He only married me because I resemble her.
After three hundred years of being a substitute, I imitated her every frown and smile, wore her clothes, blocked his sword, and aborted his baby.
He shouted her name when he was drunk, and his eyes never fell on me when he was sober.
She's back.
He cut open my Dantian with his own hands and took away the spiritual root: "Wan'er needs this."
Before I died, I asked him: "Have you ever liked me for a moment?"
He was silent.
I smiled: "If there is an afterlife, I will never meet you again."
Later, everyone in the six realms knew that the Emperor of Heaven was crazy.
He knelt on the edge of the endless sea and shouted my name over and over again.
But I am no longer that substitute.
This time, it's your turn to beg me.
