TFRLTOP Chapter 67 Part 1

Chapter 67 – The Tyrant’s Beloved 

Balanced Nutrition, Emperor Wanqian & The Unexpected Truth About the Heroine

Emperor Wanqian solemnly introduced the jade object in his hand.
“This,” he said, “is called a jade ornament…”

Mingming blinked at him. What kind of ornament needs an introduction like that?
Her instincts screamed danger.

She stared in horror and immediately tried to push the entire box away.
The Emperor quickly caught it, saying with mock seriousness, “Careful—this can’t be dropped. It took quite a bit of polishing to make it this smooth. If it gets chipped, it won’t be me who suffers, dear consort.”

Mingming: “…”
What kind of nonsense reasoning is that?

He continued, pleased with himself. “So far, this is the only one I’m satisfied with. A few others are still being crafted. When they’re ready, I’ll send them all to you.”

“No need!” she protested, kneeling properly on the bed and tugging at his sleeve.
“Your Majesty, if I’ve somehow offended you, just say it. Please don’t—uh—punish me with strange gifts.”

Wanqian chuckled, amused by her flustered tone. “Oh? Now it’s all ‘Your Majesty’ and ‘this humble consort,’ is it? Not long ago, you were just calling me ‘hey, you.’ I thought that was rather endearing.”

He sat on the edge of the bed, pinched her cheek, and added with feigned hurt, “Why so distant all of a sudden?”

He’s doing this on purpose. I know it. He’s enjoying this.
Mingming could almost cry from frustration.

To pacify him, she scooted closer and hugged him around the waist. “No distance, no distance at all. Your Majesty and I are the closest.”
She even gave him a soft smile to sell it.

Her voice, half-pleading, half-coaxing, made the Emperor’s expression soften. He brushed a kiss against her forehead. “Good. That’s better.”

Mingming felt her heart pound. This tyrant—when he wasn’t scheming or teasing—could actually be dangerously charming. She tried to pull away, but he caught her hand, and soon they were tumbling across the bed in a chaotic mess of laughter, stubborn resistance, and playful complaints.

“Y-You can’t just—ha!—You’re bullying me!” she laughed breathlessly, trying to fend him off.

Wanqian only laughed more, clearly enjoying her reactions. “This is called affection, not bullying.”

At some point, she froze, breath hitching, realizing how close they were—his face only inches away. Their eyes met. The teasing atmosphere shifted into something quieter, deeper.

“Your Majesty…” she whispered, uncertain whether to move away or stay still.

He looked at her for a long moment, the faintest smile curving his lips. “You’re far too easy to distract, my dear.”

Before she could respond, he leaned in again. The world spun, the teasing faded, and her thoughts dissolved into a blur of warmth and quiet laughter.

And then—
The lanterns flickered.
The curtain fell.
The night grew long.

When morning came, the palace was wrapped in stillness.

Mingming woke far earlier than expected. Every joint in her body ached, and she groaned softly, rolling over. “Ugh… why can’t I just sleep in?”

She blinked up at the canopy. Too bright. Too quiet. Too awake.

How I miss the modern world, she thought wistfully. Back then, I could laze around with my phone all morning…

“System… hey, system,” she muttered under her breath. “Next world, can we please do something modern? Pretty please? You’re the best system in the galaxy.”

System: “I’ll see what I can do.”

Tears welled in her eyes. “You’re an angel.”

System: “…Women.”

By noon, Emperor Wanqian came to dine with her. Mingming, determined to establish some distance, sat firmly on the opposite side of the table—like two armies divided by a river. She even arranged the dishes so that the meat and vegetables were perfectly split between them.

The Emperor raised an eyebrow. “Beloved—”

“Don’t call me that!” she huffed, staring down at her plate and attacking a piece of meat as if it had personally wronged her.

Wanqian’s smile only deepened. Watching her sulk was, in its own way, the most entertaining meal he’d had in years.

That emperor, Li He—what a piece of work. Give him half a glance, and he’s already off in his own little fantasy. Man’s a master of self-entertainment.

Ming Ming, on the other hand, is flexible. She might be soft-spoken in bed, but off the bed? She’s fierce as hell.

And oddly enough, both our male lead and the system share the same attitude about it: “As long as she’s happy.”

Of course, the system’s version comes with a sarcastic eye roll—“Yeah, whatever, as long as she’s happy.”
The emperor’s version, though, is pure tenderness—his gaze so soft it could melt the sun.

After lunch, Ming Ming ran off to find Jiang Fuling again.

Thanks to the emperor’s confidence boost, she now felt certain she could absolutely destroy Jiang Fuling at Go.

“Come on! Let’s play a game!”

Jiang Fuling gave a haughty little laugh. “You might beat me at Gomoku, but in Go? Heh. You’re the one who’s about to be crushed.”

Ming Ming thought smugly, We’ll see about that. I’m a genius—if I’d had proper training as a kid, I’d probably be some prodigy showing up on TV tournaments by now.

Full of confidence, she sat down to play.

First round: loss.
Second round: loss.
Third round: also a loss.

Ming Ming: “…”

“No way. One more!”

Jiang Fuling tilted her chin up proudly. “You can play a hundred more times—it’ll end the same.”

Fourth round: Ming Ming won.

Jiang Fuling: “…”

“What?! Impossible!”

Ming Ming clapped for herself, glowing with pride. “I knew it! I’ve got this!”

Jiang Fuling: “Again!”

And from that point on, it was like Ming Ming flipped a cheat switch—her win rate shot up. From even odds to eight wins out of ten, until she was completely crushing Jiang Fuling, who couldn’t win a single game.

“I knew it,” Ming Ming muttered, dazed with triumph. “I’m a genius!”

By the last round, Jiang Fuling was halfway through the game when she suddenly burst into tears.

Ming Ming jumped, then pouted in annoyance. “Seriously? We’re not even done yet! You’re really gonna cry because you’re losing? I didn’t cry when you destroyed me earlier!”

But Jiang Fuling wouldn’t stop sobbing.

Just then, her sister Jiang Ruotian walked in. Seeing her crying her eyes out, she sighed and came over—only to notice that the game in front of them looked like two absolute amateurs duking it out, with her poor sister getting thoroughly thrashed.

Pathetic.

Ruotian reached out, grabbed one of the stones from Fuling’s hand, and casually placed it on an inconspicuous spot on the board.

“There. Look. You can stop crying now.”

Fuling glanced at the board—and froze.

Ming Ming stared too, stunned.

Her nearly certain win had just flipped into a crushing loss with that single move.

Fuling brightened instantly and sat back down, grinning as she picked up her victory stones.

Ming Ming fumed, pointing at Ruotian. “You! Come on, you play me!”

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