Reborn Nine Times, the Tyrant Always Wants to Imprison Me - Chapter 4

As dawn’s first light crept in, Zhou Ling finally reached his fill.

He rose, draping his robes over himself, looking down at the woman curled within the brocade quilt. “Gu Zhou’s life—I’m sparing it.”

Fangru didn’t lift her head, only hearing the sound of the door opening and closing.

A single tear silently seeped into the pillow embroidered with golden thread.

Six months later.

The hottest topic in the capital was undoubtedly the young emperor’s obsession with the Shen family daughter.

“They say yesterday His Majesty gifted another ten hu of South Sea pearls to Consort Shen…”

“Shh! Lower your voice! Wasn’t Minister of Ceremonies’ daughter Miss Lin found this morning with her tongue cut out and hung from her own estate gate just for gossiping about this?”

“Heavens! I just saw Miss Lin at the flower appreciation banquet yesterday…”

Amid the swirling rumors, Fangru sat upright before the dressing table in Zichen Hall, allowing the palace maids to attend to her toilette.

Suddenly, commotion erupted outside the hall as Zhou Ling strode in with forceful steps.

“My beloved consort.” He bent down, encircling her from behind, his slender fingers tracing her lips. “That vile woman who wagged her tongue—I’ve dealt with her.” His voice was tender enough to be chilling. “Didn’t she praise you for ‘bewitching the ruler like a fox’? I’ve ensured she’ll never speak again in this lifetime.”

Fangru trembled all over, the bronze mirror reflecting Zhou Ling’s snow-wolf eyes.

He picked up the golden scissors on the dressing table, deliberately cutting off a lock of her black hair. “Your reputation, your hair—even a single strand is mine.” The severed strands rustled as they fell through his fingers. “I don’t want to hear another word of these idle rumors.”

The chief palace maid suddenly dropped to her knees with a thud. “Y-Your Majesty, the Minister of Ceremonies is kneeling outside the palace gates…”

“Let him kneel.” Zhou Ling sneered. “Issue the decree: The Minister of Ceremonies failed to properly educate his daughter. He is dismissed from his post and under investigation. His daughter’s corpse is to hang at Zhuque Gate for three days as a warning to others.”

Fangru’s fingertips turned cold.

Her discord with Lin Yueyao went back a long way. Half a year ago at the Xuanji Banquet, Lin Yueyao had publicly mocked her as “nothing but Gu Zhou’s second choice.” Yesterday at the plum blossom appreciation banquet, they had clashed again over remarks about “serving through looks.”

But Fangru never imagined she’d hear this morning that Lin Yueyao had been sentenced to death.

“What? Does my consort find my handling inappropriate?” Zhou Ling’s fingers suddenly tightened, pinching her chin until it ached.

Fangru lowered her lashes, hiding the fear in her eyes. “This consort merely… thought Your Majesty need not anger yourself over such trivial matters.”

Zhou Ling let out a cold laugh. “In this entire rear palace, nothing is more important than my beloved consort.”

He suddenly pressed close to her ear, his warm breath sending shivers through her. “Let’s see who would dare speak half a word against you from now on.”

Suppressed sobs came from outside the hall—likely the Minister of Ceremonies’ family members.

Fangru clenched her sleeves, remembering the jade hairpin Lin Yueyao loved most, which had gleamed brilliantly in the sunlight during yesterday’s plum blossom viewing.

“My consort’s thoughts are wandering.” Zhou Ling discontentedly turned her face toward him. “Was I not thorough enough last night?”

Fangru forced back a sob, managing a strained smile. “Your Majesty jests.”

Her gaze swept over Zhou Ling’s knife-sharp eyes, suddenly feeling that all the gold and jade filling the hall carried the stench of blood.

A dull thud suddenly came from outside the hall.

Through the beaded curtain, Fangru saw the elderly Minister of Ceremonies collapsed at the base of the vermilion stairs, blood seeping from his forehead and staining the white marble steps.

But Zhou Ling just smiled and covered her eyes. “It’s filthy. Don’t look.”

She instinctively tightened her collar, where the red marks left by Zhou Ling’s kisses from the previous night still remained.

Yet only her personal maid knew how many bruises lay hidden beneath the lavish robes.

Last night, Zhou Ling had gone mad, pinching her waist until it was covered in purple bruises, all because she had unconsciously uttered Gu Zhou’s name in her dream.

“Your Majesty, it is time for the morning court session,” the chief eunuch reminded softly outside the door.

Zhou Ling paid no heed. Instead, he swept Fangru into his arms: “Court is canceled today. I shall personally paint a ‘Treading Snow in Search of Plum Blossoms’ for my beloved consort.” He kicked away the eunuch who tried to dissuade him. “By my decree, from this day forth, the expenses of Zichen Hall shall match those of the central palace. Consort Shen need not kneel before the emperor, need not hasten when entering court, may wear swords and shoes in the audience hall, and shall not be announced by name when praised.”

Such favor was unprecedented since the founding of the dynasty.

Fangru leaned against his chest, her nails digging deeply into her palms. She knew this was nothing but a gilded cage meticulously crafted by the tyrant, and one day, she would escape this prison with Gu Zhou.

The opportunity finally arrived.

With Zhou Ling about to depart on an inspection tour, Fangru leaned against the dragon-carved desk, her fingers lightly toying with the memorials on it. A lazy probe flickered in her shifting gaze.

“Your Majesty will be gone for half a month. I fear I shall grow bored in the palace,” she said softly, her fingertips deliberately brushing against the back of his hand. “Why not grant me a token so I may occasionally leave the palace for diversion?”

Zhou Ling’s eyes darkened. He seized her wrist with a grip that was neither light nor heavy but enough to render her immobile.

He smiled ambiguously. “Is my beloved consort finding the palace stifling?”

Fangru met his gaze without flinching, a coquettish smile playing on her lips. “If Your Majesty is uneasy, you could always send a few shadow guards to accompany me.” She leaned slightly forward. “Or perhaps… Your Majesty fears I might run away?”

Zhou Ling chuckled lowly and suddenly released her. He untied an iron token from his waist and tossed it into her palm. “I’d like to see what tricks you can play.”

Three days later, outside the Ministry of Justice prison.

Fangru, dressed in magnificent robes, was followed by twenty palace maids and ten guards. The grand procession drew sidelong glances from passersby.

“Consort Shen has arrived!” The eunuch’s shrill voice pierced the silence.

The Vice Minister of Justice hurried out to greet her, sweat beading on his forehead. “Your Highness, this place is filthy. How could someone of your esteemed status grace such grounds?”

Fangru swept a cold glance over him. “By the emperor’s oral decree, I am here to interrogate the rebel Gu Zhou.”

“This…” The vice minister hesitated.

She sneered, lightly tapping the token with her finger. “What? Must I ask His Majesty to come and tell you himself?”

The vice minister’s legs gave way, and he immediately knelt. “I wouldn’t dare! I will fetch him at once!”

The prison door creaked open.

When Gu Zhou was brought out, he was haggard and emaciated, yet his eyes remained as clear and bright as ever.

He looked up, and his pupils contracted sharply at the sight of Fangru.

Suppressing her turbulent emotions, Fangru maintained a haughty expression. “Take him away.”

Outside the palace gates.

A carriage was already prepared. Fangru personally helped Gu Zhou inside.

As the carriage curtain fell, Fangru swiftly shed her luxurious palace attire and changed into coarse clothing. Her fingers trembled slightly as she fastened the last tie. She gazed at the gaunt man in the corner.

“Gu Zhou, let’s go,” she whispered, her voice almost inaudible.

The sound of carriage wheels rolling over the cobblestones was unusually distinct in the quiet night.

Fangru clenched her sleeves tightly, only daring to release her breath when the outline of the capital had completely vanished from sight.

A cold wind swept dust into the carriage, and she instinctively tightened her collar. Just days ago, she had been wearing palace robes made of mermaid silk, storming directly into the imperial study under the gaze of all the civil and military officials.

At that time, Zhou Ling was discussing matters with the Minister of War. Without waiting for an announcement, she lifted her intricate skirt and barged in, questioning him under the minister’s horrified gaze.

“Your Majesty promised me you would not torture Gu Zhou!” Her voice rang out like shattering jade in the solemn imperial study.

The Minister of War was already pale with fear, but Zhou Ling merely raised a hand to dismiss him.

When only the two of them remained in the study, Zhou Ling grabbed her wrist with such force that she winced. “My consort, you are quite bold.” His thumb stroked the pulsing vein on her wrist, his tone dangerous and teasing. “For the sake of a traitor, you dare disrupt my court affairs?”

She lifted her chin. “If Your Majesty truly sees me as a plaything, you might as well kill me now!” Before she finished speaking, Zhou Ling suddenly burst into laughter and even straightened her crooked hairpin himself. “It is precisely this temperament of yours that I adore.” He whispered, biting her earlobe, “But Gu Zhou’s life depends on your performance tonight…”

Now, the carriage jolted abruptly, startling Fangru out of her memories.

Gu Zhou leaned weakly against the carriage wall. The long-awaited sunlight filtered through the gaps in the curtain, illuminating his face, which was as pale as paper.

Half a year in the dungeon had left too many marks on him. His peach-blossom eyes, once always smiling, were now sunken and bloodshot.

With great effort, he raised his hand, his chapped lips trembling slightly. “Fangru…” Before he could finish, the rapid sound of hoofbeats approached from afar, shattering the tranquility inside the carriage like a thunderclap.

Fangru’s heart sank.

Her hand trembled slightly as she lifted the carriage curtain. In the distance, dust swirled as a troop of black-armored cavalry galloped toward them like a storm cloud.

The black flag embroidered with a golden dragon fluttered fiercely in the wind—it was the Imperial Guard!

“Don’t be afraid,” she said, forcing calm as she lowered the curtain and turned to grasp Gu Zhou’s trembling hand. Her voice was soft but firm. “There’s an inn not far ahead. We’ll hide there for now.”

Gu Zhou said nothing, only nodding.

The dilapidated sign of the mountain inn flickered in the twilight.

Fangru breathed a sigh of relief, but the next moment, she heard the sound of hoofbeats in the distance. Her heart tightened, and she quickened her pace, pulling Gu Zhou along.

“Hurry inside!” She pushed the door open, and a musty smell mixed with the odor of cheap liquor assailed her senses.

The inn was sparsely populated, with only a few scattered guests. The innkeeper, an elderly man with a wrinkled face, was dozing off.

“One room, the innermost one,” Fangru whispered, pulling a piece of broken silver from her sleeve and placing it on the counter.

The old innkeeper’s dull eyes lit up at the sight of the silver, but he quickly resumed his drowsy demeanor, slowly retrieving a key.

The stairs creaked as Fangru helped Gu Zhou upstairs, feeling his weight leaning more heavily on her with each step.

Once inside the room, Gu Zhou could no longer hold on, staggering and collapsing onto the simple wooden bed.

“Let me see your wounds,” Fangru said urgently, her fingers trembling as she unbuttoned Gu Zhou’s robe.

When the crisscrossed whip marks and burns on his chest came into view, her tears could no longer be held back, falling in large drops.

“Don’t cry…” Gu Zhou raised a hand to wipe her tears but let it fall weakly midway. “It’s not worth it.”

The words pierced Fangru’s heart like a blade.

She knew exactly what Gu Zhou was referring to. Over the past six months, while she lived in luxury as Zhou Ling’s favored consort, he had been suffering endless torment in the dungeon.

“I’ll fetch some hot water.” Fangru turned away hastily, afraid he might see her crumbling expression.

In the kitchen, she heated water while straining to listen for any movement outside.

The sound of hoofbeats seemed to be fading into the distance, but she didn’t dare let her guard down. Zhou Ling’s imperial guards were everywhere, especially that Li Zuo, notorious for his ruthlessness.

Amidst the rising steam, the nightmare of that trial six months ago resurfaced in her mind.

In the dimly lit torture chamber, Gu Zhou knelt on the ground shackled in chains, his prisoner’s uniform stained with blood.

Zhou Ling sat high on the dragon throne, suddenly yanking her onto his lap.

She could still remember how Gu Zhou had jerked his head up—those eyes that had always gazed at her tenderly were now bloodshot, the veins bulging on his neck still bearing the marks of the cangue.

“Fangru!”

Gu Zhou’s hoarse cry seemed to still echo in her ears.

Back then, she had bitten her lip so hard she drew blood, refusing to let herself cry out, terrified that her tears would become yet another blade piercing Gu Zhou.

“Miss, the water’s boiling.” The old innkeeper’s voice pulled her back to reality.

Fangru closed her eyes for a moment, forcibly suppressing those memories.

Now wasn’t the time for reminiscing. Gu Zhou still needed her.

After thanking the old man, Fangru carried the hot water back to the room. Gu Zhou had propped himself up against the wall, his hollow gaze fixed on the darkening sky outside the window.

“Let me clean your wounds.” Fangru soaked a cloth and carefully wiped the injuries covering his body. Each scar felt like a knife twisting in her heart.

The only sounds in the room were the cloth rubbing against skin and the soft drip of water into the basin.

Fangru could feel Gu Zhou’s eyes on her, filled with emotions she couldn’t decipher.

“You’ve become more beautiful,” Gu Zhou suddenly said.

Fangru’s hand stilled momentarily.

She was aware of the changes in herself—the fine silks and jewels, the exquisite makeup. All these had been forced upon her by Zhou Ling. She detested these alterations but had to accept them, all for the chance she’d been waiting for like today.

“Don’t say such things,” she replied softly, continuing her task.

But Gu Zhou suddenly grabbed her wrist. “How many times has he touched you?” His voice was low and dangerous, his eyes burning with a fury she’d never seen before.

Fangru’s heart skipped a beat. “Gu Zhou, this isn’t the time for this…”

“Answer me!” he raised his voice sharply, then curled in pain as the movement aggravated his wounds.

“Have you gone mad? There might be pursuers outside!” Fangru whispered urgently, trying to free her wrist.

But Gu Zhou seemed not to hear, stubbornly staring at her: “My fiancée has been sleeping with that tyrant for six months. Don’t I have the right to know?”

The words struck Fangru like a slap across the face.

Dizziness washed over her as all the grievances, fears, and humiliation of the past six months surged up within her.

“Do you think I wanted this?” her voice trembled. “Every day I’ve been thinking of how to save you, I…”

“So you pleased him with your body?” Gu Zhou sneered. “What an excellent plan.”

Fangru could bear it no longer. She raised her hand and slapped him across the face.

The sharp crack echoed piercingly in the small room. Gu Zhou’s head snapped to the side, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.

“Do you think these past six months have been easy for me?” Fangru’s tears burst forth. “Every time he touches me, I want to die! But I can’t—because I know you’re still alive, and I must rescue you!”

Gu Zhou wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, his gaze complex as he looked at her. “Then why didn’t you take him down with you? Why endure such humiliation?”

“Because I wanted to see you!” Fangru nearly shouted, then covered her mouth in terror. But it was too late.

Commotion erupted from downstairs, followed by heavy footsteps.

Fangru’s face instantly turned deathly pale—someone was coming up.

Gu Zhou also sensed the danger, struggling to stand but collapsing back onto the bed due to his severe injuries.

Fangru quickly scanned the room—it was too small to hide in, with the only window overlooking a steep cliff.

“Under the bed!” Gu Zhou urged sharply.

But as Fangru bent down, the door was violently kicked open.

Several burly men in Imperial Guard uniforms stormed in, led by Li Zuo—Zhou Ling’s most trusted henchman, a cold and ruthless man with a scar across his face.

“So here you are,” Li Zuo sneered, his eyes shifting between Fangru and Gu Zhou. “Consort Shen, His Majesty has treated you well. Is this how you repay him?”

Fangru straightened her back, shielding Gu Zhou. “Commander Li, let us go. I can give you enough gold and silver…”

Li Zuo laughed heartily. “Your Highness jests. Do you think I would betray His Majesty?” His smile vanished abruptly, his eyes turning sinister. “Seize them!”

Two soldiers advanced. Fangru struggled fiercely but was easily restrained. Gu Zhou roared and lunged at Li Zuo, only to be kicked in the chest and slammed against the wall.

“Gu Zhou!” Fangru screamed, watching blood trickle from his lips.

Li Zuo drew his blade. “His Majesty only ordered Your Highness’s return. He said nothing about how to deal with you, traitor.”

Gu Zhou struggled to his feet, defiance burning in his eyes. “Come on, kill me! But let her go!”

“Gu Zhou, don’t!” Fangru wept, held firmly by the soldiers.

Li Zuo raised his sword with a vicious grin. “How touching. Pity…”

A flash of steel, and Fangru’s world froze in that instant.

She saw Gu Zhou’s pupils dilate, watched him slowly collapse, the bloom of blood on his chest staining his coarse cloth robe.

“No!” Her scream tore through the air as she fought to reach him, only to be brutally dragged back.

Li Zuo shook the blood from his blade and coldly ordered, “Take Her Highness away. Throw the corpse off the cliff.”

As Fangru was hauled from the room, her last sight was Gu Zhou’s slightly open eyes, still holding traces of longing for her.

Her consciousness began to blur, leaving only her broken sobs and the howling wind outside.

Soon, Fangru was forced into a carriage.

During the struggle, the Amethyst Rosary on her wrist suddenly snapped, its crystalline beads scattering across the crimson carpet like strings of bloody teardrops.

The carriage curtain was flung open, a snow-laden wind rushing inside.

Zhou Ling blocked their path astride a jet-black warhorse, his dragon-embroidered cloak dusted with snow.

He leaned close to the carriage window.

“Why must my beloved consort seek death over a faithless man?” His low voice carried warm breath past her ear as his slender fingers suddenly gripped her chin. “Gu Zhou has long kept a mistress outside, with a child already running about.”

Fangru abruptly turned her face away. “You’re lying!” Her voice was hoarse beyond recognition, her nails digging deep into her palms, yet she felt no pain.

Zhou Ling, instead of getting angry, smiled leisurely as he pulled a yellowed letter from his breast and tossed it into her lap. “Take a good look at what kind of man your beloved truly is.”

The moment the letter unfolded, Fangru’s breath caught in her throat.

It was indeed Gu Zhou’s handwriting—every line brimming with tender affection for “A Yuan,” ending with a clumsily drawn little figure beside the words “our child.” The blurred ink stains clearly showed traces of tear-soaked paper.

“This can’t be…” She trembled uncontrollably, suddenly grabbing a rosary bead that had rolled beneath the seat.

The amethyst bead, stained with her lip rouge, shimmered with an eerie pink glow between her fingers.

Zhou Ling’s pupils constricted sharply, but before he could stop her, she threw her head back and swallowed the bead.

“Fangru!” The tyrant’s roar shook the accumulated snow from the carriage eaves.

He practically flew from his horse into the carriage, his armor clattering violently against the compartment.

His scorching hand forced her jaw open, fingers roughly probing down her throat: “Spit it out! I command you to spit it out!”

Though searing pain shot through her throat, Fangru laughed.

Finally… finally she could…

“Young mistress? Young mistress?”

A clear female voice startled her awake. Fangru’s eyes snapped open to find herself standing before the jade steps of the Governor’s mansion.

Her maid was looking at her with concern. “What’s wrong, young mistress? Are you unwell?”

The air around them rippled with the melodious strains of silk and bamboo instruments.

Looking down at herself, Fangru saw the light blue brocade ruqun embroidered with apricot blossoms of early spring, the string of Amethyst Rosary beads on her wrist intact and glowing with their peculiar luster.

Suddenly, crisp laughter reached her ears: “They say His Majesty will grace the Xuanji Banquet tonight—I wonder which sister will be blessed with such fortune…”

All around, perfumed silks and intricate hairdos moved through the courtyard as noble daughters walked in small groups.

Some nervously adjusted their hairpins, others whispered about the emperor’s appearance, while a few secretly tucked sachets embroidered with their names into their sleeves.

Fangru stared blankly at the scene, her fingers unconsciously tracing the Amethyst Rosary at her wrist. The smooth, warm texture confirmed this was no dream.

“Why is Miss Shen still here?” came the urging voice of a protocol official from behind. “The banquet is about to begin.”

Taking a deep breath, Fangru lifted her gaze toward the brilliantly lit hall. Through the swaying beaded curtains, she could vaguely make out a familiar figure seated on the dragon throne.

It was Zhou Ling! Her heart leaped violently as memories from her previous life flooded back.

It was after this very night banquet that she had been forced to enter the palace as a consort!

She had actually returned to that fateful night six months ago—the night that changed everything!

In the distance, the vermilion courtyard gates swung open, the lantern lights illuminating the night as bright as day.

“This time, I won’t let the tragedy repeat itself.” Clenching her sleeves, Fangru stepped through the hall entrance, her gaze fixed firmly in Zhou Ling’s direction.