Not my work. Not my translation.
Friendly reminder: Readers, if you want to cry, read this. If you don't, then don't even bother to try, for you will end up somehow.
One leap from the city tower thus fulfills the Marquis of Chang Ye's triumph in con...
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Half a sky of the imperial city burning in red flames, the gradually accumulation of clouds engulfing that touch of moonlight in the horizon.
Holding up my overly complex skirt, I slowly set foot on the light grey steps of the city wall, walking with great difficulty. I have never liked these sort of overly complicated clothing, unless absolutely necessarily, I would never dress myself in such attire, and even if I do, behind me, there will always be a large number of maids to help hold up the skirt.
But today, there isn't.
There are only soldiers in heavy armours, holding up ice cold spears, stained in blood, their faces expressionless as they hold me in capture, heading up the city tower.
Above the tower are battle flags, fluttering in the wind, having yet to arrive at the top, the cries of women and children are already audible. I step over the stiff cold limbs of a noble lady's corpse, her head and body severed, with resolute indifference, I walk over to where the highest balcony lies.
The stars in the distance were revolving, the clouds rolling past faster and faster. Eyes witnessing a rainstorm soon to approach.
Below the city tower, three hundred thousand soldiers have already encircled the imperial city, blocking all sides, sparing no chance for escape.
With this many people, other than the irritating neighing of the warhorses, I cannot hear any other noise. The night wind carries a bloody scent as it icily hits my face, I free my hold from the skirt, simply allowing it to dance along to the wind. I believe, this wedding gown of endlessly flowing bright red, among this night, should be the most stunning colour aside from the crimson blood.
A frosty sword carrying a bloody stench lines my neck, such coldblooded murder that stains the armour of the man behind, makes my hairs stand on end. He loudly hisses:
"Marquis of Chang Ye, An Zi Wu!"
The three hundred thousand soldiers below the walls submerges into silence. I lower my eyes, masking the look that can be seen in my orbs, looking rather similar to a statue void of consciousness.
"An Zi Wu!" The raging anger of the man behind erupts, "(Imperial) I command you to quickly come out, one minute late and I shall gauge out one of your madam's eye, one moment late and I shall cut her into a 'human swine'[1]!"
Human swine, removing all four limbs, gouging out the eyes, cutting off the ears, slicing off the nose and tongue, this is still the most favourite punishment of the monarch behind me.
My eyes remain lowered, collecting my thoughts, calming my heart, not letting leak the slightest of expression.
The troops below grows slightly restless. The majority of them serving under my husband, Marquis of Chang Ye, many of the generals are also familiar with me. Killing one woman is no big deal, but in a situation like this, to brutally kill the woman of the rebel leader, is but a type of deterrent.
