TFRLTOP Chapter 62 Part 1

Chapter 62 – The Tyrant’s Beloved

◎ Hands-On Lesson ◎

The gates of Jiang Fuling’s palace were busier than ever. Everyone—friends and former rivals alike—came crowding in, trying to cozy up to her.

Her manicures were simple but dazzling enough. In a world without acrylics or gel polish, just adding a bit of color and pattern was enough to make the women of the harem stare in envy.

Jiang Fuling herself remained calm and unbothered by the sudden attention.

“Appointments must be made a day in advance,” she announced coolly. “Only three clients per day. No exceptions—unless you’re paying a lot extra.”

To her surprise, the women of the harem actually stopped scheming against each other. They queued obediently in line, waiting their turn for a manicure.

Jiang Fuling was rather pleased.

After all, what kind of time traveler would she be if she didn’t shake up the world a little?

When Ming Ming arrived, she found Jiang Fuling surrounded by three deep palace women. Even those who didn’t have appointments stood by watching eagerly. To complete her “modern” look, Jiang Fuling had even tied a silk scarf around her neck.

It looked great. I should try that combo when I get back, Ming Ming thought.

Jiang Fuling had just finished her first client of the day. She stretched lazily, and the waiting concubines dared not rush her—everyone treated her like royalty now.

In truth, ancient noblewomen’s nail guards were far more extravagant than modern nail art. But in Emperor Wangan’s vast harem, few women had a rank high enough to wear those ornate guards. Though their delicate hands were well cared for, their long nails without decoration still lacked elegance.

But after a session with Jiang Fuling—their nails dyed a vivid, glossy red—it was no wonder everyone was jealous.

Jiang Fuling looked up and spotted Ming Ming peeking from behind the crowd. The sight made her blood boil instantly. “Shop’s closed!” she snapped. “Come back tomorrow!”

Ming Ming blinked, disappointed but ready to leave—until Jiang Fuling’s teeth-gritting voice stopped her. “Jiang Zelan, don’t you dare leave!”

!?

That didn’t sound like an invitation to skip the line.

Feeling guilty about what had happened several days earlier, Ming Ming turned around with an awkward smile. “Uh… hi~”

She hoped Jiang Fuling was still as gullible as before.

Judging from Jiang Fuling’s expression, though, she might as well have said, ‘Hi, my ass.’

Great. Why’d she have to grow a brain now?

Jiang Fuling dismissed the others and slammed the door shut, glaring daggers at her. She looked ready to tear Ming Ming’s hair out and curse her senseless.

Before she could, Ming Ming acted first. She rushed forward, grasped Jiang Fuling’s hands with teary sincerity, and choked out, “Sister… do you know how much I suffered—for your sake?”

“…” Jiang Fuling stared. “He hit you?”

Ming Ming nodded solemnly. “He hit me hard!”

She rolled up her sleeve, showing off the bruises in shades of blue and purple. “See?”

“Ugh.” Jiang Fuling took two steps back. The sight was honestly a little disturbing.

“You didn’t notice I’ve been limping all day? I nearly died!”

Jiang Fuling sighed. “After all these days, you’re still alive after crossing that tyrant… unbelievable.”

“So, since I suffered so much for you,” Ming Ming said, brightening up, “how about doing my nails too?”

Jiang Fuling just turned her head away with a cold huff. She wasn’t ready to forgive and forget that easily.

So tsundere…

Undeterred, Ming Ming followed close behind, chirping “sister, sister” in the sweetest voice imaginable. She held out her hands. “Look! I haven’t trimmed my nails in ages. With your skill, they’ll look amazing!”

Jiang Fuling’s stern expression began to soften.

“Best sister ever! I’m just a lowly concubine. I’ve never seen the world—no one’s as talented as you. Please, please, do one for me!” Ming Ming clung to her sleeve and swayed pitifully.

“…Fine,” Jiang Fuling said at last, reluctantly. “Fine.”

Ming Ming beamed and sat down, obediently placing her hands on the table.

“Pick a color and design,” Jiang Fuling said. “Oh, and a warning—the polish is mostly made from cinnabar. It doesn’t last long, but if it stains your skin, it won’t wash off for days. Be careful.”

“Got it.” Ming Ming chose a bold red with a few delicate gold flourishes.

“You’ve got a good eye,” Jiang Fuling said. “It’s the most regal color—but none of the others can pull it off.”

“Hehe.”

When it was done, Ming Ming admired her nails gleefully, then couldn’t help asking, “Where did you even get this stuff?”

She couldn’t just ask outright how Jiang Fuling had managed to invent nail polish in ancient times—but the question burned on her tongue. In only a few days, she’d made several colors!

Jiang Fuling’s face stiffened. “Why? Planning to steal my trade secrets?”

“No, no…”

She couldn’t admit it, but the polish wasn’t her own creation—it was Jiang Ruotian’s. There was nothing shameful about that, but the reason why Ruotian made it was… less flattering.

After being terrified half to death by Emperor Wangan, Jiang Fuling had gone back crying nonstop. When the order for her confinement arrived, she happened to be in Jiang Ruotian’s quarters—and ended up confined there. Driven crazy by the endless sobbing, Ruotian had whipped up the nail polish just to keep her busy and out of the way.

Then, the very next day, came the news that their father had been executed at the marketplace. Jiang Fuling had fallen into utter despair, convinced the next imperial decree would demand her head. Facing what she thought was certain death, she’d painted the other concubines’ nails while crying, even adding little designs for the ones who comforted her.

And on the third day, her confinement was lifted.

After such wild ups and downs, Jiang Fuling decided to live in the moment. To hell with love—if I’m going to die anyway, I’ll make nail art the next great industry of the dynasty!

Her thoughts wandered. Suddenly, she remembered something. “Oh, right—it’s Father’s seventh-day memorial today. Can we burn paper offerings here in the palace?”

“I don’t think that’s allowed…” Ming Ming started to say—then froze. “Wait. What did you just say?”

“You didn’t know?” Jiang Fuling frowned.

“Know what? How did he die? Sudden illness?”

“No. Beheaded at the market square by imperial decree.”

“What?!”

“Probably related to that assassination attempt. The emperor thought Father was behind it. Once he died, our confinement was lifted.”

“Oh… I see…” Ming Ming murmured, feeling a pang of sympathy.

Emperor Wangan hadn’t mentioned a word of this to her—he’d been too busy sharing her bed.

Jiang Fuling noticed her lack of emotion. She and Jiang Ruotian weren’t mourning because they were both time travelers who had never truly regarded that man as their father—but why wasn’t Jiang Zelan sad either?

“Your father’s dead and that’s all you’ve got to say? Aren’t you even sad?”

Ming Ming froze, realizing she’d slipped up. Then she quickly faked a sigh. “Ah… I suppose I’m just used to being a concubine’s daughter. Father never really doted on me like he did on you…”

Jiang Fuling thought for a moment, then nodded, convinced.

Ha! I’m such a genius.

Just as she congratulated herself, Jiang Fuling frowned again. “Wait a minute, Jiang Zelan…”

On the day Jiang Wenyuan died, there had been another imperial decree!

She stared at Ming Ming in disbelief. “You really think I’m that stupid? The day after Father’s execution, you were promoted to Consort! What kind of twisted logic is that? Tell me—how exactly did the emperor ‘punish’ you? Did he do it in bed?”

“Don’t try to fool me with those bruises. A lover’s quarrel isn’t the same as a beating!”

Damn it—she’d caught on.

Ming Ming trailed behind her miserably, thinking, Come on, you were supposed to stay dumb! I don’t believe it—you’re definitely still a little dumb. You have to be. Once the polish chips, I’ll still need you to touch it up!

We can’t fall out now!

Writing