Little Pink Starfish

Emperor Xianzong Misses the Empress

Yu Xiaoxiao felt that—for once—her muddle-headed emperor of a father had said something right. Sure, she had set the fire, but she absolutely hadn’t killed anyone. Wen Fenglin, that guy who’d colluded with Little Seven in their past lives to burn the tyrant empress to death, totally had the guts to send someone to kill her dad in this life too.
“Kill him!” the princess smacked the tea table.

“Lower your voice!” Xianzong flailed his hand at her in alarm. “Is this the kind of thing you shout about?!”

Yu Xiaoxiao said, “Then send someone to arrest him. Isn’t regicide a capital offense?”

“Who do I send?” Xianzong groaned.

“The police—oh no, wait—Dali Temple!” she corrected herself.

“We haven’t caught the assassin,” Xianzong snapped. “How are we supposed to pin it on Wen Fenglin?”

“He’s the only one who could’ve done it. Who else? You’re the emperor, aren’t you? You were so ruthless and overbearing when you went after Xiao Gu—why not do the same with Wen Fenglin?!”

Because I’d lose, Xianzong cried inside. I can’t beat that guy!

Yu Xiaoxiao rubbed her chin. “Then how did the assassin escape?”

Xianzong slammed the tea table in frustration. “You think I wanted that? Even if we caught the assassin, and he confessed that Wen Fenglin sent him, I still couldn’t touch that guy!”

“What the—?!” Yu Xiaoxiao shouted. (What!)

Xianzong shot a glance at the sleeping Gu Xinglang. “Can you speak human language, please?”

“Why not?!” she demanded.

“Because he’s the Young Master of Yongsheng Temple,” Xianzong hissed. “We’re just a small country. How are we supposed to take on Yongsheng Temple?”

This line of reasoning made Yu Xiaoxiao want to cry. If they couldn’t do anything, what was even the point of having this conversation?

“I was thinking,” Xianzong said quietly, “we could go to the Ancestral Temple.”

Yu Xiaoxiao remembered that place from the night before her wedding. It was where the spirit tablets of the royal ancestors were housed. “Why?” she asked, hopeful for a moment. Maybe there’s a secret ultimate weapon hidden there that can wipe Yongsheng Temple off the map!

Xianzong lowered his voice to a whisper. “To talk to your mother.”

…Yu Xiaoxiao waited for more. This guy hadn’t spoken to the empress about anything serious when she was alive. Now she’s dead, and now he wants to have deep conversations?

“I’ll have someone escort Wen Fenglin out of the capital. Once he’s past Wangxiang Pass, your mother can strike him down with lightning. Linglong, what do you think?”

…Yu Xiaoxiao turned away. Is this man for real? That’s the genius plan he came up with? Pray for divine retribution?

“She might not listen to me,” Xianzong continued, still plotting, “but she likes you best. You can ask her nicely.”

“She likes me so she’s just gonna… answer me from the afterlife?” Yu Xiaoxiao growled.

“Look, she got mad and thundered down when you disrespected Consort Zhao. And she got mad again over Little Seven. Clearly, she cares about you most.”

Yu Xiaoxiao: …

Gu Xinglang, awakened by his wife’s previous “What!”, was now desperately pretending to still be asleep. But he was suffering. Can someone please knock out my father-in-law? How can someone so stupid be an emperor?

Yu Xiaoxiao, who had no expression as usual, was unreadable. Xianzong, oblivious, continued, “So shall we go to the ancestral temple tomorrow?”

How is anyone supposed to survive in this world with a dad like this?!

Yu Xiaoxiao slammed her palm on the table—shattering it into kindling.

Xianzong looked at the wooden debris with a chill crawling up his neck. Her strength… is the real divine punishment. If that hand had landed on him, he’d be the pile of wood chips.

“My mother’s dead. Let her rest in peace,” Yu Xiaoxiao took a deep breath. “I’ll take care of Wen Fenglin. You don’t need to worry about it.”

Xianzong blinked. “If I don’t worry, who will?”

“Wuhuan’s in the capital,” she said casually. “I just—”

“Wait, wait—who?” Xianzong sat up straight.

“Wuhuan,” she repeated.

“You mean the Grand Preceptor of Zhuri?” Xianzong asked, his voice trembling. No way. No way. Not another one!

“Yep. Wuhuan the national preceptor himself.”

Xianzong wanted to cry. I was already ready to die with Wen Fenglin around. Now Wuhuan’s here too?!

Yu Xiaoxiao looked at him. “What’s with that face? I’m telling you, we don’t need to get involved with Yongsheng Temple anymore.”

Xianzong nearly sobbed. Dead men don’t need to worry about anything, huh?

“Why are you crying again?” Yu Xiaoxiao’s head hurt. They were both human, yet this man was beyond comprehension. “I just saw Wuhuan. He wants Wen Fenglin dead too. Let him do it. We’ll just sit back and watch the—what’s the phrase again—ah, yes. Sit atop the mountain and watch the tigers fight.”

“Wait,” Xianzong said, struggling to catch up. “You saw Wuhuan?”

“Yeah,” Yu Xiaoxiao nodded.

“Where?”

“In the palace,” she said, pointing toward the tall watchtower. “He was on the roof. I followed him out.”

Xianzong glanced out the east window and saw the silhouette of the tower standing tall in the night. He nearly wet himself. “You’re sure he didn’t come to kill me?” The emperor had dropped even his royal “we” in his panic.

“He didn’t kill anyone,” Yu Xiaoxiao patted her father’s stiff shoulder. “Relax.”

“You… why’d you come to the palace in the first place?” Xianzong stammered.

“I met someone named Xiong—”

Cough cough cough cough! Gu Xinglang started hacking up a lung on the bed.

“Xiao Gu?” Yu Xiaoxiao jumped up and ran to him. “What’s wrong?”

“…Water,” Gu Xinglang croaked weakly.

“Hang on!” she dashed to pour him a cup.

Xianzong shrank into the chair, trembling. It’s over. I’m dead. If Wuhuan and Wen Fenglin both die in the capital, that Master Mo Wen will definitely come in person. I’m doomed. I need to reincarnate. Right now.