At a certain moment, the tall maidservant suddenly sprang up, the dagger hidden in her sleeve like a serpent's tongue, aiming for the Crown Prince's neck.
It was Qing Luo's signature move; back in her theater troupe days, she excelled at performing with sleeves, and if a sharp blade was tucked into the sleeve, it truly became a serpent's mouth and a scorpion's tail.
At this moment, the water sleeves cast out from Qing Luo's hand, at the tip of the sleeve, a dark and obviously poison-soaked dagger was about to strike the Crown Prince's neck.
Swish! From the side, an ordinarily silent and soft-featured eunuch suddenly raised his hand, his equally soft duster seemed like a bottomless mire, clinging to the attacking water sleeve.
