On the eve of the imperial throne’s collapse, everyone was putting on an act:
Her Crown Prince brother shackled her. Her childhood friend personally poisoned her horse. Her closest friend embroidered the date of her death.
Xiao Jingheng smiled as he drank in every betrayal. Reborn, he would drag each of them into hell, one by one.
Except for the strategist in the wheelchair, who clasped her ankle. “When you ascend the throne over my corpse, will you look back at me?”
Beneath Chang’an’s moon, her skirt was spattered with cinnabar-red blood. “Of course. I’ll watch you all toil for me, body and soul.”
