The sound of light footsteps emerged.
A familiar figure quickly appeared before Prince Dongping and his son.
Prince Dongping, who had been leaning against the wall, forced himself to sit up straight. The Princely Heir of Prince Dongping, who had been lying on the ground like a dead fish, also sat up as if his butt was on fire, unwilling to lose the last shred of dignity in front of the visitor.
"Now you care about saving face," Jiang Shaohua dropped her public facade of solemnity, her eyes full of disdain and resentment, her voice icy: "You two conspired to murder the Emperor; how will you face the Jiang Family ancestors in the Yellow Springs?"
No wonder he dared to plot rebellion in secret, even when facing death he remained stubborn: "Jiang Song is weak and unworthy of the throne. The throne should belong to the capable. I have no regrets even when underground."
