She was the top agent of the twenty-first century, but one slip sent her transmigrating into the body of the despised, foolish, useless third young lady of the Minister’s residence. She beats concubines, puts scheming ingenues in their place, takes down the crown prince, torments scumbags, kills the Prime Minister, and masters medicine and spirit-pet training, all while attracting a crowd of handsome men. A young master with big, watery eyes pleads, “Miss, you can’t lie to me. You have to take responsibility.” The celibate heartthrob says, “The love spell has taken root. I’m claiming you for life.” Then the bewitching man she can’t afford to provoke tugs her ear. “Wife, don’t be so fickle. You slept with me, so you’re mine. Flirting with other men right in front of me? I must not be doing enough for you.” Waaah, then the wicked charmer kept her busy until dawn. Clutching her aching waist, she thinks, “Damn it, if I can’t afford to provoke him, can’t I at least avoid him?”
