After being sentenced to death, she came to her senses.

In early winter, a heavy snow fell, and the falling snow covered the entire city of Kyoto.

The cold wind, carrying frost flowers, blew open the gates of Chaohua Palace, startling the sick woman awake. She struggled to sit up, her hand covering her chest as she breathed heavily, her gaze calm as she looked at the eunuchs and maids who entered, as well as her personal maid, Qinglan.

At the prime of her life, she lost her vitality like a withered flower, her once stunning face now a deathly pale white, devoid of any color.

The reason she has become so vulnerable is entirely due to her husband, the current emperor. She helped him ascend the throne and consolidate his power, but in return, he personally fed her a deadly poison.

At this point, her foundation was completely destroyed, and her body grew weaker and weaker, but he still had no intention of letting her go.

"His Majesty has spared Your Highness's dignity, so he has allowed Your Highness to choose for yourself." Qinglan slowly walked to the bedside, gently stroking the white silk held by the eunuch. Her movements were delicate and gentle, but her tone was full of sarcasm. "In my opinion, you should choose the white silk. After all, His Majesty has already given you poisoned wine."

Fang Xiaoran gave a pale smile, her eyes looking indifferently at Qinglan, "You have followed me for many years, and I have never mistreated you. Why did you betray me?"

"This is not betrayal, but following the will of Heaven."

Qinglan took the white silk and handed it to Fang Xiaoran, bowing slightly with neither servility nor arrogance, "Your Majesty, please."

"What a wonderful way to follow fate!" Fang Xiaoran laughed loudly, her eyes seemingly filled with tears. She looked as fragile as a duckweed or a willow branch, as if she might break in the wind at any moment.

However, they only knew that her power was gone and seemed to have forgotten her excellent martial arts skills. Even if her body was broken, there was no reason for them to treat her so poorly.

Her eyes darkened, and she grabbed the white silk ribbon. With a twist of her wrist, the soft ribbon flew out like a whip in her hand. The group of palace servants who knew no martial arts were no match for it. In a short while, they were all over the place, covering their heads and fleeing.

“Qinglan, you’re right. We should follow the will of Heaven.” As soon as Fang Xiaoran finished speaking, a white silk ribbon rolled up the long sword hanging on the wall. A cold glint flashed, and scarlet blood gushed out from Qinglan’s neck.

Fang Xiaoran didn't even glance at her, and left with her sword drawn.

A thick layer of snow covered the cold bluestone slabs. Chaohua Palace was remote and neglected by the new emperor, so naturally no palace servants cleaned it, which is why so much snow had accumulated.

Fang Xiaoran did not put on shoes and socks when she came out of Chaohua Palace. She walked barefoot through the frost and snow, and the hatred in her eyes was gradually becoming more intense and burning.

"That's...Your Majesty...How could that be?"

"Wasn't she ordered to commit suicide by His Majesty? Why is she here?"

The palace servants along the way were shocked to see Fang Xiaoran approaching with a sword. Some even turned around immediately to report to the emperor, but he was forced back by the long sword as soon as he turned around.

"I knew you would want to see me one last time before you die."

A familiar voice approached, and Fang Xiaoran turned around to see Zhao Jin sitting upright on the dragon carriage, dressed in a dragon robe, looking solemn and dignified. He tilted his head slightly, and a playful smile appeared in his usually cold eyes.

They hadn't seen each other for half a month, and they never expected to meet again in this situation.

"You want to get rid of me just to support the new empress to take the throne, but why won't you even spare my mother's family? Zhao Jin, you are truly heartless and ungrateful."

Fang Xiaoran drew her sword and angrily pointed it at Zhao Jin, vehemently accusing him of being heartless and cruel.

"I have said that things without value need not be kept." Zhao Jin's voice was colder than the bleak wind, devoid of any sentiment.

Having spent half her life to the fullest, all she got in the end was the word "worthless." Fang Xiaoran closed her eyes with a bitter smile. When she opened them again, her gaze was sharp, her sword pointed at Zhao Jin, and she slit his throat with a single blow.

As the cold light approached, Zhao Jin looked at her calmly, without fear or flinching.

"Why..." Fang Xiaoran hesitated for a moment before opening her mouth slightly. Suddenly, a dark shadow flashed by, and the cold blade mercilessly sliced ​​across her slender neck.

Her lingering notes drifted away in the wind like falling snow, leaving only a crimson stain on the ground...