My name is Qingchuan. While watching the drama, I complained that Ruoxi had made her life too hard. The next second, I transmigrated into her.
I opened my eyes in the Eighth Prince’s residence, with the enemy who had pushed me down the stairs standing before me, and the perilous struggle among the nine princes unfolding behind me.
But I’m not Ruoxi. I won’t kneel and accept my fate, cry and swallow my pain, or fall into the same trap twice.
I’ve seen the script, and I don’t want to accept its ending. This time, I’m the one calling the shots.
