The Lonely King 01

"Host, I'm feeling a bit sleepy," Little Hei said listlessly within the swirling vortex.

"Are you even listening to yourself? You're a... huh?" Fang Zhiyi stared at Little Hei, noticing a faint glow emanating from its belly as its form grew more solid.

Little Hei rubbed its tiny eyes with its hands. "I can't hold on anymore..." Then it plummeted downward.

"Hey—?" Fang Zhiyi instinctively reached out to grab it, only to jolt upright in bed the next moment.

Before him stood a eunuch, clearly startled by his sudden movement.

"Your Majesty, did you have a nightmare?" the eunuch asked cautiously.

Fang Zhiyi ignored him, scanning the room left and right but finding no trace of Little Hei. He called out mentally, but there was no response. Could it be evolving? A pang of worry struck him. This world didn’t matter much—he could let things unfold naturally—but if something happened to Little Hei...

"Your Majesty, the envoy sent by Prime Minister Sima will arrive soon. You must rise and prepare," the eunuch said, bowing his head.

Fang Zhiyi glanced at him. "Prime Minister Sima?"

The eunuch sighed inwardly. It wasn’t Fang Zhiyi’s fault. His mother had been a princess, but she’d backed the wrong faction, leading to the entire family’s exile from the palace. Fang Zhiyi had grown up in commoner’s circumstances, and his parents had long been executed under false charges by the senile late emperor.

Had the old emperor not succumbed to illness, this young master before him would likely have met the same fate.

No wonder Fang Zhiyi knew nothing of the court or its ministers.

Still, he was now the eunuch’s master, and propriety had to be maintained.

Seeing Fang Zhiyi’s bewildered gaze darting around the room, the eunuch lowered his head further. "Your Majesty, my name is Fuhai. From today onward, I shall serve you."

Fang Zhiyi racked his brain, trying to piece together the situation, but it was no easy task.

A clamor erupted outside as a flood of people poured into the modest room. Armored soldiers lined the sides, followed by a retinue of civil officials. At the center strode a man in a vermilion robe—clearly a high-ranking official.

Though Fang Zhiyi wasn’t well-versed in court ranks, he had once been an emperor himself.

The man looked at Fang Zhiyi and bowed deeply. "This subject, Sima Ci, has come to escort Your Majesty."

The assembled officials and generals behind him dropped to their knees in unison. "We welcome Your Majesty!"

Fang Zhiyi noticed the faint glint of disdain—and calculation—in Sima Ci’s eyes as the man glanced up at him. Though unfamiliar with the specifics, Fang Zhiyi knew the game being played.

"What are you—what are you doing? Stop joking around!" Fang Zhiyi waved his hands frantically.

Sima Ci straightened slowly, stroking his beard with a smug smile that quickly morphed into benevolence. He stepped forward and gripped Fang Zhiyi’s arm with surprising strength. "Your Majesty, this old subject would never dare jest!"

This old fox is a military man! Fang Zhiyi thought, startled. But the act had to continue. He let himself be hoisted onto an ornate carriage outside, and the entourage swiftly departed.

A sense of foreboding settled over Fang Zhiyi.

Half a day later, Fuhai timidly lifted the carriage curtain and helped him disembark. Outside, rows of ministers knelt in perfect formation—except for Sima Ci, who stood tall, and another figure seated not far away.

Seeing Fang Zhiyi’s hesitant gaze, Fuhai leaned in and whispered urgently, "Your Majesty, don’t just stand there. Greet the Empress Dowager!" The eunuch was genuinely anxious. His master’s predecessor had died not long ago under his own mentor’s watch. If this new emperor proved equally foolish, Fuhai’s life would be forfeit.

Fortunately, Fang Zhiyi played along. He tried to kneel, but his legs gave way, and he collapsed to the ground. "E-Empress Dowager..."

His pitiful display drew a flicker of satisfaction from Sima Ci’s eyes. The Empress Dowager, however, narrowed her gaze before breaking into a smile. "Oh, child, it’s only been a decade, yet you’ve grown so distant. Quickly, help him inside."

Fang Zhiyi allowed Fuhai and a few other eunuchs to support him into the palace.

The situation was becoming clearer. Sima Ci was undoubtedly a power-hungry minister, and he was the puppet emperor. As for the Empress Dowager... his instincts screamed that the old woman was no saint. Watching Fuhai scurry about, Fang Zhiyi’s eyes gleamed with realization.

His identity was unmistakable—the Lonely King.

A figurehead with no backing, propped up by scheming ministers. The fate of his predecessors was easy to guess: disobedience led to their demise. The shabby home he’d woken in confirmed it—they’d scoured for a legitimate heir to the throne and dragged him into the palace. If he stepped out of line... tsk.

Little Hei had landed him in quite the mess.

"A game of chess... how interesting," Fang Zhiyi mused, recalling Sima Ci’s demeanor. It reminded him of his own days as a power broker.

The next day, Sima Ci and his faction swiftly enthroned Fang Zhiyi as emperor. The Empress Dowager presided over the ceremony, but Fang Zhiyi could feel their collective gaze boring into him.

The days that followed were a mix of routine and novelty. Dawn-breaking court sessions, dragged along by Fuhai. The one silver lining? Sima Ci handled all the memorials—a hallmark of a controlling minister. He and his cronies monopolized the channels to the throne, leaving Fang Zhiyi with little to do.

Feeding fish in the imperial garden, Fang Zhiyi felt a rare ease. Maybe he’d just coast along. What a cushy setup—no worries, no responsibilities! If only there were more ministers like Sima Ci!

Lost in his thoughts, a voice called from afar. "Zhiyi!"

He turned to see his empress—his original wife, the daughter of a small winery owner. The match had been arranged by his late steward, who’d worried about his solitary life. To his credit, her father had honored the promise, marrying her to him despite his lack of status.

But her love belonged to the original Fang Zhiyi. He couldn’t bring himself to take advantage, so they maintained a cordial, distant act.

"Do you not love me anymore?" The empress trailed her fingers through the lake water, her mind elsewhere.

Fang Zhiyi shook his head vigorously. "Of course not! It’s just... just..." He lifted his hands, staring at his dragon robes. "I’m still not used to this. It feels like countless eyes are on me. I can’t relax."

The empress turned to him, pursed her lips, and gently smoothed his disheveled hair. "I never dreamed you’d become emperor—or that I’d enter the palace as empress. I thought you might choose another consort."

Fang Zhiyi chuckled. Not a chance. First, he owed it to the original Fang Zhiyi’s family. Second, such a move would reassure the Empress Dowager and Sima Ci—his attachment to sentiment proved his lack of ambition.