Killer Queen: Tyrant, prepare to die!

April 12th, a sudden cold snap.

Yesterday it was sunny and warm, but overnight a northerly wind swept through and fine spring snow began to fall.

The snowflakes were small, but the chill was biting, casting a bleak, silvery-white veil over the capital.

The area in front of the Phoenix Perch Villa was already packed with people who had come after hearing the news.

Yesterday's news that "Lady Yehuang tore up the imperial edict for the restoration of the empress"

Like a raging wildfire, it spread to every corner of the capital.

Shock, horror, admiration, worry, curses... all sorts of emotions fermented and collided in the cold wind.

Everyone wanted to know how His Majesty would respond to this unprecedented "defense of the imperial decree" and "humiliation."

Is it the wrath of thunder?

still is……

It was three quarters past Chen Shi (7:45 AM).

The rapid, rhythmic sound of horses' hooves shattered the silence of the snowy night, approaching from afar.

The crowd stirred and made way for them.

A squad of no more than twenty armored knights was seen.

Escorted by a blue carriage without any royal insignia, they sped up and stopped in front of the villa.

The carriage was simple, even somewhat old, a stark contrast to the magnificent empress's procession of the previous day.

The carriage curtain was lifted.

A figure in black, wrapped in a heavy black fox fur cloak, slowly stepped down from the carriage.

It's Nangong Ye.

He wore no crown, only a simple jade hairpin to hold his hair in place.

Her face was paler than the spring snow, and her lips were almost bloodless.

The exhaustion of the past few days and the lingering effects of old injuries,

It made him look much thinner, with heavy blue shadows under his eyes.

But his back was ramrod straight, and his eyes were as calm as an ancient well.

As it swept across the surrounding dense crowd,

That imperial, inviolable aura still silenced the noisy crowd instantly.

He walked alone toward the tightly closed gate of the villa.

Xuan Ying and his guards remained where they were, standing at attention with their hands on their swords, like silent statues.

"Knock, knock, knock."

He raised his hand and personally knocked on the door knocker.

The sound was soft, yet clearly audible in the quiet, snowy morning.

A faint sound came from inside the door.

After a moment, the door slowly opened a crack, revealing Jinshu's panicked face.

She clearly hadn't expected His Majesty to come in person, and so quickly, so... quietly.

"Your Majesty..." Jinshu's legs went weak and she was about to kneel down.

Nangong Ye raised his hand in a gesture of support, his voice hoarse: "I wish to see Lady Yehuang."

His gaze passed over Jinshu and landed in the courtyard.

Bathed in the glow of snow, the courtyard was deep and secluded, and he could not see the person he longed to see.

Jinshu gritted her teeth and stepped aside: "Your Majesty, please... Madam is in the study."

Nangong Ye stepped inside.

The heavy wooden door behind him slowly closed again, shutting out countless prying eyes from outside.

The snow in the courtyard hadn't been swept away, leaving a clear trail of his footprints leading straight to the study.

The study door was ajar, and warm candlelight shone through.

Nangong Ye paused for a moment in front of the door, then raised his hand and gently pushed it open.

Shen Qingci was indeed there.

She sat behind her desk by the window, wearing a plain white fox fur coat.

Her dark hair was loose and cascaded over her shoulders as she looked down at something.

The snow outside the window reflected on half of her cheek, making it glistening and translucent, yet offering no warmth.

Hearing the door open, she didn't look up, as if she already knew he would come.

Nangong Ye went inside and closed the door behind him.

The study was warm with the scent of charcoal fire, the aroma of medicine mingling with the scent of ink.

It dispelled the chill outside, but it couldn't dispel the invisible, thick layer of ice between the two.

"You've come." Shen Qingci finally put down what she was holding.

He looked up at him, his eyes calm and still, devoid of the intensity of yesterday's tearing up of the imperial edict.

There was no hatred or sorrow from past encounters, only a deep and unfathomable indifference.

"I am coming."

Nangong Ye walked a few steps away from her desk and stopped.

He untied his heavy cloak and casually draped it over the back of a chair.

He was wearing a thinner black casual outfit underneath, which made his thin figure appear even more prominent.

He looked at her for a long time, as if trying to see and etch the three years of emptiness and the current unfamiliarity into his heart.

Then, he slowly took out a bright yellow, slightly worn scroll from his pocket.

The scroll had an antique design, and its bright yellow color had faded slightly due to age and frequent handling.

The silk ribbons tied on it were also somewhat loose.

Shen Qingci's gaze fell on the scroll, and her pupils contracted almost imperceptibly.

She recognized her.

That was three years ago, on the day she was deposed, the edict of her deposition spread throughout the palace and was proclaimed to the world.

Nangong Ye's fingers traced the cool surface of the scroll, his fingertips trembling slightly.

It wasn't coldness, but a pain akin to self-torture, a pain that reopened the deepest wounds.

"This imperial edict,"

He spoke, his voice dry and hoarse.

"I have kept it all along."

It was placed in the innermost hidden compartment of the Hall of Mental Cultivation.

Sometimes, I take it out to look at it.

He gave a self-deprecating laugh, a laugh that was more painful than a grimace.

"Look at how I wrote these words by hand back then,"

How could I... turn it into a knife, stabbing it at you, at the Shen family, and... at myself?

Shen Qingci listened silently, her face expressionless, as if she were listening to a story that had nothing to do with her.

"Feng Bao went back and told me what you said."

Nangong Ye continued, his gaze fixed on her.

"You said you wanted to abolish my decree and that I should destroy it myself."

He paused, took a deep breath, as if he had made up his mind.

Then, he took the scroll of the imperial edict, turned around, and walked to the door of the study.

Under Shen Qingci's slightly surprised gaze, he suddenly opened the door!

The cold wind, carrying snowflakes, rushed into the warm indoor space in an instant.

Outside the gate, in the courtyard, were Jinshu, Eunuch Li, and several core servants from the other courtyards.

They all stared in astonishment at the suddenly opened door and the emperor inside holding the imperial edict.

Further away, through the gaps in the not-quite-closed gate of the villa, the onlookers could vaguely see what was happening inside.

Nangong Ye ignored this.

He stood at the doorway, in the cold wind and snow, holding high the scroll of the edict deposing the empress.

His voice was no longer hoarse, but rather uttered with all his might.

Clear and resolute, the sound echoed throughout the courtyard and faintly reached outside the door:

"The 23rd day of the 11th month of the sixth year of Jinghe."

"I, Nangong Ye, am here—"

He gripped both ends of the reel with both hands, but his gaze swept across the courtyard.

It seemed to be looking towards a more distant past, towards Shen Qingci, who was crying in despair in Kunning Palace.

He looked at her, bathed in blood and holding her baby amidst the fire in the Cold Palace.

Then, he exerted force with both arms—

"Sizzle—!!!"

A louder and more piercing tearing sound than yesterday suddenly rang out!

The edict deposing the empress, which contained countless pains, injustices, and mistakes, was torn apart in his hands from the middle!

The sound of tearing silk echoed through the wind and snow, sending chills down one's spine.

But he didn't stop.

"Sizzle—sizzle—"

one more time.

He put the torn edict back together and continued tearing it!

With force and determination, as if trying to erase every hurtful word on it.

Every incorrect seal is utterly destroyed!

Bright yellow fragments fluttered down from between his fingers as he moved.

Like golden snowflakes.

It is also like offering paper money to commemorate the past.

The shards fell on the cold snow, onto his shoulders, and into his hair.

On some fragments, one can still vaguely see phrases such as "Shen's moral failings" and "demoted to commoner status."

The tattered inscriptions such as "secluded in a cold palace" now serve as the most ironic footnote to this ritual of destruction.

Finally, he tore the scroll of imperial edict into countless tiny fragments, making it impossible to piece it back together.

He loosened his grip, and the last few scraps of paper slipped from his palm, mingling with the snow on the ground, indistinguishable from each other.

The cold wind swept up some fragments, which swirled and drifted away into the distance, disappearing from sight.

The whole process took no more than a dozen breaths.

But it felt like a century.

Inside and outside the courtyard, there was deathly silence.

Everyone was stunned by this sudden and incredibly shocking scene.

His Majesty... actually... tore up the edict decreing his deposition of the Empress from back then in public?!

Using such a drastic, self-destructive method?!

Nangong Ye stood in the wind and snow, slightly out of breath.

His previous movements seemed to have exhausted what little strength he had left.

His face turned even paler, and his body swayed almost imperceptibly, but he quickly regained his balance.

He slowly turned around and faced Shen Qingci in the study again.

His shoulders and hair were covered with unmelted snowflakes and scraps of paper.

He looked somewhat disheveled, but his unfathomable eyes shone with a terrifying light as he stared directly at her.

He walked back to the study step by step and stood in front of her desk.

As he poured in, the snowflakes melted quickly in the warm room, leaving only damp spots.

He looked at her, his gaze intense, with a desperate, almost pleading stubbornness, and asked in a hoarse voice:

"so……"

His Adam's apple bobbed, and his voice was so soft it was almost drowned out by the wind and snow.

Yet it struck Shen Qingci's heart with unparalleled clarity:

Is that enough?

Two words.

It exhausted all his strength and also stripped him of his last dignity and pride as an emperor.

He just wanted to ask her.

In this way, you can destroy the mistakes of the past with your own hands.

In this way, one publicly admits their own inadequacy.

In this way, one humbly begs for the possibility of forgiveness.

Is it enough?

Shen Qingci sat behind her desk, quietly watching him.

Looking at this man who was once admired and loved by her, and later hated to the core.

Looking at his pale and sickly face,

Looking at the almost broken light in his eyes,

Looking at the unmelted fragments of the imperial edict and snowflakes still clinging to his shoulders.

In that instant, her heart ached almost imperceptibly.

But it only happened once.

Immediately, an even deeper chill crept in.

She slowly stood up and walked to the window.

I looked at the bright yellow fragments in the courtyard that were not yet completely covered by the wind and snow.

Then, she turned around and met Nangong Ye's expectant yet fearful gaze.

Her red lips parted slightly, her voice as clear and cold as the wind and snow outside the window:

"His Majesty,"

"Tearing up an imperial edict is easy."

"But can an imperial edict be torn up? Can things that have already happened be torn up?"

"Can the Shen family's scattered assets from when their property was confiscated be recovered?"

"Can the health problems my father developed while in prison be erased?"

"Can the poison I suffered in the cold palace be reversed?"

"Can the lack of fatherly love and the near-loss of life that Bao'er suffered ever be compensated?"

With each question she asked, the light in Nangong Ye's eyes dimmed a little, and his face paled a little more.

"What you tore up was just a piece of paper."

Shen Qingci concluded, her tone chillingly calm.

"What I want... is never the destruction of a piece of paper."

She walked up to him, so close that she could see her reflection in his eyes.

You can also see the pain and despair that are rapidly building up in his eyes.

"What I want is justice. Justice that is long overdue. A true explanation for those who have suffered and even died because of this."

"This torn edict is the beginning."

"But that's far from enough."

She tilted her head slightly, her gaze sweeping over him before falling on the still-swirling snow outside the door.

"Your Majesty, please return."

"It's freezing cold and snowing heavily; your body... can't withstand any more strain."

After saying that, she stopped looking at him and sat back down at her desk.

She picked up the account book, as if there was no one or anything else worthy of her attention.

Nangong Ye stood frozen in place.

The wind and snow kept pouring in through the open door, hitting his back with a bone-chilling cold.

But what he felt was even colder was the boundless chill and emptiness that spread from his heart.

He watched her profile as she lowered her eyes to read the papers, so close, yet so far.

So close, yet it feels like we're separated by mountains and rivers, by an insurmountable chasm of time.

He opened his mouth, but in the end, no sound came out.

The only sounds were the howling wind and snow outside the window, and the occasional crackling of charcoal fire.

He slowly bent down and picked up his dark fox fur cloak from the ground.

Shake off the snow and scraps of paper, and put it back on.

His movements were slow and stiff, like a puppet that had lost its strings.

Then, he turned around and, step by step, walked out of the warm study and into the swirling snow.

His back view was desolate, and he staggered.

Like a soldier who has lost a battle and abandoned his armor and weapons.

In the courtyard, the bright yellow fragments were quickly covered by the new snow and disappeared without a trace.

It's as if it never existed.

Inside the study, Shen Qingci's fingers tightened slightly as she held the account book, her knuckles turning white.

The writing on the ledger blurred for a moment.

Outside the window, the snow was falling even harder.