The Third Year After My Daughter and I Died

Three years after my daughter and I died, the husband I had been married to for five years attacked the imperial capital and declared himself emperor. His first order was to find me and “eat my flesh, drink my blood.”

Sitting beneath a tree with my daughter in my arms, I pointed at him. “That's your father.”

My daughter puffed out her cheeks and didn't even spare him a glance. Her expression was exactly like his.

Watching the ambition written all over his face, I couldn't help but laugh bitterly.

Too bad he was too late. My daughter and I were already dead.