Prince Arthur’s palace, known as the "Pink Prince," was covered wall-to-wall with rose-gold leaf, even the toilet seat encrusted with diamonds. The first time I saw him, I knelt on shattered glass, blood trickling down my knees. He crouched down, lifting my chin with his fingertip: "Does it hurt?" I said yes. He smiled: "Then remember this pain—every time you see me from now on, I want you to recall this moment." Three years later, I entered the grand hall in a sheer gauze gown embroidered with three hundred pearls, stepping on the Persian carpet he loved most. The court erupted in shock. He narrowed his eyes at me: "What are you doing here?" I tilted my head and smiled: "To answer my dear husband—I’d like a chicken leg." He sneered: "Didn’t you hate me the most? Now you’ve learned to play sweet?" I didn’t reply. Instead, I slowly unfolded a piece of paper that read: [1. Stew the chicken leg until tender] [2. Add two spoons of honey, no ginger] [3. Use the imperial kitchen’s century-old clay pot] [4. After eating, I’ll take a nap in your bed] Silence gripped the hall. He shot to his feet, hurling his jade tablet to the ground—it split clean in two. "Are you mocking me?" I gently brushed my lips with my finger. "No. I’m just listing the menu." That night, the kitchen was robbed. The ancient pot, passed down seven generations, vanished without a trace. Left on the chopping block was a note: "The pot was stolen by a reckless maid. The princess has nothing to do with it." When he led men to chase me to the palace gate, I was already crossing the final threshold. Under moonlight, I shed my luxurious outer robe, revealing coarse cloth beneath. He gritted his teeth: "Do you really think you can leave?" I turned back, smiling like the girl he once crushed into the dirt: "I’m not leaving." Pausing, I whispered softly: "Because I’m no longer her." Wind flapped the hem of my skirt as the signboard “Soft Jade Pavilion” crashed down behind me. I didn’t look back. The next chapter? They say the prince went mad searching for that pot. Because finally, he understood— I didn’t want a chicken leg. I wanted to cook a stew strong enough to poison the past. Who bowed first? It doesn’t matter anymore. In this game, I’d already hidden my knife inside the sweet soup. Sophia Holt transmigrates into a novel as a beggar and is captured by Prince Arthur because she resembles his enemy, Princess Eleanor. Forced to act as her double under harsh treatment yet high pay, Sophia gradually uncovers the prince’s own traumatic past.Through their contentious daily life, the two wounded souls unexpectedly heal each other. When Sophia's true identity is revealed amid conspiracies, Prince Arthur must choose: Does he hate the face he sought to punish, or has he fallen for the woman who bears it?