She dazedly took the clay urn from Master Jiang’s hand. He told her it contained Jiang Shangheng’s ashes.
He was actually, truly dead.
At this moment, she couldn’t even deceive herself.
Better not to wake up, better not to wake up.
Better to remain in a dream, better to remain in a dream.
Better to have never come to this world, better to have never known such a person.
Master Jiang watched her collapse to the ground, his mouth opening and closing as he explained why he was late, why Jiang Shangheng ultimately lost his life.
Because Aunt Lin couldn’t bear the pain of losing a child twice, she fell ill. To treat her, they were delayed on the road for more than half a month.
“
Because the former Zhen Yuan Marquis didn’t plead for the wronged Lord Gu; because Aunt Lin’s family was the enemy of Empress Guo; because the Empress, hearing of Gu Qingtong’s death, felt even more guilty towards Lord Gu and became disoriented; because Shen Yuqing refused to believe Gu Qingtong was dead and drove herself mad; because they believed Jiang Shangheng should accompany Gu Qingtong in death; they could no longer listen to the court officials’ advice, and couldn’t even hear Jiang Shangheng’s final truth that Gu Qingtong was not dead – Jiang Shangheng was ultimately dead.
Gu Qingtong saw blurry figures before her eyes, her ears filled with heartbroken cries. With a bang, she felt the world suddenly become hideous.
It turned out that Jiang Shangheng’s death was also related to her.
She felt her breath was about to fail. Her eyes were dry from crying, and she didn’t wail. Exhausted, she had no strength to cry or speak.
She sat on the ground, unwilling to get up.
She drifted off, crying herself to sleep, but her sleep was shallow. She could hear every word around her, yet she kept having nightmares.
Jiang Shangheng, covered in blood, reached out to her, wanting to speak but hesitating. She would run towards him, but always dissolve into mist just before embracing him.
That night, Gu Qingtong developed a high fever.
