Rong Miaoyan's breath turned sour and painful. She said, "I just remembered something. I forgot to tell everyone."
Gu Lan half-closed his eyes. "Please speak, Miaoyan."
"I killed Rong Jing. I killed him with my own hands, that was... that was someone I've called for seventeen years..."
As the young girl spoke, a tear as large as a bean rolled from her eye, the tear mole at the corner of her eye turning red, while her face was unusually pale.
She collapsed drunk on the mat, mumbling in her sleep, tears soaking her plain white sleeves.
Seeing this, Xie Yun sighed, took a few thin blankets, and covered Rong Miaoyan, Jiu, and Qin Zhenghu with them.
Though he wasn't present in the palace today, he had heard about the situation from others.
