The fists hidden in her sleeves clenched tightly, letting her nails dig into her flesh. Her eyes were red, her anger burning her rationality. Surely, the Prince still had a place in his heart for the dead one. Why, after all these years?
Why?
Could it be that she was not even as good as a dead person?
She took a deep breath, swallowing all her grievances and unwillingness.
Covering her burning face, she turned with tear-filled eyes to look at the man before her, "Prince, if this slap can calm your anger, I will take it, just hope that the Prince will give Jing'er a way to live."
King Qi felt not much guilt or heartache for slapping his own Princess Consort in a fit of rage. He was now utterly furious. The mess caused by her and their son was beyond words. Punishing someone would not settle the matter.
