My Husband Can't Possibly Be a Tyrant Emperor! - Chapter 7

Lady Sun remarked, “Who doesn’t know that? It’s truly a sin, the way everyone is rushing into marriages these days. I wonder how many will be as fortunate as you two, blessed with a match made in heaven.”

Fu Xuexian sighed in agreement.

Regarding the current emperor, he had indeed heard many rumors about him.

In summary, four words: a terrible reputation!

Since the founding of the Great Zhou Dynasty, there had rarely been any particularly outrageous emperors. However, no dynasty lasts forever, and the Great Zhou was no exception. Perhaps due to the decline of the nation’s fortunes, by the time of Emperor Xianzong’s generation, things took a sharp turn for the worse.

In his youth, Emperor Xianzong was considered wise and capable. The Great Zhou was prosperous, and under his rule, he could have become a renowned and virtuous ruler. Unfortunately, he lived too long. In his old age, he became obsessed with immortality, consuming elixirs that gradually ruined his health and made him increasingly irritable and paranoid.

Emperor Xianzong initially married a woman from the Zhang clan of Hedong. The Zhang clan of Hedong and the Xie clan of Jiantai, the maternal family of the current Grand Empress Dowager, were the two most prominent consort clans of the Great Zhou Dynasty. These two families almost took turns producing empresses, becoming the most illustrious aristocratic families of the dynasty. However, his first empress, Empress Zhang the Elder, bore him no sons. With no hope for a legitimate heir, Emperor Xianzong designated his fourth son, Fu Wei, who had the best reputation among the princes, as the crown prince.

The fourth prince’s mother was of very humble origins—a palace maid responsible for laundry. However, the fourth prince was exceptionally intelligent, capable, and adept at handling people, and he was initially favored by the emperor. But as Emperor Xianzong grew older, his temperament became increasingly irritable and suspicious. After the fourth prince became crown prince, he lost the emperor’s favor. The emperor often suspected the crown prince of disloyalty and even began to despise his lowly origins. He frequently summoned the crown prince and his mother to the Qingtai Palace for reprimands. It was said that he often berated them so harshly that they wept together, with the crown prince even exclaiming, “I wish I were not the crown prince.”

The fourth prince lived in constant fear as crown prince, and then came the final straw that broke the camel’s back.

Shortly after he became crown prince, Empress Zhang the Elder passed away. To secure her family’s glory, on her deathbed, she recommended another woman from the Zhang clan of Hedong to enter the palace. She was later known as Empress Zhang the Younger.

Empress Zhang the Younger was the most noble-born empress in the over two hundred years of the Great Zhou Dynasty. Her grandmother was a princess, her mother was also a princess, her father was a duke, and her paternal family, the Zhang clan of Hedong, boasted generations of ministers and generals, with dukes and marquises among their ranks. As for herself, she was “peerless in beauty and grace among the imperial consorts.”

A year after Empress Zhang the Younger entered the palace, she gave birth to the legitimate son Emperor Xianzong had long awaited.

This legitimate son was none other than the current emperor, Fu Yi.

The bloodline of this young prince was truly of the highest nobility. Coupled with Empress Zhang the Younger’s youth and beauty, she and her son enjoyed Emperor Xianzong’s exclusive favor.

Logically, the crown prince was already grown and had even begun to assist in governance, with no major faults to his name. The legitimate son was still young and unfit for great responsibilities. However, the Great Zhou had a tradition of prioritizing legitimate sons for succession; if there was no legitimate heir, the eldest son would be chosen. The crown prince was neither legitimate nor the eldest—he had an elder half-brother, the first prince, and a younger legitimate brother. Add to that an increasingly paranoid and senile father, and it was clear how difficult the fourth prince’s position as crown prince was. Moreover, Emperor Xianzong himself was indecisive. He considered changing the heir several times and even brought his infant legitimate son to court. Although he ultimately did not go through with it, this sowed the seeds of fraternal strife.

Most importantly, starting from Emperor Xiaozong, maternal relatives began to interfere in state affairs, and prime ministers were often appointed from the Zhang and Xie clans. At the time, Prime Minister Zhang Heng was Empress Zhang the Younger’s cousin and naturally supported the young legitimate son’s succession to the throne.

It is said that Empress Zhang was powerless to stop such behavior and often secretly wept in the Autumn Spirit Palace, openly stating that a great calamity was imminent.

Emperor Xianzong died very suddenly in the end. Officially, it was said that his death was caused by a fire in the palace due to alchemical practices, and he perished from smoke inhalation.

With Xianzong’s death, the tragic drama of fratricide began to unfold, and the Great Zhou Dynasty entered the bloody era of the “Three Dragons Contending for the Throne.”

In truth, the Fourth Prince had already begun to show signs of mental instability before ascending the throne. There was no helping it—during Xianzong’s lifetime, he lived in constant fear, likely due to overwhelming pressure. It is said that when he was normal, he was gentle and refined, treating palace attendants with utmost consideration. But when he was not himself, he would become a completely different person, often talking to walls, indulging in heavy drinking and drug use, and beating, scolding, or even killing palace consorts.

Despite having numerous consorts, he produced no heirs, likely due to his own incapability. With no successor, his hold on the throne became even more precarious. Thus, on one hand, he sought to expand his harem and sire children, while on the other, he began to eliminate his brothers.

However, he was a contradictory man, the type who wanted everything without compromise. He wished to eradicate all threats yet did not want others to accuse him of fratricide. He spent several years laying the groundwork, first killing several less-favored brothers like the Second, Fifth, and Sixth Princes, then imprisoning the legitimate son and younger brother. He systematically eliminated the Zhang clan of Hedong, upon whom Empress Zhang and her son relied. Finally, after nearly clearing the board, he turned against the Eldest Prince under the pretext of reducing the power of the feudal lords.

The Eldest Prince, Fu Huan, had endured humiliation and survived for years in his fief, even living in temples for long periods, nearly on the verge of renouncing the secular world. Seeing that death was inevitable either way, he decided to rise in rebellion at the Golden Cicada Temple, where he practiced asceticism, launching the “Golden Cicada Temple Rebellion.”

It is said that there were no real monks in the Golden Cicada Temple—only soldiers he had secretly raised.

When he rebelled, he claimed that in his later years, their father, Emperor Xianzong, intended to depose the crown prince and appoint him, the eldest son, as emperor. However, the Fourth Prince, upon learning of this, deliberately set a fire to kill their father. In short, he argued that the Fourth Prince was neither the legitimate heir nor the eldest son, having usurped the throne through patricide and thus holding it unjustly. He declared it his duty to uphold justice and restore order.

The Fourth Prince, mentally unstable and unable to produce an heir, had long lost the people’s support. The Eldest Prince marched all the way to the capital and successfully overthrew him.

The Fourth Prince was deposed, first exiled and imprisoned on the Isle of Frostgrass, then later ordered to commit suicide.

The Eldest Prince had launched his coup under the pretext that the deposed emperor was neither the legitimate heir nor the eldest son. Logically, after coming to power, the legitimate son, Fu Yi, should have been doomed. However, the Eldest Prince reigned for only seven months before mysteriously dying a sudden death, posthumously titled Emperor Daizong.

At this point, Chancellor Xie, in the name of the Grand Empress Dowager, secretly brought Fu Yi, who had been imprisoned on the Isle of Frostgrass since childhood, back to the capital. It is said that right in the mourning hall of Emperor Daizong, in front of all civil and military officials, he personally draped the dragon robe over Fu Yi, who was weeping for the deceased emperor.

Thus, the current emperor ascended the throne as the legitimate son of Emperor Xianzong. Truly, it was a case of the snipe and the clam fighting, only for a teenager to reap the benefits. And for this young emperor to ascend to power in such chaotic times at the age of just over ten, he was certainly no ordinary person.

There are far too many rumors about him, most of which are far from flattering. One category concerns his cunning and cruelty.

For instance, it is said that this young emperor has long enshrined a two-faced Buddha in the Chonghua Temple in the capital. The front of the statue depicts a gentle and compassionate countenance, while the back reveals a ferocious and demonic visage. When he first emerged from Shuocao Island, he was frail in stature and gentle and filial in nature. It was precisely by relying on the magical power of the two-faced Buddha to deceive people’s hearts, playing the fool to devour the tiger, that he gained the support of Prime Minister Xie and other senior ministers to ascend the throne.

However, not long after his ascension, the emperor revealed his cruel nature.

Upon taking the throne, he first executed all of Emperor Daizong’s descendants. He then reopened old cases, executing everyone who had participated in framing him, his mother, and her maternal clan, the Zhang family. Even those already deceased were exhumed and their corpses desecrated. He even ordered the exhumation of the deposed emperor’s remains, reburying them in a coffin made of thorns. The number of those implicated was beyond count. It is said that so many people were arrested that the prisons in Jiantai could no longer hold them all.

On the day of the mass executions, the air in Jiantai City was thick with the smell of blood. There are also rumors about his extravagance and indulgence.

For example, in the year of his ascension, when he went to the imperial mausoleum to pay respects to his birth mother—who died on the Lantern Festival—he ordered the construction of an enormous lantern carriage, measuring nine zhang and nine chi in length, width, and height. Covered in brocade and adorned with gold and jade, the lantern carriage was lit with 9,999 eternal lamps. Because the carriage was too large, he even had the city gate dismantled to accommodate it. Thousands of palace maids and eunuchs, dressed in fine silks, sang and danced around the lantern carriage, recreating the grand spectacle of the Lantern Festival at the imperial mausoleum. The brilliance of the lantern carriage could be seen from dozens of li away.

It is also said that he embarked on massive construction projects, demanding tributes from regional princes and noble families. Exotic flowers, rare plants, gold, silver, and jewels were transported into the palace in cartloads. He also enjoyed visiting the homes of his ministers, seizing their wives and daughters if he fancied them. When pleased, he would grant promotions and titles; when displeased, he would simply wave his hand and have entire families exiled!

He was particularly fond of hunting, frequently mobilizing large entourages for expeditions into the mountains and forests. Despite his young age, he had a penchant for ferocious beasts, going to great lengths to transport bears, tigers, wolves, and leopards to the capital.

If his desires were not immediately satisfied, he would even order the responsible officials to don animal skins and hunt them as if they were prey!

There were even rumors that when he was born, a giant crow perched atop the Qiu Ling Palace and refused to leave, indicating that he was born with an ominous aura!

Now, it is said that he neglects state affairs, having grown tired of the capital, and has begun touring various provinces, indulging in sightseeing and leisure. Thanks to the efforts of the Grand Empress Dowager’s brother, the current Prime Minister Xie Yi, who struggles to maintain order in the court, the empire has not descended into chaos.

These rumors, whether true or false, reminded Kuang Xuexian of the evil dragons in Western films. Fond of devouring people and building resplendent nests with gold.

Aunt Sun remarked, “I heard the emperor is now in Huangzhou admiring plum blossoms. The noblewomen of Huangzhou are likely in for trouble.”

And a lustful dragon at that!

Cruel, lecherous, and utterly self-indulgent in his pleasures—this young emperor truly embodies all the flaws of a tyrant.

Fu Li said, “So this is how people in Xijing view the emperor.”

Aunt Sun asked, “Don’t people in Dongdu see him the same way?”

Fu Li chuckled and replied, “We in Dongdu aren’t as outspoken as you folks in Xijing.”

Aunt Sun suddenly felt a hint of pride as a Xijing native: “We Xijing people say what we mean—we’re straightforward! Not like you Dongdu people, all so reserved and quiet.”

Upon hearing this, Kuang Xuexian turned to look at Fu Yi, also sensing a certain quality in him that was rarely seen in daily life. Now, with Sister Sun’s comment, he felt even more that Fu Yi was refined and gentle, like polished jade. Especially after just discussing the debauched and tyrannical emperor, the contrast made the tyrant seem more like a vicious dragon, while the handsome young man before him was like a pure, flawless little white flower.

Li Qing, standing nearby, hardly dared to breathe. Timid by nature and a devout Buddhist with a compassionate heart, he feared that Sister Sun and Kuang Xuexian might inadvertently provoke the emperor’s wrath.

What kind of rumors were these, anyway? Fortunately, Sister Sun hadn’t come alone. Her husband arrived to pick her up after buying some things, and Sister Sun left with a sigh.

Li Qing let out a sigh of relief, his back damp with sweat. But when he glanced at the emperor, he seemed almost reluctant to see her go, smiling warmly as he bid farewell to Sister Sun.

Ah well, it was best not to guess the emperor’s thoughts—after all, he could never figure them out anyway!

He packed up the lunchbox. “Then I’ll head back for now.”

As Li Qing stepped outside, he glanced back and saw Kuang Xuexian and Fu Yi standing in the small bookstore.

Initially worried that Kuang Xuexian might say something reckless again, this glance reminded him of Sister Sun’s earlier flattering words.

Now, those words didn’t seem like mere flattery at all.

The emperor and Kuang Xuexian truly resembled orchids and jade trees—a perfect match in every way.

But his excuse to step out wasn’t just to return the lunchbox. He immediately ordered the imperial chef to set up a stall at the street corner.

The imperial chef: “I only serve His Majesty!”

“His Majesty will accompany Young Master Kuang to visit.”

The imperial chef: “What kind of celestial being is this Young Master Kuang, to have His Majesty so enchanted that he’s playing along with this charade, with everyone joining in?”

Li Qing replied, “Well… he’s someone who can openly call His Majesty a tyrant to his face, and His Majesty can even engage in the discussion.”

The imperial chefs: “…”

Back in the bookstore, Kuang Xuexian felt himself growing warmer. Fu Yi seemed to have become addicted to his storybooks, flipping through the one in his hand before moving to the bookshelf to look for more.

Strangely, now that it was just the two of them in the bookstore, no other customers came in.

After a moment’s thought, Kuang Xuexian spoke up. “I wrote all these books myself.”

Better to be upfront about it.

Fu Yi, standing by the bookshelf, turned to look at him. The small mole on the tip of his nose accentuated his tall, straight nose and jade-like skin. Tall and long-limbed, he effortlessly held a storybook and asked, “Did you draw the illustrations too?”

Kuang Xuexian’s face warmed slightly, but he nodded. Fu Yi didn’t continue flipping through the book and placed it back on the shelf.

Kuang Xuexian’s storybooks were actually ordinary tales, with a touch of sensuality but not the vulgar kind—the Great Zhou Dynasty was known for a genre called “spring books,” which were textual versions of erotic paintings, filled entirely with scenes of passion, hence the name. Kuang Xuexian’s books focused more on storytelling, captivating and elegantly written, though the illustrations were quite bold. His drawing style differed from any contemporary artist’s techniques, more lifelike and vivid. Some depictions of men in the throes of passion, with tears and saliva flowing freely—if he kept looking, he feared he might lose control.

Now, standing there like a red-hot iron rod, tense and aching, a gloomy mood spread within him, making even a forced smile difficult. He simply watched Kuang Xuexian wrap the books with a weary expression.

The shop used a glossy green paper with bamboo leaf patterns for wrapping books, a type of colored paper that likely wasn’t cheap. Watching him wrap books was a delight—his movements were as brisk and efficient as he himself appeared. With quick, deft, and fluid motions, he folded and tucked the paper in no time.

The books he wrapped also possessed a neat, aesthetic appeal.

He truly seemed exceptionally clean and sharp, his face luminous and serene, exuding a natural, effortless beauty.

There was a soft, almost maternal glow about him, as if no matter what others did, no matter how reprehensible, they would still receive his compassion and forgiveness.

After watching him for a while, the gloomy mood completely dissipated, replaced by a sense of pleasure brought by his crisp and tidy movements. It felt like a gentle breeze blowing in from outside—the kind of spring breeze that feels particularly soothing in the late afternoon.

Kuang Xuexian looked up at him and suddenly let out a soft laugh.

A strange flutter stirred in his heart, and he asked, “What are you laughing at?”

Kuang Xuexian said, “I thought after seeing those books, you’d be scared off.”

Fu Yi leaned against the counter, his gaze fixed on Kuang Xuexian. Though his robe had color, its texture and style were simple and unadorned, not meticulously dressed up, yet he radiated an indescribable, captivating charm.

An inexplicable itchiness crept into his teeth, and a hint of aggression surfaced in his expression. His voice softened as he said, “In your eyes, am I that pure?”

Kuang Xuexian pursed his lips, a faint, ambiguous smile playing on his face, but he didn’t answer.

Fu Yi stared at his reddening earlobe, picked up a book token, and began rubbing and kneading it forcefully in his hand.

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