MTL - Pampered Consort of the Fragrant Orchard - v2 Chapter 57 Who designed who?

Chu Li was a particle physicist until a freak accident took his life and transmigrated him to a parallel universe – one where he wakes up with inexplicable abilities and finds himself in the running for a job in the imperial palace.

During the day, she was his secretary, working very hard with excellent abilities. At night, she was his bedmate, trying her best to please him, and the two of them were very harmonious in bed. One day, this relationship was on the verge of ending. However, both of them had already become deeply involved and had grown accustomed to each other's presence, falling in love with each other. So...

【Female Lead’s pleasure-seeking + high IQ palace intrigue + female lead schemes against the entire harem + crazy villain personality】

Song Zhao has always been a woman who spares no means to achieve her goals, and at the same time she lives more clearly than anyone else.

From the moment she knew she was chosen by Xiao Jingheng to enter the palace as a concubine, her goal has been very clear:

“I entered the palace just to become the Empress, why else? To go cook for someone else?”

Therefore, as soon as she entered the palace, relying on her beauty and wisdom, she took steps to win the monarch’s heart, and played with the six palaces in her palm.

Anyway, the women in this harem, for the sake of family, for their own favor and honor, there are none who do not compete and snatch,

Since this is the case, what she has to do is take preemptive action,

Make herself a villain, defeat everyone, and successfully ascend to the Phoenix throne.

At first, Emperor Xiao Jingheng favored Song Zhao, just because of her unparalleled beauty in the harem.

The favored concubines often become arrogant due to favoritism, but Song Zhao was different.

Not only did she not compete for favor, she always advised Xiao Jingheng to share his rain and dew evenly, and often go to other concubines.

Her attitude towards him in her daily life was also visibly perfunctory.

This inevitably made Xiao Jingheng suspicious, feeling that Song Zhao was not truly sincere towards him.

The innate desire to conquer that emperors possess made him secretly determine to completely possess this woman:

Not just her person, but her heart as well.

The process of conquering Song Zhao was like climbing the highest mountain in the world.

It’s just that Xiao Jingheng never thought:

When he climbed Mount Song Zhao, he willingly climbed it for a lifetime.

【No transmigration, no rebirth, no golden finger】

“Villains aren’t born, they’re made...blah...blah...”Cute quote. Stick it on your Tumblr header next to your anime pfp.You boys love your villain stories, don’t you?You want carnage. Chaos. Control. You want a dark throne, a cold smirk, and a woman kneeling at your feet begging for mercy.But you?You don’t want to lift a damn finger.You’ll cheer for the villain as he kills a god, but cry when he gets betrayed.You call it “plot armor” when the hero survives—but call it “art” when the villain does the impossible.You’re not fans of villains.You’re fetishists.You want the violence, but not the silence after it.You want domination, but not the burden of being hated.You want power, but only if the story forgives you for it.You don’t read these stories to understand evil.You read them because you think you're too good to win the normal way.“Villains don’t play fair.”Exactly. That’s why you love them.Because you wouldn’t last a day in a world where strength mattered and excuses didn’t.You don’t want a villain’s life.You want his results.You want to watch him burn the world for a woman.But you’d cry if a girl left you on read.So tell me—What exactly are you rooting for?At least unlike you, I support heroes—the ones with boobs.You know the type.Tits squeezed into latex, thighs tight in spandex, preaching virtue with cum-drunk eyes the moment they fall into my arms but always end up screaming my name instead.She flies above cities, saving lives like it’s her job.But at night? She crashes into my arms, trembling, moaning, clawing at my back like I’m the only real thing she’s ever touched.Her cape drops before her guard does.But I don't need to tear it off.She hands it over herself—bit by bit, kiss by kiss, lie by beautiful lie.You ever felt a heroine's breath hitch in your ear as she begs you to stop pretending you're the bad guy?Ever watched the symbol of hope ride you like you're the last man left after the world ended?That's not conquest.That’s devotion, baby.Unfiltered. Undeniable.And the irony?They fall the hardest.Because no villain ever tried to understand them. No hero ever dared to see past the shine and into the ache beneath.But I do.I whisper into the cracks of their perfection.I plant kisses where they hide their pain.I fuck them where they forget to wear their strength.And when they break—when their moans turn to prayers, when their strength melts into submission—That’s when I rise.I’m not just some brooding misfit out for revenge, or a misunderstood loner sitting around hoping for a shot at redemption.I’m not a villain.I’m the SUPERVILLAIN—the kind your heroines moan for when the cameras are off and the capes are crumpled on my floor.