The day I transmigrated as the legitimate daughter of a marquis's household, I knew I wouldn't survive more than three episodes.
My outwardly loving stepmother would push me down a well during the Mid-Autumn Festival moon-viewing.
My gentle half-sister would steal my poems and accuse me of plagiarism.
Even my fiance was waiting for me to die so he could marry my cousin.
I quietly tore up my sickly beauty's script. Before my stepmother could make a move, I "accidentally" stumbled upon her affair with the steward.
I replaced my half-sister's quatrain with an obscene song and recited it at a poetry gathering.
As for that fiance of mine...
I broke off the engagement in front of everyone: "Big sister, he's all yours."
Just as I was packing my bags, ready to enjoy life, the heir, who had been bedridden year-round, stopped me.
"My lady, your secret identity is showing."
