I transmigrated into the heroine of a tragic historical romance, and at this very moment I was kneeling in the snow and ice as punishment.
The original plot went like this: after I knelt for three hours, I'd catch a chill. My husband would come to visit, I'd be moved to tears, and then he'd naturally bring up taking my half-sister as a concubine.
To hell with the plot.
I looked at my hands, red with cold, then at the bastard in the room, flirting with my half-sister. I had only one thought in mind:
Whoever wants to act out this tragic romance can do it. I'm going to cling to the biggest thigh in the whole book: the mad Crown Prince, who will hold overwhelming power three years from now but hasn't completely turned evil yet.
And how am I going to cling to him?
I recalled the details of the original story, and my eyes lit up. Tomorrow, the Crown Prince would visit a temple outside the city to pay respects to his late mother. The original heroine was supposed to be pushed into the water by her half-sister and rescued by the bastard, setting off a tragic romance.
I've decided: I can get in the water, but the Crown Prince has to be the one who saves me.
My lifetime meal ticket, here I come!
