TFRLTOP Chapter 56 Part 1

Chapter 56 – The Tyrant’s Beloved

◎How could I possibly feel sorry for her◎

When Ming Ming went to the imperial study that time, she finally realized that the Luoxue Pavilion was built far from the other consorts’ palaces—but unusually close to the emperor’s own residence. Thinking back on all those overlapping “buffs” stacked on top of each other, even she had to admit it looked like Jiang Zhelan was truly the emperor’s favorite.

Heh. Scumbag man.

Supporting characters’ lives matter too!

Ever since Emperor Wanqian promised to dine with her, he had kept his word—three meals a day delivered to Ming Ming’s place. Sometimes, when it got too late and he was too lazy to head back, he’d even stay the night. When Ming Ming tried to grab her bedding and go sleep elsewhere, the emperor flat-out refused.

After several nights of dreaming about being strangled by a giant python, Ming Ming finally snapped in her sleep, turned into Popeye, and broke free of the coils.

Thud!

She startled awake, poked her head out of the bed curtains—and locked eyes with Emperor Wanqian, who had just fallen off the bed.

The next day, he ordered the narrow bed replaced with a much bigger one.

So he’d rather get a larger bed than sleep apart from me.

Honestly, I could cry.

Ming Ming felt a pang. It looked like he had truly decided to make her the cannon fodder who basked in favor.

But ever since she’d latched onto the emperor as her backer, the dirty tricks aimed at her had visibly lessened. She could finally breathe easy.

Feeling carefree, she turned her attention to the gifts Wanqian had sent her that day.

Five large chests in total—three of jewels, one of silver, one of gold. Ming Ming sat among them, set a bronze mirror on top of one, and gleefully pulled out a gold ingot and a silver ingot, tossing them back and forth like she was juggling. She tried to add a third, but her hands wouldn’t cooperate and she fumbled.

No big deal. She’d practice.

Tossing the gold and silver aside, she began trying on jewelry in front of the mirror. This time, the emperor had sent her a proper bronze mirror—solid and heavy. She didn’t hold it steady, and it crashed onto a gold ingot. The mirror was fine, but the corner of the ingot flattened.

Gold really was a soft metal…

There were so many jewels it was dizzying. Ming Ming glanced left, then right, and suddenly blurted, “If I sold these, would they fetch a good price?”

“You can try,” the system said gleefully, egging her on. “But they all bear the imperial seal. You dare sell them? You think anyone outside dares buy?”

“Ugh, products that can’t circulate are bound to be eliminated by the market!”

“Tell that to the museums. They hoard antiques by the truckload, and none of it circulates.”

Ming Ming: “…”

First, she put a ring on each of her ten fingers. Then she tried sliding bangles on her wrists, but they wouldn’t fit. So she took the rings back off, stacked five bangles on her left arm and five on her right—green jade, white jade, emerald, gold, silver—no two alike. Every time she raised her arms, they clattered loudly.

Ming Ming was entranced. “Ah, the sound of wealth—it’s beautiful!”

She put the rings back on, then layered nearly ten necklaces around her neck, long to short, until her whole throat was covered in beads. The effect was oddly exotic.

A little heavy, though.

She shook her head at the mirror. “Look—it’s Little Ming of the ethnic minorities!”

System: “Don’t drag minorities into this mess!”

Ming Ming clicked her tongue and kept stabbing jeweled hairpins into her hair. “I know this look. It’s all about effortless style—ouch.”

The rings snagged her hair. She sighed and took them off again.

“Couldn’t you have just left the rings for last?” the system muttered. Too exasperated to mock her anymore, it actually started helping her problem-solve.

Ming Ming spread her fingers bashfully. “Well, I just realized—my slender jade-like fingers are perfect for rings~”

System: Perfect your head. Enough with the “~.”

By the time she was done, her hair was practically bristling with hairpins, while her arms, neck, and fingers glittered with mismatched jewelry. The look screamed nouveau riche.

No—worse than nouveau riche. Even the nouveau riche wouldn’t dress like this.

And yet she was grinning ear to ear.

“I really am gorgeous—even all gaudy like this, I’m still gorgeous!”

System: At least you know it’s gaudy!

(╯‵□′)╯︵┻━┻

By now, Emperor Wanqian was thoroughly familiar with the Luoxue Pavilion. Because he always harbored some suspicion toward Jiang Zhelan, he never announced himself when he came—always aiming for surprise.

So when he slipped in quietly this time, the sight that greeted him was—

Five massive chests in a half-circle, Jiang Zhelan plopped in the middle, one leg propped up, her sleeve rolled to the elbow, bangles jangling on her arms, rings sparkling on her fingers, hairpins sticking out in all directions. Some even dangled crookedly, swaying in midair.

And she was cupping her cheek, staring dreamily at her reflection.

The visual impact was… severe.

At the noise of his entrance, Ming Ming whipped her head around, her hairpins rattling like rain, almost giving herself whiplash. Only then did Wanqian notice the string of beads looped around her neck like a garland.

Meeting the emperor’s utterly blank stare, Ming Ming wanted to curl up and die. She cursed him silently—ghosting in and out like that, without a sound.

Why did she shut herself indoors to play dress-up instead of parading around the palace like this? Exactly because she didn’t want anyone to see!

Wanqian pinched the bridge of his nose and ordered Gao Fu, “From now on, find her a professional dresser.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Ming Ming: “…”

She bristled. “What, are you doubting my fashion sense?”

Wanqian asked coolly, “Are you doubting my decisions?”

Ming Ming instantly deflated, remembering this man was a tyrant. She turned into a timid little quail.

Before long, servants came in with dishes.

For days now, Ming Ming had been gnawing on vegetables alongside the emperor. He had assumed she would waste away, but surprisingly, her body held up fine. Her face was still as soft and fair as ever—temptingly pinchable.

Wanqian snapped back to his senses, annoyed at himself.

When he looked again, Ming Ming was chewing a single leaf slowly, eyes mournful, picking at dishes with her chopsticks like she was debating her next tragic bite.

Wanqian almost laughed.

Then his expression hardened. This was all an act, wasn’t it? She’d been pulling this pitiful routine since the day they met—still hoping to make him feel tender toward her.

As if. How could he ever feel sorry for her?

After lunch, Wanqian returned to the study. Gao Fu had just reported the documents when the emperor suddenly said, “Tell the imperial kitchen to prepare some meat dishes, send them with tonight’s meal to Concubine Lan.”

Gao Fu quickly masked his surprise, bowed, and hurried to obey. He had just reached the door when Wanqian stopped him.

“Wait.”

The emperor tapped the dragon chair armrest thoughtfully. Gao Fu thought he’d revoke the order. Instead, Wanqian said, “Ask the kitchens if they can make roast duck. If so, send one.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

That afternoon, Wanqian finished his work early. The ministers had been quiet lately, saving him trouble. “What has Jiang Wenyuan been up to?”

“Your Majesty, Minister Jiang has been keeping to himself. He leaves court, then stays home with little contact. On the surface, he’s been most proper.”

Wanqian gave Gao Fu a look. Gao Fu immediately bent, smiling obsequiously, and corrected himself: “Of course, that’s only what he wants Your Majesty to see. Our agents found one of his household guests was an old man from Jiangbei—surname Yu, though his given name is unknown.”

He stepped closer and traced the character “日” with a line beneath it on the table.