Two years after my daughter’s death, I traveled to the capital.
The people there asked me, “Who are you looking for?”
I replied, “I am looking for my child’s father. His name is Shen Zhao.”
Everyone laughed. They said Shen Zhao was the capital’s premier noble scion.
“He is Princess Xunyang’s Prince Consort now,” they said. “How could someone like you harbor such delusions?”
I laughed, too.
Good. Because the one I intend to kill is precisely the Prince Consort.