Chapter 40: You Deserve to Be Emperor

…

Ma Xiao Jiao chatted freely with Su Song, Han Gonglian, and others, shaking off her days of depression, self-doubt, and self-denial, regaining her confidence; the feudal thoughts and backward values that had plagued her for so long seemed swept away by a gentle breeze, leaving only clarity and resolve.

Watching the renowned scientists of history and the modern tech giants before her, eager to learn and tireless in pursuit, Ma Xiao Jiao felt a profound sense of fulfillment:

“This is how a transmigrator should behave!”

Ma Xiao Jiao had once believed that transmigration was fate’s cruel joke—a cruel throw from her familiar world into this unknown abyss.

But now, Ma Xiao Jiao understood: transmigration was also fate’s gift, granting her the chance to meet the great souls of this era, to jointly explore unknown mysteries and advance civilization.

This realization was like a clear spring, nourishing her parched heart and giving her once-confused soul a home.

Ma Xiao Jiao became even more active in this cross-temporal exchange, explaining to Su Song, Han Gonglian, and others the mysteries of physics and the wonders of chemistry, striving to use the simplest, most accessible language so every listener could appreciate the charm of modern science.

Meanwhile, Su Song, Han Gonglian, and the others, with their deep cultural foundations and unique ways of thinking, offered Ma Xiao Jiao unprecedented insights, revealing to her a diversity of perspectives on her scientific journey.

This exchange lasted until nightfall.

Zhao Yu ordered a lavish banquet prepared.

Ma Xiao Jiao ate and talked without restraint, even less ladylike, stealing the spotlight from Zhao Yu, the male host.

In this era, such behavior from Ma Xiao Jiao was outright usurpation—it would humiliate Zhao Yu, her owner.

Some stole glances at Zhao Yu, wondering how furious his face must be.

Yet Zhao Yu sat beside Ma Xiao Jiao, smiling always, watching her gesticulate and speak animatedly.

Just as many speculated whether Zhao Yu was feigning patience and tolerance because Su Song was present—that he would order Ma Xiao Jiao beaten to death after the meal for disgracing him—Zhao Yu took his handkerchief from Liang Shicheng and personally wiped the grease from Ma Xiao Jiao’s lips, then poured her a cup of tea and smiled: “Drink some tea, speak slowly.”

To the astonishment of all present, Ma Xiao Jiao simply said “Oh,” took the tea cup Zhao Yu offered, and prepared to drain it.

Only halfway through did she realize: Zhao Yu had poured her tea, and just moments ago, he had wiped her mouth.

Ma Xiao Jiao froze, then panicked. She turned quickly to Zhao Yu—but found no reproach in his gaze; instead, there was a hint… yes, indulgence.

“Does she like me?”

A strange ripple stirred in Ma Xiao Jiao’s heart, and a blush spread across her face. She awkwardly set down the teacup, unsure whether to kneel and apologize—or…

Before Ma Xiao Jiao could decide how to respond, Zhao Yu smiled and said: “Though I do not understand these matters, I know they are the very arts that will revive our Great Song. If you can today devise practical tools—agricultural implements, vehicles, weapons—and the court promotes them, they will benefit the state and people. If our Great Song possesses advanced machinery to improve livelihoods and military strength, how could it fail to flourish?”

Seeing Zhao Yu so reasonable, Ma Xiao Jiao’s heart warmed. She thought: “You’re this good? You deserve to be emperor.”

Su Song was likewise astonished by Zhao Yu’s wisdom, magnanimity, and ability to recognize talent. He had never imagined the obscure Prince Xin could be so insightful and ambitious.

Han Gonglian and the others who had already pledged loyalty to Zhao Yu, seeing him so highly regard them and treat them with such deference, were all eager to serve him.

After this small incident, Ma Xiao Jiao, Su Song, Han Gonglian, and the others all grew calm. They spoke briefly again, then Su Song rose to take his leave.

Zhao Yu escorted Su Song out with Ma Xiao Jiao and Han Gonglian.

Then Zhao Yu told Han Gonglian to rest.

Left alone with Ma Xiao Jiao, Zhao Yu hesitated: should he let her serve him tonight?

To be honest, Zhao Yu certainly wanted Ma Xiao Jiao.

Put simply: if he weren’t attracted to her, why would he keep visiting her to watch her invent useless things?

But the problem was, Ma Xiao Jiao was still young—probably only ten.

At least, she didn’t seem as mature as he remembered.

“Is it too early to take her now?”

“Yet in this era, lifespans are short; many die in their twenties. So most men and women marry young—it’s necessary for societal development.”

“I can’t judge this by the standards of my past life.”

“Since we’ve come to this era, we must follow its customs.”

Fine, Zhao Yu admitted: he liked to secure what he wanted, especially when it came to Zhang Chun, Li Lin, Ye Shi Yun, Ma Xiao Jiao, and Yuan Qing Cheng.

This was mainly because these five women were nearly irreplaceable—and they were not bound by feudal thinking. Without them, he felt powerless, unable to control them.

At that moment, Zhao Yu suddenly noticed Ma Xiao Jiao was crying.

Tears streamed unchecked across her heavily made-up face; she was no longer a little kitten, but a ghost.

“Well, libido’s plummeted straight to zero.”

Yet Zhao Yu still asked gently: “Why are you crying?”

Ma Xiao Jiao couldn’t say: “If you hadn’t pulled me up when I was most helpless, confused, and insecure, I’d have been crushed by this feudal society and system, becoming the most failed transmigrator. You helped me find myself again—I’m crying for my rebirth.”

Ma Xiao Jiao could only cry and say: “Thank you. You’re such a good man.”

Zhao Yu didn’t fully understand why she cried or why she thanked him, but he did what came naturally: he lifted her tear-streaked face with both hands and gently wiped her tears with his thumbs, speaking softly: “No matter what sorrows you bear, do not worry. From now on, I will protect you. No one will dare to harm you again.”

It was the most beautiful thing Ma Xiao Jiao had ever heard—since her transmigration, indeed since her two lifetimes.

In that moment, Ma Xiao Jiao felt more at peace than ever before.

Sneaking a glance at Zhao Yu’s handsome but still slightly youthful face, her heart quickened, her cheeks flushed crimson, and the redness spread swiftly from her face to her neck, then down her body until it reached her heels!

Ma Xiao Jiao couldn’t help thinking:

“If I’m with him, am I an old cow eating tender grass? After all, in my past life I was nearly thirty—he’s only sixteen. I could almost be his mother.”

“No, no—he’s nearly a thousand years older than me. Even if it’s old cow eating tender grass, he’s the old cow, and I’m just a sixteen-year-old tender sprout. He’s not the one at a loss…”

…

(End of Chapter)