Xia Yuqing arched a brow, her voice laced with curiosity. "You too?"
Rong Zhi's breath hitched slightly as she nodded. "Yes. The emperor killed me," she whispered, the mere recollection sending a shiver down her spine. No matter how much time passed, she could never forget that moment—his cold, indifferent gaze as if her life meant nothing.
She always knew the emperor was ruthless, incapable of love. He never cared for anyone, not truly.
Perhaps Xia Yuqing had been an exception, but not in a way that mattered. The emperor hadn't loved her; he had possessed her. He craved control, not affection. In the end, everything had always revolved around his desires, his will, his needs.
Seeing the flicker of shock in Xia Yuqing's expression, Rong Zhi tilted her head. "You look surprised. Why?"
Xia Yuqing exhaled slowly. "Because everyone was told you committed suicide out of guilt."
