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Fa Zheng continued, unchallenged. "I propose," he said, voice smooth as silk, "that Her Highness, Princess Liu Jie, daughter of His Majesty, be engaged to the Crown Prince of the Hengyuan Dynasty, Lie Muchen."
The hall erupted.
Cheers. Praise. Flattery.
Even false tears of joy.
Emperor Xian felt a faint ringing in his ears. His daughter. His little Jie'er, barely five years old. Plucked from his family, handed away like a political pawn, all because he could no longer fight back.
He swallowed hard, the movement nearly sticking in his throat.
On the outside, he appeared calm. Inside, faint cracks splintered through his composure.
Zhang Song stepped forward next, smoothly weaving his own support behind Fa Zheng's words.
"The Crown Prince of Hengyuan is a young man of unmatched potential, Your Majesty," he said. "His future is bright. Such a union would elevate the prestige of the Han and connect us to a dynasty both powerful and benevolent."
Emperor Xian's hands tightened on his knees.
Zhang Song's voice washed through the court like warm syrup, thick, sweet, and suffocating.
Meng Da followed, raising his own voice with the confidence of someone who knew the decision was already made.
"And more importantly," he added, "this alliance keeps us safe from harm. With Hengyuan as our in laws, Han will stand unchallenged in the southwest. Foreign tribes will hesitate to attack. Cao Cao will think twice before pushing southward. This marriage alliance is the future Your Majesty deserves."
Deserves.
The word cut Emperor Xian deeper than anything else.
Deserves… what?
A lifetime of being a puppet? A lifetime of seeing his family handed over like tribute? A lifetime of ruling in name only, while others wielded the real power?
Fa Zheng, Zhang Song, and Meng Da watched him carefully.
Everyone else in the court simply watched him like spectators at a show. Placing him on display. Waiting for him to obey.
Liu Zhang was even grinning, clapping again like a trained monkey.
Emperor Xian closed his eyes for the briefest moment, letting the darkness behind his lids hide the storm swirling inside him.
He could not refuse. Not openly. Not now.
Wu Yi and Wang Fu had been sent to gather foreign soldiers, fifty thousand, if they succeeded. Fifty thousand warriors who could shift the balance. Fifty thousand warriors who could help him finally break free from this control when they come to Chengdu.
If he protested now, Fa Zheng would become suspicious. If he resisted now, they might never return alive.
He had no choice.
He opened his eyes again, carefully placing the mask of neutrality back over his face. But Fa Zheng saw the faint tremor. So did Zhang Song. So did Meng Da.
Only the three of them understood what lurked beneath his calm expression, A man breaking. A sovereign drowning. An emperor trying desperately to hold onto the last pieces of his pride.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the Emperor stood.
Slowly. Deliberately. With the dignity he still clung to by sheer force of will.
His voice, when he spoke, was quiet.
Too quiet for a ruler.
But steady.
"So…" Emperor Xian said, his eyes sweeping across the court. "This… is truly the will of the court?"
Every official bowed deeply.
"Yes, Your Majesty!"
The room echoed with unified voices, each bow deeper than the last, as though eager to prove their obedience to Fa Zheng's faction.
Emperor Xian could feel his nails digging into his palms.
He swallowed slowly.
"Very well," he said, his voice a breath that sliced through his pride. "If this is truly the court's suggestion… then I shall accept it."
The hall erupted again in cheers, joyful proclamations, praises for the wisdom of His Majesty, even though none of this was his doing.
Fa Zheng bowed deeply.
"As Your Majesty commands. We ministers shall prepare all necessary arrangements. We will also contact the Hengyuan Dynasty to proceed with the engagement."
Emperor Xian nodded stiffly.
"Very well."
He paused.
"I will inform my royal family personally."
It was the only thing he could still control. His daughter deserved to hear it from him, not from schemers who saw her as a tool.
With that, he lifted one hand with rigid poise.
"This court session… is dismissed."
The officials bowed again.
The sound of sleeves brushing the floor filled the hall.
Emperor Xian stepped down from his throne slowly, his robe trailing behind him like a shadow, his posture straight but strained.
As the court dispersed, Fa Zheng watched him walk away, his eyes narrowing slightly.
He could sense the storm brewing beneath that calm.
Soon, he thought.
Soon, the time would come to end this charade, to strip Emperor Xian of his final pretense of power.
To hand Shu to the rightful emperor, Lie Fan.
Behind him, Zhang Song and Meng Da exchanged glances. Both had seen the faint trembling in Emperor Xian's hands. The barely contained fury. The despair. The humiliation.
"He's near his limit," Meng Da murmured quietly.
Zhang Song nodded. "And that makes him predictable."
Fa Zheng hummed. "Good. Let him burn his last candle of patience. The moment he shows the slightest defiance… we bring the hammer down."
The three ministers turned and left the hall together.
Meanwhile on the inner chambers of the palace, it was silent.
Too silent.
Emperor Xian walked alone down the long, dim hallway, his steps slow, each breath heavier than the last.
He reached the doors to the family quarters.
The guards bowed.
He nodded faintly, then entered.
Inside, his wife, Empress Dong, sat reading a silk scroll. She rose immediately when she saw him, her expression warm and gentle, until she saw the tightness in his eyes.
"Your Majesty?" she asked softly. "What has happened?"
Emperor Xian tried to speak.
The words stuck.
Not out of fear. But out of heartbreak.
Empress Dong walked to him and took his trembling hand in hers.
"Whatever it is," she whispered, "you do not have to face it alone."
He closed his eyes.
For a moment, he simply held her hand.
And then, he opened his mouth to tell her the unbearable truth. "They have decided to Jie'er to the Crown Prince of Hengyuan..."
Empress Dong hearing that was surprised at first but soon turned pale fast. Emperor Xian's heart clenched wen he saw that.
"Your Majesty…" she whispered, tears springing to her eyes. "Our daughter... she's just a child—"
"I know."
Emperor Xian voice strained, as he lowered his gaze.
"I accepted the alliance today," he murmured. "I had to."
Empress Dong's breath caught.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I am so… so sorry."
For a long moment, his wife simply held him.
Held him as the last shreds of his imperial dignity shook under the weight of the burden he carried.
Then—
Quietly.
Steadily.
Emperor Xian straightened.
The mask slid back over his expression.
The sorrow vanished behind the fragile calm.
His hands still trembled.
But his posture—
His voice—
His eyes—
All regained that desperate, cracked strength.
"Tell Jie'er to come to me," he said softly. "She deserves to hear this… from her father."
The Empress nodded, wiping her tears.
As she left, Emperor Xian sank into a nearby chair, lifting a hand to his face.
Emperor Xian sat alone in the quiet chamber, the weight of everything pressing on him like a mountain that refused to let him breathe. The silence was suffocating, too heavy, too absolute, almost mocking him.
He lowered his head and pressed his fingertips against his forehead, trying to control his breath, trying to calm the tremor in his hands. But the moment he leaned back and allowed the façade of emperor to slip away, the storm inside him surged.
And when no one was there, no ministers, no schemers, no guards to judge him, he snapped.
His eyes landed on the long table filled with books, scrolls, inkstones, teacups, and a half empty teapot. Everything that symbolized order, civilization, and duty. Everything that had been used to confine him, to silence him, to chain him in place while the world shifted around him like he was a powerless spectator.
A fury he had held back for months burst from him.
He stood so abruptly that the chair scraped loudly against the floor. He strode to the table, and before he could think, before the weight of propriety could bind him again, he swept his arm across the table in one violent motion.
The books thudded to the ground. The scrolls unfurled as they fell, spilling across the floor. The cups shattered against the tiles, porcelain splintering into sharp fragments. The teapot hit a wooden leg of a cabinet and cracked, spilling lukewarm tea in a spreading stain.
A shout tore from his throat, raw and loud, the kind of sound an emperor was never meant to make.
He swept the remaining things off the table with his other arm, letting them crash and scatter in a wild storm of noise. Again he shouted, louder this time, until his lungs burned. It was rage, helplessness, humiliation, grief, all of it condensed into a sound he couldn't hold inside anymore.
He stood there, chest rising and falling rapidly, staring at the destruction he'd caused.
For one moment, just one tiny moment, he felt free.
Then the reality of what he had done sank in, and he realized with a jolt that if Empress Dong or little Jie'er walked in and saw this mess, they would understand instantly what had happened. And he did not want his daughter's innocent eyes to see her father broken like this… not yet.
He wiped his face with both hands, forcing the emperor mask back onto his expression. His breathing slowed, though his chest still hurt from the shouts.
"SERVANTS!" he barked toward the door, his voice sharp.
The door slid open almost immediately, likely they had been hovering outside, startled by the noises, and several servants rushed in.
The moment they stepped inside, their eyes widened. Some gasped. Others froze for a heartbeat before bowing deeply in terror.
"Y... Your M..Majesty, w... we—" one began.
"Clean it," Emperor Xian ordered, voice cold and clipped. "Now. Quickly."
They didn't dare ask questions. They bowed again, murmured obedience, and immediately set to work. They swept up the porcelain shards. They gathered the spilled scrolls. They wiped the ground clean and reorganized fallen shelves.
He turned his face away from them, refusing to let them see anything else.
Within a few minutes, they carried the last pieces of broken porcelain out of the chamber, right as footsteps approached from the corridor.
Empress Dong.
And beside her, Princess Liu Jie.
The five-year-old stopped in her tracks the moment she saw the servants coming out with broken cups and scattered scrolls in their arms. Her round eyes blinked, confused.
"Huh? Mother… what happened?" she asked softly, tugging at Empress Dong's sleeve.
Empress Dong forced a gentle smile, one that trembled faintly at the edges. "Nothing happened, Jie'er," she said, brushing a hand through her daughter's hair. "Perhaps your imperial father accidentally knocked something over. The servants are simply cleaning up."
______________________________
Name: Lie Fan
Title: Founding Emperor Of Hengyuan Dynasty
Age: 35 (202 AD)
Level: 16
Next Level: 462,000
Renown: 2325
Cultivation: Yin Yang Separation (level 9)
SP: 1,121,700
ATTRIBUTE POINTS
STR: 966 (+20)
VIT: 623 (+20)
AGI: 623 (+10)
INT: 667
CHR: 98
WIS: 549
WILL: 432
ATR Points: 0