The lifeless body of Feng Shu was placed in the inner hall of Yangxin Palace, still dressed in that plain-colored long gown. No matter how many silk brocades and jewelry Yuwen Jing sent to Yingchun Palace over the years, Feng Shu always remained in mourning white, bare-faced and unadorned. Even the jewelry she chose consisted of faintly-colored jade, stark and simple—unlike that of a favored concubine.
Yuwen Jing, shadowed by grief and madness, clutched Feng Shu's hand as he sobbed and laughed uncontrollably, "Shu'er, are you joking with me? You must be! Wake up now! I've already sent people to the Feng Family. If you don't wake up, I'll kill them! Do you hear me? I'll kill them all! Shu'er, are you cold? Why are your hands so icy? Are you freezing? Someone, bring the stove in here, hurry! Shu'er is cold, she's freezing!"
