The Princess Consort Only Wants to Be a Widow

I'm a master of mysticism, and I've been transmigrated into the consort of a prince, destined to be buried with him.

I'm highly skilled at my job. I just want to manage his condition precisely, wait for the sickly prince to die on schedule, inherit his fortune, and live as a rich woman.

By day, I save his life with acupuncture. By night, I lay formations to bind his soul, making sure he dies at just the right time.

But the prince is acting more and more strangely...

He bites my spoon when I feed him medicine, tugs at my sleeve when I'm setting up a formation, and crushes an arrowhead with his bare hand when assassins attack at a palace banquet!

Idly turning the bloodstained arrowhead in his fingers, he asks with a faint smile:

"My beloved consort, you calculate the date of my death every day..."

"Did you ever calculate that you would become my empress?"