Strongly Spoiled by the Villainous Tyrant After Climbing into the Dragon’s Bed - Chapter 1

Wintry frost.

The night fell exceptionally fast, the horizon resembling a splash of thick ink. Swirling snow fluttered through the air, and the biting cold caused layers of icicles to congeal upon the golden eaves of the imperial palace.

The three large characters on the plaque of the Jinxiu Palace were also coated in a layer of ice crystals.

The Jinxiu Palace was the residence for the concubines of the late Emperor; it had been vacant for decades. Now, although it welcomed a new occupant, only a few guards were stationed outside the palace.

In the silent, cold night, during the end of the Choushi hour (around 3:00 AM), the guards stood amidst the freezing weather. Feeling inevitably bored, one of the more gossipy individuals started a treasonous topic, attempting to stimulate their nerves.

“Hey, why do you think His Majesty still hasn’t come to favor this beauty he snatched away?”

It was the dead of night, and seeing no one around, another guard—perhaps a newcomer who didn’t know the rules—actually chimed in.

“Perhaps he simply doesn’t like him.”

“How could he not like him? This is that hidden guard from Prince An’s household whose treatment was comparable to a male favorite—what was his name again? Yue… Yueqing? I heard the Prince doted on him extremely, taking him wherever he went; he even brought him to the last palace banquet.”

“What’s with that tone? You envious of him? Nothing good comes from serving others with one’s looks.”

“Heh, who’s envious of him? For a man to receive favor in that manner is simply a disgrace. His father is also sick in the head; knowing full well that His Majesty ruins people in bed, he still eagerly drugged him and sent him over!”

“You dare say such things? Do you want to lose your head?”

The rustling sounds of the guards’ conversation drifted through the window lattice, waking the person inside the hall.

Inside the hall, the floor was made of gold and jade, with four coiled dragon pillars standing tall. Fragrance swirled from the carved golden incense burner. In the rear hall, from behind the bead curtains in the bathing pool, came the sound of a splash as someone emerged from the water.

Cold.

When Zhan Yueqing opened his eyes, he felt a piercing cold; every inch of his skin felt as though it had been soaked in ice water, making him tremble.

[Detecting that the Host has awakened. The mission is about to be issued—]

[Main quest: Reform the Tyrant. Side quest: Obtain the title ‘Femme Fatale.’ Assistance target: Male lead, Zhang Qiu.]

What is that babbling inside my head?

Zhan Yueqing slowly turned his mind over, his pitch-black eyelashes drooping.

He was wearing a garment of black light gauze, a glove on his left hand, and his entire body was submerged in icy, blood-colored water.

Zhan Yueqing shivered.

Where is this? Wasn’t I in the hospital?

As if sensing his confusion, a fragment of memory suddenly appeared in his mind.

A moment later.

In the rear hall, there was a full-length glazed mirror, so clear it seemed capable of reflecting every single eyelash.

Zhan Yueqing stood before the mirror, his gaze empty.

The person reflected in the mirror was a youth, appearing to be about eighteen years old, with long hair draped down. His complexion was fair, his nose bridge high, and his eyes were sharp, carrying a hint of ferocity when he didn’t speak.

It was an androgynous appearance, identical to his face in the modern world, perhaps even a cut above.

Zhan Yueqing had never seen himself with long hair; he hadn’t expected the first time to be under such circumstances.

He spent some time digesting the memories given by the system, his brow furrowing slightly.

He used to read novels in the past, so his level of acceptance for this situation was fairly good—the original owner was a hidden guard with a complex identity, a “medicine human” whose body was riddled with toxins, even possessing poison patterns.

Combining the memories, he roughly understood the current plight of the original owner.

The current dynasty was named Ning, yet the entire country was anything but “peaceful” (Ning).

The reason for this unrest was that the Emperor of the Ning Kingdom was a tyrant who was lecherous, incestuous, and fond of flogging people to death.

The Tyrant had taken a fancy to the original owner—then a guard of Prince An—at a palace banquet, saying on the spot: “How about Royal Brother gifts this beauty to me?”

Prince An had refused on the grounds that “Yue’er is ugly of countenance and wears a mask; where can the beauty be seen? His face is damaged, so I crave your forgiveness as he cannot serve the Sovereign.”

But this only further incited the Tyrant’s desire for conquest—after all, he had always enjoyed snatching things from Prince An.

Coincidentally, the original owner’s younger brother made a mistake that day, so the Tyrant sent people to hint to the original owner’s father: an exchange of one son for another.

Trading the obscure older brother, Zhan Yueqing, for the famously talented younger brother, Zhan De.

Even a fool knew which one to choose.

The Ning Kingdom did not favor male-on-male romance, viewing a man becoming a wife or concubine as a disgrace. The original owner resisted to the death but was drugged by that scumbag father and sent into the palace in a small sedan chair.

But it was just knock-out drugs; how did the original owner die? Doubt appeared in Zhan Yueqing’s eyes.

However, the most important thing for him now was to survive until the next day at the hands of the Tyrant.

The system said that because the Tyrant had flogged too many people to death, it wasn’t certain he could survive until the next day; therefore, only if he lived would it tell him the remaining information.

Thinking of this, Zhan Yueqing knit his brows and lifted the black gauze on his leg—

His left leg bore a large area of black tattoos, spreading from the thigh down to the toes. One couldn’t tell what shape it was, but the black poison patterns paired with his pale skin had a strange, contrasting beauty.

“I might as well just bash my head and die,” Zhan Yueqing thought expressionlessly. “What’s the difference between this and black silk stockings?”

He then removed the glove from his left hand and found the same markings on his well-defined knuckles.

No wonder he had to cover them up.

Zhan Yueqing thought about the system’s phrase “Reform the Tyrant” and narrowed his eyes, seemingly pondering how to break the deadlock.

“System, is my blood poisonous too?” Zhan Yueqing asked.

The system played dead.

“If you don’t speak, you can go find your next host,” Zhan Yueqing said with a frown.

The system immediately spoke: [Yes, and after being poisoned, only you can provide the cure.]

Zhan Yueqing suddenly understood. Just as he wanted to ask the system a few more questions, his ears sharply caught a long shout—

“The Emperor Arrives!”

Zhan Yueqing was startled. Before he could react, he first caught the scent of a strange fragrance, like some kind of woody smell mixed with a faint scent of blood.

The palace was divided into front and rear halls. A servant shouted in the front hall: “Where is the Young Master of the Zhan family?”

The voice was extremely piercing.

Zhan Yueqing hurriedly grabbed an outer robe to throw on and ran out, prostrating himself beneath that throne—

This string of actions seemed to be the original owner’s muscle memory, such that by the time Zhan Yueqing realized it, he was already kneeling very low. His gaze could only see the dark gold-trimmed outer robe trailing on the floor nearby.

And a pair of boots with upturned toes.

“Scared witless?” Beside the throne, the eunuch guarding the Emperor spoke—that eunuch was named Zhou Fu. He had been in the palace for many years and was now over fifty, looking like a “smiling tiger.”

What? Zhan Yueqing didn’t quite understand why he said that.

A soft chuckle suddenly came from above his head.

This laugh was very low, magnetic, and hoarse.

…It actually sounds quite nice. This thought inappropriately slid through Zhan Yueqing’s mind.

Beside him, Zhou Fu was breaking out in a cold sweat, not expecting this child to be so ignorant of etiquette as to not even know how to offer a greeting.

Zhou Fu peeked at the Emperor beside him, wanting to guess his intentions through the Sovereign’s expression, but his gaze was blocked by the beads hanging from the imperial crown.

Suddenly, Zhan Yueqing noticed the boots in front of him move.

“Your Majesty, please forgive him!” Zhou Fu instantly knelt down as well. “Perhaps the people below forgot to teach him the rules.”

Zhan Yueqing was somewhat dazed.

Is this the Tyrant? Someone is scared like this just because he moved his leg?

His breath hitched, and he followed suit, opening his mouth: “Your Majesty, please forgive…”

He didn’t understand what mistake he had made, so having reached this point, he didn’t know how to continue.

Damn this cursed feudal society.

Zhan Yueqing cursed silently in his heart.

He wasn’t in the wrong!

His only mistake was staying up late even when he was in the hospital!

Now look what happened—he died suddenly and traveled into a novel he hadn’t even read, and this dead system wouldn’t even help him!

Anyway, he didn’t want to live anymore; maybe they should just die together…

At this thought, Zhan Yueqing unconsciously gripped his robes tightly and bit his lip, his heart suddenly beginning to beat rapidly.

“Zhou Fu,” the Emperor spoke again, “you’ve frightened him.”

Zhan Yueqing was stunned. This voice…

Zhou Fu was also stunned, looking up in shock; clearly, he had never seen Tan Huairan speak in such a manner.

Tan Huairan looked down at the youth kneeling before him, who looked as if he wished he could burrow into the ground like a little mole, and narrowed his phoenix eyes.

He looked at the crown of the head, rubbing the jade dragon thumb ring on his thumb. For no reason at all, a strange feeling welled up in his heart.

“Your Majesty.”

A black-robed hidden guard entered from outside. Zhan Yueqing only heard the person’s voice; he didn’t even hear footsteps.

He smelled the scent of blood again.

The hidden guard threw two bloody objects onto the ground and knelt on one knee. “The people outside have been dealt with! This subordinate was negligent in supervision; I beg Your Majesty’s forgiveness.”

The bloody things happened to be thrown right next to Zhan Yueqing. He glanced at them, and his pupils suddenly constricted—

Those were two segments of tongues.

Human tongues.

Zhan Yueqing had studied medicine in the modern world, so he was very clear about these things. He could tell at a glance that they had been torn out of a living human.

Zhan Yueqing’s face turned deathly pale, and he gave a nearly imperceptible shudder.

Is this a warning to me? If I don’t speak properly, my tongue will be pulled out too?

Naturally, the Emperor above spoke again: “All of you, withdraw.”

The hidden guard vanished silently again, and Zhou Fu also crawled out backwards.

Zhan Yueqing paused, his gaze confused. He said “all”? Do I have to crawl out too?

He hesitated for a moment and tentatively crawled back a step. But in the next instant, a dense woody fragrance rushed at his face—

A hand wearing a jade thumb ring hooked under his chin and tilted his face up.

In the next second, Zhan Yueqing saw a face so handsome it seemed like a masterpiece of divine craftsmanship.

There was a hint of gloom between the Emperor’s brows, and his thin lips were slightly curved as if smiling, but in those phoenix eyes looking at him, there seemed to be a flash of daze for an instant.

Zhan Yueqing blinked, and that flash of daze disappeared.

As if it had just been his hallucination.

“Ma… Majesty?”

Zhan Yueqing looked at that face cautiously, his mind feeling as though it were tied in knots. For a moment, he actually didn’t know what to say, and his heart pounded wildly.

—He was a bit of a “face-con” (someone attracted to good looks).

Moreover, this face… looked exactly like his childhood sweetheart ex-boyfriend.

Looking at him, a strange feeling arose in Zhan Yueqing’s heart, and the rims of his eyes turned slightly red, as if he had remembered something.

“What a disgusting face.”

Cold words suddenly rang out.

Zhan Yueqing froze, a teardrop falling from the corner of his eye as he looked up in shock—

He couldn’t believe what he had just heard.

Tan Huairan let go of his hand and retreated back to the throne, seemingly trying to calm his mind. The bead strings on his crown clattered against each other.

Zhan Yueqing snapped back to reality instantly—Disgusting? He called this face disgusting?!

Disgusting?

He considered his own appearance to be quite good; it hadn’t reached the point of being called disgusting!

An inexplicable sense of grievance welled up in his heart, and a surge of sky-high rage erupted in Zhan Yueqing’s mind—

Disgusting your uncle!

So what if he’s a tyrant? If I die, I die!!!!

To hell with the mission, he wasn’t going along with it!

The system sharply detected his self-destructive tendency and hurriedly spoke: [Wait, what are you doing? He just said one thing to you!]

Zhan Yueqing couldn’t hear anything. He suddenly stood up, not caring about etiquette anymore. He raised his hand and delivered a sharp slap right across the Tyrant’s face!!

Slap!!

“Disgusting?” Zhan Yueqing’s eyes were fixed deathly on the Tyrant before him, his voice cold. “Since Your Majesty finds it disgusting, then why did you snatch me away from Prince An?”

The androgynous beauty’s brows were filled with fury. Tan Huairan paused, forced to admit that this face was indeed peerless.

But he shouldn’t have looked like this.

Tan Huairan’s cheek stung, yet he let out a cold laugh, thinking dangerously:

Another counterfeit.

He reached out and pinched Zhan Yueqing’s chin, bringing his face nearly flush against the other’s cheek—

“That was because you were wearing a mask then. If I had known that beneath the mask was such a plain and mediocre face—one so filthy that even a single extra glance is loathsome—I wouldn’t have bothered.”

The Emperor’s tall frame loomed over him, and the hand pinching his chin was painfully tight. Zhan Yueqing was so angry his eyes turned red, yet this heartless Emperor continued to speak—

“What are you glaring at? Do you think looking at me from this angle will make me love you or feel pity?”

Tan Huairan’s tone was borderline cruel: “A counterfeit is just a counterfeit. I will never like you in this lifetime. Now, get out!”

The mockery in his words was too heavy. Unable to endure any longer, Zhan Yueqing raised his leg and kicked toward Tan Huairan’s crotch, immediately starting a brawl with him!

Then let go of me!!!

How am I supposed to get out if you’re holding me!!!

Zhan Yueqing was dying of anger.

Never expecting that he would dare to strike the Emperor, Tan Huairan actually failed to restrain him in time. His imperial robes and heavy crown slowed his movements by two beats, and he was nearly kicked in his “ancestral roots.”

Zhan Yueqing’s foot missed slightly, hitting Tan Huairan’s thigh. He took the opportunity to grab the imperial crown and pull it off, pinning the Emperor to the ground. In his heat-of-the-moment rage, he scolded regardless of the consequences—

“You think I give a damn about your crappy ‘love’? And a counterfeit? Counterfeit your father!”

His outburst was purely driven by anger, entirely lacking any technique.

Tan Huairan had practiced martial arts since youth and was skilled in riding and archery; his arm strength was not to be underestimated. Once he recovered, he easily pinned the other down. A spark of fury was also ignited in his heart, and he performed a shoulder throw—

The floor was gold and jade, incomparably icy. The piercing cold seemed to penetrate through the outer robe into the very marrow of his bones.

Zhan Yueqing was slammed onto the floor. His back throbbed with pain, and his already paper-white complexion paled further as he struggled.

Damn, this dog’s strength is actually quite something.

Tan Huairan’s hair was messy, and there were two red marks on his handsome face—the result of the slaps Zhan Yueqing had landed in the chaos.

“With this level of strength, someone who didn’t know better would think you were flirting with me.” Tan Huairan leaned in close from above him, a hint of gloom appearing in his eyes as he laughed from extreme anger:

“Yes, perhaps you don’t care for my love, but your nine generations of kin certainly do. It was your father who sent you here, wasn’t it?”

Zhan Yueqing pursed his lips, his beautiful, sharp eyes glaring at him, his expression both stubborn and resentful—

“If you hadn’t issued the decree, how could he possibly have sent me?!”

Tan Huairan paused upon hearing this. The hand constricted around the other’s neck tightened, veins bulging on the back of his hand, his eyes becoming increasingly dark.

Like a malevolent spirit about to take a life.

“It seems you haven’t grasped your own position yet. Guess what—if I were to strangle you to death right here, would anyone even collect your corpse?”

The sensation of a palm crushing his throat was not pleasant. Zhan Yueqing couldn’t speak, and his face began to turn red from the lack of air. Looking at the face inches away from his own, his eyes filled with mist in a split second, as if he were crying.

The system tried to intervene but could only express useless fury, screaming, “No! I don’t want to find another host! You can’t die! If you die, who’s going to beat the Big Boss?!”

Its screams mingled with the suffocation caused by Tan Huairan. Zhan Yueqing’s vision went black; he truly thought he was about to be strangled to death.

Yet, his mood was strangely calm.

Am I dying?

Go ahead and die then.

This is just a nightmare. It’ll be fine once I wake up.

Zhan Yueqing coaxed himself, mumbling something unclearly through his lips—

“Tan Huai… f*ck your father…”

Tan Huairan’s pupils instantly constricted, his gaze filled with shock and uncertainty.

Physiological hot tears spilled from the corners of his eyes. Just as Zhan Yueqing was about to lose consciousness from suffocation—

Suddenly, the grip on his neck was released.

Zhan Yueqing’s vision was still dark. He didn’t know if it was due to this body’s condition or something else.

“You should thank this face of yours.”

Tan Huairan’s voice seemed to come from far away. Zhan Yueqing only felt his lips being forced open, and a stream of cool water entered his system, easing the painful feeling of suffocation.

When he regained clarity, he discovered to his horror—the Tyrant was actually holding him.

And he was even using his hand to stroke his back to help him catch his breath.

Zhan Yueqing had long since forgotten what he had just said. He looked at the Tyrant before him in shock, his eyes practically screaming: Are you a paranoid schizophrenic?

“You’re wet,” Tan Huairan suddenly said.

Zhan Yueqing: “???”