Ye Qingying's face bore an expression of despair so deep that even Yuxing, upon seeing him, felt a pang of pity, though he couldn't explain why.
But their Prince was never known for being soft-hearted or tender.
Seeing Ye Qingying like this, Feng Yexuan let out a cold laugh, filled with disdain, "Ha, if you're useless, why should I bother to kill you and dirty my own hands?"
Ye Qingying showed no reaction, his hand simply tightening further.
"I never have pity for those who wallow in self-pity. I'm keeping you alive simply because I might have use for you in the future."
Suddenly, Feng Yexuan tightened his grip, and Ye Qingying's necklace was violently ripped from his neck.
"You!" Ye Qingying tensed up with rage.
That was the necklace Xiaoyao had given him, which contained medicine she told him to apply to his face, claiming it could heal the scars there.
But he hadn't used it at all these past days.
He had kept the medicine safe.