How to Deal with Having the Villainous Tyrant’s Child Chapter 65

Chapter 65

At this moment, Yuwen Min didn’t even want to argue with him anymore. Perhaps he had simply heard too much from Lu Hanzhi, and his body had developed an immunity.

He glanced at Lu Hanzhi’s pouting, beautiful lips and said, “Alright.”

Lu Hanzhi: ?????

Then, Yuwen Min walked out of the room with perfect composure, seemingly unwilling to share the same air as Lu Hanzhi any longer.

If he hadn’t fled so quickly, Lu Hanzhi might have actually fallen for his act. Did this guy really think he was about to get his way?

Ha!

What a joke.

I’ll tease you to death first!

He glanced down at Ah Chan, who was staring longingly at the milk beans. Hardening his heart, he took them away and said, “Ah Chan, be good. Let’s just drink milk for now and eat less.”

Ah Chan’s little face crumpled with disappointment, but he was quickly distracted by a new toy Lu Hanzhi exchanged for him.

Lu Hanzhi now had his own courtyard in the prince’s residence, so he instructed the steward that apart from the servants from his previous residence, no one else was allowed to enter freely.

The steward obeyed and sent away the palace servants from Hanyu Pavilion, leaving them to wait in the outer courtyard for orders.

With that, the second phase of his mission was complete. Lu Hanzhi thought to himself that since the next month or two would be relatively free, he might as well take on the third phase of the mission.

So he lay down on the bed and entered his mental space.

The Imperial Palace, in the Back Palace.

The lanterns flickered as Empress Yin Liwu sat by the window, staring blankly into the desolate rear hall.

She recalled something her mother had once told her.

Her mother had said, Even though your brother is a legitimate son, his mother, Wushi, passed away early and came from a low background. The crown prince’s consort will surely be chosen from the Yin family, but your brother may not be able to claim that position.

The emperor only took an interest in the Yin family because of their influence in court, didn’t he?

He had married members of both the Yin and Rong families at the same time, firmly securing the support of the civil and military factions of his ministers, ensuring a balance of power against meddling external relatives.

But Mother was right—Elder Brother had no powerful maternal family to support him, so he could never have brought the emperor as much benefit as she could.

In the end, however, she had miscalculated. After Elder Brother’s death, the emperor’s longing for him only grew stronger.

Now, she no longer understood what it was the emperor truly wanted.

Just then, a eunuch’s voice rang out from outside the door: “His Majesty has arrived.”

The emperor entered in haste, and the empress immediately knelt before him. “Greeting Your Majesty! Your Majesty, have you finally come to see me?”

The emperor stood there, looking down at the empress from above. “I will ask you just one question. Was Pingwu’s death back then connected to you?”

The empress froze. When she looked up again, tears were already streaming down her face. “Your Majesty, do you truly suspect me? Pingwu was my elder brother! My own blood brother! How could I harm him?”

The emperor, however, only gave her a cold, mocking laugh. “When Pingwu suffered a difficult labor, who was it that set up an altar in the courtyard to pray for blessings? And how was it that, so coincidentally, his jade pendant shattered? What was inside that jade? And what did you use it for? Furthermore, the imperial physician found that his chamber was filled with the lingering energy of fetal distress. You visited his chamber frequently, didn’t you?”

When Imperial Concubine Rong had first entered the palace, someone had whispered idle gossip in his ear, making him wary of Rong Sa.

But towards Yin Liwu, he had harbored no suspicion at all.

First, because Yin Liwu had been young—three years younger than Yin Pingwu.

Second, because Yin Pingwu had adored his little sister and often took her on outings.

When he ascended the throne, court politics had not been as convoluted as they were now; the only real issue had been external relatives interfering in governance. That was why he had been particularly cautious of the Rong family at the time.

Even now, he remained extremely wary of them.

After all, once bitten by a snake, one remains wary of ropes for ten years.

Back then, external relatives had meddled in politics to a dangerous extent. Fortunately, as the crown prince, he had proven himself capable. With the help of two senior ministers, he had managed to restore balance to the court.

He had not pursued Yin Pingwu’s case further at the time, precisely because he had still been the crown prince, and the regent, Lu Antong, had held supreme power over the government.

Even if what people had claimed was true—that Pingwu had been harmed by Rong Sa—he had been powerless to do anything about it.

The Rong family had been his pillar of support back then. How could he have cut off his own wing?

Now, with this matter suddenly resurfacing—whether someone had intentionally tried to remind him of it or whether the crown prince, in his ignorance, had arranged such an ill-fated prayer dance—doubt had been sown in his mind.

He had long suspected that Rong Sa was not responsible.

But never in his wildest dreams had he imagined the finger of blame would point to Pingwu’s own sister.

The empress was now sobbing uncontrollably, twisting her handkerchief in distress. “Your Majesty! Liwu’s devotion to you is as clear as day and night! My elder brother died in childbirth—do you think I wasn’t devastated? He loved me more than anyone! You know that! If he knew you were wronging me like this, could he rest in peace?”

Looking at the empress kneeling before him, her face streaked with tears, the emperor slowly closed his eyes.

Yin Pingwu’s case was far too old—there was no longer any way to investigate it thoroughly.

If he dug too deep, it would implicate too many people.

Over the years, he had continued to investigate in secret, yet in his heart, he had never wanted to admit the truth.

He had not wanted to admit his own past weakness—the fact that, in the name of political balance, he had allowed Pingwu’s death to remain an unsolved mystery.

The emperor lowered his gaze to the empress. “I have kept you in your position precisely because you had an outstanding elder brother. For now, you will stay in seclusion and reflect. As for the duties of the Inner Palace, Imperial Concubine will take over.”

After the emperor left, the empress collapsed onto the floor in despair—only to suddenly rise to her feet again. She summoned her personal maid, Hua Luo. “Tell the crown prince—he must bring Zhaoyun back immediately! Treat her with the respect she deserves. Maintain harmony between husband and wife. And if possible, have a child soon.”

With Zhaoyun back in the picture—and with a child to strengthen their position—as long as the crown prince made no further mistakes, once this crisis passed, he would still be the crown prince!

Hua Luo accepted the order and went to the crown prince’s residence.

But what she saw there worried her—he was utterly devoted to Su Wan’ning, unwilling to leave her side.

She relayed the empress’s message, and although the crown prince was caught in a dilemma, he still nodded.

“I will bring Zhaoyun back and ease Mother’s worries. Also, this matter is clearly a setup against me. Inform my mother—someone from the Rong family must be behind this.”

Hua Luo bowed and acknowledged the order. She knew the crown prince must be deeply troubled after suffering two consecutive blows.

But at least he was still thinking clearly—he had not drowned his sorrows in alcohol.

As Hua Luo left the crown prince’s residence, she saw the Rong family’s carriage passing by.

Why had they returned at this time?

Had something changed in the capital?

Could it be—the emperor was about to depose the crown prince?

Hua Luo’s heart pounded in alarm, and she hurried back to the palace.

In Prince An’s manor, Lu Hanzhi lay in bed, frowning over the newly assigned development area.

He felt like the system was tormenting him every step of the way. Why was every single mission so impossibly difficult?

Sitting on the bed, hugging his pillow, Lu Hanzhi felt utterly miserable: I… am… suffering!

The first phase tied him to some godforsaken wasteland—fine, he endured it. The second phase saddled him with a pig farm—he accepted that too.

But the third phase… was nothing but a stretch of muddy land? What the hell was that supposed to mean?

Staring at the muddy land inside his mental space, Lu Hanzhi took a deep breath. Then another. And another.

Finally, he could hold back no longer. Pointing at the mission panel in his mental space, he let loose a furious tirade.

“What do you expect me to do? Sell mud figurines?! Am I supposed to sit here kneading clay, kneading and kneading, making little figurines for two coins each so I can buy some sticky rice cakes?!”

The system: …

Even without a physical form, it could already feel the host’s rage.

For once, the system patiently explained, “Perhaps the host should conduct a field investigation before cursing the system. A friendly reminder: excessive complaints may result in a speech ban!”

Lu Hanzhi: …

“Oh? Little System, you’ve learned how to crack jokes now? Not bad, not bad! Life should be a little lively, or else, what’s the fun in it? Don’t you agree?”

System: …I swear on your gra—no, no cursing, no cursing, no cursing.

This host was really difficult to handle. It just needed to endure a little longer.

System: “Smile.”

Lu Hanzhi: “Heh.”

The two of them silently despised each other for a while, but in the end, Lu Hanzhi still lost to the System.

After all, he was just a mere slave captured by the System. How could he possibly win against an entity that held the power of life and death over him?

Even if the System tormented him a thousand times, he still treated it like his first love!

He exited his mental space, sat up, and decided to conduct an on-site investigation.

Maybe he could sculpt different kinds of clay figurines—ones that might sell for a better price?

After all, when he first bound himself to that wasteland, his heart had nearly turned to ice.

As long as there was something to work with, he could always find a way to make money.

Like a proper little slave, Lu Hanzhi stepped outside and instructed He Ming to prepare a carriage and horses. Since He Ming held the chief steward’s token, he had the authority to command the personnel of the entire royal estate as he pleased.

Before long, the carriage was ready, and Lu Hanzhi set off for the southern outskirts.

The newly bound area turned out to be nothing more than a barren patch of clay soil, just as the System’s map had accurately displayed.

This time, Lu Hanzhi truly felt like cursing out loud. Looking around, he saw that this low-lying land stretched for several miles, yet not a single blade of grass grew—just dry, hardened clay soil!

If this had been fertile land, he could have at least found a way to plant something. But with this kind of clay soil, was he really supposed to take up pottery instead?

Lu Hanzhi was on the verge of tears. What the hell am I supposed to do with this?

Zai Yu couldn’t quite understand why his young master was wandering around such a barren land. But since the young master wanted to do so, he surely had his reasons.

Lu Hanzhi sucked his teeth in frustration, ranting about the System for a good while in his mental space. Eventually, he plopped himself down on the dried-up riverbed, tilting his head back to gaze at the vast blue sky, his brows still furrowed in distress.

Clay… clay…

Soil… soil…

Kaolin… kaolinite…

Suddenly, Lu Hanzhi’s eyes flew open. As he stood up, a faint smile appeared on his lips.

Turning to Zai Yu, he pointed to the ground beneath them and ordered, “Zai Yu, get some men and dig up this spot! Make a pit—ten feet square!”

Zai Yu didn’t understand most of his young master’s orders, but since they were orders, he would carry them out without question.

A group of people got to work immediately, bustling about with hands and feet moving in all directions. Before long, they had dug a deep pit ten feet square.

Once it was done, Lu Hanzhi pushed through the crowd and stepped forward, reaching into the pit to scoop up a handful of pale grayish-white soil hidden beneath the clay.

His face lit up with shock before a joyful expression spread across it. Slapping his thigh, he exclaimed, “I knew it! I was right all along!”

He raised his head, scanning the surroundings. As expected, although this area appeared to be a low-lying depression, it was actually part of a hilly terrain, making it significantly higher in elevation than the surrounding lands.

Wasn’t this the premium raw material for porcelain-making—kaolin?

Lu Hanzhi was overjoyed. His excitement nearly made him jump up and down as he muttered under his breath, “I’m rich, I’m rich—this time, I’m really going to strike it big!”

In the Great Zhao Dynasty, porcelain didn’t even exist—let alone fine porcelain!

Most people used either earthenware or metal utensils for dining. But if he could successfully fire delicate porcelain, wouldn’t he make a fortune?

Perhaps he had celebrated too soon, because just then, there was a loud crack beneath him, and Lu Hanzhi fell straight onto his backside.

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