Black Impermanence hooked the wrong soul.
White Impermanence hooked her eyes instead, so he went to the banks of the River of Forgetfulness, picked up a stone, and fitted it in her eye socket.
The near-sighted King of Hell showed up for a surprise inspection. In a panic, White Impermanence shoved Tang Ling down before she’d even drunk the soup of oblivion.
She’d been promised a family where she could laze around, but the unreliable White Impermanence shoved her into the body of a fourteen-year-old girl from a poor farming family.
Fortunately, her father was honest and kind, though not entirely blindly obedient, and her mother was easily swayed but strong-willed.
She never expected to transmigrate into a novel she’d read four or five times, only to find that someone else was the heroine.
Why did the male lead, who couldn’t make out anyone else’s features, keep staring at her? Was he after her golden eyes?
“Why aren’t you a blob of dough?” the male lead asked, his question striking at the soul.
Tang Ling: “You’re the blob of dough! Your whole family is a blob of dough!”
“Since I was born, my parents have looked like blobs of dough to me. Why don’t you?” The male lead was confused.
So much for the aloof prince persona.
The book is good to read, but the verses are not good.