After Feng Lingyan turned and left, An Zihao still sat in the pavilion in the Wutong Courtyard, quietly waiting for death to come.

Time ticked by, and after about an hour, An Zihao was surprised to find that his body was completely normal, without the expected adverse reactions. Suspicion welled up in his mind, and he frowned. He reached for the empty wine glass and sniffed it carefully, but didn't detect any unusual smell.

"Could it be... that I guessed wrong?" An Zihao muttered to himself with a wry smile. "Haha, maybe. How could someone as kind-hearted and indecisive as Feng Lingyan suddenly change her temperament and even kill me?"

Just as An Zihao lowered his head in thought, a bright yellow light suddenly flashed before his eyes. He looked closely and saw a woman wearing yellow satin, green-soled court boots and a court gown emblazoned with a phoenix and auspicious clouds, approaching him. An Zihao looked closely and saw that it was indeed Nalan Yunzhi.

"Your Majesty!" An Zihao, shocked, knelt down and kowtowed.

Despite Nalan Yunzhi's cold and indifferent treatment of him, deep down, An Zihao still deeply loved this noble woman. He never expected that Nalan Yunzhi would come to the cold palace again. Was she here to see him? Or... because of Feng Lingyan?

Nalan Yunzhi walked up to An Zihao and looked down at him condescendingly, with a hint of complicated emotions in his eyes.

"Get up." Nalan Yunzhi said lightly.

An Zihao stood up and lowered his head, not daring to look directly into Nalan Yunzhi's eyes.

"I came here today just to tell you one thing..." Nalan Yunzhi's voice seemed to come from the Netherworld, icy cold to the bone, with a trace of lingering chill. "A fake is just a fake after all. No matter how you disguise it, it can never become the real thing."

When An Zihao heard this, he was struck by lightning. His heart suddenly shook, his eyes widened, and his face was full of disbelief. He stared at Nalan Yunzhi, as if trying to find the slightest sign of joking or regret on the other's face, but in the end he was disappointed.

Nalan Yunzhi glanced at An Zihao leisurely, then parted her red lips and spoke word by word, "The one I love in my heart... from beginning to end is only Ling Yan. How can a grain of sand compete with the sun and the moon? Even if you imitate him perfectly, you will never be able to become him."

These words were like an incredibly sharp sword, ruthlessly piercing An Zihao's heart. He instantly lost all strength and support, and his body began to tremble uncontrollably. Finally, unable to withstand such a heavy blow, An Zihao's legs gave way and he fell straight to the ground, as if every bone in his body had shattered.

At this moment, all sorts of complicated emotions surged in his heart - shock, anger, shame, and an endless sense of sadness that was like a leaf swept by a strong wind, making An Zihao heartbroken.

"Hahaha..." An Zihao burst into laughter as if possessed by a demon. He looked up at Nalan Yunzhi and asked slowly, "Your Majesty, what kind of existence do you hold in your heart for this servant?"

Nalan Yunzhi lowered his eyes to glance at An Zihao and said coldly, "As the Supreme Lord, the goddess of Laifeng Country, you, An Zihao, are naturally just one of the three thousand concubines in my harem. You have a good family background and a high position in the harem, but it's a pity that you are too wild and unsatisfied."

"Compared to those nameless servants whose faces I don't even remember, I believe I've treated you well. I even considered making you the Crown Prince's official consort... Your current fate is entirely your own fault. Don't blame anyone else. Blame your own greed!"

After Nalan Yunzhi finished speaking, he turned around and left, leaving An Zihao lying on the ground with tears streaming down his face, watching the bright yellow figure gradually moving away until it turned into a dot and disappeared.

An Zihao's devilish laughter echoed in the cold palace, filled with despair and self-mockery.

His eyes were empty, staring blankly into the distance.

"So, in her heart, I am nothing more than this..."

An Zihao collapsed on the ground, his heart dead, as if he had aged ten years in an instant.

Not long after Nalan Yunzhi left, a mysterious woman in a crimson-purple outfit and a half-gilded butterfly-shaped mask suddenly appeared in front of An Zihao like a ghost, mercilessly interrupting his annoying self-pity.

With a crisp "clang" sound, An Yi grasped the hilt of the sword and quickly pulled the extremely sharp sword out of the scabbard. He then swung it across An Zihao's fragile neck in the blink of an eye.

"An...An Yi?" An Zihao stared at the heroic woman in front of him with astonishment. His voice trembled and he stuttered, "Could this... be the Emperor's order?"

An Yi cast a leisurely glance at An Zihao. Her thin lips parted slightly, and the words she uttered were as cold and ruthless as ice: "The reason you didn't die just now wasn't because Queen Feng had any mercy on you, but because the Emperor didn't want to see Queen Feng's hands stained with blood because of you, so he specifically ordered his subordinates to replace the poisoned wine with ordinary alcohol."

"Hahaha..." An Zihao's laughter echoed in the air, as if carrying endless sorrow and despair. This sadness surged into his heart like a tide, making it impossible for him to suppress his emotions. Tears streamed down his cheeks, intertwining with his laughter to create a heartbreaking scene.

Suddenly, An Zihao seemed to have lost all his strength, his body trembling slightly. He stared ahead with wide eyes, his gaze filled with pain and helplessness.

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