Qiu Mingying stared weakly into her daughter's reddened eyes, the fury and hatred within implacable. She saw the creases and tears of her daughter's unquenchable regret, but also the great determination and heroic resolve of her daughter's heart. She knew that one day her daughter would ride out, snowy white blade in hand, and slash this fake era's prosperity in twain.
So she smiled and let go, content. The dust of the earthly world was too heavy, and she could no longer bear the weight of a single mote.
All her bitter plans and silent pain were over, and it was over. Her death was the beginning of this Imperial Dynasty's fall.
She was tired; the future would rest in the hands of the living.
Finally, she could accept her death with a smile, her conscience clear as she went to reunite with him.
Oh… almost… forgot…
She stirred one final time, struggling against her eyelids as she gestured for her daughter to come close.
