Rong Ling, his face covered in an icy frost, looked coldly at Feng Qing and spoke slowly: "Since you say so, I shall grant you a complete corpse. Attendants, provide crane top red to the Princess Consort."
Feng Qing's face turned green, having ingested crane top red. She coughed violently, her abdomen feeling as if stirred by knives, taking at least fifteen minutes to die.
The more Feng Qing thought about it, the more she felt such a death was too tragic. She immediately turned and shouted towards Rong Ling in the pavilion: "Prince, may I choose the manner of my death?"
This time, Rong Ling was quite straightforward and agreed directly.
"Very well, to avoid you claiming I am ungrateful. Speak, how would you like to die? Beating, hanging, or the plastered official?"
