My mother was born into nobility, yet she threatened to die if she couldn’t marry my scoundrel of a father.
When I was three, my father broke the law and was thrown into prison.
My mother, holding my infant sister in her arms, climbed into the carriage back to the capital without so much as a glance behind her.
She left me alone in the howling wind and snow.
Eighteen years later, when we met again, my sister had already become the emperor’s favored consort.
Her contemptuous gaze was like a snowflake, landing coldly on my hands. “With all those calluses, can you even call those a woman’s hands?”