The day Si Wan died, the entire capital celebrated the Empress’s coronation.

Her body—carved open and heart removed—was tossed into a mass grave,

as she watched her legitimate sister, Si Qingjia, step onto the empress’s throne using her phoenix bone.

Above Si Qingjia’s head hovered a blood-red cuckoo,

clutching the ninth golden feather stolen from Si Wan’s very fate.

“Dear sister, your phoenix fate suits me perfectly.”

“Even His Majesty said I was born to be empress.”

Si Wan died filled with rage, her resentment lingering.

But she was powerless to stop Si Qingjia’s rise to glory.

Then—rebirth.

Si Wan opened her eyes on the night she was framed for seducing the Seventh Prince.

And as the setup played out, she caught a glimpse of Si Qingjia’s robe vanishing around the corner.

Meanwhile, the crowd whispered:

“Si Wan is shameless.”

“Si Qingjia is pure and virtuous.”

But later, in the Golden Throne Hall—

Si Wan watched as the man in black robes and ink-dark hair stepped out from behind the dragon throne,

pressed the imperial seal into her palm and asked with a smile:

“Zitong, want to smash this for fun?”

Si Wan: …Wasn’t he supposed to be the cold, heartless God of War?