The Villains Must Win-Chapter 27: Han Feng

As Han Feng left the chamber, the scent of incense faded behind him, replaced by the memory of Xue Li’s shy smile. And in that moment, he realized that power and legacy, once his greatest desires, now paled in comparison to the simple joy of being loved by one woman who saw him not as an emperor, but as a man.

Amid the chaos, a quiet figure stood at the side, observing everything with calm detachment—Xin Yu, one of the palace’s trusted officials and Han Feng’s right hand man.

He sighed inwardly at the foolishness of those who dared to deceive the emperor. Time and again, such attempts had only led to ruin. Had they not yet learned that Han Feng was not a man to be trifled with?

Yet, as Xin Yu reflected on the emperor’s ruthless nature, a fleeting thought crossed his mind—a thought that made him pause. Perhaps . . . there was one woman who could deceive the emperor and escape unscathed. Perhaps there was one exception to Han Feng’s iron will.

His lips curved into a faint smile, though he said nothing. After all, there was no need to name her. Everyone in the palace knew that Xue Li was unlike any other.

And perhaps . . . perhaps even the emperor himself had come to realize that she alone held the power to move his heart in ways no one else could.

Han Feng, unaware of Xin Yu’s musings, strode out of Concubine Qing’s chambers, his long robes sweeping behind him like the tail of a dragon. His mind had already discarded the events of the morning, for it was once again consumed by a singular thought—Xue Li.

Nothing else mattered. Not the palace politics, not the cries of the fallen concubine. Only her. The woman who had managed, with nothing more than a shy confession, to fill his heart with warmth amidst the cold halls of the imperial palace.

=== 🖤 ===

Months passed, and in that time, Liang Wei and Rui Hua had finally met. As Xue Li had predicted, the news of their engagement reached even the farthest corners of the Empire of Han.

The whispers and rumors spread like wildfire, but Xue Li was unperturbed. Her plan had went according to plan, and the success of her strategies was already evident. The food rations, the grain storage, and the subsidies for the farmers had all come to fruition, improving the lands and securing enough sustenance for the coming harsh winter. The people were no longer in danger of starvation, and the Empire had prospered.

With Rui Hua now irrelevant to her future, the noblemen no longer needed to resort to desperate measures, such as kidnapping Rui Hua to claim the Liang lands to secure food. It was now time to turn her focus to the future—the wedding that would bind her to Han Feng.

At first, the announcement that Han Feng would marry a common maid as his main wife had caused an uproar. The court was filled with voices of protest, with many questioning the Emperor’s choice. How could a mere maid ascend to the highest station in the land?

But as night fell, something shifted. The protests stopped abruptly, and by morning, most of those who had been so vocal in their objections had been found lifeless in their beds, unaware of why they had perished.

The remaining side of the court, who had argued that there was no formal rule forbidding Xue Li’s ascension to the position of Wang Fei, found their status elevated.

And thus, those voices, once filled with defiance, now echoed with submission. The Emperor had made his will clear, and the wedding preparations proceeded without further opposition.

It was a spectacle of power, and nothing short of the villain of this story. Xue Li could not suppress a smirk as she was dressed by the servants.

The wedding was scheduled for the following month to allow for meticulous preparations. Han Feng had spared no expense—he had left no quarters untended.

For an entire month, the Han Empire would celebrate, tax-free, as the Emperor paid double to his people who contributed to the wedding arrangements. But more than that, Han Feng had secured a vast amount of food and wine from neighboring kingdoms for the occasion and decreed that the common people would receive free food for an entire month.

The Empire rejoiced, their voices ringing with merriment as they reveled in the generosity of their Emperor.

The people celebrated the union, but none so fervently as the Emperor himself. The engagement of Liang Wei and Rui Hua, which had once caused such a stir, now paled in comparison.

While Liang Wei was merely the crown prince with limited power, Han Feng was an Emperor, unshackled by rules or constraints, capable of bending the very fabric of the Empire to his will.

Yet, there was more to this lavish display of generosity than met the eye. Han Feng’s lavish acts were not only out of benevolence—they were strategic. By fulfilling the desires of the people, he ensured their loyalty, and in turn, the protection of Xue Li’s position as his main wife.

He even publicly acknowledged that it was Xue Li who had devised the strategies for the food storage, the subsidies for the farmers, and the tax exemptions. Her clever ideas had won the hearts of the common people, making her a figure beloved by the masses. freёwebnoѵel.com

But as with any great shift in power, there were whispers in the shadows. Behind closed doors, not everyone shared in the celebration. Among them was Concubine Yue Lan, her resentment simmering beneath the surface.

While the rest of the court basked in the Emperor’s generosity, she and the other concubines could not quell the bitterness rising within her heart.

How dare Xue Li—lowborn, unrefined—take her place as the Emperor’s main wife? She was the daughter of a powerful duke, the highest-ranking among the concubines, and everyone had assumed that she would be the one to claim the position of Wang Fei.

Her lineage and status made it almost inevitable in the eyes of the court. Yet, fate had other plans, and it was Xue Li—a common maid—who had captured the Emperor’s heart and ascended to the throne as his main wife.

Her jealousy festered, and she began to weave her own quiet schemes.

In the palace, power was a fragile thing, easily lost and just as easily claimed by another. And Concubine Yue Lan was not one to let go of what she believed was rightfully hers.