"Princess—" Ying Niang hurriedly stumbled over and supported her.

The Princess had been proud all her life, even during her most humiliating moments in the Qin Palace, she had never lost her composure. She was always noble and graceful, even when she had to feign concern in front of the late Emperor to avenge the Ninth Prince, she merely curled her lips slightly, making the Emperor eager to offer the kingdom at her feet.

But now, blood dripped from her chin onto her clothes. She sat on the ground in a sorry state, her eyes vacant and her body trembling. Although her beauty was still stunning, she appeared utterly helpless.

Ying Niang took out a handkerchief to wipe the bloodstains from her lips, but Han Litong waved her off.

She stared intently at Han Jing, trying to find some resemblance to Qin Feng’s features in her face, but there was none. Qin Feng, notorious for his tyranny, was someone she could recognize even if he turned to ash.

Han Jing’s face was exquisite, with features that bore a seventy-percent resemblance to hers. It’s no wonder anyone who saw them would think they must be related.

But those eyes, those ink-black eyes, were remarkably like Fengxi’s.

Fengxi was gentle and elegant, his eyes forever bright and sincere, like a beam of sunlight that could always shine into one’s heart.

He had stayed by her side for so long. Since she was very young, during a hunting trip with her father, she had lost her way in the mountains due to her playful nature. After crying for a long time, hungry and scared, she met the teenage boy. In the desolate woods at sunset, he stretched out his hand to her, and his bright eyes wrapped her in warmth.

He escorted her back, and she realized he was the youngest son of General Feng, a renowned general of the Western Qi Country. Raised to practice martial arts, General Feng was old and had withdrawn from the court but was deeply trusted by her father. One of the Feng family’s nieces was also her father’s favorite concubine, which made her father highly regard Brother Fengxi upon meeting him.

From then on, Brother Fengxi frequently came and went from the palace, growing up with her.

If it weren’t for the subsequent disaster, if she hadn’t stubbornly insisted on going for the marriage alliance, perhaps her father would have given her hand to Brother Fengxi.

Sadly, nothing could be undone.

They were cruelly separated by the absurd passage of time.

One mistake, and they drifted apart by life and death.

Han Litong’s eyes ached, a dry and painful sensation. How many years had it been? At this moment, she desperately wanted to have a good cry, but her empty eyes shed not a single tear.

Her heart, having been dead for so long, was tightly clenched, causing each breath to ache.

Han Jing walked a few steps over, bent down to look her in the eyes, voice cold and unfeeling: "Someone who never understood what love is is forever unworthy of it and will never have it."

Then she no longer glanced at Han Litong, turning instead to Han Qingjue: "Please lead the way."

Han Qingjue, still in a daze, stood up upon hearing Han Jing’s words: "I will take you."

Han Jing looked at her, nodded, and turned to Lian Xichen: "Brother, accompany me this time, the others can stay here and wait."

Han Jing still didn’t trust Han Qingjue, even though there was no reason for Han Qingjue to play any tricks at this moment; it’s always best to be cautious.

Han Qingjue, still shocked, walked ahead without looking back.