Zhou Junlin arrived with his men. When he pushed open the door, this was the scene that greeted him—
Blood had been spilled, and the courtyard had descended into chaos. Amid the cacophony of shouts and screams, only Song Lianhe was on her feet, swaying unsteadily. She clutched a memorial tablet to her chest, refusing to let go, while her other hand hung at her side, a Bone Hairpin dripping blood onto the ground.
She was covered in bloodstains from head to toe. Slowly, she turned her head. Half her face was dyed red with blood, yet her eyes shone with a startling intensity.
Across the crowd, she stared at him, her face devoid of expression.
The sight was staggering. Zhou Junlin stared at her, stunned, his chest feeling as if it had been struck by a heavy blow, a dull roar echoing through him.
Behind him, Zhou Xilan also saw Song Lianhe's state clearly and was equally stunned.
"This... How could..."
