The Tyrant Ruler of the Three Kingdoms

“Your Majesty, this is a medicinal soup I simmered for two hours while carrying your child. Lately, your complexion has seemed unwell and you’ve been speaking little. The palace physicians say it’s the chill of year’s end settling in. Once you drink the soup, you’ll recover.”

In the spacious hall, the young man addressed as Majesty was sitting on the couch. He was tall and well-proportioned, with bright red lips, immaculate white teeth, a straight nose, and wide, expressive eyes—a figure of striking presence. Yet now, his embroidered robes hung open, his hair was somewhat disheveled, and he looked thoroughly dejected.

“Consort, go and rest. Leave the soup here. When it’s cooled a bit, I... I’ll drink it. Tell the Empress to come and attend me.”

The young woman holding the soup could hardly be more than seventeen or eighteen years old. She was fair-skinned and beautiful, her figure shapely, though her belly was now slightly rounded—clear proof of several months’ pregnancy. Hearing his words, she could only set down the steaming bowl and leave, pausing to glance back at him with every few steps.

“You all wait outside as well. When the Empress arrives, let her come in alone to feed me the medicine.”

With that languid command, the maids at the door withdrew quietly.

The young emperor surveyed his surroundings with another sigh.

He had occupied this body for three days now, and still found it hard to accept. Shot dead in the line of duty while pursuing drug traffickers, he’d transmigrated into one of the most pitiable emperors in the