Wen Meier’s rage spread through Furong Palace like wildfire.
Hearing that Xiao Hongyi had successfully ascended the throne and Feng Zhao was now ruling behind the curtain, she smashed everything within reach. Porcelain shattered across the floor.
“Everything that was meant to be mine… was supposed to be mine!!!”
She was so furious she wished she could kill Feng Zhao immediately. She regretted, not for the first time, not finishing her off earlier—allowing her instead to sharpen her mind and turn the situation around.
“No. I absolutely cannot lose like this.”
“Her son may have taken the throne, but I’ve killed emperors before. Xiao Hongyi is not the first.”
Wen Meier dug her nails into her palm until blood nearly seeped out.
Emperor Lingxiao’s sudden death had, in fact, involved her. She had grown tired of serving a man obsessed with beauty and debauchery. After calculating the dosage and poisoning him, she only misjudged one thing—his body was already so ruined by wine and women that he died earlier than expected.
She had been so close. So close to getting the succession edict.
But the prize slipped away at the last moment.
“I refuse to accept this!”
She immediately ordered, “Send word to my father. Pressure Feng Zhao in court. I refuse to believe she can hold that position!”
Even if she had changed, the throne was still unstable beneath her feet.
In history, there were precedents of deposing emperors.
Wen Chenglin had the same thoughts, so when Feng Zhao and Xiao Hongyi arrived at court, they were immediately met with a mountain of memorials.
Stacks upon stacks of memorials piled so high on the dragon desk that Xiao Hongyi couldn’t even be seen from the front.
The eunuch sorting them reported, “Your Majesty… the Empress Dowager… these are all the memorials accumulated since the late Emperor’s death. They await imperial review.”
Feng Zhao’s mouth twitched hard.
She met Xiao Hongyi’s pleading eyes and fell into thought.
There was no doubt about it—governing a vast empire like Cangyun was not her specialty. Even with her background as a returnee “elite student,” at best she could manage a listed company, not a nation.
Just as her foot subtly shifted backward toward the door, Xiao Hongyi suddenly lunged forward and grabbed her leg.
“Mother… are you leaving?”
Feng Zhao looked down.
Those watery, teary eyes looked like they could spill over at any moment.
“Mother said she wouldn’t abandon me…”
His tone was soft, fearful, and accusing.
Even the system chimed in:
【Please prioritize the target character and fulfill all his requests!】
Feng Zhao: “……”
She pulled her foot back. “I’m not leaving. I was just… stretching.”
Xiao Hongyi stared at her suspiciously.
Feng Zhao forced herself forward and opened a memorial.
The moment she saw the first line, her brain nearly shut down from classical Chinese.
She tried reading further, but eventually gave up.
“System, can I get a pair of eyes that translate ancient text?”
【Host has not unlocked Translation Vision. However, your current issue can be solved using the ‘History Book.’】
“The History Book you mentioned before… is it for reading memorials?”
【Not only that. The governance wisdom of countless emperors throughout history is stored within. If you encounter difficulties, you may search the History Book for solutions.】
So it was basically a search engine for imperial governance.
Sounds convenient—but she still had to try it.
Feng Zhao entered the memorial’s content into the system. Immediately, multiple historical solutions appeared—green for good policies, red for bad ones.
Xiao Hongyi watched as the woman who had just looked ready to flee suddenly straightened her back, her entire demeanor shifting. The haze disappeared from her face as if she already knew all the answers.
“…Mother?”
“Xiao Jiu, come here. I’ll speak, you write.”
She didn’t directly pick up the brush—she had him write instead.
Though confused, Xiao Hongyi obeyed without hesitation.
At just five years old, faced with complicated court affairs and hidden political currents, he didn’t understand much—but his handwriting was neat and steady, stroke by stroke.
Feng Zhao wanted to test his attitude.
The original owner had never taught him anything, never sent him to study. To her, he was merely a tool for stabilizing power—whether he succeeded or not didn’t matter.
But Xiao Hongyi not only knew how to read, he wrote beautifully. Clearly, he had been secretly studying on his own.
That realization gave Feng Zhao renewed confidence.
One analyzed the system; the other wrote silently. The hall was quiet and strangely harmonious.
They worked until late night before finally finishing.
When Xiao Hongyi put down his brush, he felt an inexplicable sense of accomplishment—even though he hadn’t fully understood anything, just seeing the finished memorials made his blood race with excitement.
Then he froze.
The handwriting.
His whole body stiffened.
“Mo-Mother… I didn’t mean to secretly study behind your back… I— I—”
He panicked, desperately searching for an explanation, but couldn’t find any excuse that made sense. Cold sweat formed on his forehead.
Had he just revealed everything? Would his mother be angry? Would she ignore him again like before?
At the thought of being locked away in a dark room again, his little face scrunched up in fear.
Feng Zhao frowned deeply.
Without even needing the system’s reminder, she spoke:
“Xiao Jiu, being able to read is a good thing. Not only must you keep it up, you must learn even more.”
“As for what I said before…”
She quickly found a justification.
“Back when you were still the Ninth Prince, you were being watched by Wen Meier. If you showed too much talent, it would bring you trouble.”
Xiao Hongyi blinked. “Is… is that so?”
“Yes.” Feng Zhao said firmly. “Wen Meier would not allow anyone to surpass her son. And with your father favoring her, dealing with you back then would have been as easy as a single word.”
Although the original owner hadn’t thought of it that way, the outcome had indeed been the same—Xiao Hongyi had survived because of that unstable balance.
Xiao Hongyi finally relaxed.
But then Feng Zhao’s next movement made him tense again.
“Mother… where are you going?”
“I’m returning to Fengming Palace, of course.”
This hall—the Imperial Governance Hall—was the residence of emperors past. Now that Xiao Hongyi had ascended the throne, she could no longer remain here permanently.
The hall was vast, divided into main hall, side halls, study, and sleeping quarters—twice the size of Fengming Palace.
Just moments ago, Xiao Hongyi had thought it grand and luxurious.
Now, to him, it felt empty and cold—like a beast lying in wait in the dark.