Reborn Nine Times, the Tyrant Always Wants to Imprison Me - Chapter 2

As dusk enveloped the sky, Shen Fangru sat alone in the flower hall, her fingertips gently tracing the Amethyst Rosary nestled within an ornate brocade box.

Earlier that day in the marketplace, she had intended to gift this rosary to Gu Zhou when they crossed paths, but officials from the Court of Imperial Entertainments had abruptly summoned him away.

Yet Gu Zhou had promised with a smile before departing that he would surely visit the Shen residence by dinnertime. At this thought, the corners of her lips curved upward. Once he arrived, she could personally present him with this rosary, which her father regarded as a family heirloom.

“Young Mistress, Lord Gu likely won’t be able to come today,” the steward hurried in, beads of cold sweat dotting his forehead.

Fangru’s fingers stilled. “What happened?”

“Lord Gu… has been imprisoned,” the steward’s voice trembled. “They say a traitor named Zhou Jun emerged from Ciji Temple. Since Lord Gu previously donated incense money to the temple, he’s now implicated in the case. Even visits are forbidden.”

Fangru shot to her feet, the brocade box clattering to the floor, scattering the rosary beads everywhere.

That very night, she sought an audience with her father, kneeling outside his study with a choked voice. “Father, Gu Zhou is innocent! He never knew that Zhou Jun—he merely donated some incense money. How could that make him an accomplice?”

Shen Fu remained silent for a long while before finally sighing. “Fangru, do not involve yourself in this matter.”

“Father!” Fangru looked up in disbelief.

She attempted to plead further, but Shen Fu had already turned away, leaving only these words: “Return to your quarters.”

After Fangru staggered off, Shen Fu’s concubine whispered, “Why won’t you help him, Master? Young Master Gu is, after all, the young mistress’s betrothed.”

Shen Fu’s gaze darkened, his voice dropping to a hushed tone. “The one he offended is none other than…” He pointed toward the heavens. “No one can save him.”

Refusing to accept this, Fangru sought her cousin’s assistance the next day.

Her cousin served in the Ministry of Personnel and knew many officials. Yet for two consecutive days, their petitions vanished without a trace, failing to even breach the gates of the Supreme Court. More terrifyingly, rumors had begun circulating that Gu Zhou would be publicly executed in two days.

On the morning of the third day, Fangru and her cousin finally intercepted an official from the Supreme Court, presenting evidence proving Gu Zhou had no connection to Zhou Jun. The official accepted the documents but dismissed them perfunctorily: “I am aware. Return home and await news.”

Fangru knew all too well that this evidence would likely never reach the eyes that needed to see it.

On their way back to the estate, the streets bustled with noise and excitement, adorned with lanterns and decorations. Only then did Fangru remember—today was the Qixi Festival Banquet.

“I heard the Xuanji Banquet at the Prefect’s residence begins tonight! All the noble maidens will be performing dances!” passersby chattered excitedly.

Fangru halted mid-step, a sudden idea flashing through her mind.

If the righteous path was blocked, then she would take a dangerous one!

She turned and hurried back to the estate, instructing her personal maid in a resolute tone, “Fetch my dance costume.”

The maid stared in astonishment. “What does the young mistress intend to do?”

Fangru’s eyes gleamed with determination. “I am going to the Xuanji Banquet to petition the Emperor!”

The Xuanji Banquet.

The vast Prefect’s residence teemed with guests, brilliantly illuminated by countless lanterns. Noble maidens drifted through the halls in elegant perfumed silks, yet beneath the surface, rivalries simmered.

The moment Shen Fangru entered, she drew countless envious and resentful gazes.

She wore only a simple moon-white ruqun dress, her hair adorned with a single white jade hairpin. Yet her snow-pale complexion and slender, delicate waist made the heavily made-up noble maidens around her appear garish and vulgar by comparison.

“Look at her frail and delicate appearance.” Zhao Minglan, daughter of the Minister of War, tightened her grip on her round fan, glaring enviously at Fangru’s snow-white neck exposed beneath the sheer gauze. “Who does she think she’s fooling with that pure and chaste act?”

“Oh dear!” As Fangru passed by, Zhao Minglan “accidentally” splashed half a cup of grape wine onto Fangru’s shoulder. The crimson liquid immediately spread across the moon-white fabric. “My apologies, Miss Shen,” she said with feigned remorse, though her eyes sparkled with satisfaction. Let’s see you maintain that innocent facade now!

Before Fangru could respond, muffled laughter rippled through the surrounding crowd.

These noble young ladies had long held a grudge against Shen Fangru. Though not from the most prominent family, she possessed an enchantingly beautiful appearance. Particularly those almond-shaped eyes—luminous even without cosmetics—that had captivated countless young masters.

“How careless of you, Miss Zhao.” Su Wanqing approached gracefully, offering a silk handkerchief while casting a meaningful glance at Fangru’s waistline, which appeared even more curvaceous where the wine had soaked through. “Though this dress of Miss Shen’s… has become rather more eye-catching.”

Fangru pressed her lips together, about to speak, when Su Wanqing continued, “If you don’t mind, Miss Shen, you could accompany me to change clothes.”

Fangru shook her head: “Thank you, Miss Su, but I have important matters to attend to.”

As Fangru attempted to slip away from the crowd, she encountered a group of noble ladies gathered around Lin Yueyao like stars surrounding the moon at a corridor turning.

The daughter of the Minister of Ceremonies was lavishly dressed today, the golden peonies embroidered on her rose-colored silk skirt shimmering under the lantern light as she mixed flower wine in a crystal cup.

“This ‘Drunken Hibiscus’ was specially prepared for His Majesty,” Lin Yueyao cooed, lightly tapping the flower petals in her cup. “I’ve heard His Majesty is particularly fond of…”

Before she could finish, she caught sight of a plain-colored figure from the corner of her eye and immediately raised her voice: “If it isn’t the esteemed Miss Shen!” She deliberately shook her head, making the gold hairpins jingle. “How surprising—with your fiancé imprisoned, you still have the leisure to attend banquets?”

Fangru’s steps faltered, her fingertips unconsciously digging into her palms.

The surrounding noble ladies covered their mouths with light laughter upon hearing this, someone remarking sarcastically: “Sister Lin may not know, but Miss Shen is famously aloof.”

“Aloof?” Lin Yueyao sneered. “She merely relies on her pretty face. Back when Gu Zhou used to send poems to my residence daily, that piece ‘Moon Above the Willow Tips’ was truly…”

“Miss Lin must be mistaken,” Su Wanqing interjected, having appeared beside Fangru unnoticed, gently waving her round fan. “Everyone in the capital knows that poem was written for Miss Shen.” Her eyes shifted meaningfully as she deliberately lowered her voice. “Whereas for your birthday banquet, Miss Lin, Young Master Gu gifted you… a tea set.”

Lin Yueyao’s face darkened instantly, but before she could retort, Fangru had already turned to leave.

Lin Yueyao’s furious voice echoed behind them: “What is there to be proud of! Gu Zhou is nothing but a prisoner now!”

Fangru didn’t look back, merely quickening her pace. Su Wanqing hurried to catch up, whispering: “Miss Shen, pay them no mind, they’re just…”

“I’m fine.” Fangru took a deep breath, stopping at another corridor turning. “Miss Su, do you know where His Majesty is currently?”

Su Wanqing shook her head: “How could we possibly know His Majesty’s whereabouts? However…” she lowered her voice further, “during the dance competition later, His Majesty is certain to appear.”

A glint of resolve flashed in Fangru’s eyes as she turned to her personal maid. “Fetch my spare dance costume.”

“Young mistress!” the maid gasped. “You’re not really…”

“Go now.” Fangru’s tone left no room for argument. “This is the only way to save Gu Zhou.”

Soon after, in a side chamber of the palace, Fangru changed into a flowing water-red dance gown with wide sleeves.

She wrapped the Amethyst Rosary around her wrist, then carefully applied makeup before the mirror. The reflection showed features lovely as a painting, yet carrying the desperate determination of one staking everything.

“Young mistress…” the maid’s voice trembled, “You haven’t practiced since your engagement, being so busy with wedding preparations. This is too risky…”

Before she could finish, music suddenly swelled from outside.

“The dance competition has begun!” Su Wanqing pushed the door open, clearly startled at the transformed Fangru. “Miss Shen, you…”

Without responding, Fangru strode directly toward the main hall. As drumbeats resumed, she rose on her toes and floated onto the high platform like a crimson cloud.

As her wide sleeves unfurled, the Amethyst Rosary shimmered with an eerie glow under the lantern light.

Every spin and turn landed perfectly on the drumbeats, her flowing sleeves whirling like a startled swan treading snow, holding the entire audience spellbound.

“Which family’s dance performer is this? Such extraordinary skill!”

“That waist… tsk tsk, even softer than the top courtesan at Drunken Immortal Pavilion!”

Whispers rose and fell among the spectators, none recognizing the veiled dancer as the same Shen Fangru they had mocked earlier.

The noble daughters exchanged glances, their eyes mixing envy with wariness. Though called the Xuanji Banquet for weaving maidens, everyone knew it was truly the Emperor selecting consorts—who wouldn’t want to seize this chance to rise to prominence?

Lin Yueyao stared fixedly at the graceful figure on stage, her nails digging deep into her palms. She had dressed elaborately today precisely to stand out among the noble daughters and gain imperial favor.

“Just some lowly dancer!” She abruptly stood, shaking off her maid’s supporting hand. “Watch how I show her what real dancing means!”

Seeing this, Zhao Minglan also rose impatiently. “Sister Lin, wait. Why trouble yourself with such a vulgar performer?” Though she spoke these words, her eyes kept darting toward the high pavilion—everyone knew the Emperor loved dance competitions. This was a perfect opportunity to catch his eye.

“Step aside!” Wang Jingshu, daughter of the Minister of Revenue, pushed through the crowd. “I’ve trained in dance since childhood. Let me handle this!”

Suddenly, three or four noble daughters were vying to take the stage.

Ultimately, Lin Yueyao shoved them aside. “Back off! My father oversees rites and music as Minister of Ceremonies. How dare you compete with me?”

She stormed onto the platform, her magenta skirts flaring like flames. But after just a few moves, snickers spread through the audience. Her rigid movements resembled a puppet’s, contrasting starkly with Fangru’s fluid grace—like a flapping hen beside a soaring phoenix.

“Hahaha, is Miss Lin performing an exorcism dance?”

“Come down already, stop embarrassing yourself!”

“And she thought she could enter the palace?”

Amid the ridicule, Lin Yueyao stumbled, tripped by her own hem, and crashed heavily onto the stage. Hairpins scattered everywhere, her carefully applied makeup now smeared like a comic opera performer. The laughter intensified, other noble daughters feeling not sympathy but secret relief at one less rival.

In the high pavilion, Zhou Ling had unconsciously set down his wine cup.

He leaned forward slightly, his gaze sharp as a torch locking onto the crimson figure on the stage. When Fangru turned, her sheer veil fluttering in the wind to reveal half of her breathtaking face, his pupils abruptly constricted.

“This dance…” he murmured, his fingertips unconsciously tracing the rim of his cup as if savoring a memory.

On stage, Fangru seemed to sense something and suddenly turned her head.

Through the layers of figures, her gaze collided with the scorching stare from the high pavilion. A faint smile tugged at Zhou Ling’s lips as he abruptly raised his hand, signaling the musicians to change the melody.

The drumbeats suddenly quickened, making Fangru’s heart skip a beat. She saw Zhou Ling had somehow moved to the railing, his slender fingers tapping lightly to the rhythm. His eyes clearly said: Let me see what other tricks you can perform.

Biting her lip, Fangru decisively tore off her veil, her flowing sleeves whipping out to coil around a beam. Using the momentum, she soared into the air.

The Amethyst Rosary traced a shimmering violet arc through the air, making her appear like a celestial maiden descending from the heavens. Amidst the astonished murmurs of the crowd, she clearly saw Zhou Ling’s eyes darken, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly.

“Interesting,” he chuckled softly, yet his voice carried clearly to her ears. “Issue my decree—”