TFRLTOP Chapter 61

Chapter 61: The Tyrant’s Beloved 

“Come here.”

Ming Ming shrank into the corner, shaking her head like a rattle drum.
“Calm down, Your Majesty. Remember—this is a civilized society. No violence.”

The emperor gave a quiet, unreadable laugh. “Come here on your own, and I promise to be gentle.”

As if she could believe that!

He glanced at the edge of the bed, then repeated with authority: “Come here.”

The attendants had already slipped away, leaving the two of them alone.

Ming Ming stayed frozen in place, locked in a silent standoff.

Finally, the emperor sighed, shaking his head in mock exasperation. “Truly disobedient.”

He leaned forward, caught hold of her ankle, and pulled her toward him despite her cry of protest.

She scrambled for a grip, only crumpling the sheets in her hands.

Drawing the bed curtains closed, the emperor loomed over her. His hand covered hers, where she clutched the fabric. “Be good. Let go.”

With a practiced twist, he pried her fingers free. “Don’t worry. Soon enough, you’ll have something else to hold on to.”

His fingers threaded through hers, pinning her hands firmly to the bed. His breath brushed against her cheek as he whispered, almost coaxing: “Or you can hold on to me.”

Ming Ming struggled, trying to draw her legs up, but he pressed her back down, relentless.

She stared at him, lashes trembling, breath uneven. He kissed her closed eyes, his voice low.
“What are you afraid of? I won’t devour you.”

“You squeeze me too hard,” she whispered. “You’re frightening.”

“You’re delicate. I haven’t even used force.”

“You still hurt me,” she muttered, pouting, convinced this emperor knew exactly how to toy with people’s hearts.

But I won’t be tricked, she thought fiercely. I’m a modern woman. I might fall to capitalism’s sugar-coated shells, but never to feudal tyranny!

“If you hurt me now, next you’ll slap me, pull my hair, push me down the stairs, or throw me into the cold palace… Maybe I won’t even survive that long.”

“Domestic violence never happens just once,” she whispered to herself.

The emperor chuckled darkly. “What a serious accusation. You’ve already condemned me without trial. Why bother with executions—I should be cut down on the spot?”

He pinched her cheek. “And what’s this about throwing you aside? Don’t want to bear my children? Should I drink the medicine to prevent heirs myself? Or is it that you want to carry someone else’s?”

Ming Ming blinked stubbornly. “You are a tyrant. Nothing I said was wrong.”

Instead of anger, amusement glimmered in his eyes. “You call me frightening, yet your tongue is sharp as ever. Doesn’t seem like you’re trembling to me. Or are you simply betting I’ll go soft on you?”

“No,” she snapped. Who cares about you anyway?

She pushed at him, one hand clutching her collar. “Don’t you dare tear my clothes.”

“Ah, so you like this dress?” he teased. “Very well, I’ll have the entire wardrobe made to suit your taste.”

The next instant, the fabric tore under his grip. “No need to worry—you’ll have plenty to wear.”

She tried to wriggle away, slipping forward, but he caught her waist and dragged her back.

“Trying to escape?” he murmured, lips brushing her hairline as he kissed his way toward her cheek. “Turn around. I want to see you.”

Eyes brimming red, Ming Ming glared at him.

He gently forced her to face him, stealing a kiss before brushing her nose affectionately. “Don’t be afraid. I’ll be gentle.”

Her body trembled, tears gathering in her eyes. Every word from his mouth was half promise, half threat.

In the end, she clung to him in desperation, torn between fury and fear, her protests drowned by his persistence.

And still, through it all, she thought with bitter clarity: He is a tyrant. No sweet words will ever change that.

The emperor gave a low chuckle from deep in his throat. “Cry louder. I enjoy the sound.”

Ming Ming stopped instantly, her wide eyes fixed on him, lips trembling as she tried to hold back her sobs.

That look alone seemed to delight him. She felt her body tense with alarm, pressing her palm against his chest to push him away. “You… what are you—”

“You’re the one who tempts me,” he murmured, drawing her hand to his lips and kissing from her palm up to her arm. “Tonight, you can skip the medicine. Tomorrow, you’ll take it again.”

Her mind went numb. Not until he had toyed with her endlessly through the night did she finally realize what he meant: skip dinner—he intended to keep at her until dawn.

And he even dared to act as if sparing her medicine was some kind of favor!

When at last he was satisfied, the emperor had warm water brought and carried Ming Ming into the bath, slipping in beside her.

“I’ve often wondered,” he teased, holding her close, “Concubine Lan eats so much meat every day, but where does it all go?” He pinched her waist, kissing her face, amused at her exhaustion.

Too tired to resist, Ming Ming feebly tried to push his wandering hands away. Her head tipped back onto his shoulder. “No more…” she whispered.

But he pressed her down again in the bath.

By the time he relented, she hadn’t even the strength to cry. She lay draped over the side like a weary kitten, whimpering softly. Only the cooling water kept him from continuing further.

He dismissed the servants and tended to her himself—washing, drying, and carrying her back to bed. The moment she touched the mattress, she rolled to the far side, wrapping herself tightly in the quilt, clinging to the wall to keep her distance. The emperor only pulled her back, afraid she would catch a chill, holding her fast in his arms.

She wanted to resist, but her body was weak, aching all over. Sleep dragged her under as she muttered faintly, “You should be at court. Go away.”

“Oh? Ordering me about?” His tone held no anger, only amusement. He was in far too good a mood to care.

With warm jade in his arms, why would he bother facing a hall full of scheming old officials?

“No court today. I’ll stay with you.”

“No one asked you to,” she muttered, eyes closed.

He tucked her head against his shoulder, nuzzling her face, stealing kisses on her eyes, her nose, her lips. Ming Ming squirmed in irritation, but the emperor sighed contentedly. “If you behave, I’ll overlook certain things. I’ll pretend not to know.”

Her eyes shifted beneath closed lids, but she was too weary to respond.

He didn’t mind. Whether she loved him or not, so long as she stayed by his side, it was enough.

“As long as you remain with me, I’ll grant you whatever I can.”

What he did not say aloud was this: If you are troubled, I will solve it for you.

By dawn, Jiang Zhelan was promoted to consort, while Jiang Wenyuan was dragged to the marketplace and executed.

That last part, the emperor kept from Ming Ming.

—

Using the promotion as a pretext, the emperor quietly gave himself several days of leisure. The two of them remained shut away, entangled night and day. At first, he restrained himself enough not to leave marks, but by the second day, he no longer bothered. He seemed intent on covering every inch of her skin with his own traces.

Sometimes, sitting unclothed on the bed, Ming Ming would glance at the bruises blooming from red to purple, layer upon layer, and her anger would boil over. She would scratch and bite at him, but his thick skin only made him grin in satisfaction. “Feels good. Scratch a little more,” he’d say, infuriating her further.

Meals, too, were taken in bed. The emperor refused to let her skip medicine, insisting she drink it punctually. Worse, he shamelessly had the servants bring him the same bitter concoction, claiming he would “share her hardship.”

Furious, Ming Ming demanded the physician add bitter herbs to his portion, so foul-smelling it was worse than her own. But even then, after drinking, he would kiss her, their mingled bitterness making her want to scream. Later, he learned to hold sugar in his mouth before kissing her, sweetening the taste.

Still, medicine before meals only soured her mood further, and their meals always ended in chaos, the bed a battlefield.

He would then wrap her in a blanket, carry her behind the screen, and order fresh bedding laid. All the while, his hands roamed, teasing her until her face burned, making his desire surge again the instant the bed was ready.

Thus their days passed—five, six, seven, eight in a blur. For the emperor, it was paradise, unlike anything in his twenty-odd years of life. He was already planning excuses for future “holidays” whenever she was promoted again.

But Ming Ming could bear no more. She finally kicked him off the bed, wrapping herself tightly in the quilt like a triangular dumpling, glaring with only her head poking out.

“Nothing left! Not a drop! If you keep this up, I’ll be ruined!”

The emperor only bent down to steal a kiss. “Nonsense. That’s for me to say. But I’m strong—I won’t fall to pieces.”

Ming Ming glared. “Come near me again, and I’ll snap you in half.”

He froze, then straightened, eyes glinting with mischief.

Horrified, she realized he was excited by the threat.

“If my beloved consort says so… then I must test it for myself.”

“Don’t you dare! Stay away! I’ll bite you, I swear!”

“Don’t bite,” he whispered, moving in close. “Show me how you’ll break me.”

Ming Ming buried her face in the quilt, wordless and weeping.

Only five, six, seven, eight days had passed, yet it felt like a lifetime. Her body was sore beyond bearing. When she finally managed to push him away and limp outside for air, she discovered something shocking in the imperial garden.

Jiang Fuling, of all people, had started a business in the harem—offering manicures.

Unbelievable, Ming Ming thought bitterly. We’re both transmigrators, yet she’s building a career… while I’m stuck here like this.

Glancing at her bare nails, she made up her mind at once—she would go find her.