Reborn Nine Times, the Tyrant Always Wants to Imprison Me - Chapter 3

“Tonight at the Xuanji Banquet, I shall personally bestow the wine.”

Zhou Ling’s deep voice struck like thunder, causing an uproar among the guests. The music and dancing ceased abruptly, and all eyes converged on the crimson figure on the stage.

Fangru remained frozen in her final spinning pose, her chest rising and falling slightly, with fine beads of sweat glistening on her forehead.

“Who is this dancer? To have caught His Majesty’s eye!”

“With her veil on earlier, it was hard to see clearly. But now, upon closer look, her beauty is truly celestial.”

Fangru slowly straightened up, acutely aware of the scorching gazes from all directions—shock, envy, and barely concealed admiration.

The noble ladies who had earlier mocked her now clenched their silk handkerchiefs tightly, their eyes nearly spitting fire.

Zhao Minglan stared fixedly at Fangru’s radiantly beautiful face, the ribs of her round fan snapping with a sharp crack.

Lin Yueyao’s face turned ashen; the hairpins she had scattered earlier in her fall remained disheveled, her half-untied hair making her look like a madwoman.

“Miss Shen, please follow me,” a matron in deep red palace attire respectfully approached and bowed to Fangru in full view of the crowd. “His Majesty awaits you in the Crystal Pavilion.”

“The Crystal Pavilion?!”

Gasps echoed around them. Everyone knew the Crystal Pavilion was built by the late emperor for his favored consort, Lady Liu, the daughter of the former prefect—ordinary people weren’t even permitted to approach it!

Fangru lowered her gaze, forcing herself to remain calm as she followed the matron. She could feel the piercing stares at her back—those noble ladies had spent months adorning themselves, hoping to catch the emperor’s glance at the banquet, only to be outshone by a mere “dancer.”

Crystal Pavilion.

Moonlight filtered through the colorful stained glass, casting dappled shadows across Fangru’s unsettled face. She stood in the center of the pavilion, the Amethyst Rosary around her wrist faintly warming.

“Miss Shen, your dancing is exquisite.”

The deep voice came unexpectedly from behind. Fangru whirled around to find Zhou Ling standing by the window, having appeared without a sound. He had shed his black dragon robe, now dressed in simple moon-white casual attire, which only accentuated his tall, elegant figure—handsome as an immortal descended to earth.

“Your Majesty.”

Fangru curtsied gracefully, her skirt spreading like flower petals across the stone floor.

Zhou Ling reclined lazily on a soft couch, idly twirling a crystal cup in his fingers, the amber wine shimmering faintly in the moonlight.

“Your dance, Miss Shen, reminds me of the flamingos tribute from the Western Regions,” he remarked, a slight curve to his lips. “However…”

Before he could finish, a loud splash echoed from the depths of the garden.

Followed by a woman’s panicked shriek and a man’s choked, awkward coughing.

In the lotus pond, water splashed wildly as Du Heng, the son of the Minister of Rites, clumsily dragged Cheng Jinse, the daughter of the Minister of Works, toward the shore. Both were drenched, with strands of waterweed clinging to the pearls in Cheng Jinse’s hair.

“What happened?!”

“Hurry! Fetch dry clothes!”

Guests rushed over at the commotion, while maids frantically handed over handkerchiefs and fetched cloaks.

Amid the chaos, Fangru seized the moment to draw closer to Zhou Ling, a subtle fragrance wafting from her sleeve. “Your Majesty, I’ve heard that Drunken Immortal Pavilion has newly acquired Western Region grape wine, aged ten years before being uncorked…”

Zhou Ling’s eyes darkened, and he set the crystal cup down on the table with a sharp clink.

As he rose, his robes brushed past Fangru’s fingertips, carrying a whiff of sinking incense. “Then… let us go taste it.”

Second floor of the Drunken Immortal Pavilion.

In the private chamber, the luminous pearls cast an ethereal glow. Shen Fangru knelt before the low table, her pale hands holding a wine pot as she poured Zhou Ling a cup of amber nectar. The liquid shimmered in the crystal cup, reflecting her slightly trembling fingertips.

“Your Majesty,” she took a deep breath and bowed deeply, “Gu Zhou is innocent. He has never even met Zhou Jun—he merely donated some incense money. How could that make him an accomplice? I beg Your Majesty to investigate thoroughly!”

Zhou Ling reclined against the soft cushions, his slender fingers toying with the wine cup while his gaze lingered on the exposed nape of her bowed neck. That stretch of snow-white skin glowed pearlescent in the candlelight, reminding him of the glimpse of her waist he’d caught during her mesmerizing dance at the banquet earlier.

“The evidence is conclusive,” he sighed softly, his tone feigning regret while amusement danced in his eyes. “Though I am the Son of Heaven, I cannot bend the law for personal favor.”

Fangru abruptly looked up, meeting those unfathomable phoenix eyes. Dark currents seemed to swirl in Zhou Ling’s gaze as his fingers traced the rosary beads around her wrist with deliberate pressure, a faint smile playing on his lips.

“Your Majesty,” she forcibly withdrew her hand and retreated half a step, struggling to maintain composure, “This humble woman comes only to plead Gu Zhou’s innocence.”

Zhou Ling’s eyes darkened as he leisurely straightened up. “Oh? Is Miss Shen accusing my officials of dereliction of duty?”

“The Court of Judicial Review has detained Gu Zhou for three days without hearing his case.” Fangru tightened her grip on the petition concealed in her sleeve. “I have evidence proving he has no connection to Zhou Jun.”

Her fingertips trembled slightly as she clenched the petition tighter. “Your Majesty, Gu Zhou and Zhou Jun are complete strangers—this case clearly…”

“This?” Zhou Ling suddenly produced a scroll from his sleeve, waving it before her eyes. “I’ve already reviewed Miss Shen’s testimony.”

The candle flame on the table flickered violently, illuminating the unmistakable handwriting on the document—the very testimony she had submitted to the Court of Judicial Review that very day!

Fangru’s heart seized with shock. Before she could react, the document was casually tossed onto the table with a soft thud.

“These…” Zhou Ling smoothed the wrinkles in his sleeve with deliberate slowness, “prove nothing.” He suddenly leaned forward, his robes shimmering darkly in the candlelight. “Your beloved Gu Zhou… has kept more secrets from you than just this.”

Fangru’s eyes snapped up, crashing into those bottomless star-like pupils. The candlelight flickered within them like will-o’-the-wisps in the night, setting her heart racing with panic. His gaze was too blatant, making her instinctively retreat another step until her lower back pressed against the cold table.

Despicable! She cursed inwardly. Conclusive evidence? This was clearly deliberate harassment!

Fangru stood rigid as Zhou Ling suddenly reached out, his fingers tracing the rosary beads around her wrist with measured pressure, that faint smile still gracing his lips.

The Amethyst Rosary twirled between his fingertips, emitting faint clicking sounds. His movements appeared casual yet carried an irresistible force that compelled her to meet his gaze.

“Your Majesty…” She suppressed the surging anger in her heart, though her voice betrayed a slight tremble. “Regarding Gu Zhou’s case…”

“Hush.” Zhou Ling suddenly pressed his fingertip against her lips, the contact making her stiffen. “Miss Shen’s dance today… pleased me greatly.” He leaned closer, the scent of ambergris instantly enveloping her. “Especially that final glance over your shoulder…”

Fangru instinctively retreated, but found herself with nowhere to go. Zhou Ling closed in, his slender fingers tracing the tense line of her jaw. “The rumors say I have a weakness for beauty…” He chuckled lowly. “And they’re not entirely wrong.”

Moonlight streamed through the colored glass window, casting dappled shadows across his handsome features.

His deep, star-like eyes were now dangerously close, their gaze tracing the contours of her face as if with physical weight.

Fangru’s breath caught. She could clearly see her own reflection in his eyes—her slightly trembling lashes, tightly pressed lips, and the unconcealable fear in her gaze.

“Scared?”

Zhou Ling’s deep voice, warm with his breath, brushed past her ear. His slender fingers trailed downward from her jaw, pausing to press lightly against the pulse throbbing at her neck. The touch sent a shiver through her entire body.

“Other than Gu Zhou…” His fingertips lingered on that patch of skin, feeling the sudden acceleration of her heartbeat beneath them. “Have you nothing else to say to me?”

Fangru held her breath. The place on her neck where he had touched her felt as if branded by hot iron, burning with pain.

The distance was too dangerous—close enough to count the shadows cast by his eyelashes, close enough to smell the blend of agarwood and ambergris from his robes, close enough… for her to finally see the turbulent darkness swirling in this tyrant’s eyes.

“This subject…” She struggled to maintain composure, but couldn’t control the reddening tips of her ears. “Only begs Your Majesty to see with clarity…”

“Clarity?” Zhou Ling suddenly withdrew his hand, leaning lazily back into his chair, though his eyes grew even more profound. “Does Lady Shen know that the last person who dared scheme against me now has grass growing three feet high over their grave?”

Fangru’s heart jolted violently. Then she watched as he suddenly leaned forward again, his slender fingers hooking a stray lock of her black hair. “However…” He slowly wound the strand around his finger. “I’m in a rather good mood today.”

His gaze was so scorching it seemed capable of melting her. Fangru finally became certain—this tyrant truly had set his sights on her. Memories of rumors about him forcibly taking ministers’ wives and abducting common women flashed through her mind, twisting her stomach into knots.

Fangru took a deep breath, her fingernails digging deeply into her palms.

“If Your Majesty would be merciful…” Her voice was slightly hoarse, each word seeming to be squeezed from between her teeth. “This subject is willing…”

Zhou Ling suddenly raised his hand, his cool fingertips pressing against her lips. “Think carefully before you speak.” His eyes were dark, but his voice was soft, almost hypnotic. “What I want isn’t some trivial service.”

The hall was so quiet they could hear the candle wicks sputtering. Fangru looked up, meeting his burning gaze directly. Those eyes were like deep pools, reflecting her pale face.

“This subject…” Her throat tightened, but she finally whispered, “Is willing to offer myself in exchange for Gu Zhou’s life.”

As the words left her lips, Zhou Ling suddenly pulled her into his embrace. His lips brushed her earlobe as he spoke in a husky voice, “Remember what you said.”

Fangru leaned against his chest, listening to the strong, steady heartbeat, her own heart turning to ice.

She knew she had stepped into an abyss, but she had no other choice.

Zhou Ling’s lips branded her forehead, his hot breath mingled with the scent of ambergris scalding Fangru until her whole body trembled.

His slender fingers threaded through her disheveled hair as he suddenly pressed her against the carved screen.

“Your… Majesty…” Fangru’s protest was swallowed by his burning breath.

Zhou Ling’s lips trailed along the side of her neck, biting down hard at her collarbone. She gasped in pain and tilted her head back, inadvertently giving him an opening. His scorching tongue pried open her shell-like teeth, advancing with the imperious authority of an emperor that brooked no refusal.

Just as his hand slipped into her collar, a woman’s piercing shriek echoed from the alley: “Help! Robbers!”

The dull thud of a blade sinking into flesh was unmistakably clear.

Fangru jolted awake, pressing against his chest: “Someone’s been attacked! Your Majesty…”

But Zhou Ling remained unmoved, his thumb rubbing roughly over her swollen lips. “Gao Xuan,” he commanded coldly without turning his head. The shadow guard leader materialized like a ghost. “Handle it.”

As hurried footsteps faded into the distance, he pressed forward against her once more.

The candle flame flickered, illuminating the entangled figures across the rosewood table.

Zhou Ling’s slender fingers untied the apricot-colored undergarment’s strings. As the silk slid away, Fangru’s jade-like skin broke into fine tremors in the cool air.

“Your Majesty…” She turned her face away in shame and indignation, only to hear the chamber door burst open with a crash.

“Report! Northern border emergency—” The guard’s voice cut off abruptly.

The candlelight swayed violently, casting the overlapping silhouettes of the two against the wall. The emperor’s robes hung half-open as he pinned the figure in his arms against the rosewood table. Fangru’s moon-white silk skirt had already slipped to her waist, her ink-black hair cascading like a waterfall, making that expanse of snow-white back appear even more dazzling.

“Get out!”

Zhou Ling snatched up a teacup and hurled it in fury. The shattering of porcelain coincided almost perfectly with the heavy slam of the door closing.

Silence once again enveloped the inner chamber. Finally, a tear escaped from the corner of Fangru’s eye.

“Now you cry?” Zhou Ling’s rough thumb wiped across her damp eyelid, but his touch suddenly gentled when it encountered the teardrop mole. He abruptly took her small earlobe between his teeth, grinding with deliberate pressure: “Too late…”

Warm breath traveled down the side of her neck. Fangru bit her lower lip, yet couldn’t suppress the faint tremors escaping her throat. Zhou Ling chuckled darkly, intentionally increasing the pressure where he touched.

“Since you’re repaying your debt with your body…” His lips almost brushing against hers, “Let this emperor see Miss Shen’s sincerity.”