She rested her chin on her hand, her curled eyelashes sprinkled with candlelight like gold dust.
The events of her previous life were like flowers in a mirror or the moon in water, creating ripples in Yu Lingxi’s calm, beautiful eyes.
Frowning, she added “Ning Yin” next to “cause of death,” her strokes carrying a teeth-grinding flavor.
Even if Ning Yin hadn’t ordered the killing, her death couldn’t be unrelated to him.
As the wine’s effect gradually made her drowsy, Yu Lingxi rested on the desk, staring at the paper for a long time. The more she looked, the more the character “Ning Yin” stung her eyes.
The cold, smiling handsome face in her memory overlapped with the young man trampled under someone’s foot, creating a contradiction that pulled at her thoughts…
Yu Lingxi simply crumpled the paper into a ball and threw it into the charcoal basin to burn.
She fell back onto her bed weakly, covered herself with the quilt, and fell into a deep sleep.
…
Outside the latticed window, the moon’s shadow tilted westward.
Yu Lingxi didn’t know how many times she had dreamed of Ning Yin.
In the dream, she was still that wandering soul without a grave or tomb, floating beside Ning Yin.
Whether it was an illusion or not, the current Ning Yin seemed even more insane than before.
His complexion was paler than a ghost’s, exuding a kind of sickly handsomeness.
Yu Lingxi watched him kill the Minister of War, kill the Grand Censor, raid Right Minister Xue’s family, and slaughter everyone he disliked and even those he liked, turning the entire city into a rain of blood.
Then, he kicked the young Emperor, still a child, off the dragon throne.
Before, though Ning Yin was cruel and unpredictable, his actions still showed some preferences. But now, Ning Yin’s eyes held only destruction.
Yet he still wasn’t happy.
Although his lips always curved in a gentle arc, seemingly interested in enjoying the splashing fresh blood before the Hall of Golden Bells, Yu Lingxi could tell that he wasn’t happy.
He went to the prison to torment Xue Cen, listening to Xue Cen’s curses with leisurely indifference.
There were so many people in the world who cursed him and wanted to kill him; one more Xue Cen didn’t matter.
But he wouldn’t kill Xue Cen. He said death was a simple thing and he wouldn’t let the Xue family off so easily.
“If Master Xue were to die, there would be no one in this world to remember…”
The words were only half spoken when Ning Yin tightly pressed his thin lips together.
He seemed to sense something, turning his gaze to pierce in the direction where Yu Lingxi’s spirit floated.
Though knowing he couldn’t see her, Yu Lingxi still trembled in fear.
Covered in a cold sweat, she woke from her dream.
Yu Lingxi opened her eyes, staring at the silver floral pattern on her bed canopy, the bloody scenes from her dream refusing to fade.
Her chest felt stuffed with cotton, making it hard to breathe. She felt ashamed of her momentary softness last night.
No matter how pitiful that person was now, it couldn’t offset the bloodshed he would cause in the future.
Pitying him—who would pity her lonely ghost from the previous life?
Thinking of all this, Yu Lingxi threw her pillow and turned over angrily.
No, she still couldn’t swallow this anger!