The last glance of Prince Jing in his life did not fall on Lu Zhaoyuan's face.
At this moment, his breath was as weak as a thread, and every breath was accompanied by heavy gasps.
He used up all his strength and slowly raised his head with difficulty, his eyes showing complicated emotions.
Looking at the man not far away, he is no longer the weak boy in the eyes of outsiders.
His lips trembled slightly, as if he wanted to say something, but the sound he made was so weak that it was almost inaudible.
However, Yan Cheng understood his lip shape and heard the voice that seemed to come from the depths of his soul.
"Eighth brother, you will have to work hard in the future."
Yan Cheng was slightly startled and subconsciously pursed his lips, feeling as if something was choking his throat.
Just as he was about to speak, he saw Prince Jing quietly closing his eyes, as if he had used up his last bit of strength.
In an instant, Yan Cheng felt an endless sense of melancholy in his heart.
How did things turn out like this?
"Jue'er! My Jue'er!"
Lu Zhaoyuan let out a cry of grief.
She hugged Prince Jing's body, which still had some warmth, tightly, and her tears burst out like a flood, crying so hard that she almost fainted.
Her voice echoed in the crowded hall, filled with deep despair and helplessness.
Yan Cheng remained silent and just watched the scene quietly.
Then he sighed silently and took several steps back.
He felt mixed emotions and had a lot of thoughts in his mind.
If it weren't for the fact that Prince Jing had the blood of the previous dynasty's royal family flowing through his veins;
If Lu Zhaoyuan had not been obsessed with restoring the glory of the previous dynasty and had not put this obsession on Prince Jing like a shackle;
Or, if no one reveals the mystery of Prince Jing's bloodline,
Then, perhaps there would never be a day when he would march upon the imperial city.
Unfortunately, there is no "if" in the world, and everything is irreversible.
A minister behind Yan Cheng stepped forward cautiously, his expression extremely conflicted. He asked in a very low voice, "Your Highness, what should we do now?"
As soon as someone spoke, the ministers' noisy discussions followed one after another.
"Prince Jing is dead, what should we do now?"
"What can we do? Of course we have to make Prince Yong the new crown prince."
"But His Majesty is still unconscious. Without his decree, Prince Yong is not the legitimate crown prince."
They never imagined that things would go so smoothly.
Originally, they had made sufficient preparations and planned to argue with Prince Jing, even at the cost of fighting with the palace guards.
But who could have expected that Prince Jing would commit suicide by taking medicine.
Yan Cheng was about to speak when he heard a burst of hurried footsteps approaching them quickly.
Like many people in Fengtian Hall, he subconsciously looked back.
The person who came was wearing an elaborate and gorgeous but slightly messy palace dress, her face was full of tears and she looked crazy.
She pushed Lu Zhaoyuan away regardless of everything and threw herself directly onto Prince Jing's body, letting out a heart-wrenching howl.
"Your Highness!"
She cried so miserably, all her former glory was gone, leaving only a heart full of pain and despair.
Lu Zhaoyuan was stunned for a moment by this sudden push.
When he came to his senses, he tried to struggle to crawl over, but was pushed away by Princess Jing.
The former Princess of Jing stared at her with hatred in her eyes, holding Prince Jing's body tightly with her hands like iron clamps, as if she was afraid that someone would take him away.
"It's all because of you! If you didn't want those things that don't belong to you, Your Highness would still be serving as Prince Jing."
Princess Jing's voice became sharp and piercing with anger and grief.
"Your Highness has never had any ambition for the throne. It was you who forced your own ideas upon Your Highness! It was you who pushed Your Highness step by step towards today's fate!"
"It's all your fault!"
Princess Jing burst into tears, unable to suppress the pain in her heart any longer. She angrily reached out her hand, grabbed Lu Zhaoyuan tightly, and asked:
"Who is more important to you, His Highness or Dachen?"
Princess Jing was the daughter of a military commander and had been practicing martial arts diligently since childhood.
Even after getting married and having a daughter, she never gave up practicing martial arts. She was very strong and Lu Zhaoyuan could not break free from her eagle-claw-like hands.
Lu Zhaoyuan's eyes were empty, and she was mumbling words that no one could understand. She seemed to have lost her soul, and did not answer Princess Jing's question.
Princess Jing became even angrier upon seeing this, her eyes turned red, and she was about to attack Lu Zhaoyuan.
The minister behind Yan Cheng looked troubled again and asked in a low voice, "Your Highness Prince Yong, what should we do now?"
Yan Cheng felt a wave of fatigue rising in his heart, and he raised his hand and pressed his forehead tiredly.
Then he waved his hand weakly, signaling someone to separate the two agitated women.
Someone immediately came forward to ask him what he was going to do with them.
"Send Lu Zhaoyuan back to the harem and lock her up first. As for Princess Jing...just have her go back to Prince Jing's mansion and confine her there! We can make other plans after Prince Jing is buried."
After Yan Cheng finished speaking, he slightly moved his eyes away, as if he didn't want to see the scene in front of him again.
Human life is so fragile.
After so many years, only a few people survived this battle.
*
Prince Jing's funeral was simple.
Even in Prince Jing's mansion, there were very few people coming and going.
After knowing the bloodline flowing in Prince Jing's body, very few people were willing to come to pay their respects to him.
No matter what others did, Yan Cheng came to pay tribute.
After all, he had a pretty good relationship with Prince Jing back then.
When Yan Cheng came to pay his respects, he immediately saw a group of three, one large and three small, kneeling in front of the coffin.
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