Reencarnei como o Imperador Xian: Vou prolongar a dinastia Han por mais trezentos anos

In the first year of Xingping, on the thirteenth day of the first month, Chang'an lay under a grim, killing stillness.

A heavy snowfall had fallen the night before, and the branches of the locust trees lining the streets were laden with thick white rime, looking from afar like soldiers wrapped in funeral hemp.

In front of the main hall of the Weiyang Palace, bronze phoenix roof tiles dripped with three-foot icicles. Beneath the eaves, golden bells hung motionless in the biting wind, as though even sound itself had been frozen by the winter.

The fourteen-year-old Emperor Xian, Liu Xie, sat upright upon the gilded imperial throne in the Bright Hall, the twelve strands of white jade beads on his crown utterly still in the morning light.

He lifted his gaze slightly and, through the swaying jade pendants, saw the blinding white glare reflected from the snow outside the hall.

When he had been forced to take the throne at the age of nine by Dong Zhuo, he had been moved with Dong Zhuo to Chang'an.

Four years after ascending the throne, after the turmoil stirred by Dong Zhuo and the havoc in Chang'an wrought by Li Jue and Guo Si, Liu Xie, as a puppet emperor, still carried within him boundless ambition, but reality was merciless. He was a sovereign in name only, with neither power nor troops, dwelling in only a few chambers and attended by a handful of palace eunuchs and young maidservants.

The only blessing was that Fu Shou remained at his side, someone with whom he could exchange the ordinary talk of home and hearth; yet