Chapter 1687: Chapter 1687: Prime Minister, Please Set Out on Your Journey

The night is deep as ink, darkness looms like a monstrous beast, its jaws wide open, eyeing its prey greedily.

Song Zhiqing looked out at the night through the window, yet felt no hint of fatigue. He wasn’t sleepy, nor did he dare to be. The fear was that if he fell asleep, he might never open his eyes again.

Why did he have this premonition?

It was the day’s events, and also the look in Song Zhiyuan’s eyes before his departure.

In that instant, he seemed like a reaper, casting a glance at him that marked the seal of death, just waiting for the hour to strike to take his remaining life.

From the moment he couldn’t step out of this courtyard.

He knew the sickle to harvest his life was already raised.

Song Zhiqing clutched the wheelchair, trembling slightly, meanwhile comforting himself, saying, No, it won’t happen. The eldest is always full of feigned kindness and values family bonds; he wouldn’t strike with fatal intent.

After all, it’s not like he truly hired assassins against his stepmother or manipulated anything; he just employed this evil technique to perhaps drive away the otherworldly spirit possessing her and bring back the true stepmother?

But then what?

A voice deep inside seemed to ask him silently.

Even if Song Ci wasn’t the original, and the original returns?

Can everything go back once more?

Song Zhiqing’s face was pale, resembling a ghost in the dim lamp light.

Can it return?

Probably not. If the dream were real, that’s once. In reality, it was already reversed, so that’s twice. Can there be a third time?

Things don’t happen thrice!

No, no way, impossible!

Feeling panic, Song Zhiqing’s mouth dried, as he wheeled around aimlessly within the room.

He couldn’t guess aimlessly like this; he must return to the city. He could admit his faults to Song Zhiyuan, he could kneel, he could confess everything, just asking to survive.

He didn’t want to die!

Song Zhiqing wheeled to the door, flung it open, shouting, "Someone, someone!"

The night was like ink, all things silent, Serenity like calm waters, as if there were no trace of life in this world.

Where are the people?

Song Zhiqing was startled, suddenly hearing cries from afar, seeming like someone had intruded upon the estate, with the sounds of fighting transmitted across.

He was slightly shocked, and then something struck him, turning his expression frenzied.

The sound quickly neared, the clash of swords echoed, the courtyard door was kicked open, and a man with a cloth mask appeared before Song Zhiqing’s eyes.

Song Zhiqing’s pupils shrank as he wanted to retreat into the house, yet felt it redundant.

If he fled, where could he escape to?

Just a mere cripple.

As the man with a sword approached, Song Zhiqing’s heart gradually tightened, staring intently at the person. As he stood firm, Song Zhiqing coldly laughed, "Did Song Zhiyuan send you?"

"The Prime Minister invites you to travel; in another life, do not be a child of the Song Family."

Song Zhiqing shrieked, "Song Zhiyuan kills his blood relative brothers, he will suffer heaven’s wrath; I curse him..."

Swoosh.

A flash of sword shadow passed, a line of blood appeared in midair, the curses abruptly ceased.

Gurgle, gurgle, Song Zhiqing clutched his neck from which blood kept spurting, his body starting to convulse, "Help..."

He was about to die.

Thud.

He fell beneath the wheelchair, just in the position to see the night sky outside.

The waning moon gradually emerged from the clouds, its light pure and radiating like silver brilliance, cold and clear.

Such a beautiful moonlight, this was the last time seeing it in this life.

Song Zhiqing wanted to hate, but instead, memories of riding on horseback through the streets after passing the scholar exam filled his mind.

Ten years of cold window hardships, one morning achieving fame, riding a gallant horse as a flower-haired young man, energetic and basking in countless glory.

Spring’s breeze and gallop, viewing the flowers of Chang’an in a day, it was on that day that he understood all the world’s splendor.

Song Zhiqing sneered at his own fate; he had no future left.

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