In the middle of winter, white flags flowed from the mourning hall of the Zhenguogong Mansion. Mrs. Liu's face was covered with plain gauze, and she was crying with pride. Her concubine Shen Yanran's tearful fingertips were bruised. The forged "adultery letters" and "Crane Crown Red" were quietly displayed in front of the coffin. This carefully designed drama of "suicide out of fear of crime" was concluded only after everyone had dispersed.
"Bang!"
The coffin lid exploded, and pale hands suddenly grabbed the edge of the coffin. The guests in the hall froze in place, their screams stuck in their throats. Shen Zhuo, who should have died, slowly sat up, his dark pupils as cold as a cold blade, accurately gouging out Liu's suddenly pale face.
Her black hair fell like a waterfall, her slender fingers brushed over the forged evidence, and the corners of her lips curved in a cold arc. Before everyone could recover, he quickly reached into Liu's sleeve pocket and took out an identical poison bag: "Mother is crying so sadly, is it for her daughter, or is it because of the red crane that I didn't have time to stuff the bag into my mouth?" The words in the hoarse voice were like ice, and the mourning hall was filled with deathly silence.
The plain white mourning clothes wrapped around her thin body revealed a sharp edge like an unsheathed sword. Shen Zhuo stepped out of the coffin slowly and glanced at the shivering Liu mother and daughter: "It seems that my daughter's 'death' was not complete enough, which disappointed her mother. But it doesn't matter..." She slowly put the poison bag into her sleeves, "We have plenty of time to calculate this account."
The cold wind carried snow particles into the mourning hall, shocking the clumsy murder scene. Everyone looked at the girl's back as she turned away, feeling that her thin figure was more frightening than the bronze door of Zhenguo Duke's Mansion.
