Reborn Nine Times, the Tyrant Always Wants to Imprison Me - Chapter 1

The dawn light was faint, the morning hues piercing through the clouds.

It was the seventh day of the seventh month, the liveliest Qixi Festival in the capital. On Vermilion Bird Street, crowds surged, and the calls of vendors rose and fell in waves.

Amid the throng, a young woman in a moon-white ruqun walked with graceful composure. A silver hairpin swayed gently in her dark tresses, making her resemble a pristine lotus swaying in a turbid world.

“Isn’t that Miss Shen, the daughter of the Vice Minister of the Court of Imperial Entertainments?” someone whispered.

“Shh, keep your voice down! She’s already engaged to Registrar Gu!”

Shen Fangru seemed not to hear, merely lowering her gaze to caress the brocade box in her sleeve, which held a string of purple jade prayer beads she had just obtained from her father.

The beads shimmered with a faint purple glow in the morning light, reminding her of the way that person’s eyes lowered when he read.

“Gu Zhou will surely be delighted when he sees this,” she thought, a slight smile curling her lips.

Two years ago, she had taken shelter from the rain at an ancient temple on the outskirts of the city and encountered a scholar so poor he couldn’t even afford paper and ink.

Dressed in a faded blue robe, he held his brush as if it were a sword, each character sharp and striking. On a whim, she left some silver for him and later secretly sent him fine brushes, ink, paper, and inkstones.

The following year, when the spring examination results were announced, Gu Zhou’s name was not on the list.

Shen Fangru stood under the locust tree outside the examination hall, watching him walk slowly through the vermilion gates. He still wore that faded blue robe, his back straight, but his tightly clenched fists betrayed his emotions.

“It’s alright,” she said, handing him a cup of hot tea, her fingertips accidentally brushing against his cold hand. “You can try again next year.”

“There won’t be a next year,” Gu Zhou replied with a bitter smile. “My mother is gravely ill. I must care for her.”

A few days later, in the study of the Shen residence.

“Father!” Shen Fangru knelt on the stone floor. “Haven’t you always said Gu Zhou has the talent to govern the world? Now that the court is promoting filial piety and integrity, why not…”

Her father slammed his teacdown heavily. “Preposterous! Though he is known for his filial piety, he holds no official rank. How is he worthy of you?”

“I’ve heard the Ministry of Rites is seeking exemplary models of filial piety and integrity,” she said, lifting her head, her eyes shining with stubborn determination. “Gu Zhou is devoted to his mother and well-versed in the classics. He is the perfect candidate.”

Unable to resist his beloved daughter’s earnest pleas, her father pondered for a long while before finally sighing. “Very well. Let him enter officialdom on the basis of his filial piety and integrity, starting as a registrar.”

On the day of their engagement, Gu Zhou gently took her hand under the pear tree in the backyard of the Shen residence.

“Why?” he asked, his voice trembling slightly. “I have nothing to offer you now…”

Shen Fangru tied a jade pendant to his waist, her eyes curving into a smile. “Because you are worthy.” She lightly tapped his chest with her fingertip. “Your filial devotion and talent will one day find recognition.”

A spring breeze swept by, scattering pear blossoms from the tree. Gu Zhou suddenly pulled her into an embrace, his voice choked with emotion. “Once I establish myself in the capital, I will marry you with all the proper ceremonies, in the grandest manner.”

Leaning against his shoulder, she watched the fallen petals on the ground and thought, no matter how long the wait, it would be worth it.

Yet, half a year into their engagement, Gu Zhou remained polite and distant toward her.

He would gently hold her hand in public, serve her food and pour her tea at banquets, but he never lingered in her room for even a moment. Today, she had specifically chosen these prayer beads, hoping to hear a sincere word from him.

Suddenly, a commotion broke out ahead.

“Look! Is that… that lord?” someone exclaimed in a hushed voice.

“Shh! Do you value your life? How dare you speak of him?”

Frowning, Shen Fangru glanced over and saw a half-drawn bamboo curtain in a teahouse, behind which a figure in dark robes was faintly visible.

The man’s slender fingers were wrapped around a celadon teacup, his knuckles distinct and his hands looking as if carved from white jade under the sunlight. A simple, antique black jade thumb ring dangled from his wrist.

“I heard he’s traveling incognito and has already dealt with several corrupt officials…”

“More than that! Just the other day, the young master of the Li family in the eastern part of the city merely glanced at him a little too long and was…”

“Shh! He has a fondness for beauty—they say he loves visiting pleasure quarters, even the top courtesan of Drunken Immortal Pavilion…”

The murmurs abruptly ceased.

The sound of a pipa suddenly rose as Su Wanqing, the star courtesan of Drunken Immortal Pavilion, approached, holding a ruanxian. The hem of her pomegranate-red skirt swept over the bluestone pavement as she gracefully bowed before the teahouse. “My lord, I have newly composed ‘Plucking the Laurel Branch.’ May I ask for your esteemed judgment?”

Su Wanqing had deliberately styled her hair in a “flying immortal” bun and applied peach blossom makeup, clearly emulating the famed courtesan Li Shishi, who once captivated the capital.

Who didn’t know that this lord adored romantic tales of talented scholars and celebrated courtesans? If she could catch his eye, perhaps she, too, could leave her name in history like Li Shishi.

A soft chuckle came from behind the bamboo curtain.

The sound was like the gentle chime of a jade qing, clear and resonant, yet tinged with a hint of laziness.

Shen Fangru instinctively paused, only to see the bamboo curtain lifted by a hand with distinct knuckles.

The man turned out to be a youth in his early twenties.

His sword-like eyebrows swept sharply toward his temples, his starry eyes held a hidden authority, his nose was straight and prominent, and his lips were as thin as blades.

Dressed in a black brocade robe that accentuated his broad shoulders and narrow waist, he exuded an air of extraordinary nobility, yet carried an air of casual indifference, as if nothing in the world could capture his attention.

“This lord…” an old man selling sugar figurines nearby suddenly lowered his voice, boasting to those unaware, “Do you know who he is?”

Shen Fangru couldn’t help but lean in to listen.

“The important figures in the capital are either ministers or members of the royal family,” a nearby vendor chimed in.

The old man narrowed his cloudy eyes and whispered, “This noble… I’ve set up my stall in the capital for forty years and seen many high officials and nobles. But one with such presence… only… only…” He swallowed his words and meaningfully added, “Everyone should be careful with what they say.”

Shen Fangru gazed at the profile of the man in black inside the teahouse and couldn’t help but take a few more glances.

He truly possessed striking features—sharp contours, vivid and intense facial features, and an innate charm in his every gesture. With such looks and demeanor, it was no wonder Su Wanqing had taken the initiative to perform for him.

“Such a person…” she mused to herself, “really does seem like a noble son of some prince or marquis.”

Although rumors often circulated about the emperor traveling incognito, the man before her… Shen Fangru shook her head slightly.

Though she had never seen the emperor in person, her father had told her that the current sovereign was of a violent temperament, quick to have palace servants beaten to death. The man before her, however, clearly had the air of a frivolous and carefree playboy.

As she pondered, the man suddenly turned his head, his gaze directly meeting hers.

Shen Fangru’s heart skipped a beat, and she hurriedly averted her eyes. She could still hear the old man behind her muttering, “I’ve personally witnessed the grandeur of the late emperor’s incognito travels—the spectacle…”

“Old sir, be cautious with your words,” Shen Fangru couldn’t help but softly remind him, her fingers unconsciously rubbing the Buddhist beads on her wrist. “It is a grave offense to speak recklessly of the imperial family.” Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the man in black curl the corners of his lips slightly, his slender fingers leisurely twirling the teacup. There was not a trace of offense in his demeanor.

If he were truly that tyrant, would he tolerate such discussions among the common people?

As she mulled it over, the sound of the pipa suddenly rose again from within the teahouse.

Su Wanqing held the ruanxian gracefully as she bowed, her eyes shimmering with coquettish charm. “My lord, what a coincidence—this ‘Zhegui Ling’ came to me in a dream last night. In the dream, I saw a gentleman in black standing beneath the moonlight, bearing a striking resemblance to you.” Her fingers drifted lightly over the strings, plucking out a cascade of clear notes. “It must be fate that guided me to present this melody to you.”

The man in black paused, his fingers stilling.
“‘Zhegui Ling’?” His voice was languid, yet it instantly hushed the surroundings. “Do you know what this tune is about, Miss Su?”

A flicker of delight crossed Su Wanqing’s face as her slender fingers danced across the strings. “My lord, it speaks of plucking the laurel in the Moon Palace—the joy of achieving top honors in the imperial examinations.”

“Wrong.” The man suddenly leaned forward, his dark sleeves sweeping across the table and stirring a faint, cool breeze of sandalwood. Su Wanqing’s fingers trembled violently, nearly knocking over the teacup.

He chuckled softly, his voice lowered yet each word distinct, like ice beads striking a jade plate—audible only to Shen Fangru, Su Wanqing, and a few others nearby. “It tells the story… of a failed scholar, deluded by ambition, reaching for the moon in the sky, only to… fall and shatter into pieces.”

Shen Fangru’s heart jolted, an indescribable chill shooting up her spine.
A failed scholar? The moon in the sky? The imagery unmistakably alluded to her and Gu Zhou!

Gu Zhou was indeed a scholar who had failed the imperial exams, and his family background was worlds apart from the Shen residence. He had even been privately mocked by some as “delusional”…

But the thought vanished as quickly as it came, dismissed firmly by her own reasoning.
Impossible. Absolutely impossible.

Though rumors swirled about her and Gu Zhou, how could an outsider know the details so precisely? Moreover, she was certain she had never laid eyes on this imposing man in black before. Why would he inexplicably know of her private affairs and choose this moment to mock her indirectly?

It must be her own unsettled state of mind, she concluded, her anxiety over Gu Zhou making her read too much into his words.

Shen Fangru took a quiet breath, forcing herself to remain calm, treating his words as nothing more than an unrelated, biting tale.

Su Wanqing, however, was far from composed.
She froze momentarily, then, as she digested the metaphor of the “failed scholar reaching for the moon,” combined with the man’s undisguised scornful gaze, her face drained of color, turning deathly pale.

“Yet, with such beauty as yours, Miss Su…” The man leisurely lifted her chin with his folding fan, a hint of mockery flashing in his peach-blossom eyes. “You remind this official of an old saying.”

The onlookers held their breath. Everyone knew this lord had an eye for beauty—it seemed Su Wanqing was about to rise to great heights!

He leaned in abruptly and uttered, “Dong Shi imitating a frown.”

The room erupted in gasps and murmurs!

Su Wanqing stiffened, her crimson-lacquered nails digging deep into her palms.
Finally, she understood: in this lord’s eyes, her attire, modeled after a famed courtesan of a bygone era, was nothing but a clown’s performance!

Poor Su Wanqing’s pretty face flushed bright red, tears welling in her eyes.

The man, however, had already lazily reclined in his chair again, casually tossing a piece of broken silver at her feet. “A reward for you. Cry louder.”

The crowd stared in stunned silence before bursting into raucous laughter.

Humiliated and enraged, Su Wanqing could no longer hold back her tears. Shen Fangru frowned, retrieving an embroidered handkerchief from her sleeve and passing it through the crowd to her.

“Last month at Drunken Immortal Pavilion, I had the pleasure of hearing the young lady’s performance of ‘Spring River Flower Moon Night’ on the pipa,” she said softly, yet clearly. “It truly lives up to the praise of ‘large and small pearls falling on a jade plate.’”

Zhou Ling raised an eyebrow, watching the scene with keen interest.

Shen Fangru, however, remained composed and neither humble nor pushy. She replied gently, “The Qixi Festival banquet is approaching. If Miss Su continues to weep, I fear she may miss the time for her performance.”

Her words were clever—they preserved Su Wanqing’s dignity while subtly reminding her of more pressing matters.

The surrounding laughter gradually subsided, and even Zhou Ling’s eyes flickered with surprise.

Just as Shen Fangru was about to turn and leave, a sudden chill brushed her wrist.

Looking down, she saw that the string of amethyst prayer beads had inexplicably snapped, scattering dozens of beads across the ground with a clatter.

Flustered, she crouched to gather them, only to notice the most translucent bead rolling away toward the teahouse.

“Young lady, wait.”

A clear, resonant voice came from the teahouse.

Shen Fangru looked up and saw a man in dark robes bending down to pick up the amethyst bead that had rolled to his feet.

Sunlight filtered through the bamboo blinds, casting dappled shadows across his slender fingers. The amethyst bead glowed with an eerie light in his palm.

“This bead…” He rolled it between his fingertips, then raised an eyebrow. “It’s quite rare.”

Shen Fangru’s heart skipped a beat.

These amethyst beads were tribute from the Western Regions—something ordinary people would hardly recognize.

Maintaining her composure, she curtsied gracefully. “Thank you, sir. It’s merely a common ornament, hardly worth—”

“Western amethyst, mined from the peaks of the Kunlun Snow Mountains,” the man said as he stepped closer. “It takes three years to yield just one hu. Even during the late emperor’s reign, it was considered tribute.” He suddenly held the bead up to the sunlight. “What’s even more remarkable…”

Under the light, intricate patterns emerged on the amethyst bead—a finely carved seated Buddha.

Gasps of astonishment rose around them.

Shen Fangru, however, tightened her grip on her sleeve. Even her father was unaware of the hidden Buddha carving.

“Young lady, do you know the origin of these prayer beads?” the man asked with a faint, ambiguous smile.

Shen Fangru’s gaze shifted, and she caught a glimpse of the dragon-patterned jade pendant half-hidden at his waist.

In that instant, she recalled what her father had once told her about the characteristics of imperial gifts. Combined with the old man’s earlier gossip…

“To answer your question, sir,” she replied with a deliberate curtsy, raising her voice slightly, “these beads were a gift from an old friend of my father’s. That gentleman once accompanied an envoy to the Western Regions and was particularly fond of…”

She paused intentionally and, as expected, noticed a flicker of strangeness in the man’s eyes.

The Western Regions envoys had arrived at court precisely three years ago, during the new emperor’s ascension.

“Interesting,” the man chuckled softly. With a flick of his finger, he sent the amethyst bead flying through the air. “Catch.”

Shen Fangru hastily reached out, but the bead traced a gleaming purple arc and seemed destined to hit the ground. Instinctively, she lunged forward, only to trip over the hem of her skirt and stumble headlong.

At the critical moment, a strong, slender arm suddenly wrapped around her waist.

The scent of sinking incense enveloped her, and the amethyst bead landed perfectly on the part of her robe pressed against her chest.

“Young lady, this is…” a low, teasing voice murmured by her ear. “…throwing yourself into my arms?”

Shen Fangru hurriedly steadied herself but realized his hand still rested lightly on her waist.

The amethyst bead was wedged in the overlapping folds of her robe, trembling slightly with her rapid breaths. As she reached to retrieve it, her fingertips accidentally brushed against the back of his hand, which had not yet withdrawn.

Both of them froze simultaneously.

“My apologies for the impropriety,” she said, hastily stepping back half a pace. Yet she noticed the man leisurely picking up the purple jade bead, his thumb gently stroking the spot she had just touched.

“No matter,” he replied, returning the bead to her, his gaze lingering on the flushed tips of her ears. “This official finds it… rather intriguing.”

Just as Shen Fangru reached to take the bead, a gentle breeze swept by. The man’s fingertip lightly brushed against her palm, startling her so much she nearly dropped the bead again. In this ambiguous standoff, hurried footsteps approached from afar.

“Fangru!”

Gu Zhou rushed over, his moon-white sleeves standing out prominently in the crowd. A light sheen of sweat on his forehead revealed he had been searching for her for some time. When his eyes fell upon the figure in black robes, his steps abruptly halted, the color draining from his face.

“Your humble servant…” Gu Zhou’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he instinctively moved to perform a formal bow, but just as his knees began to bend, a suddenly unfolded fan stopped him.

“There’s no need for such courtesy, Lord Gu,” the man said with a slight turn of his wrist, the characters “Clear Breeze, Bright Moon” on the fan surface now visible between the three of them. “This official merely happened upon Miss Shen and exchanged a few words.”

So this man truly was the current Emperor. Fangru’s heart raced with alarm, yet she feigned innocence as she turned to Gu Zhou. “This official is quite knowledgeable—he even recognized this Western Region amethyst.”

Gu Zhou gave her a complicated look and murmured, “Lord Zhou is erudite and talented, naturally…”

“What intrigues me,” Zhou Ling interrupted suddenly, “is why a clever girl like Miss Shen would choose the Qixi Festival to present prayer beads?” His meaningful glance fell upon the brocade box in her hands. “Could it be… some discord with your beloved?”

The question was pointed.

Yet Shen Fangru remained unflustered as she opened the box. “Your Excellency sees clearly. These prayer beads are for my aunt. The seventh day of the seventh month is not only the Qixi Festival but also my aunt’s fiftieth birthday.” She deliberately revealed another string of white jade prayer beads in the box. “This pair of purple and white beads symbolizes the auspicious omens of ‘purple air from the east, white-haired harmony in unity’—a gift I intend for my dear Gu Zhou.”

Zhou Ling laughed heartily at her words. “What fine ‘purple air from the east’!” He suddenly leaned closer, whispering into Shen Fangru’s ear, “I look forward to seeing what other surprises Miss Shen might bring at the Xuanji Banquet three days from now.”

In the Xia Kingdom, the annual Qixi Banquet on the seventh day of the seventh month was the most esteemed event for noble young ladies.

This banquet, elegantly named the “Xuanji Banquet” after the phrase “the Jade Balance of the Ursa Major, to regulate the seven administrations,” was hosted in rotation by prominent noble families of the capital.

The most anticipated segment was undoubtedly the dance competition among the noble maidens.

These meticulously choreographed dances not only displayed each young lady’s talent and grace but also held deeper implications. The winner would not only be featured in aristocratic publications like New Songs from the Jade Terrace but was also rumored to secure a place in the Xuanji Records, a registry documenting notable noblewomen.

This year’s Xuanji Banquet attracted particular attention.

Whispers circulated that while the banquet was ostensibly hosted by the Prefect, its true purpose was to select consorts for the tyrant ruler. After all, three years had passed since the new Emperor’s ascension without any offspring in the rear palace, leaving court officials growing restless.

Zhou Ling’s words, soft as a mosquito’s hum, sent a chill down Shen Fangru’s spine.

By the time she collected herself, the figure in black had vanished around the street corner, leaving only a few dried leaves swirling in the wind.

“Fangru, are you alright?” Gu Zhou gently pried open her tightly clenched fist, speaking softly, “On this Qixi Festival, shall I take you to float river lanterns?”

His fingertips were warm and dry, yet Shen Fangru stared blankly at the Buddhist beads in her palm.

Gu Zhou’s gaze inadvertently fell upon her flushed earlobe, the scene from moments ago resurfacing in his mind—Zhou Ling leaning close to whisper in her ear, his slender fingers brushing faintly against her hair strands.

“Fangru…” Gu Zhou’s Adam’s apple moved slightly, his voice deeper than usual. He recalled the meaningful gaze the Emperor had fixed upon Fangru, remembered the instant their fingertips touched when she received the amethyst beads, and an unprecedented ache surged in his chest.

“In three days, the Governor’s residence will host the Xuanji Banquet.” Gu Zhou suddenly lowered his voice, his knuckles unconsciously tightening. “His Majesty… will also attend.”

Shen Fangru looked up and noticed a flicker of shadow in Gu Zhou’s typically jade-like gentle eyes. After hesitating briefly, he finally sighed softly: “Fangru… could you not attend this banquet?”

“Why?” Shen Fangru deliberately blinked, “I’ve prepared for so long, just waiting to win the dance competition.”

Gu Zhou’s brow furrowed deeply, his slender fingers unconsciously stroking her wrist: “Earlier, the way His Majesty looked at you…” The words reached his lips but were swallowed back, transforming into a bitter smile.

Shen Fangru’s heart skipped a beat, yet she feigned innocence with a light laugh: “Is my Gu Zhou jealous?” She leaned close to his ear, her breath fragrant as orchids, “But my heart belongs only to you.”

Gu Zhou’s breath hitched as he suddenly pulled her into his embrace. His lips brushed her earlobe, his voice hoarse: “Promise me you won’t go.”

Feeling his frantic heartbeat, Shen Fangru finally responded gently: “Alright.”