Yu Lingxi was extremely nervous, struggling with a white jade belt for quite some time.

Ning Yin was in no hurry. His index finger tapped unhurriedly on his thigh, not changing his posture by even a fraction.

In the bright candlelight, from Ning Yin’s angle, he could see her fragile, fair neck extending into the depths of her collar, more alluring than the finest white jade.

He saw through everything, his expression languid as he leisurely enjoyed Yu Lingxi’s clumsy attempt to please him.

Despite his coldness, even Ning Yin had to admit that Yu Lingxi’s appearance was extremely beautiful. Though her status was no longer noble, her ice-like skin and jade-like bones remained radiant, as if even her hair strands glowed under the lamplight.

This light bothered Ning Yin, making him want to pull her down and crush her between his fingers. Moreover, she was trying to please him for the sake of another man.

He quietly watched the beauty whose cheeks had flushed red in the lamplight, and said coolly: “Yu Lingxi, you’re overestimating yourself.”

His eyes were like black ice—handsome, profound, and filled with darkness and coldness.

Beads of sweat appeared at Yu Lingxi’s temples, and she felt aggrieved: “Whether I’m overestimating or not… I have to try to know.”

The silk sash around her waist loosened, her skirt hems piling at her feet. She shivered slightly in the chilly spring air.

Then, trembling, she wrapped her arms around his neck, leaned closer, and held her breath as she pressed her soft, fragrant lips against Ning Yin’s slightly cool thin ones.

Seeing he made no sound, she grew bolder and moved upward, licking his straight nose tip.

Having been with him for two years, she knew how to appease a madman.

If his mood was good that night, it would just be difficult to endure; if his mood was bad, there would be blood.

Unfortunately, the madman had been triggered by something tonight and was not in a good mood.

Compared to his neat clothing, Yu Lingxi was much more disheveled. Her whole body felt uncomfortable, her stomach burning. She tried to move the corners of her mouth but couldn’t manage a smile.

Ning Yin raised his eyebrows, clearly dissatisfied.

He pinched Yu Lingxi’s lips and pulled them apart. Her lip had been bitten and was bleeding, a color more enchanting than rouge.

Only when he had stretched her mouth into an awkward false smile, and she was in so much pain that her eyes blurred with tears, did Ning Yin release her and burst into laughter, laughing so hard his chest shook.

He leaned against the couch, supporting his temple, extending his finger to press on Yu Lingxi’s lips, slowly spreading the seeping blood droplets, his voice low and hoarse with amusement: “Such a small mouth, how dare you try to swallow the Prince?”

The mocking words made Yu Lingxi’s cheeks sting.

Once she had been the radiant noble daughter of the General’s family, dignified and proud. For two years she had endured fear and pain, thinking she had nothing left to care about, but when she heard Ning Yin’s scornful words reminding her how lowly she had become, tears of humiliation still fell.

The burning pain in her stomach, the discomfort in her body and heart, something tense about to break—Yu Lingxi didn’t know where her courage came from.

She glared with her reddened almond eyes, trying hard to break free from Ning Yin’s grip, wanting to leave, but she was easily pulled back to the bed and restrained.

She refused to submit, and in her struggle, she kicked Ning Yin’s left leg. For a moment, both of them froze.

The permanently disabled left leg was his sore spot; no one dared to touch it, let alone kick it.

Ning Yin’s handsome face instantly darkened. He clicked his tongue and sneered as he pinched Yu Lingxi’s jaw: “With such thin skin, why climb into my bed?”

Yu Lingxi knew she had crossed his bottom line and was frightened stiff like a frozen quail.

She wanted to say something but only felt a surging pain in her abdomen.

Then her vision began to blur and scatter. Her whole body gasped like a fish out of water, unable to make a sound.

Ning Yin stared at her ugly expression, thinking that ever since she had seen Xue, she was no longer willing to even pretend to appease him.

In the past, she would have clung to him coquettishly by now, coaxing him with soft words.

“You’re only beginning to despise me now. Isn’t it a bit late?”

When Ning Yin was unhappy, he naturally wouldn’t let others be happy either.

He involuntarily grasped Yu Lingxi’s wildly kicking ankle and said with a sinister voice: “Why don’t I break your legs too, chain you up, so you won’t even have the strength to crawl out of the mansion to meet your old lover? Then you’ll behave…”

His voice stopped abruptly.

The last thing Yu Lingxi saw was a mouthful of black blood shooting out like an arrow, splashing onto Ning Yin’s snow-white collar.

Then her abdomen twisted violently in pain, her eyes darkened, and she lost consciousness.

…

Yu Lingxi never expected that her life would end just like that.

She pondered for a long time but couldn’t understand how she had suddenly died. Surely she couldn’t have been frightened to death by Ning Yin?

It was ridiculous, utterly ridiculous!

For three full days, her soul floated beneath the rafters, watching her strange corpse lying on the ice bed, going from disbelief to panic, and finally to numbed acceptance…

She finally thought dejectedly: It’s good to be dead; the madman can’t be angry with me anymore.

She wondered where Ning Yin would discard her corpse—would he burn it to ashes, or wrap it in a straw mat and throw it in a mass grave?

But she never imagined that Ning Yin would not hold a funeral for her, and would not set up a mourning hall.

He couldn’t even be bothered to spare a straw mat, leaving her corpse forgotten in a dark chamber, lying day after day.

Perhaps because she hadn’t received a proper burial, Yu Lingxi’s soul couldn’t enter the underworld for reincarnation, so she drifted around Ning Yin like a wandering ghost, watching through gritted teeth as he caused trouble at court and killed people afterward.

On the third day after Yu Lingxi’s death, Ning Yin went to her uncle Zhao Hui’s mansion.

He entered without saying a word, only having people list more than ten crimes of corruption and misconduct, and detained several dozen members of the Zhao household.

Uncle Zhao Hui turned ashen with fright and hurriedly brought out a family heirloom jade and several boxes of treasures, kneeling and crawling to present them to Ning Yin, begging for leniency.

Ning Yin lifted his eyelids to look at the jade and smiled: “The jade is good jade, but it’s missing some color.”

Uncle Zhao thought there was a turning point and just as a look of joy appeared on his face, he heard Ning Yin casually add: “I’ve heard that jade nourished with human blood is truly considered a rare treasure.”

A flash of cold light and the splattering fresh blood had already dyed red the blooming begonias of the Zhao mansion.

Zhao Hui fell convulsing, the pool of blood spreading under his corpulent body, turning that priceless white jade into an eerie crimson.

They couldn’t even scream; the Zhao mansion had become a hell on earth.

Such ruthless methods made even Yu Lingxi’s ghost tremble.

Soon, only her cousin Zhao Yuming remained alive, but her face was more terrifying than a dead person’s, eyes wide open with tears flowing endlessly.

Ning Yin lifted Zhao Yuming’s chin with his walking stick, looking down at her gentle and pretty face. After a while, he said with seeming regret: “Your face reminds me of an old acquaintance. It would be a pity to kill you.”

A glimmer of hope flashed in Zhao Yuming’s eyes as she tremblingly fell prostrate, desperately clutching Ning Yin’s lower garment.

The next moment, the blade hidden at the end of the walking stick extended, carving a deep bloody gash across Zhao Yuming’s pretty face, from the corner of her mouth to her temple.

Zhao Yuming covered her face and screamed in agony.

Ning Yin watched coldly, instructing his attendants: “Classify her as a slave and send her to a frontier military camp. Remember, don’t let her commit suicide. Some sins are more meaningful when suffered alive.”

The door closed behind him, and Yu Lingxi’s soul was forced to drift along with him, her mind still echoing with cousin Zhao Yuming’s tragic wails.

Even though Zhao Hui deserved his punishment, and Yu Lingxi didn’t have much affection for her uncle’s family, seeing the Zhao family’s current tragic state, her heart was more frightened than pleased.

Ning Yin said Zhao Yuming’s face reminded him of an old acquaintance; only Yu Lingxi knew that her cousin resembled her.

She hadn’t expected that Ning Yin despised her so much that he would destroy a face similar to hers and then turn its owner into a camp prostitute for men to violate…

Yu Lingxi thought carefully. For these two years, she had been diligent, if not meritorious at least hardworking, and seemed to have done nothing to wrong Ning Yin.

Surely he couldn’t be holding a grudge for that kick in bed?

If she had known, she wouldn’t have kicked him. Crazy bastard!

On the fifth day after Yu Lingxi’s death.

Ning Yin simply arrested the remaining members of the Yu family’s collateral branches and banished them as well.

Then he leisurely went to the bottom level of the Court of Judicial Review’s prison to enjoy the sight of Xue Cen’s miserable condition, and incidentally broke two more of his fingers.

Yu Lingxi nearly cried with anger: she was already dead, yet Ning Yin still wouldn’t spare the people close to her!

She drifted in a daze behind Ning Yin, cursing him like sticking needles in a voodoo doll, wishing she could become a vengeful ghost-like in storybooks to take revenge on Ning Yin.

But she couldn’t. The slap she raised with all her might passed lightly through Ning Yin’s body, unable to harm even a strand of his hair.

On the sixth day after Yu Lingxi’s death, Ning Yin finally seemed to remember her.

Spring had returned with warmth, and even though there was an ice bed in the secret chamber, her body, having been dead for so long, truly didn’t look good.

Ning Yin seemed to have been drinking, his gaze showing a dreamy quality. He sat by the ice bed for a while, then brought over the rouge and powder that Yu Lingxi had habitually used in life, and leisurely began to apply makeup to her face.

His makeup skills were very good, creating an exquisite and luxurious appearance, but Yu Lingxi truly had no mood to appreciate it. Without the vitality of life, the powder on her face showed a falsely white, ghastly color, contrasting with her bright red lips—looking weird no matter how one viewed it.

But Ning Yin seemed not to notice, even having the mood to press the corners of her lips upward, saying languidly: “Smile.”

How wicked!

Yu Lingxi was again so angered that her soul nearly scattered, suspecting that Ning Yin had some serious personality defect or hysterical madness.

Her body was already stiff; how could she smile?

She couldn’t smile anymore, and would never smile again.

Ning Yin finally seemed to realize this problem.

He leaned over the ice bed, the faint blue cold light falling on his profile as if coated with a layer of frost.

He lowered his eyes, motionless and silent.

On the seventh day, Yu Lingxi felt her soul becoming as light as smoke, ready to scatter with a breeze.

But Ning Yin still had not buried her in the ground.

He had people pack away all items related to Yu Lingxi and lock them in the secret chamber.

He wouldn’t even allow the mansion’s servants to mention her name; those who disobeyed would die.

Yu Lingxi felt somewhat sorrowful.

She knew that a small secret chamber would be her final tomb, without a tablet or position, not even deserving a sheet of spirit money.

Even at the end, she felt regret, extreme regret.

She had never done anything to harm heaven or earth and did not deserve such a fate.

Before falling into endless nothingness, her consciousness scattered in a daze:

If there is a next life, she would surely make that bastard Ning Yin labor like an ox or a horse, to repay the sins he had committed in this life!