"Old man..." Xiao Changyi's cold eyes brimmed with tears as he watched the coffin being carried step by step into the imperial mausoleum.
The words "old man" were spoken in a voice so soft, so faint, they were barely audible. But from his trembling lips, full of grief, An Jing, standing by his side, understood that he was calling out to Su Haoyu.
At this moment, An Jing was filled with both sorrow and hatred.
As the coffin was about to disappear from sight within the imperial mausoleum, Xiao Changyi quickened his pace and followed it inside. This was his father—if he could stay with his father just a little longer, he would stay a little longer.
By the time Xiao Changyi emerged from the mausoleum, night had already fallen.
Outside the imperial mausoleum, apart from the guards, there was only one other person—An Jing. She was waiting for someone, and that person was undoubtedly her husband, Xiao Changyi.
