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Yuyao stepped forward quickly and bowed low. "Your Majesty, it's that one — His Majesty the Emperor is already inside, waiting for you."
For a brief moment, Feng Ling's heartbeat faltered. The faint morning light glinted against the carriage's golden frame — beautiful, yet suffocating. Her hand clenched into a fist. So… he intends to watch her every move Feng Ling thought.
"Alright then," Feng Ling said curtly, her tone as calm as still water. With Zhilan and Ziyan's help, she stepped into the carriage.
The moment she entered, her gaze fell upon Mo Tian's cold, expressionless face. His eyes were closed, his posture relaxed — as if the entire world outside the carriage had nothing to do with him.
A grim thought crossed Feng Ling's mind: if she could drive a dagger through his heart, would her torment finally end?
