Killer Queen: Tyrant, prepare to die!

Nangong Ye has been living in the side hall for a full month now.

In the past month, life at Kunning Palace has changed quietly.

Early in the morning, a figure appeared in Bao'er's study to accompany her while she read.

At midday, the courtyard was filled with the shouts of the father and son practicing swordsmanship.

In the evening, a person quietly helped sort the memorials, add tea, and adjust the lamps beside the pile of documents in the main hall.

Shen Qingci gradually got used to these changes.

Just like the lamp in the side hall that's already lit when I open the window every morning.

Just like the quiet figure reading a book in the corner when you look up after getting tired of reviewing memorials.

Like a habit—

"Mother, Mother!"

Bao'er burst in like a little cannonball, holding a newly opened peach blossom in her hand:

"Father picked them! He said they came from the old peach tree in the yard! Aren't they beautiful?"

Shen Qingci looked at the peach blossom.

The petals still had morning dew on them, clearly indicating they had just been picked.

"It looks nice." She took it and handed it to Jinshu. "Find a vase to put it in."

Bao'er smiled contentedly, then rushed out again: "I'm going to tell Father! Mother said it looks beautiful!"

Jinshu watched his retreating figure and smiled, "Your Majesty, have you noticed? His Highness the Crown Prince is going to His Majesty's place more often than he comes to see you these days."

Shen Qingci remained silent.

Just looking at the peach blossom branch placed in the celadon vase, the corners of her mouth curved slightly.

---

Three days later.

evening.

Shen Qingci finished reviewing the memorials early, a rare occurrence, and leaned against the soft couch by the window, closing his eyes to rest.

The spring breeze, warm and gentle, carried the fragrance of the old peach tree in the yard, drifting in through the half-open window.

In her daze, she heard soft footsteps.

It was very soft, as if afraid of waking her.

Then came Bao'er's low voice:

"Father, Mother is asleep."

"Okay, let's keep our voices down." Nangong Ye's voice was also very low.

"But I want to show Mother the plum blossom cake..."

"Let's wait until Mother wakes up before we look at it, okay? Let's put it on the table first."

"All right……"

A rustling sound.

Shen Qingci didn't want to open her eyes, but suddenly she felt a pair of small hands gently grasp hers.

Bao'er's hands are soft and warm.

Then, another, larger hand, pulled by the smaller hand, covered it.

Nangong Ye's hand.

Dry, warm, with thin calluses on the fingertips from practicing swordsmanship.

"Daddy's hands are warm," Bao'er whispered, with the earnestness typical of a child, "to warm Mommy's hands."

Shen Qingci's eyelashes trembled slightly.

She did not open her eyes.

But the sensation of those hands clasped together was incredibly clear.

Bao'er's little hand pressed on top, like a warm little cushion.

Nangong Ye's hand was in the middle, and the warmth came through his skin.

Her hands were at the bottom, warmly enveloped by these big and small hands.

"Father," Bao'er whispered again, "why are your hands shaking?"

"……No."

"Yes, yes, I can feel it!"

"...That's because Father was nervous."

"What's there to be nervous about?"

Nangong Ye paused for a moment, then lowered his voice even further: "I'm afraid your mother will wake up, so I'll pull my hand back."

Shen Qingci's eyelashes trembled again.

Bao'er tilted her little head and thought for a moment, then suddenly leaned close to Shen Qingci's face and said softly:

"Mother, if you wake up, please don't pull it away, okay?"

"Father's hands are so warm. Yesterday, my hands were cold, and Father warmed them for me like this."

"Father said that in the past, when he slept alone in winter, his hands were always cold. Now that we have Bao'er, they're not cold anymore."

"But Father also said that the thing he most wanted to warm was Mother's hand."

Shen Qingci felt as if something had gently bumped into her heart.

sour.

It's soft.

My eyes felt a little hot.

"Father, Mother's eyelashes moved!" Bao'er exclaimed in a surprised whisper. "Is Mother awake?"

"Don't make a sound, let Mommy sleep a little longer."

"But I want Mother to eat plum blossom cake... Father spent the whole afternoon making so many, and only one plate was presentable."

"Baby!"

"That's true!" Bao'er retorted. "It really does look a bit ugly, but it tastes amazing! Bao'er has tried it!"

Shen Qingci finally couldn't help but chuckle softly.

She opened her eyes.

What met his gaze were Bao'er's bright, sparkling eyes and Nangong Ye's somewhat flustered yet expectant look.

Her hand was still being held by the father and son, one on top of the other.

"Mommy's awake!" Bao'er cheered.

Shen Qingci sat up and gently pulled her hand back—the movement was very light, she didn't shake it off, she just naturally withdrew it.

A hint of disappointment flashed in Nangong Ye's eyes, but he quickly concealed it.

"Did I wake you up?" he asked, his voice unusually gentle.

"Hmm." Shen Qingci glanced at him. "After talking all afternoon, how could he not wake up?"

Nangong Ye was a little embarrassed: "Um... the plum blossom cake that Bao'er mentioned..."

He turned around and picked up a plate from the table.

On the plate, six plum blossom cakes were neatly arranged.

It is indeed... a bit ugly.

The shapes were not very regular, and some pieces were even cracked, but the surface was sprinkled with red and green dried fruit strips, which showed that they had put a lot of effort into it.

"This is my first time doing it."

Nangong Ye was a little embarrassed.

"The chefs in the imperial kitchen said that the most difficult part is controlling the heat."

I tried seven or eight batches, and only these six pieces are still presentable…”

"Mother, you should try it!"

Bao'er had already picked up a piece and held it to Shen Qingci's lips, "It's so delicious! Bao'er ate two pieces!"

Shen Qingci looked at the plum blossom cake that she had raised to her mouth.

Then she looked at Nangong Ye's nervous eyes.

She lowered her head and took a small bite.

Soft and chewy, sweet but not cloying, with a subtle plum blossom fragrance.

"It's alright," she said.

Nangong Ye's eyes lit up.

"Really? You're not kidding me?"

Shen Qingci glanced at him: "Why would I lie to you?"

Nangong Ye smiled.

That smile was as radiant as a child who had just received a compliment.

"Then eat a couple more pieces!" He quickly pushed the plate towards her. "If it's not enough, I'll make more tomorrow!"

Bao'er clapped her hands beside her, "Father is making it again tomorrow! Bao'er wants to help too!"

As Shen Qingci watched the father and son sing in unison, the last trace of estrangement in her heart seemed to be quietly filled by something.

---

into the night.

Bao'er was taken by Jinshu to wash up and go to bed.

As usual, Shen Qingci sat under the lamp, flipping through the secret report sent by Tingfeng Tower in the evening.

Nangong Ye did not leave.

He sat in his usual corner seat, a book in his hand, glancing up at her every now and then.

"What is it?" Shen Qingci asked without looking up.

"No, no." Nangong Ye quickly lowered his head to read.

After a moment, he looked up again.

"Qingci."

"Um?"

"Today..." he paused, "thank you."

Shen Qingci paused, his pen poised.

"What are you thanking me for?"

"Thank you for not pulling your hand away."

He looked at her, his eyes filled with tenderness.

"Although I did smoke it in the end, I didn't smoke it right away. That will keep me happy for a long time."

Shen Qingci remained silent.

This person is speaking so... bluntly now.

"And one more thing," Nangong Ye continued, "thank you for eating the plum blossom cake I made. I know it doesn't look very pretty, but I'm already very happy that you ate a bite."

Shen Qingci put down her pen and looked up at him.

Under the lamp, his face was half bright and half shadowed, but his eyes were as clear as spring water in March.

There was no scheming, no ulterior motive.

Only pure and simple joy.

"Nangong Ye," she suddenly spoke.

"Um?"

"You don't need to do that."

Nangong Ye was taken aback: "What?"

"I was very careful," she said. "I was afraid I would get angry, afraid I would say something harsh, afraid I would pull my hand away."

Nangong Ye paused for a moment.

"But I'm afraid," he said softly. "I'm afraid that if I say something wrong, you'll push me away again."

"I know how much of a jerk I was before. I don't deserve your forgiveness right now."

"But I want you to know—" he looked at her, enunciating each word clearly, "no matter how long it takes, I will wait."

"Whenever you're willing to let me get closer, I'll get closer."

"If you don't want to, I'll stay in the side hall. It'll be enough for me to see you and Bao'er every day."

Shen Qingci looked at him.

Looking at this man who was once high and mighty, but is now as humble as dust.

The frozen fortress in my heart has finally collapsed completely.

It didn't collapse suddenly.

Instead, it melts away like spring snow, silently and without a trace, yet it can never be rebuilt.

"Come here," she said.

Nangong Ye was taken aback.

"Come sit down." She pointed to the seat next to her.

Nangong Ye got up, walked over, and sat down beside her.

Very close.

You can smell a faint fragrance of plum blossoms on her—the smell of the plum blossom cakes he made that afternoon.

"Hands," Shen Qingci said.

Nangong Ye extended his hand.

Shen Qingci looked at the hand—dry, warm, with thin calluses on the fingertips.

She reached out and gently covered it.

Nangong Ye was startled.

He looked down at her fair hand, which was resting on the back of his own.

The feel was so real it didn't seem real.

"Qingci..." His voice trembled.

"Didn't you say you wanted to warm my hands?" Shen Qingci looked out the window, her voice soft yet carrying a subtle tenderness. "Warm them up, aren't they?"

Nangong Ye opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but couldn't utter a single word.

He simply turned his hand over and enveloped her hand in his palm.

His hands were indeed very warm.

It's so warm, it melts my heart.

Outside the window, the moonlight was like water.

Inside the room, the lamplight casts two shadows.

At the doorway, a small figure peeked in, half its head inside, glanced at the entrance, covered its mouth and chuckled, then quietly shrank back inside.

"Aunt Jinshu!" Bao'er exclaimed excitedly, jumping up and down. "Father and Mother are holding hands!"

Jinshu knelt down, picked him up, and whispered, "Really?"

"It's true! Bao'er saw it with her own eyes!"

He leaned on Jinshu's shoulder, looking at the warm light emanating from the main hall, his little face full of pride:

"I knew it! Father's hands are so warm! Mother will definitely love them!"

A night breeze blew, and peach blossoms fluttered down.

The courtyard was filled with a sweet fragrance.