On the night of the wedding, my legendary cruel and murderous husband, the crippled king, grabbed my neck and said he would send me down to be buried with his horse.
The maids in the mansion were shivering outside the door, waiting to collect the body from me.
He didn't know that I was staring at his blackened face and purple lips, thinking only one thing in my mind:
This strange poison of "King of Hell urges life" has already invaded the heart. If it were half an hour later, the gods would not be able to save him.
If I pierce his Tiantu, Shenmen, and Neiguan acupoints with a golden needle now, I wonder if I can make him shut up on the spot and owe me his life?
After all, if he wants me to be buried with him, it depends on whether he has the life to survive until dawn.
I decided to take a gamble.
In his stunned eyes, I raised my hand, not to resist, but to accurately touch his pulse.
"Your Majesty," I smiled, "your life belongs to me now."
