Hong Ling sat by the window, gazing at the clusters of pomegranate flowers blooming outside.
She once adored these vibrant reds, perfectly matching her name, so Queen Jing filled her courtyard with pomegranate trees.
Whenever the flowers blossomed, there was an ocean of red, lively and bustling, lifting everyone's spirits.
But now, looking again, Hong Ling could only feel the red as chilling to the bone, just like the blood seeping from Prince Qing's body that day.
An Ning followed her gaze to glance outside the window and lamented, "How beautiful the pomegranate flowers are!"
Hong Ling let out a disdainful snort: "Don't you always despise these vulgar flowers, preferring orchids and pines?"
Princess Anning slightly curved her lips, not answering the question.
