Smart people should know when to cut their losses.
Qi Wuya was smart, but in the realm of emotion, he walked a single path to darkness.
"I will make you accept it. A day, a month, a year, ten years, Sang Yan, I can wait."
"...Madman!"
She was helpless against this madman.
Qing Wu was different.
She had a way with madmen.
Dahe Palace
Qingning Palace
The sky had cleared, the snow had melted.
The weather was exceptionally cold.
This coldness seemed to seep into one's bones.
He Ying huddled tighter under the blankets, yet he couldn't suppress the chill.
Sang Yan ah.
How did she cause his illness to flare up?
He looked at the red welts on his hands that had not yet faded, the image of him touching her flickering through his mind: in fact, before his hand even reached hers, the welts had spread from his hands to his neck.
No, not right.
Something was off.
At the moment he started to suspect—
"I've already said, I have a husband-killing fate."
