Lin Xiaoxiao transmigrated and woke up with a coffin lid right beside her face.
A eunuch urged her to die, saying it was all for "bringing good fortune through a wedding."
On the bed lay a supposedly brutal, comatose Prince of War.
She looked at the chicken on the offering table, then at the half-dead man.
Then she set about making ginseng chicken soup.
The Prince of War woke to the delicious aroma.
He grabbed her by the throat and demanded to know who had sent her.
She said, "Let go. If you keep choking me, the soup will go cold, and you won't be able to taste it."
From then on, whenever she made red-braised pork, the censor who impeached the prince broke his leg.
When she laid out a hot pot feast, every rival restaurant that came to spy ended up with food poisoning.
When she tossed braised pig's trotters into the enemy camp, sixty thousand Northern Rong cavalrymen mutinied.
The whole capital called the Princess of War a demon.
The Prince of War cornered her by the stove, his voice as hoarse as a scorched pot:
"I'm hungry. I don't want food."
