TFRLTOP Chapter 70 Part 1

Chapter 70 – The Tyrant’s Beloved 

◎Dog Emperor, Love Me or Don’t◎

“You’re telling me,” Emperor Wan Qian said, holding up a piece of the pastry in disbelief, “that the imperial kitchen cut these cakes into this shape?”

Ming Ming blinked. Honestly, she had no idea. She did remember hearing chopping sounds on her way out — she thought they were just cutting up some ribs for an extra dish. Now it seemed she’d completely misunderstood.

So she fell silent too.

“My cooking skills are just… lacking,” Ming Ming said miserably, lowering her head in apology.

I really don’t deserve to live. I’m cursed. Heaven itself rejects me from the kitchen. I can’t even make a simple pastry without breaking the laws of physics…

She picked up the plate, ready to throw the biscuits away, but Emperor Wan Qian stopped her immediately. Trying to look composed, he said, “No—give it here. I… I’ve been craving something crunchy lately.”

“Really?” she asked, clearly unconvinced. “Don’t lie to me. I don’t need kind lies. You don’t have to force yourself.”

“Who said I’m forcing myself?” he snapped, sounding just a bit defensive. “I am the Emperor — would I lie?”

And then, before he could regret it, he picked up one of the “pastries” and bit into it with his molars. Crunch. Crunch.

“My beloved concubine’s pastries are truly… unique in flavor,” he managed to say between gritted teeth. “Delicious. I… love them.”

Watching him chew, Ming Ming’s eyes filled with confusion. Wait… is it actually good? Maybe just a bit hard, like those dense rye loaves?

She reached for one to try herself, but Wan Qian stopped her again.

Still clutching his jaw, he took another bite and said, voice steady despite the pain, “These were made by your own hands. They carry your affection. I… must finish every bite myself.”

That last line came out through clenched teeth.

“Then…” she ventured, “should I make you some every day?”

The Emperor froze. He turned to stare at her, his tone dangerously calm: “My beloved, don’t repay kindness with cruelty.”

“Your Majesty,” Ming Ming said, barely containing her laughter, “how are your teeth holding up?”

The Emperor pinched her cheek, glaring. “Whose fault do you think that is? Hmm? Whose?”

Ming Ming’s eyes curved into crescents as she grinned and threw her arms around him, planting a kiss on his cheek.

Holding her in his arms — all soft warmth and bright eyes — the Emperor sighed inwardly and, without another word, finished every single piece of that dreadful pastry.

As he crunched his way through the plate, he thought grimly that he ought to execute the entire imperial kitchen. Useless fools — the Empress herself is cooking, and none of you thought to lend a hand? You really made her do it all by herself?

He bit down again. Ow. My head hurts just from the sound.

In the days that followed, the Emperor was consumed by endless turmoil. According to the system, the entire empire had fallen into chaos. Peasant uprisings erupted across the land, and opportunists used the chaos to commit crimes — all under the banner of “restoring the old dynasty.”

“What about Jiang Ruotian and her people?” Ming Ming asked.

The system replied, “She’s fanning the flames from a distance — pouring oil on the fire. Basically, waiting for Emperor Wan Qian and the remnants of the old court to destroy each other.”

“So she’s just waiting to swoop in and win while they both lose?”

“Exactly.”

“How sneaky,” Ming Ming muttered.

“Great leaders don’t sweat the small stuff,” the system said dryly.

“And the dog emperor? Can he still handle all this?”

“Barely.”

“What do you mean by ‘barely’?”

“The male lead in this world is… very controlling. He wants everything in his own hands. When something or someone slips from his control, his usual solution is to drag the person out and execute them. Simple. Brutal. Effective — at least in his mind.”

Ming Ming nodded thoughtfully. “If everyone who disagrees with you is dead, then there’s no disagreement.”

The system sighed. “Exactly. So the fact that you’re still alive is honestly impressive.”

Ming Ming shivered. “Maybe I just… have a special charm?”

“He likes me, obviously.”

“Oh?” the system teased. “Did I just hear you admit the male lead likes you? Quick, tell us — what changed your mind?”

Ming Ming was quiet for a moment before replying softly, “Guilt.”

“…What?” the system asked.

She sighed. “I can already see my tragic future here.”

“No — that’s assuming the heroine spares our lives,” she added gloomily.

“Can’t you be more optimistic?” the system said. “What if the Emperor wins?”

“He can’t win!” Ming Ming gasped. “If he wins, how am I supposed to pass this world’s mission? He has to lose!”

“Wow,” the system muttered. “Cold. Heartless. The man’s a tyrant, sure, but he’s treated you pretty well—”

“Wait,” it realized, “that’s why you feel guilty, isn’t it?!”

Ming Ming stayed silent.

It was true. If she wanted to “pass” this world, the Emperor — the male lead — had to lose. She couldn’t root for him even if she wanted to. And honestly, it felt unfair.

Poor Li He. The supposed male protagonist, and no one in his own story, is even hoping he’ll win — not even her.

He wasn’t really the hero anymore. He was the final boss.

And since the heroine had already gone the “girls love girls” route, of cours,e the “stinky man” had to become the villain.

Tsk. The road ahead looks rough.

The system, acting like a fussy aunt, sighed again, pitying its poor male lead.

But Ming Ming was already lost in thought about her “post-mission” life. Things were getting dangerous — she needed a backup plan.

Lately, the Emperor had been so busy that he barely had time to eat, often staying up all night discussing military strategy. Ming Ming took advantage of his absence to sneak out of the palace, smuggling her gold and jewels to a small house she’d bought in town — little by little, like an industrious ant.

A girl’s gotta plan, she thought.

Whenever she had time, she went to a pastry shop to keep learning how to make better biscuits.

When the Emperor’s secret guards reported her latest outing, he was in the middle of reading petitions, looking utterly exhausted.

“She snuck out again?” he asked.

When the guards confirmed it, he slammed the memorial scroll onto his desk. “She’s getting reckless. Go to that pastry shop and wait for her. As soon as she comes out, bring her straight back. And don’t let her wander anywhere else.”

Doesn’t she realize how dangerous it is out there? She never thinks of her own safety.

In his mind, there could be only one explanation: She’s meeting Jiang Ruotian’s people again.

Fine — do your spying. Just… can’t you at least not risk your life doing it?

Who else worries about you but me?

He tapped his fingers on the desk, thinking for a moment, then said to the guards, “Prepare some property deeds. Put them all under her name.”

This war was going to be a long one.

ChatGPT said:

Ming Ming thought grimly, Who am I doing all this for? If I don’t work hard and learn how to cook, then with this lazy, clueless emperor of mine—what are we supposed to eat when we’re out in the world? Air?

Sure, he’d already given her a mountain of gold and silver, but money doesn’t last forever. And what if this “Son of Heaven” can’t adjust to living like a commoner? He’d probably blow through their savings within half a year.