The Lonely Monarch 02

Fang Zhiyi excused himself, claiming he had to study with Prime Minister Sima that evening before hastily leaving.

And indeed, that was the case. For the past few nights, Sima Ci had been coming to the palace as if it were his own home. He was acting as Fang Zhiyi’s temporary tutor—though not teaching him statecraft or the art of political balance. Instead, he focused on superficial things like imperial decorum, required readings, or ceremonial protocols for festivals.

In short, he wanted Fang Zhiyi to remain nothing more than a puppet.

And Fang Zhiyi played his part well. Though he appeared somewhat timid, he studied diligently and never failed to address Sima Ci as "Teacher," feeding the older man’s vanity.

If the last one had been this obedient, I wouldn’t have had to poison him.

That night, Fang Zhiyi spent a long time flattering Sima Ci, but the prime minister seemed in no hurry to leave. Instead, he sat sipping tea leisurely.

Fang Zhiyi couldn’t figure out what the old fox was scheming. Just as he was about to speak, Sima Ci suddenly said, "Your Majesty, this old minister—" Before he could finish, a eunuch rushed in, dropping to his knees in panic. "Disaster, Your Majesty! The Empress—she’s been poisoned!"

Fang Zhiyi stood up in alarm, acutely aware of Sima Ci’s piercing gaze. "Take me to her—now!" He didn’t even use the imperial "We."

Sima Ci’s expression darkened with something unreadable.

When they arrived at the Empress’s chambers, they found her lifeless, blood trickling from her seven orifices. Nearby lay the corpse of a palace maid, a hairpin lodged in her throat.

"What… what happened?" Fang Zhiyi stammered, his face a mix of horror and fury. The anger was genuine—even if he had no attachment to the original emperor’s wife, he couldn’t let her be murdered like this.

"Your Majesty," a court lady stepped forward, her tone eerily calm. Fang Zhiyi recognized her—she was one of the Dowager Empress’s attendants.

"The Empress came from humble origins and never fully grasped palace etiquette. The maid, Ping’er, repeatedly tried to instruct her, but the Empress refused to comply, leading to Ping’er being punished several times. Resentful after another beating today, she poisoned Her Majesty before taking her own life in front of witnesses. Please accept our condolences."

Her voice was steady, as if describing something as mundane as eating or drinking.

Even an idiot would realize this was a targeted assassination. And the mastermind? Whoever stood to gain from the Empress’s death.

But Fang Zhiyi couldn’t show a hint of suspicion.

With trembling hands, he slowly approached the Empress’s body, knelt, and clutched her shoulders as he wailed loudly—though no tears fell. His cries gradually faded into a silent, open-mouthed grimace of grief.

Sima Ci’s wariness dissipated.

This puppet emperor isn’t acting. He’s too simple-minded for schemes—just a fool.

Less than three days after the Empress’s funeral, Sima Cheng, Sima Ci’s son, proposed during court that his sister, Sima Ying—"a woman of virtue and talent"—should fill the now-vacant position of Empress. The ministers echoed the sentiment, save for a handful.

Fang Zhiyi wore a sorrowful expression before turning to Sima Ci, who had remained silent. "Teacher, what do you think?"

The courtiers fell quiet. The Emperor had just publicly called the Prime Minister Teacher!

Sima Ci was undeniably pleased, though he suppressed a smile as he bowed slightly. "Your Majesty, Sima Ying is my daughter. This old minister must abstain to avoid bias." With that, he strode out of the hall.

Fang Zhiyi sighed and deferred the matter.

Later, the Dowager Empress visited, urging him to remarry. Fang Zhiyi had already pieced it together—her maiden family was the Sima clan. No wonder she protected their interests so fiercely. The court was already the Simas’ domain.

He sighed again, insisting he needed to consult his "Teacher" first.

He knew his every word would reach Sima Ci’s ears.

Sure enough, Sima Ci returned the next day as if nothing had happened. When Fang Zhiyi pressed him again, he repeated his stance on recusal. Fang Zhiyi playfully grabbed his sleeve, refusing to let him leave until, with feigned reluctance, Sima Ci finally said,

"My daughter is well-versed in the arts. If Your Majesty finds her worthy, she may serve as Empress."

Fang Zhiyi beamed and agreed.

Sima Ci left in high spirits. To him, the new Emperor was now firmly under his control.

That very night, Fang Zhiyi lay awake. After dismissing the eunuchs, he summoned only Fuhai.

"Master." Fuhai’s address never changed—he knew his place.

Fang Zhiyi picked up a brush, writing as he spoke loudly, "Fuhai, I’ve never married an Empress before. How’s it different from a commoner’s wedding?"

Fuhai was baffled. Was the Emperor so excited about marriage that he couldn’t sleep?

Still, he answered dutifully, "There are many rituals—ancestral prayers, three days of ceremonies—"

Fang Zhiyi suddenly tapped the brush against the desk. "Three days? That long?"

Fuhai’s eyes flicked to the writing on the desk. He was literate—and what he saw sent a shock through him.

"If you want to die, go find someone else. If you want to live, keep answering my questions."

He stared at the Emperor in disbelief. In the candlelight, the timid puppet was gone. Instead, a ruler of chilling authority sat before him. One glance from Fang Zhiyi made Fuhai’s knees weaken. He remembered glimpsing the late Emperor as a child—that same imperial aura had terrified him then. And now this young sovereign… one hand holding a brush, the other toying with a sharp wooden spike…

Fuhai felt death looming.

"Master, it takes three days. Two for ceremonies, and only on the third may you meet the Empress."

"Ah, so tedious. Commoners have it easier—no such complications."

Fang Zhiyi kept writing as he spoke.

"We offer you a chance—to stand above all but one. Do you want it?"

Fuhai shuddered. He had stumbled upon something forbidden: this puppet Emperor was far more than he seemed. And now, there was no turning back.

"If We die, so do you."

After a heartbeat of hesitation, Fuhai’s expression hardened. "Master shouldn’t say such things—it’s unseemly if overheard." With that, he gave a slow, deliberate nod.

Outside, two eunuchs yawned.

"Our Emperor doesn’t act like one. No wonder the Prime Minister has us watching him."

"Less chatter. Just do as we’re told."

"Let’s swap shifts already. I’m exhausted."