That rival who had always made him feel pressured, the one who had subtly threatened his relationship with Meng Yiran, had just died like that?
After the shock faded, an indescribable sense of exhilaration surged through him.
Tang San subconsciously curled his lips, a trace of barely perceptible schadenfreude flashing through his eyes.
Xuan Ye was dead. No one would compete with him for Meng Yiran anymore!
From now on, Yiran would belong to him alone!
Just as he was about to step forward to comfort Meng Yiran, he met her raised gaze.
Meng Yiran's eyes were hollow and cold. The gentleness she once possessed was gone, leaving behind only endless lifelessness.
And when she saw the fleeting schadenfreude in Tang San's eyes, along with the deliberately feigned grief and hypocrisy, the last shred of trust she had in him completely collapsed.
So this was what he truly thought.
So, in his eyes, Brother Xuan Ye's death was actually something worth being happy about.
A bleak smile curled across Meng Yiran's lips, and the deadness in her eyes was gradually replaced by icy hatred.
She slowly rose to her feet without sparing Tang San a glance, staring fixedly in the direction where the blood mist had dispersed. Tears rolled down her face again, carrying a bone-deep chill.
Tang San felt a jolt of panic under her gaze and subconsciously concealed his emotions, speaking with feigned concern.
"Yiran, don't be too sad. Xuan Ye... he was a hero."
But Meng Yiran ignored him. She merely turned around and walked step by step toward the wreckage of the carriage, her back lonely yet resolute.
Watching her retreating figure, Tang San felt an inexplicable unease rise within him.
He had the vague feeling that something had completely changed at the moment Xuan Ye