Reborn Nine Times, the Tyrant Always Wants to Imprison Me - Chapter 17

Just as Fangru was reeling from this sudden change, the iron-like arm around her waist tightened abruptly. Zhou Ling’s scorching chest pressed against her drenched, trembling back, his burning breath once again grazing her sensitive earlobe.

“Seen enough?” His hoarse voice carried traces of lingering desire and a dangerous amusement, as if the one who had lost control and forced that kiss wasn’t him. “Or are you comparing… which is more thrilling? Bathing with me, or being pursued by the Minister of Justice?”

Fangru stiffened, attempting to break free, only to be held even tighter beneath the water.

Surrounding them was utter silence. All guards and palace attendants stood with their backs turned, as if forming an invisible wall that transformed this pool into an isolated prison.

“Your Majesty…” Her voice was strained with humiliation and fury. “Please release me! This behavior is improper!”

“Improper?” Zhou Ling chuckled lowly, his other hand leisurely scooping up water and watching droplets trail down her slender neck into her collar. “My word defines what is proper.” His fingertips lightly traced the pulsating vein on her neck, feeling her uncontrollable tremors. “Where has your courage gone? The boldness to call me a ‘dog emperor’ just moments ago? Hmm?”

He suddenly released his grip on her chin. Just as Fangru thought he would finally let her go, he maintained his embrace from behind, sharply tearing open his own black outer robe and wrapping it around her drenched, revealing figure without hesitation.

The spacious robe instantly enveloped her petite form completely, still carrying his blazing body heat and the rich scent of ambergris—like an inescapable brand.

“Cold?” he murmured by her ear, his tone unreadable, while his arm remained locked around her like an iron band, denying any escape.

Fangru trembled with cold and anger, her teeth chattering, yet she stubbornly refused to show weakness.

Zhou Ling seemed pleased by her state—furious but silenced, completely enveloped by his presence.

Suddenly, he stood up from the pool while holding her!

Water splashed around them. Soaked through, his dark hair dripping, he nonetheless walked steadily, carrying her wrapped in his robe as if displaying a prized trophy, step by step ascending from the pool.

Wherever he passed, all kneeling guards, palace attendants, officials, and noblewomen bowed their heads even lower. No one dared look up at the imperial countenance, much less glance at the woman held tightly in his arms.

“Regarding today’s events,” Zhou Ling’s voice, though not loud, carried clearly to everyone present with undeniable authority, “if a single word leaks out, I will have everyone’s tongues cut out.”

He didn’t look at anyone, his gaze fixed on Fangru’s pale face as she tried to hide within his robe, a cruel tenderness curling his lips. “As for Miss Shen…”

He deliberately paused, feeling the body in his arms tense instantly.

“Disrespect before the emperor, offending the imperial presence. According to law…” He drew out his words, savoring the flash of fear in her eyes before shifting his tone to a deliberate pronouncement. “From today onward, you are confined to the palace, to be personally instructed by the Empress.”

Fangru’s heart plummeted, as if instantly plunged into an icy abyss, a chill penetrating every limb and bone.

Confined to the palace?

These four words exploded in her mind like a curse.

She’s… going down this path again? Memories of her first life—forced into submission, losing everything—surged over her like a tidal wave, nearly suffocating her.

Was it truly impossible to escape this predetermined fate, no matter how hard she struggled? This despairing thought coiled around her heart like a venomous vine, chilling her to the bone.

Yet Zhou Ling gave her no time to drown further in fear.

His arms holding her were steady as bedrock, as if she weighed nothing at all.

After uttering those words, he simply carried her drenched form—completely disregarding palace regulations and etiquette, ignoring her feeble struggles in his embrace that seemed more like coy resistance—and turned to stride decisively toward the nearest palace hall for rest.

His steps were firm and resolute, each footfall radiating unquestionable authority. Wherever he passed, palace maids, guards, and high-ranking officials alike hurriedly knelt with bowed heads, none daring to look directly at him.

Passing by the lush phoenix tree, his footsteps seemed to hesitate almost imperceptibly. His gaze swept indifferently over the foliage behind the tree—leaves that had been trembling from some intense emotion but froze the instant his eyes brushed past.

There was no surprise in that glance, only an icy comprehension that saw through everything, and an absolute sense of control as if all things lay within his grasp. It seemed to say: See clearly, this is my person. I do as I please.

With just that glance, he withdrew his gaze as if it were merely an insignificant interlude, and continued directly toward the brightly lit palace hall, still carrying the delicate figure trembling faintly in his arms.

…

Upon entering the palace, the only thing that could be considered “fortunate” was perhaps Zhou Ling’s eventual concession: Gu Zhou’s execution was temporarily postponed, his life spared for now.

This allowed her heavy heart a slight reprieve.

However, another troublesome matter followed closely on its heels—the Empress’s “personal guidance.”

What made her even more uneasy was that in this life, Zhou Ling had not immediately conferred upon her any imperial consort title.

This seemingly lenient treatment—appearing to grant her a buffer rather than directly defining her status—sounded in Fangru’s ears, who understood the harem’s rules all too well, more alarming than an official edict of appointment!

Having no title meant her current position in the palace was ambiguous—neither master nor servant.

To put it bluntly, she was merely a “minister’s daughter temporarily residing in the palace,” a “guest” dependent on the emperor’s fleeting whim.

Such status, in the deep palace where people fawned on the powerful and trampled the weak, and where rules and decorum were paramount, made her as vulnerable as fish on a chopping block!

If she were already an imperial consort, even if the Empress wished to “guide” her, she would still need to consider palace regulations and the Emperor’s dignity to some extent, preventing her methods from becoming excessively harsh.

Yet her current ambiguous and awkward situation instead gave the Empress greater “room for maneuver.” The Empress could fully leverage her authority as the central palace mistress to “discipline on behalf of” or “teach etiquette,” using these pretexts to torment her. Moreover, her methods could be even more “strict” and “justified,” because disciplining a “rule-ignorant” minister’s daughter was far easier and less likely to invite criticism than punishing a titled consort.

This was absolutely not a good thing! It was clearly placing her in a more fragile and easily manipulated position!

Furthermore, having experienced three previous lifetimes, she knew all too well how this outwardly virtuous and gentle Empress concealed needles in her silken words.

The Empress, born of noble lineage, placed the utmost importance on propriety and decorum. In her previous life, she had secretly harbored resentment toward Zhou Ling due to his excessive favoritism of her.

Although the Empress, constrained by her status as a “favored consort” and the Emperor’s obvious protection, never dared to impose severe punishments directly, those trivial “lessons” and the ever-present constraints of rules were enough to suffocate her.

What left an even deeper impression was that while the Empress never targeted her directly, she always found plausible excuses to make life difficult for those close to her.

She still remembered a young maid named Lingzi, whom she had been particularly fond of. Lingzi was lively and exceptionally skilled at styling hair. Once, after creating a novel and elegant hairstyle that caught Zhou Ling’s attention and earned a casual praise of “how ingenious,” within two days, Lingzi was transferred to the remote Needlework Bureau under the pretext that her hairstyle “violated palace regulations and was overly frivolous.” Though she suffered no physical punishment, she could never return to serve by her side.

Another time, she merely took two extra bites of a sweet soup sent from the Empress’s kitchen—a dish she did not even particularly enjoy—and the Emperor, noticing this, rewarded the chef who made it. Not long after, the chef was accused of “neglecting his duties” and removed from his important position.