When I was beaten to death with clubs in the cold palace, the child in my womb was already fully formed. He personally oversaw my execution and, from behind a screen, asked if I had any last words. I was already on the verge of death. “Xie Yiheng, just now, you killed your own child with your own hands.” The man’s raised hand trembled faintly before slowly falling. The plank swung down again and again, tearing my flesh apart until no life remained in me. Three days after I died, the man who had wiped out my entire family drove a sword through his own throat at my grave.
