Reborn Nine Times, the Tyrant Always Wants to Imprison Me - Chapter 19

In the imperial study, the emperor was reviewing memorials.

It had long been an unspoken exception in the palace for him to allow Fangru to remain in this heavily guarded place where confidential matters were handled.

At this moment, Fangru was not standing respectfully like an ordinary maid. Instead, she was seated on the rosewood divan by the window, draped with soft satin, with a plate of chestnut cakes she had recently taken a liking to placed on the small table beside her.

She lowered her eyes, trying to shrink into an invisible presence, hoping the emperor would completely overlook her existence.

She had been forced to become this caged bird only because her fiancé was falsely accused of colluding with the Northern Di and imprisoned. Every time she stepped into the Qianqing Palace felt like a slow, torturous death to her.

All she wished for was that the emperor would never touch her.

The crisp sound of the vermilion brush being set down was startlingly loud in the silent hall.

Fangru’s fingertips trembled.

Zhou Ling lifted his gaze, his eyes resting on her like a tangible weight, filled with scrutiny and an unmistakable possessiveness.

He did not speak immediately, merely watching her as if admiring a rare treasure. This silence was more unnerving than any command.

“Come here,” he finally said, his voice low and tinged with laziness, yet carrying an undeniable authority.

Fangru took a deep breath and slowly stepped forward as instructed.

Before she could steady herself, he suddenly reached out, wrapped an arm around her waist, and pulled her off-balance, causing her to stumble and fall into his lap.

“Your Majesty…” she gasped, her hands instinctively pressing against his firm chest. The warmth and strength of his body burned through the fabric of his robes.

“Shh.” His fingertips brushed her lips, silencing her unspoken words.

His gaze remained locked on her, his deep eyes swirling with undisguised desire and the playful amusement of a cat toying with a mouse.

He knew she was afraid. He knew she was unwilling. Yet this seemed only to fuel his urge to control and conquer.

“The memorials today are tedious,” he murmured. “I’d rather look at you.”

His fingers moved from her lips and began leisurely unfastening the buttons of her collar.

His movements were not rushed; they were even elegant. Yet every slight touch carried a scorching intent.

His cool fingertips occasionally grazed the warm skin of her neck, raising goosebumps.

Fangru’s body stiffened, her heart pounding like a drum. Still, she forced herself to relax, even tilting her head back slightly to expose the vulnerable curve of her neck.

Disgust churned in her stomach, but she could only close her eyes and endure the humiliating flames his fingers ignited across her skin.

His kisses fell on her collarbone, biting and possessive.

She could feel the tension in the muscles beneath his dragon robes and hear his breathing growing increasingly ragged.

Humiliation and a forced, unwilling physical response intertwined, pushing her to the brink of collapse.

The air in the hall grew thick and scorching, saturated with the scent of desire.

Just as his large hand slipped inside her robes, gripping her slender waist, poised to go further, the urgent voice of a eunuch from outside the hall abruptly shattered the suffocating atmosphere.

“Your Majesty! Urgent news! The leader of the Qingmu Branch of the White Sun Society has been captured and is being held outside the palace gates, awaiting interrogation!”

Zhou Ling’s movements halted abruptly.

The weight and heat of Zhou Ling pressing against Fangru remained, but the aura of sensual immersion instantly cooled.

Fangru could even clearly feel the sudden tension and shift in the muscles of his body.

In the previous three lifetimes… no, in the previous three lifetimes, he would never have stopped at such a moment.

He always had to indulge to his heart’s content before ceasing.

Fangru’s heart sank abruptly, replaced by a profound sense of shock and an indescribable vigilance that overshadowed her earlier despair.

He propped himself up, casting a complex gaze at her.

The tide of passion in his eyes had not fully receded, yet it was already overlaid with sharp, icy calculation.

Without hesitation, he withdrew, casually pulling over the neatly folded bright yellow dragon robe from nearby and draping it over her nearly half-naked, trembling body.

“Stay,” his command was brief and forceful, having regained the absolute composure of an emperor. Yet, before rising, his fingertips seemed to unconsciously brush lightly against her flushed cheek—a fleeting touch carrying a tenderness that bordered on cruelty.

The palace door opened and closed, and the low murmur of his conversation with the eunuch attendant faintly reached her ears.

The immense turn of events set Fangru’s heart racing wildly.

The White Sun Society? A branch leader? Was this related to the shadowy infiltrator at the Xuanji Banquet? Could this be… a sliver of hope?

Driven by the overwhelming possibility, she almost held her breath, tightened the dragon robe around her, and barefoot, slipped silently behind the screen like a cat, straining to listen to the conversation outside.

“…Greenwood Altar… confessed… Xuanji Banquet…”

The fragmented words made her blood run cold.

Suddenly, the screen before her was yanked open!

Zhou Ling had returned and now stood before her, his tall figure casting an intangible, oppressive shadow that completely enveloped her.

His eyes were unfathomable, revealing no emotion, yet they instantly made her feel as if she had fallen into an icy abyss.

Fangru’s face turned deathly pale, and she instinctively stepped back, only to have her wrist seized firmly by him.

His grip was strong, hurting her, but the next moment, his other hand caressed her panicked cheek, his thumb gently wiping away a tear she hadn’t realized had fallen.

The gesture was tender, but his gaze was piercing.

“Did you hear what you wanted?” he asked.

She stood rigid, her mind blank, scrambling for an excuse to deflect.

But he suddenly let out a low chuckle, the sound devoid of discernible emotion, instead carrying a strange hint of… indulgence?

“This time, it was my fault,” he leaned in, coming extremely close, his warm breath once again brushing her lips, his tone almost apologetic. “The mood was perfect, yet I left you to attend to official matters.”

His thumb traced her lower lip again, his eyes darkening. “So, this time, I won’t hold your eavesdropping against you.”

His fingers slid downward, gently lifting her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze.

In those imperial eyes, the storm had momentarily subsided, leaving behind a more heart-palpitating tolerance born of absolute control.

“But, Fangru, remember, my patience and leniency end here. Let it not happen again.”

The dragon robe still hung loosely around her, the cool, silky satin carrying the lingering scent of sinking incense and ambergris he had left behind, mingling with the warmth of unresolved desire, clinging tightly to her skin like an invisible yet unyielding shackle, more profoundly declaring his absolute possession than any harsh words ever could.

His low, lingering words, “Just this once,” echoed repeatedly in her ears. Rather than a cold warning, it felt more like the beginning of a dangerous permission… one granted as an exception solely for her.

A secret defiance began to take root in her heart.

So, Fangru would dare to do it again.

Seizing an interval when Zhou Ling had gone to the training grounds, she slipped into the imperial study—the symbolic heart of power—like the most cautious nocturnal creature.

Her fingers flew over stacks of documents, her heart pounding like a drum, as she searched for any possible clues related to the White Sun Society’s ambush plan at the Xuanji Banquet.

Just as she was fully absorbed, an entirely unexpected discovery abruptly caught her eye!

The Shadowless One… was actually…

“Found what you were looking for?”

A low, familiar voice sounded unexpectedly at the door, startling Fangru nearly out of her wits.

She spun around, her fingers clutching the document tightly.

Zhou Ling leaned against the doorframe, watching her. It was impossible to tell how long he had been there.

He wasn’t in military attire, merely dressed in dark casual robes, yet he still carried an imposing aura.

His gaze swept leisurely over her panicked face, slid over her chest, which rose and fell slightly from tension, and finally settled on the document she hadn’t had time to hide. The corner of his lips curled into a knowing, dangerous smile.

“It seems you paid no heed to last time’s warning,” he said, stepping closer slowly. “This time, I’ll have to punish you properly.”

His tone was low and ambiguous, his deep eyes locked on her, hinting at some form of punishment that would make her blush.

Fangru’s heart trembled violently. Forcing herself to remain calm, she set down the document and attempted to explain, “I just… wanted to do something beneficial for the people, instead of being trapped in a gilded cage all day, like a canary meant only to please you.”

Zhou Ling didn’t immediately lose his temper, but the lazy air about him vanished abruptly.

He paced steadily toward her until he stood before her. A silent, oppressive pressure instantly filled the room, making the very air feel stagnant.

He didn’t raise his voice; instead, it was even deeper than usual. At the same time, he reached out and hooked a stray lock of hair by her cheek, twirling it around his fingers.

“Beneficial for the people?” he repeated the phrase, as if hearing an extremely amusing joke.

“Fangru, ah, Fangru. To do the work of saints, one must walk the path of demons. The things you wish to do… are admirable. But first,”

His fingers abruptly released her hair and instead seized her chin. The grip wasn’t harsh, but it forced her to lift her face and meet his bottomless dark eyes—eyes devoid of warmth, filled only with the chilling clarity and ruthlessness of one in power.

“You must first learn to be a thoroughgoing ‘villain’.”

Each word was clearly carved into her eardrums, and into her very soul.

“Because this glorious history, these vast lands, the fate of millions of lives… have always,” he paused, a trace of cynical, ancient weariness flashing in his eyes, “been held only in the hands of those ‘villains’ who best understand how to manipulate rules, exploit human hearts, and even trample upon beauty.”

“You want to succeed? You want to fulfill those unrealistic dreams in your heart? Then you must understand the evil in human nature better than they do, dare to break shackles more boldly than they do, be…”

He leaned in again, their noses almost touching, his gaze locking onto every flicker of fear and uncertainty in her eyes.

“More wicked, more ruthless, more unscrupulous than they are.”

These words pierced Fangru’s defenses like an icicle, sending a shiver of shock through her.

She had never heard anyone strip the world’s truths so bluntly and cruelly.

Yet Zhou Ling’s fingers had already slid to her slender neck, feeling her rapid pulse, his tone suddenly turning lazy and intimate as if the person who had just exposed the dark rules was merely her illusion.

“But tonight…” His fingertips continued downward, unhurriedly undoing the buttons of her outer garment.

“Those complicated lessons can wait. You can start with… more practical learning.”

He tilted his head slightly, taking her soft earlobe between his lips, nipping it with just enough pressure, his voice hoarse as if soaked in strong liquor, thick with undeniable desire, pulling her completely into an impending storm.

“For example, on me…” His other hand firmly grasped her, pressing her entire body against his until not a sliver of space remained between them, “Try and see just how wicked you can be.”

…

Zhou Ling had been occupied for several days with court affairs. The White Sun Society case involved numerous connections, leaving him no time for the rear palace.

In the deep silence of the palace, though Fangru appreciated the tranquility, she inevitably became a target for certain individuals.

That afternoon, Virtuous Consort indeed found an excuse to storm into Fangru’s Yilan Hall with several palace attendants, her words sharp as she accused Fangru of seducing the emperor and even attempted to physically punish her.

Fangru stood quietly with lowered eyes, not uttering a word.

Fortunately, Chief Eunuch Delu appeared in time, respectfully yet unyieldingly blocking Virtuous Consort’s path. With just one statement—”By His Majesty’s decree, no one may disturb Yilan Hall without imperial command”—he sent Virtuous Consort away in frustration.

That night, the imperial study remained brightly lit until late.

Only after finishing the last stack of memorials and setting down his vermilion brush did Zhou Ling remember the incident.

Delu softly reported the afternoon disturbance at Yilan Hall. Upon hearing it, Zhou Ling merely said indifferently: “Virtuous Consort has behaved improperly before the emperor. She is confined to her quarters for three months. Her father has failed in teaching his daughter properly—deduct half a year’s salary.”

He rose and, instead of taking his palanquin, strolled casually toward Yilan Hall.

Inside the hall, candlelight flickered softly. Fangru was embroidering by the window and, upon seeing him, set aside her needlework to rise and bow. Her expression remained calm, showing neither grievance nor delight.

Zhou Ling dismissed the attendants and sat on the couch, rubbing his temples. The days of busy work had left a trace of weariness between his brows, but his gaze toward her remained profound and inscrutable. “The matter with Virtuous Consort has been dealt with,” he stated flatly, as if merely informing her of an outcome.

Fangru did not thank him for the favor. After a moment of silence, she instead said softly: “Your Majesty’s thunderous wrath and gentle rain are both imperial grace. However, punishing her holds little meaning for me.”

Zhou Ling raised an eyebrow, seemingly finding her reaction unexpected: “Oh? Then what would you have me do?” Fangru approached him, her tone softening with a hint of subtle probing and pleading: “Your Majesty has been tirelessly busy these days, and I too feel stifled in the palace. If Your Majesty truly wishes… to ease my heart, why not take me outside the palace for some fresh air? I’ve heard there’s a small shop outside the western city that makes exceptionally authentic soup noodles. I only wish to eat a bowl of hot soup noodles peacefully like an ordinary person and see the lively atmosphere of the common streets.”

She observed his expression carefully, her voice softening yet speaking clearly, “If Your Majesty has the Imperial Guard surround the shop so tightly that not a drop of water could trickle through, disturbing the common people, then it would spoil the fun. This humble subject only seeks a moment of true peace.” She paused, lifting her gaze to meet his unfathomable eyes, “Could it be that by Your Majesty’s side, this humble subject could sprout wings and fly away?”