Dark, paranoid, crazy man attack x cold-blooded, cruel woman dressed as a victim
Fake prince x fake princess, fall in love and kill each other
In the seventh year of Xuanhe, Concubine Rou gave birth to a pair of twins, a dragon and a phoenix. The emperor was overjoyed and called this auspicious.
In the thirteenth year of Xuanhe's reign, a fire broke out in Jinxiu Palace. Concubine Rou and the seventh prince were both killed in the flames, leaving only the sixth princess alive. The emperor was furious, and everyone in the palace and court were in danger for a while.
.
Even many years later, Zhao Qiao could not forget that night of blazing fire.
The uncle's hands, rough, cold, and smelling of blood like rust, tightly covered his choking throat. His voice was hoarse, like a dull knife scraping across the bones: "Remember, the one who survives tonight is Zhao Yu."
Since then, he has been living in this deep palace as his twin sister to this day.
He looked coldly at the pretentiousness of those people, the emperor, the queen, Zhao Yan... The faces were swaying in front of his eyes, all of them were man-eating evil spirits, and every one of them was his enemy.
Therefore, he wants to sit in Zhao Yan's position and the emperor's position. He wants to stand at the highest place and let these people go to hell to atone for the sins of his mother, concubine, and sister.
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Deep in the East Palace, the candlelight flickered, reflecting the bottomless pool in Zhao Yan's eyes. He stared at the treasonous letter in front of him that imitated his handwriting, but had no intention of destroying it. Instead, he took out his private seal and stamped it.
He knew who the real owner of the letter was, and also knew the plot behind him, the use, falsehood, pretense... In short, Zhao Yan was happy to be the sharpest knife in Zhao Qiao's hand.
"Want to be crown prince?" Zhao Yan whispered in a deserted place, his eyes flashing with a dark light of fanaticism and paranoia, "Okay, I will give it to you personally."
After all, when Zhao Qiao held his hand for the first time, Zhao Yan knew that he would never let go of his hand again in this life.
When grudges have long been entangled like vines, and love and hate are inseparable, how can we capture them? They are just in this endless hell, biting each other, torturing each other, and lingering until death.
(Pseudobone)
Purpose: Mutual redemption and mutual growth