The Most Tragic Prime Minister

In a courtyard of an ancient mansion, Huang Xikong sat on a chair, his gaze fixed on his abdomen.

The strength of that child was quite remarkable.

Lost in thought, he glanced at the woman sitting beside him, her features delicate and her demeanor dignified. “What’s the matter with you?” she asked.

Huang Xikong shook his head and replied calmly, “Someone is coming to save you.”

The woman hesitated for a few seconds before asking, “You didn’t harm those people, did you?”

Huang Xikong looked at her silently until she furrowed her brows slightly, then he spoke, “You and my wife are indeed different.”

If it were his wife, she would have been concerned about his well-being before anyone else’s safety.

Meng Zhizhen calmly responded, “I am not her, so how could I be the same?”

Huang Xikong chuckled self-deprecatingly, “Indeed.”

His wife was gentle and virtuous, their childhood sweethearts, and they were envied by countless people in the capital.