The fragments of memory were like sharp ice, piercing into her mind:
——The pitiful face of the concubine Shen Qingwan, the glass of poisonous wine handed over to her. "Sister, drink it. It will be easier on the road to hell."
——Ex-fiancé Lu Jinzhi's cold eyes, he put Bai Ling around her neck with his own hands. "Qingxian, don't blame me, you blocked Wanwan's way."
——Suffocation, endless pain, and the faint sound of joyful music coming from the ears when the most consciousness dissipates...
