In my past life, I was the junior minister's wife bestowed by the emperor's marriage decree, secretly harmed by my husband's newly taken co-wife, and died in resentment on a snowy night. Opening my eyes, I returned to the day she entered the door to offer tea; that cup of tea hidden with trickery was originally supposed to be drunk by me. In this life, I restrained my hatred, smilingly swapped the tea for wedding wine, and personally offered it back. She lost her composure on the spot and exposed her own shortcomings, ultimately reaping what she sowed, and even my husband cut off his family line. I took out the deed of separation he personally signed and pressed when he asked to marry me, returned home with a cart full of dowry supported by my older brother and sister-in-law, and the legitimate eldest son in my belly has since borne the surname Wang. I thought the grievances were settled, but who would have known that this co-wife's true identity was an even bigger game.