After transmigrating into the body of a minister's pampered daughter, is she really supposed to marry a hostage prince to bring him good fortune?
Overworked office drone Shen Qingtang rolls over: “Break! Off! The engagement!”
She simply turns her life upside down, napping on a daybed in the teahouse by day and climbing onto the roof to count stars at night.
Before she can finish counting them, the hostage prince rumored to be as cold as a frosty blade from the north has already lost his composure.
From then on, she sleeps in the teahouse by day and counts stars by night, while somehow enticing the Northern Yan hostage prince, a man cold enough to freeze people to death, into losing all restraint.
The nourishing soup he chases after her to deliver? She promptly pours it out for the dog in the corner.
He lights a thousand lanterns to lay a river of stars before her, while she sleeps so soundly beside him that she loses all sense of time.
Until one night, he grips her wrist, the corners of his eyes red. “A-Tang, aren't you afraid that if I go mad, I'll lock you away?”
She yawns. “Go ahead. Just remember to send me three baskets of shaomai every day.”
