In her past life, Qiu Che disguised herself as a man to take the imperial exams in her brother's stead. For her father and brother's so-called grand scheme, she ruthlessly married Li Qingwu, the empire's most favored princess. Yet in ten years of marriage, she never once laid a finger on her. On the day she became the all-powerful chancellor, she died at the hands of her own father. Her brother climbed over her corpse to fame and success. In the chilly depths of a spring night, she perished silently within the chancellor's estate. It was her wife—whom she had never spared a glance—who gathered her bones, set the estate ablaze, and finally drew a sword across her own throat before Qiu Che's grave. When she opened her eyes again, it was Zhenfeng Year 18. The year she had just topped the imperial exams, basking in the spring breeze of triumph. As her horse pranced through the streets, she suddenly lifted her gaze—and there, encircled by attendants, stood a figure on the pavilion, quietly watching her from above. A crimson beauty mark, painted lips, breathtaking splendor. Eyes burning with inextinguishable starlight. Only in this life did Qiu Che finally learn that the ill-fated bond she once deemed a product of her own deceit was, in truth, Li Qingwu kneeling thrice in the golden hall, pleading with all her heart to secure. She was Li Qingwu, the model of noble grace—whose only rebellion in life was this. And she was the unattainable longing that haunted Li Qingwu's countless days and nights. ---