Jinghua!
This name had not been spoken for a long time!
Huarong, lying on the bed, instantly woke up.
She turned her head and saw a man sitting by the bedside in a wheelchair.
A man dressed in imperial yellow!
The Emperor!
Only the Emperor wore clothes of this color!
Huarong's breath faltered, and a wave of fear surged from the depths of her heart.
"Speak, where is your son now? As long as you confess honestly, I can consider letting you live more comfortably."
"Old thief!" Huarong struggled with all her might.
The moment she moved, she let out a scream of pain: "Ah..."
It turned out her wrists and ankles were chained.
The most terrifying thing was that the chains were covered in sharp spikes!
Any movement would cause the spikes to pierce her flesh. These spikes wouldn't kill, but they would inflict unbearable agony.
"Scoundrel! Do you think you can threaten me like this? You're dreaming!"
Huarong had fainted from the pain. She only now remembered that she had already endured a round of torture.
Yet, the moment she woke up, she had even forgotten where she was.
He had drugged her!
This scoundrel! This damnable scoundrel!
"Don't be angry, you see, you look so beautiful when you're angry."
Feng Bufan pushed the wheelchair forward and reached out, touching her face.
Seeing his cautious demeanor, one might think the woman in his hands was the most cherished treasure of his life.
But when Huarong was touched by him, she felt as if she had been contacted by a venomous snake or a ferocious beast, and a wave of nausea washed over her.
She struggled frantically.
"Let go... Ah! Let me go... Ahhh..."
So painful! With every struggle, the spikes dug deeper into her flesh!
Her face was almost contorted with pain.
This pain, piercing to the heart and lungs, was not sudden but prolonged.
The most terrible part was that if she remained still, it wouldn't hurt, but now, she had to move! And it would hurt immensely!
All the pain was self-inflicted, yet she couldn't bear Feng Bufan's touch.
She absolutely could not stand it!
"Ah..."
"You see, you're still as disobedient as ever."
Feng Bufan sighed softly, looking at the blood flowing from her wrists and ankles, a hint of heartache in his eyes.
"If this blood continues to flow, you will die from excessive blood loss. How could I bear that?"
He waved his hand: "Qing De."
Eunuch Qing immediately stepped forward, bowing respectfully and asking, "Give her more medicine to calm her down."
"Yes." Eunuch Qing opened the medicine bottle.
"Don't... Don't touch me, don't... Qing De, get lost! I'll kill you, I'll kill... Mmph! Mmph mmph..."
Eunuch Qing pried Huarong's mouth open and forcefully poured the medicine in.
At first, Huarong struggled desperately, but soon, her movements began to slow.
Finally, her limbs became weak, and she could no longer move.
However, her mind remained perfectly clear.
She glared at Feng Bufan, filled with hatred, but also with immense fear.
Even though she was unwilling to admit it, she had to acknowledge that she was truly afraid of this man.
Truly afraid!
The scenes from back then flashed through her mind, and Huarong's body trembled uncontrollably.
"Look at you, your face hasn't changed at all in over a decade. Is it so you can be more pleasing to my eyes when we meet again?"
"...Scoundrel." Huarong didn't want to hear his voice, but his voice was always in her ears, no matter how hard she tried to escape it.
Seeing him holding a knife, her breath hitched, "Scoundrel, what are you going to do?"