In the autumn of the 19th year of Yong'an in Dajing, Su Lingyue married the legendary slaughter god Prince who drank human blood. As the red sedan chair passed through the long street where paper money fluttered, everyone said that she would not survive the wedding night. The moment the veil was lifted, she thought she was dead for sure. As a result, that notorious prince squatted in front of her, holding a bowl of scorched porridge, and awkwardly asked, "What do you want to eat? I'll go make it." A hundred lifetimes of reincarnation, a hundred lifetimes of pursuing his wife. Riding a horse back and forth for three hundred miles in the dead of night to buy a bite of crisp candy, squatting by the bed all night waiting for a bowl of hot porridge. One is willful enough, the other is patient enough. Sweet and poignant intertwined, a hundred lifetimes of deep affection.