The Queen suddenly began to sob softly, as if in fear, her voice trembling: "What exactly do you want? I've even given you my life. How do you want to torment me?"

William Carter cursed inwardly at the predecessor who had once occupied his body. What kind of perverse things had he done to this The Queen? She didn't have even a shred of trust in him. Especially after he had risked his life to save her, she still couldn't bring herself to think well of him.

And for someone to treat such an ethereal, fairy-like girl so cruelly—he was clearly no good person. Rather than bear the consequences of those historical issues, it would be better to wipe the slate clean and start over.

Fortunately, William Carter had a major advantage over people of ancient times: he had read countless web novels. He'd had countless authors rack their brains to imagine scenarios for someone who had transmigrated. He had to admit, pretending to have amnesia was a bit cliché, but the fact that it was used over and over again showed it had its merits.

"Um, The Queen." William Carter scratched his head, putting on a look of honest kindness. "After you hit me on the head, it seems like, well, I can't remember a lot of things."

The Queen was slightly stunned, gradually stopping her sobs. Her clear, beautiful eyes, black and white, looked at him in confusion.

"I don't really understand what's going on either," William Carter rubbed his head, a wry smile on his face. "To put it simply, I feel very familiar with The Queen, but no matter how hard I try, I just can't remember what happened between us. In fact, I can't even recall The Queen's name right now."

Could such a thing happen? The Queen covered her mouth, looking at William Carter in disbelief. Frowning, she thought carefully. It seemed that when she was studying at home, she had read about this kind of situation in some old medical books. It was called something like "soul-loss syndrome." It said that head injuries, or perhaps other causes, could lead to this. In any case, The Queen couldn't remember the details very clearly.

But for so many highly respected ministers to collectively recommend her as The Queen, she must have been not only dignified and presentable, but also intelligent and virtuous. As the mother of the nation and a model for all women, The Queen had to set an example. Even if those ministers wanted the emperor to mend his ways, they couldn't just pick anyone to fill the role.

The Queen's elegant brows relaxed slightly, and the sorrow on her beautiful face gradually lessened. Connecting the events before and after, she could deduce from the emperor's strange behavior after waking up that what he said might not be impossible.

The clever The Queen also thought, if the emperor really had "soul-loss syndrome" and forgot the past, perhaps it was actually a great blessing—maybe things could take a turn for the better.

At that, The Queen struggled to rise from William Carter's embrace. Bowing her head, she hesitated, "I... I'll go summon the imperial physician." She also knew that if she went to call the doctor, the fact that she had hit the emperor on the head would be impossible to hide. This would surely spread, and then she would no longer be qualified to be The Queen.

After she left the room, she soon returned. Hesitating for a moment, she still reached out to help William Carter up from the floor and seated him on the dragon throne. That previous fall had been quite solid, and his tailbone still ached faintly. Sitting like this was truly uncomfortable.

The Queen saw the strange look on his face and suddenly thought of something. Unconsciously, her expression softened a little. If he really had "soul-loss syndrome," then perhaps he had truly wanted to save her life just now, not wanting her to die. So she took the initiative to fetch a cotton and silk cushion and carefully placed it for him.

"Thank you, The Queen." It was the first time William Carter had ever been so thoughtfully cared for by a beauty, aside from nurses, and he felt comfortable and politely expressed his thanks.

The Queen wanted to speak, but then remembered all his past atrocities. Her heart turned cold again, and she stood silently to the side.

William Carter knew he couldn't completely dispel her wariness in a short time, but he didn't mind. Not wanting to make things awkward, he focused his attention on the antique desk in front of him, which was very valuable to him. From time to time, he fiddled with the inkstone and brushes, or picked up the exquisitely crafted, fragrant brush holder to admire it. Or he would casually pick up a book and flip through it out of boredom. Thanks to his third-rate university education, he could understand most of the traditional characters in these printed books—thankfully, they weren't handwritten manuscripts.

With some effort, guessing and piecing things together, he could understand about half of it. He seemed to be reading with great interest.

"By the way, The Queen." William Carter suddenly turned and said seriously, "When the imperial physician comes and asks, just say I accidentally tripped and fell." He touched the spot on his head where he was injured, apparently near his forehead, and added, "Just say that when I fell, I hit my head on the corner of the desk."

The Queen stared at him, seeing no trace of cunning in his eyes, but rather a kind of innocence untainted by political scheming. She sighed softly in her heart and nodded obediently, "Yes, Your Majesty."