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Yan Lin's fingers, sharp as blades, plunged fiercely into the assassin's chest, carving a gruesome hole in his flesh.
Yet the assassin seemed completely oblivious to the pain. He didn't even glance at Yan Lin, his eyes wide and dazed as he stared at the woman standing before the emperor.
His broken sword had pierced her heart, blood gushing forth and dripping hotly onto his wrist.
The light illuminated the assassin's face, revealing that it was none other than the escaped Gu Jin'an.
At this moment, his face was smeared with blood, his brows tightly knitted, and his chest a bloody mess, almost revealing his beating heart.
Suddenly, he took a step back and began to laugh mockingly, his bloodied hand pointing directly at Yan Lin as he hoarsely said, "He treats you this way, and you still want to save him?"
With that, he fell backward, breathless.
The broken sword was pulled from Guan Shubai's chest with a splatter of blood.
Her body went limp and she began to fall, but Yan Lin caught her in his arms.
"Why?" His eyes were nearly as dark as the deepest night, devoid of any glimmer.
Guan Shubai was also taken aback. She was not a weak person; although she had resigned herself to death, she would have loved to kill him herself in a fit of rage.
As she rushed toward him, raising her knife in that moment, she still harbored such thoughts. However, when she saw Gu Jin'an's sword aimed at him, her body seemed to react before her mind could catch up.
She stood there, trembling, her face as pale as a ghost.
Regret, shame, and anger clawed at her throat like the talons of a vengeful spirit.
She remained dazed for a long time, her eyes reddening. She wanted to say something but suddenly coughed violently, blood splattering across her face. In a faint voice, she said, "You deceive and betray me like this; how can I let you die at someone else's hands?"
Yan Lin narrowed his elongated eyes, as if something monstrous was trying to leap out from within but was being fiercely suppressed. His breathing was heavy, his voice deeper than usual, stripped of its usual indifference, cold to the core: "If you hate me, then come kill me."
Guan Shubai took a deep breath and swung her fist at his shoulder. But with her severe injuries, where was the strength left?
Her punch felt as light as cotton, yet blood gushed from her own wound with the effort. She paid no heed and continued to strike him weakly. Realizing it was futile, she mustered all her strength to prop herself up, climbing onto his shoulder and biting down hard on the left side of his neck.
She bit down fiercely, drawing blood that trickled down his neck and mingled with her flowing hair.
Finally, she released her grip, seemingly drained of even that little strength.
"I'm dying... Yan Lin, I can't kill you anymore." Her voice softly whispered in his ear, her pale lips moving slowly as if echoing the fragmented kisses shared over the past five years.
A bitter smile lingered faintly on her lips as her wrist fell limply to the cold jade steps below.
The square was silent and still; no one dared to speak for a long time.
Meng Suxin crawled up from the ground and approached the emperor, her fingers trembling as she reached out to touch his sleeve, calling softly, "Your Majesty?"
"I am fine," he said softly, referring to himself as "I."
Meng Suxin lowered her head and took a few steps back.
The dark clouds in the sky dispersed, and the moonlight shone pure and white, like a layer of cold frost, chillingly draping over the blood-stained palace gates.
The vast hall was empty, with the windows wide open. The night sky descended like the enormous, dark wings of a mythical bird, slowly falling from the west.
In front of the palace door lay a clear pond, its waters reflecting the palace lanterns, forming a brilliant ribbon of light that made the depths of the hall appear even darker, almost obscuring the faces of those within.
The Emperor sat alone, engrossed in reviewing memorials.
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