The morgue of Dali Temple does not see sunlight all year round, and it is so cold that it can freeze bone marrow into ice slag.
Shen Yuan held a slender willow leaf scalpel, half of her face was covered behind a special plain handkerchief, only a pair of eyes as cold as a cold pool were exposed.
In front of her, Chun Ying, the "No. 1 Courtesan of Pingkangfang" who was once famous in the capital, was lying naked on the cold stone platform, her skin showing a strange pale white color.
"Shen Yuan! You bitch, who gave you the courage to touch Chunying's body?"
A piercing roar broke the eerie silence.
The Prince of Anping, Su Jingxing, rushed in with a riding crop in hand, his splendid clothes still smelling of hangover.
Behind him were several servants who looked like wolves and tigers, all of them looking fierce.
Shen Yuan didn't even raise his eyelids. The tip of the knife slid down the deceased's sternum with precision. The sound of the skin and flesh being opened was particularly clear in the silent room.
