Prime Minister 01

"Becoming an official again?" Fang Zhiyi looked down at his clothes.

Little Hei replied, "But it's a bit different this time."

"Oh?"

"You're the big villain," Little Hei pondered for a moment. "In a way, you really are the big villain."

"Really?"

The plot unfolded before him.

This was an ancient dynasty that valued literature over military might, leading to frequent border raids by the northern tribes. Since Fang Zhiyi rose to power, the state of Yan had already lost a third of its territory.

The reason? He didn’t want to fight, the emperor didn’t want to fight, and neither did the retired emperor.

So, they resorted to endless concessions—ceding land, paying reparations, and bending to every demand.

Many ministers who advocated for war were suppressed—some dismissed, others resigning in outrage.

But Fang Zhiyi wasn’t afraid of any of it. As long as it didn’t affect him personally, he didn’t care.

His reputation was abysmal, at least among the common people. Indulging in luxury, deceiving the emperor, embezzling military funds, and suppressing loyal officials—in short, he did everything a treacherous minister was supposed to do.

Even with the court in such a state, there were still fearless loyalists who stood up.

Take, for example, the young general Wei Kaiyuan from the Liang family. His family had been granted the title of Duke by the previous emperor, a hereditary honor, and they were known for their unwavering loyalty. Seeing the court repeatedly surrender to foreign invaders—even considering moving the capital—Wei Kaiyuan’s father fell ill from anger.

Wei Kaiyuan, however, had another idea. He used his family’s wealth to raise a volunteer army and marched north under the banner of saving the nation. He was a skilled strategist, winning battle after battle.

When news of his victories reached the capital, the court was shaken, and the people celebrated in the streets.

But tragedy struck. The court summoned Wei Kaiyuan back. Torn between loyalty to the throne and defending the country, he chose the former. After all, he was still a general of Yan—refusing would make him a rebel.

Upon his return, the people lined the streets to welcome him, but Wei Kaiyuan felt no joy.

The emperor praised his actions in an audience and even granted his volunteer army an official designation, with the court now funding their supplies. Wei Kaiyuan was overjoyed.

That same day, the emperor held a banquet in Wei Kaiyuan’s honor, with Fang Zhiyi and others in attendance.

Wei Kaiyuan despised Fang Zhiyi—he knew the prime minister was utterly incompetent—but for the sake of decorum, he held his tongue.

Yet, after that banquet, shocking rumors spread through the capital: The Wei family, arrogant from their achievements, had disrespected the emperor. Worse still, secret reports claimed they were colluding with the northern tribes—their victories prearranged to pave the way for a coup.

The charge of treason was grave.

The Wei family was immediately seized by the emperor’s shadow guards. As "evidence" piled up, Wei Kaiyuan knew he’d been framed, but the emperor was too furious to hear him out.

The only one who visited him was Fang Zhiyi.

Seeing him, Wei Kaiyuan understood everything.

This was the root of all his troubles.

The Wei family was executed, with Fang Zhiyi personally overseeing the execution.

Many knew the Wei family was innocent, but no one dared speak up. After Wei Kaiyuan’s death, his army was disbanded and absorbed into other forces. The northern tribes, recovering from their losses, angrily demanded answers from Yan’s emperor.

Once again, the emperor agreed to cede land and pay reparations. This time, the people’s fury erupted. While the tribes were temporarily appeased, rebellions broke out across the country, with cries to "purge the court of evil." The movement grew rapidly.

Finally, the emperor saw the light. At court, Prime Minister Fang Zhiyi was arrested. Given his rank, he was spared execution—instead, he was beaten thirty times with a rod and exiled to the frontier.

The emperor then offered amnesty to the rebels. With Fang Zhiyi gone, the rebellions gradually died down.

In the end, Yan still collapsed—though it lasted two more generations.

As for Fang Zhiyi, exile brought relentless retaliation. He had too many enemies. He died miserably on the road, his name forever stained as a villain for centuries to come.

"......" Fang Zhiyi pressed his lips together. How did someone this stupid ever become prime minister?

Now, standing in the grand hall, he watched as the emperor frowned.

"My esteemed ministers, what are your thoughts on Wei Kaiyuan of the Liang family raising a volunteer army?"

The officials exchanged glances.

By now, the war advocates had either been pushed out of court or dismissed outright. Those remaining were all staunch appeasers.

Fang Zhiyi felt the emperor’s gaze lingering on him.

Damn it, trying to make me the scapegoat?

He stayed silent. Eventually, a minister behind him stepped forward.

"Your Majesty, this old servant believes Wei Kaiyuan’s actions are too reckless. They risk provoking the northern tribes. If they retaliate, the people of Yan will suffer."

Once one spoke, others followed.

The emperor kept glancing at Fang Zhiyi. Why wasn’t the old fox chiming in today?

He cleared his throat. "Minister Fang, what do you think?"

What do I think? I think I’m standing here watching this farce!

But aloud, he said, "Your Majesty’s will is my command."

The emperor paused. The words weren’t wrong, but... He sighed. "Wei Kaiyuan has fought tirelessly. He must be exhausted..."

Fang Zhiyi kept his head lowered.

Luckily, someone else picked up the thread. "Your Majesty, perhaps Prime Minister Fang could send someone to recall Wei Kaiyuan—both to celebrate his victories and explain the situation. The northern tribes are too powerful to confront directly."

Fang Zhiyi raised an eyebrow. So, you’re dragging me into this?

Fine.

"Minister Fang, what do you think?" the emperor pressed.

"I obey Your Majesty’s decree," Fang Zhiyi replied flatly.

The emperor was satisfied.

After court, Fang Zhiyi cursed under his breath all the way home.

His son, dressed flamboyantly, returned at the same time with a few servants in tow.

"Father, you’re back?"

Fang Zhiyi glanced at him. "Where have you been?"

"Me? I went to the temple fair. The women there today—absolutely stunning!" His son grinned.

Already in a foul mood, Fang Zhiyi slowly walked over. "Oh? Tell me, how stunning?"

"Incredibly! Especially that one—what was her name again?" He turned to his servant, who answered with a smile, "Shen Xun, the palace guard commander’s wife."

"Yes, yes! Like a fairy descended from heaven." Fang Bufan was practically drooling. "Father, help me arrange a meeting with Shen Xun, won’t you?" Shen Xun was just a lowly guard commander—no different from the head of their household servants. His father could easily make it happen.

Then he could do this, and that, and—heh.

Lost in his fantasy, he suddenly noticed his father stepping back.

"Father, what are you doing?"

"Getting a running start."

"Running start?"

Then he saw his father’s shoe sole coming closer. His mind went blank as his face met what felt like a charging stallion. He flew back over a meter.