EMPEROR

ZHU XIZONG, EMPEROR OF CHINA. the devil's in the details, but you got a friend in me. would it be enough if I could never give you peace? your integrity makes me seem small, you paint dreamscapes on the wall...

[xizcng]

What if...Xizong had children who did not annoy him? ;D

𝑾𝑯𝑨𝑻 𝑰𝑭 𝑴𝑬𝑴𝑬   \    accepting   !

well, this is a complicated answer, because xizong loves his children –– if there are any faults within them, he blames himself for it. that all his children were born from the purest and most unadulterated of loves causes him to feel it was his own error, his own faulty fathering, that produced such vain, proud, ungrateful creatures ... he seeks to put his children on a path of righteousness and conscientious humility, but some way or another, he feels he has let them down just as much as they, occasionally, let him down with their bickering. still, xizong loves his children: he loves yicheng’s infectious laugh, the puzzled expressions that etch across wen’s face when he is deep in reflection, zhao’s charisma, lijuan’s cheshire cat smile. he wouldn’t trade them for the world; it’s his own ineffectuality he finds fault with.

[xizcng]

✨ & 🍪. chinese!

𝑻𝑯𝑹𝑬𝑬 (3) 𝑪𝑯𝑶𝑰𝑪𝑬𝑺   \    accepting   !

✨ : summon, banish, absorb.

summon: jianjun, jingfei. banish: yicheng, liqin, prince of han. absorb: zhao, wen, ehuang.

🍪 : make cookies for, make a five-course meal for, burn all their food.

make cookies for: his babies! make a five-course meal for: jingfei, ehuang. burn all their food: prince of han.

[xizcng]

phcenixempress​:

closed starter for @xizcng​ (Zhu Xizong) location: château de Fontainebleau 

Tireless, determined – the empress had difficulties sleeping ever since arriving in France. While this would usually be an issue for others, Jingfei powered through always keeping her son in mind. Alliances with the west would help in stabilizing the line of succession and, backed up by Europe, create an undeniable claim to the throne. The empress worked with an unmatched focus for her goals, leaving almost no time for other matters. She eventually dropped ink over the edge of her notes, ruining the paper but luckily not her private thoughts written down. Was this a sign for her to find comfort and relaxation in the arms of her husband? It was past twelve o’clock by now. Most were asleep by now and would awake in less than six hours to pick up where they’d left off. 

The empress stood up from her study and signaled for the servants to open her door. Leaving her chamber she moved through the almost empty castle towards her husband’s chamber, hoping he’d be alone, and awake, at such an hour. Two scenarios that weren’t that unlikely, but the empress didn’t falter. Instead, she knocked once, then again, to see if anyone would open. “My love,” Jingfei placed her hand flat against the door. “I cannot sleep without by my side,” Jingfei confessed, a white lie, really, but then again the truth. She did have troubles sleeping without him by her side. 

As the inky gauze of midnight ensnared the Parisian court, reducing the Emperor’s vision to variegated shades of turquoise and indigo, the evening’s serenity and unorthodox quiet provided the balm for earnest prayers to abscond from Xizong’s lips. Chants fell from his tongue as his hands, thumb and forefinger pinched, descended to rest upon his knees; roosted there as if his body was forged from stone, akin to the ancient statues standing vigil before the impregnable fortifications of the Forbidden City. And, indeed, Xizong believed himself to be those statues, a fu-lion licking its paws and whetting its claws at the steps of the Taimiao, terracotta soldiers bearing everlasting witness. Meditation stoked the flames of inner-peace the Emperor desperately craved, rendering his disquietude still, his conceit in servile, supine humility, lips crooked into a flattened grimace that heightened as he felt heaven’s blessings wrap him in its cloak of protective incantations. Flesh, devoid of the indications of age and the millstones and burdens of kingship, smooth and unperturbed. 

Windows swung wide open, agape and yawning like the Dragon’s mouth, the evening’s swirling winds caused delicate voiles to flutter, flitting between the balcony and the comfort of the Emperor’s chamber as they tickled the tip of his nose. He pried his eyes ajar, lips suspiciously parted, demeanour askance. It was then that heaven’s own mouthpiece beckoned him, slipping like a scarlet letter beneath the thick oak doors that guarded the meditative ruler. Another, albeit no less holy, form of warmth bedeviled him, taken hostage in his braying veins: love. His bones crackled like the spit of the hearth as he arose from his cross-legged prayer, a nod directed toward the eunuchs who glided to grant the Empress entrance. Xizong, himself, remained rooted to the luxurious Turkish carpet beneath his feet, wool a soft velveteen beneath his arched soles. ❛ 心肝. ❜  He intones his treasured term of endearment for Jingfei: equal parts affectionate and indecipherable. My heart and liver. An unbecoming appellation for an Empress, but like those organs pumping ichor within his body––displaying endless servitude to the soul that ruled them––he could not sustain life without her. His thumb rises to brush against the whiteness of her cheek, relishing in the spray of rouge that rose to the surface of her skin in response to his now, doubtlessly, familiar touch.

❛  The solution is easy. Do not.  ❜  He bends to bestow a kiss upon her forehead, dismissing the guards who trailed her into his apartments. ❛ Jia, Empress? Come, sit, I long for your opinion on our European hosts.  ❜

[xizcng]

location & setting: château de fontainbleau.

open to: all. 

The sweet-scent of persimmons dangling precariously from withered branches retraced the annals of the Emperor’s life, returning his senses to the bloom of infancy. In one graceful movement, Xizong lifted his arm to grasp one of the blood-orange blossoms in his hand, unable to resist as it nested pensile above: both firm and springy between his fingers, dimpling beneath the pad of his thumb. It reminded him, such as the rush of the Lancang reminded the Emperor of heaven’s replenishing righteousness, of his childhood––when his father had been Emperor, and his imperial court installed in the Ming Palace, where persimmons drooped low enough for Xizong and his brothers to snatch up in their mitts. That had been long before Xizong, in the style of his grandfather, established his government in Beijing. He shined the ripe fruit against the silk toile of his habit, softly grinning in the sheen of his own reflection. If his own vivid recollections would not remind him that much time had passed, the creases stamped around his eyelids proved eager to. 

❛  Many among us will denounce persimmons as being sharp and bitter to the taste, unworthy of consumption.  ❜  Privy to the rustle of footfalls behind him, however faint they may be, Xizong cleaved the serenity of silence that ensconced his bountiful garden with wistful commentary. It had been one of his numerous prerequisites to the French King: propagate a garden in my name, and the Emperor’s warm presence will distinguish your beloved Paris. Overwhelmingly, the scent of fruit abounded, fresh citrus, mild jade, joining together to foster an atmosphere of saccharine tranquility, gently undulated by the February breeze. It was such a fragrance as to be detected by any who beckoned the Emperor at the foothills of the Château de Fontainbleau, a palatial residence heretofore scented with intemperance and vanity alone. Now, perfumed with life in its purest bounty. 

❛  Yet, that is not entirely true––they symbolize transformation and enlightenment. An unripe persimmon’s foul taste represents ignorance, but as the fruit matures, it will become sweet; such as the wisdom that follows transformation. If one is willing to wait to savor them, the boons of its sweetness may become irresistible. ❜  As if becoming aware of the set of eyes warming on his collar, the Emperor turned to greet his guest with an affable smile; awaiting the reason behind their presence, his address was as forbearing as it was inquisitive.  ❛ Forgive me, have you been waiting long? ❜

[xizcng]

HU GE, 45, ZHU XIZONG. ❝ ⤚⟶ EUROPE, 1459. thanks is given by the EMPEROR OF CHINA, ZHU XIZONG, from CHINA. they are at best BENEVOLENT, and at their worst ACQUISITIVE. whilst abroad, their ambition is to EXPAND CHINA’S BORDERS AND CREATE LASTING TIES WITH EUROPEAN NATIONS. HE seem/s to remind everyone of HU GE & THE SPIRIT OF A SCHOLAR AS LOFTY AS BAMBOO, THE GNARLED PINE TREE, HEAVENLY BENEFICENCE WITHIN THE DRAGON’S EYES.  ❞ penned by DANJI.

hello my good friends !! i know xizong has been a long awaited character ... and i hope my humble interpretation does not disappoint, bc i’m very excited to play him. my introduction is extensive, so here’s the sparknotes version:

sent into exile as a young boy. his mom liked to cause #drama as his father’s concubine, and there was always murder and danger afoot in the emperor’s imperial court. 

took a sweet lil concubine when he was 14, and his mother was regent. they had a daughter, but his promise to be monogamous to said consort caused high-ranking officials, presumably in the pockets of the dowager, to consolidate their power against her; tw: suicide, she dies, and their daughter is sent into exile. 

his grief is eventually broken by jingfei, who he takes as his empress. they have xianmin, the crown prince, together soon thereafter. 

dedicated, honourable, and benevolent ruler and father. very open and empathetic to european trade and negotiations! slow to anger, has incredible patience, and is overall just tryna’ establish peace in his empire.

his ideal modern verse is one in which he has no kids and can read overrated white man books written in the 20th century in taiwan while sipping overpriced coffee with little foam decorations in it ... don’t get me wrong, he loves his babies, but y’all are HANDFULS. 

LINK TO COMPLETE INTRODUCTION.