master."
"Not his own master?" Shen Mingyue suddenly tore a red silk ribbon from the bedpost, ripped it into strips with practiced efficiency, and walked toward Xiao Lin to dress the wound at his waist, her movements skilled and decisive. "When he exterminated my entire family, he didn't seem like he wasn't his own master. Commander Xiao, some things cannot be explained away with a simple 'not his own master'."
Shen Mingyue paused, her fingertips winding the bandage into a complex knot. In the distance, the night watchman struck the third watch, the sound of the clapper sounding particularly sharp in the silent night. As she tied the final knot, she leaned close to Xiao Lin’s ear. "Tell that noble person: Shen Mingyue’s life belongs only to herself. I will no longer be a pawn for others to manipulate. Whoever blocks my path to vengeance will pay the price." Her voice was low and firm, asserting her sovereignty.
Xiao Lin stumbled back half a step, hitting the screen behind him. Gold-lacquered peonies fell with a rustle, scattering across the floor. He gave Shen Mingyue a long, deep look, then turned and leapt out the window, vanishing into the night. His departing back carried a trace of complex emotion, as if he had gained a new understanding of the woman before him.
Shen Mingyue picked up the portrait from the floor and held it to the candlelight. The flames consumed the paper, making the hatred in her eyes burn even more intensely. The first crisis since her rebirth had arrived, and she would never again be slaughtered like a lamb. The moonlight outside the window fell upon her, casting a long shadow like a sword drawn from its sheath, coiled and ready. She stared at the dancing flames, her mind already plotting her next move, the plan for revenge gradually taking shape. She knew the road ahead was full of thorns, but for the Shen Family, and for the loved ones who had passed, she was fearless.