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Chapter 19: Death Can Be Buried Together
Yan Zhi Xi pushed open the door of Chenyu Palace, the smell of alcohol overwhelming. In the quiet night, the door creaked open, sending a shiver through the heart.
"Wen Qingyu, come out!"
Yan Zhi Xi shouted, but no one responded.
"Come out, I know I was wrong. Don't hide from me."
Chenyu Palace had not been tended to for a long time, overgrown with weeds. Yan Zhi Xi stumbled and fell awkwardly to the ground.
The night deepened, and the cold wind howled.
Yan Zhi Xi closed his eyes in despair, feeling desolate as the cold wind swept over him. He clutched tightly at the resilient dry grass roots on the ground, oblivious to the cuts on his fingers. Images of Wen Qingyu flashed through his mind like a revolving lantern.
The quirky girl who saved him five years ago, the loving gaze after they married, the deep despair while trapped in prison, and the profound hatred after Wen Ruxue became a puppet…
Yan Zhi Xi dared not think further—
He had personally brought about the demise of the person he loved most and wanted to protect.
Feeling a chill on his face, Yan Zhi Xi opened his eyes and raised his hand to touch his face; it was not tears.
It was then he realized it was snowing.
Three years ago, Wen Qingyu had married him during the first snowfall.
"Qing'er, Qing'er." Yan Zhi Xi murmured; it was the first time he called her that, but she would never hear it again.
When Zhang Gonggong arrived, Yan Zhi Xi was leaning against a bare osmanthus tree, having fallen asleep. His body was icy cold; if not for his still breathing, he would truly resemble a corpse.
After Yan Zhi Xi was sent back to the palace, Zhang Gonggong called out, "Make sure to clean Chenyu Palace well, do not be negligent."
After that night of losing control, Yan Zhi Xi seemed to have returned to normal, but was even colder and more ruthless than before.
Wen Ruxue confessed her crimes, had her tongue cut out and her tendons severed, and was sent to the military camp as a Military Prostitute along with the women of the Wen Family. The male members of the Wen Family were all sent to the northern wilderness to become laborers.
The suffering that Wen Qingyu endured and the hardships faced by the Wen Family were repaid by Yan Zhi Xi in such a merciless manner.
Both inside and outside the court were shocked by Yan Zhi Xi's cruelty, everyone felt uneasy.
During a court meeting, the Grand Tutor advised, "The harem is empty. To ensure the continuation of royal lineage, please Your Majesty to take a consort and soon confer a queen."
Yan Zhi Xi looked at him coldly and said nothing.
In Duanjing Kingdom, there has always been an ancestral rule: first take a consort, then confer a queen; only consorts who bear children are qualified to be queens.
Yan Zhi Xi had been on the throne for three years, and the position of queen remained vacant. This was because in his heart, only Wen Ruxue, who had once saved him, was qualified to be his queen; however, Wen Ruxue had never conceived.
Ministers had repeatedly advised him but were all rejected by Yan Zhi Xi.
The Grand Tutor felt a chill under Yan Zhi Xi's gaze and thought it unwise to speak further. Unexpectedly, Yan Zhi Xi raised his hand towards him and said, "My dear minister, you must have reason. However, I do not intend to take a consort; let us confer a queen."
He paused for a moment: "Come here, draft an edict. Consort Yu possesses both virtue and talent, her character is virtuous; she is specially conferred as queen and shall be buried with me."
The ministers exchanged glances, feeling this edict was absurd but dared not speak up due to Yan Zhi Xi's recent brutal actions.
"Your Majesty should think twice. Consort Yu has no children; this goes against ancestral rules. Moreover..."
The Grand Tutor wanted to continue advising but was interrupted coldly by Yan Zhi Xi: "Ancestral rules? Now I am the emperor; I am the rule. Do I still need you to teach me?"
Yan Zhi Xi coldly surveyed the surroundings, and the court fell silent, as if a needle could be heard dropping.
At this moment, his face was as cold as his heart was pained.
He was supposed to have a child, but he had killed it with his own hands.
What he had killed was not only his child but also the love he realized too late and his own heart.
Three days later, at the Imperial Tomb.
In the vast expanse of snow and fog, a blanket covered the ground, desolate and bleak. Over a hundred people stood in the snowy field.
Dressed in a bright yellow dragon robe, Yan Zhi Xi stood at the front of the crowd, gazing at Wen Qingyu's tombstone.
He stood tall like a tree, yet his eyes held endless sorrow and regret.
After a long time, he finally withdrew his gaze and shouted, "Open the coffin!"
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