That night, after a full day of handling state affairs, Wen Zheng finally had a moment to rest.
It had already been three years since his ascension to the throne. Under his rule, the nation was peaceful and prosperous.
Just a few days prior, an earthquake had struck the northern region. Though many buildings collapsed, thankfully, there had been few casualties—a small blessing.
Upon returning to his bedchamber, he found the person on the bed already fast asleep.
A wave of tenderness rose in Wen Zheng’s heart. Not wanting to wake her, he climbed into bed quietly.
Suddenly, he felt something moving under the blanket. The next second, a round little head popped out and dove into Wen Zheng’s arms.
“Daddy!”
Hearing the voice, he immediately scooped up the child and made a “shhh” gesture.
Ah Yuan was just two years old. With big round eyes, a face like carved jade, and an adorable dumpling-like appearance, she was both sweet and sensible—utterly lovable.
Seeing her father’s signal to stay quiet, she obediently covered her mouth, though her eyes still curved like crescent moons in delight, melting hearts all around.
Wen Zheng picked her up and took her to the courtyard. The two played for quite a while, Ah Yuan’s laughter ringing like silver bells, even bringing smiles to the palace maids nearby.
“No wonder Their Majesties dote on the little princess so much—she’s simply too adorable.”
Once Ah Yuan was tired out and could barely keep her eyes open, Wen Zheng handed her over to the wet nurses, instructing, “Take good care of her.”
The two wet nurses stood in a row and respectfully bowed before carrying the little princess away.
Watching her leave, Wen Zheng smiled helplessly.
She was becoming more and more clingy lately—too cute for words.
Then, he carefully slipped back into the hall, removed his outer robe, and climbed into bed, pulling Quan Heng into his arms.
To his surprise, the person in his arms suddenly spoke: “Did Ah Yuan tire herself out?”
Wen Zheng, startled, said, “You weren’t asleep?”
Quan Heng giggled, “I was pretending all along. I saw you and Ah Yuan having so much fun—I didn’t want to disturb you.”
At her words, Wen Zheng hugged her tighter. “Ah Heng, you’re getting naughty.”
Then he pulled down the bed curtains, rolled over, and pressed her beneath him. Finding her lips, he kissed her deeply, full of passion.
Two hours later, Ah Heng was too tired to lift her arms. She let Wen Zheng wash her gently, and the moment her head touched the pillow, she fell asleep.
Wen Zheng held her close, breathing in her familiar scent, and finally drifted off to sleep.
Little did he know that this sleep would bring with it a strange dream—
***
Wen Zheng opened his eyes and found himself lying before a tombstone.
Looking up, he saw the inscription: Tomb of Quan Heng, Eldest Daughter of Marquis Yongning.
In an instant, he was struck dumb, his chest pierced with agony so intense he coughed up a mouthful of blood.
He collapsed, his strength drained, knocking over all the offerings before the grave. He tried to pick them up, but he had no strength.
Countless fragmented memories flashed in his mind.
In this world, Wen Zheng had fallen in love at first sight with Quan Heng, wife of Xie family’s eldest son Xie Fengyun—and had seized her by force, abducting her straight into the Eastern Palace.
Because Xie Fengyun feared the Crown Prince’s power, he actually handed over his wife without resistance. On their wedding night, he got her drunk, stuffed her into a carriage, and delivered her to the Eastern Palace.
Afterward, Quan Heng and Wen Zheng tormented each other endlessly. She tried to escape, but was repeatedly captured and dragged back.
During this time, even her childhood sweetheart risked his life to rescue her.
Even though he knew Shen Zhengyu was his own younger brother, the Wen Zheng of this world didn’t hesitate at all—he killed him right in front of Quan Heng.
Blood splattered everywhere. Whatever little affection remained between them was completely shattered.
The last time Wen Zheng saw her was when she lay in his arms, drenched in blood.
At that moment, her eyes were filled with sorrow and hatred, as if she wished to cut off all ties with him.
Though they lived in the Eastern Palace, it was no different from being in h*ll.
A woman in white stood in the corner, shocked by what she saw.
Seeing the Crown Prince devastated, eyes bloodshot with grief, she was so frightened that she fell to her knees. “Your Highness, this woman has tried to escape many times. She doesn’t know what’s good for her. How could she possibly deserve your love?”
As she spoke, the woman’s expression turned both pitiful and hysterical. “Her Majesty the Empress sent me to the Eastern Palace two years ago, but you’ve never even looked at me! Your heart is full of that wench—what makes her so special?!”
In the memory, veins bulged on Wen Zheng’s body. He looked at the woman like she was already dead, voice low with suppressed rage: “Let me ask you just one thing—was it you who poisoned Ah Heng?”
The woman screamed and clutched her head. “So what if it was?! Only if she died would you look at me! She deserved to die! She had it coming!”
Wen Zheng let out a cold laugh. “All right. I’ll look at you, then. Come here. Closer.”
The woman crawled over eagerly, lifting her eyes to him in desperate hope—only for Wen Zheng to draw the sword beside him and, in one clean stroke, slice off her head. Blood sprayed everywhere.
Holding Quan Heng’s lifeless body, feeling her warmth slowly fade, Wen Zheng shed a single line of blood-tinged tears.
“Ah Heng, wait for me. I’ll avenge you.”
“I know you resented me for what happened to the Yongning Marquis household… I was too arrogant, too busy, and never explained anything to you, which led to such a huge misunderstanding. That was my fault.”
With that, he picked up the sword from the floor and dragged it as he walked toward Jiaofang Hall.
At that moment, the Empress was sitting in the grand hall. Seeing Wen Zheng arrive, she even felt a flicker of delight.
She had planted Ah Yue in the Eastern Palace two years ago. Though the girl never gained favor, at least she had gotten close enough to uncover Wen Zheng’s weakness.
Yesterday, she’d given Ah Yue an order—if she couldn’t win his affection, then she should kill Quan Heng and drive the Crown Prince mad. Once he was completely deranged, how could he possibly take the throne?
Only then would her Third Prince become the most exalted man in the empire.
“Oh? Isn’t this the Crown Prince? What brings you to your mother’s palace today?”
But when she saw Wen Zheng drenched in blood walking in, a sense of foreboding took root in her heart.
“Why are you carrying a sword? You’ve soiled the floor—are you planning to commit treason?”
Wen Zheng raised the sword to her neck and said coldly, “The poison used on Ah Heng—was it from you? That rare substance, how could a mere palace maid get it?”
“To help you win the throne, you’ve truly gone insane.”
The Empress broke out in a cold sweat. “It wasn’t me! You’ve got the wrong person!”
Wen Zheng sneered. “It doesn’t matter if I’m wrong. That wench was yours—she deserved to die. And so do you.”
As he spoke, the blade swung down. The Empress’s head was cut off in an instant.
The palace maids and eunuchs screamed in terror and scattered like startled birds.
Hearing the commotion, the Third Prince rushed out from the inner chambers. When he saw his mother’s severed head, he nearly fainted.
“Wen Zheng, you madman! You beast! She was your mother by law—how could you kill her?!”
Wen Zheng walked up to him with his sword. Without a word, he plunged it through the Third Prince’s chest.
“Almost forgot about you. You deserve to die too.”
Blood gushed from the Third Prince’s mouth. He didn’t even get a final word out before his life ended.
Wen Zheng looked at the two corpses at his feet, but felt no satisfaction.
He raised his sword again and headed for Yangxin Hall.
All along the way, the palace servants watched him in terror, fleeing as if he were death incarnate.
Wen Zheng didn’t care what they thought, nor did he bother to find out. He simply continued on his path.
Outside Yangxin Hall, guards had already gathered. They put up more of a fight.
But with Wen Zheng’s skills, it didn’t take long—soon, not one was left alive.
Inside, the Emperor stood watching the very blade he had raised himself now advancing on him. For the first time, fear crept into his heart.
Just once—but it was enough to cost him his life.
Wen Zheng asked, “Royal Father, why did you imprison the entire Yongning Marquis household?”
The Emperor sneered, “I am the Son of Heaven. Do I need to explain myself to you?”
“When I was young, my older sister supported me with all her might. Have I not treated her well these years? And yet she dared to plot rebellion? What a joke!”
Wen Zheng said coolly, “The Princess has always been proper and restrained. When did she ever plot rebellion?”
The Emperor slammed the table, shattering all the teacups. “The Yongning Marchioness, Zhao Qingrong, it was not her only child, yet she remained so close to that household!”
“The military power of Great Jin is divided between General Zhenbei and that man, Quan Minghao. How could I rest easy like that?”
Ridiculous. All this was just paranoia—and it cost Quan Heng her entire family, and destroyed the last bond between her and Wen Zheng.
At this point, Wen Zheng felt no trace of fatherly affection.
“If that’s the case, then you’re no longer fit to rule. You’ve been incompetent long enough. It’s time to step down.”
With that, he drove his sword through the Emperor’s heart.
Blood gushed from the wound like a fountain. As the Emperor’s body crumpled and his life ebbed away, Wen Zheng stared down at him.
“Rest well. I’ll guard this empire in your stead.”
Soon after, Wen Zheng ascended the throne. Because he had killed his own father and brother, the world condemned him. But he ruled with violent force—anyone who dared speak against him was executed. Over time, no one dared anymore.
Later, he enshrined Quan Heng’s memorial tablet as Empress. The inner palace remained empty. No other woman ever entered it.
Due to constant threats from the neighboring Dongyang, Wen Zheng often led military campaigns personally. Over the years, he suffered many wounds.
His heart, once brought to life by Quan Heng, withered with her death.
Every injury he bore, he endured in silence.
By the age of thirty, his body was riddled with scars and illness. He was on the verge of death.
Realizing his end was near, the last thing Wen Zheng did was visit Quan Heng’s grave.
At that moment, another world’s “Wen Zheng” began to separate from him, watching the scene from a third-person view.
He saw Wen Zheng instruct the eunuch: when he died, he was to be buried with Quan Heng.
Then, he drank a mouthful of strong liquor, coughed up blood moments later, and died.
At that moment, Wen Zheng awoke with a start, drenched in cold sweat.
Looking around, he realized he was back in his bedchamber. Quan Heng laid nestled in his arms. His racing heart finally began to calm.
Seeing him awake, Quan Heng murmured sleepily, “What’s wrong? A nightmare?”
Wen Zheng held her tightly and whispered, “Yes, a nightmare.”
Everything in that dream—it might as well have been h*ll.
In the dream, he did so many terrible things to her. There was no love left between them, only his desperate forcefulness.
In her eyes, the two of them could only be called bitter enemies, locked in a battle to the death.
He thought—if he hadn’t fallen off that cliff, if he hadn’t met her in the snow, perhaps that dream would have become reality.
It was that fortunate misunderstanding, her love, that turned him into someone else.
In this life, he had flesh, blood, and feelings. He was no longer just a knife in his father’s hand.
Now, they even had a child of their own. Day after day, their lives were like heaven.
Thinking of this, he pressed a kiss to Quan Heng’s forehead.
In this life, all misunderstandings are behind us. We’ll never be parted again.
A moment later, Quan Heng, still half-asleep, turned over and nestled into his arms.
“It’s not even light outside. Let’s sleep a little longer.”
Wen Zheng smiled gently. “Alright.”
