In ancient times, Long Ling was a royal chef.

But after transmigrating across many worlds, her family crumbled under debt and sold her off to repay it—handing her over to a terrifyingly beautiful omega.

Miss Evil Dragon.

A legendary war general—peerless in looks, feared across battlefields. Her strength was unmatched, but her tail was severely injured and disabled.

Rumor had it, she was a bloodthirsty beast hiding in the shadows.

That night, Long Ling was drugged and tossed, clad in incense-soaked robes, onto Miss Evil Dragon’s bed.

Panicked out of her mind, she was about to run—when Miss Evil Dragon’s voice echoed with icy disdain.

“Ugh. This little grass-scented one, I don’t like it. Send her away to feed the young wolves.”

Long Ling: [So this is how I die.]

She clenched her jaw, dragged herself into Miss Evil Dragon’s arms, and sold herself like a sack of rice.

Then the truth came out.

Miss Evil Dragon wasn’t just cruel, she was also injured and exhausted.

So instead of tossing Long Ling to the wolves, she kept her safe in the mansion.

Miss Evil Dragon finally exhaled.

Her sense of superiority returned.

And just as the clock struck noon, Long Ling served up a non-repeating rotation of nutrient-rich meals each day, massaging Miss Evil Dragon’s injured tail until her cold face slowly softened, her voice more and more indulgent by the day.

Many people in the clan said Miss Evil Dragon was going to toss Long Ling aside and regret this marriage.

Until the patriarch, holding a red invitation card, said coldly:

“She’s not picky. She just likes the grass-scented little chef.”

Turns out she really wasn’t joking.

Turns out this time, it was real.

Turns out Miss Evil Dragon’s tears could fall like that.

Turns out she could be devastated—kneeling in front of her family, tail limp and eyes red, taking over the company Long Ling left behind.

At the banquet welcoming her new bride, she held onto Long Ling’s trial wedding dress, refusing to let go no matter what.

Her chest burned, tail curling tight around Long Ling.

Long Ling couldn’t break free.

Amid the desire and tangled breath, Miss Evil Dragon—eyes burning scarlet—choked out:

“If I hadn’t come, were you planning to never want me again?”

Just a soft little dragoness × a cold, ruthless, people-pleasing imperial chef who only wants to hold her dragon down.

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