But as Zhu Changhong opened his mouth, the blood he vomited turned a darker black.
Under Jiang Chengfeng's cover, Wen Zhiyun leaned closer, picked up the dagger, and smelled it, saying, "It's ricin poison, which dissolves instantly upon contact with blood."
Zhu Changyu's ruthlessness was on full display at this moment—he not only wanted his two brothers to kill each other, but he also wanted them to die without a doubt.
"Poisoned?" Ju Lianruo collapsed completely. "Someone, someone, antidote! Antidote!"
Zhu Changhong opened his mouth again and spat out dark red blood.
He could feel his life slipping away at an alarming rate. As the most cowardly and incompetent eldest prince, he should have been fearful, and should have been wailing in his mother's arms.
But for some reason, I felt a vague sense of relief.
Perhaps it was because he was too tired from being dominated by his mother all these years that the scheming and fighting was meaningless, and he was even more fascinated by the fighting between two crickets.
He always tries to memorize all possible responses and pretends to be in control, but his true colors are revealed when unexpected situations arise.
Now, is he finally free?
Zhu Changhong suddenly grinned, the pain from the churning of his internal organs lessening considerably. He sensed that time was running out, and finally looked at the bowing Imperial Guard commander, "Tell Father not to be sad, not to be heartbroken, I am happy... I am actually happy."
No more words were said.
He resented his mother's domineering attitude, but he also felt her love.
He was happy to be away from his mother, but that didn't stop him from wanting to protect her in the last moments of his life.
At the same time, he tried his best to comfort his father, and the man who had lifted him up on his shoulders—don't be sad, I'm glad.
I'm really happy.
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