Xu Zhengyang will always remember that day - his father Xu Huaichuan was executed for "collaboration with the enemy and treason", and no bones were left. No one in the court dared to discuss it, except him who didn't believe it.
How could his father, a man with a heart full of rivers and rivers, commit treason?
When he was desperate, he begged the man.
Murong Yuqing, the Ninth Prince, was sick and had no interest in government affairs, but she was the only person in this muddy water who was willing to listen to him.
"I can help you." The man was sitting in the sedan, with no emotion on his pale face. "On condition that you forget your name and identity from now on, and just be my Murong Yuqing's sword."
The moment Xu Zhengyang knelt down, he thought he had caught the light.
In the following years, he killed people for the prince and blocked swords for the prince. The prince's body was getting colder day by day, but he found that something in his heart was getting hotter day by day.
Until he personally found out who was behind the scenes.
That man was lying on the couch and looking at him quietly.
"It's you..."
"It's me." Murong Yuqing did not deny it. "That country is hopeless. His death is a necessary sacrifice."
Xu Zhengyang's knife hung in the air, and the warmth, protection, and heartbeat of the past three years were shattered into powder at this moment.
That night, he walked into the bedroom with a glass of poisoned wine.
Murong Yuqing took it and drank it in one gulp.
With his city, how could he not know what it was.
With his methods, how could he not avoid it.
But he just looked at him, with tears in his eyes and a smile on his lips.
"This country is hopeless. You are the only one I have selfish motives for."
Intention: If justice cannot tolerate a sincere heart, what will be saved?