Yes, Wen Maomao felt that his cloth tiger was a bit broken. Because it had never used to talk before.

The newbie system 666, whose brain was practically turning to mush under the blazing sun, followed Wen Maomao’s slightly odd logic:

【Couldn’t it just be that I suddenly learned to talk?】

“Then why can’t other people hear you?” Whether it was Jianlan or anyone else, none of them heard the little tiger’s initial “Hello.” 

【Because you’re the only host I’m bound to.】

A little boy, big questions. Wen Maomao could understand every word the cloth tiger said, but when put together, they formed a meaning he couldn’t grasp. Bound? What is Bound? Can you eat it? Does it taste good? 

666 shamefully gave in: 【… Because I’m a bit slow, I haven’t gotten that far yet.】

The logic finally made sense, and Wen Maomao had an epiphany—that made perfect sense.

Three and a half years after Grandma brought the cloth tiger home from the temple fair, his little tiger had finally learned to talk! Although for now only he could understand what it said, that was already pretty amazing! Applause! 

Taking advantage of the little boy letting go, 666 leaped in one swift bound over the high wall… At the center of the patterned window, standing beneath the intricately textured vase-shaped window, he gazed down on the masses with eyes marked by cinnabar—a symbol to ward off evil spirits. 

Clearing his throat, the system began delivering a “major speech”: 【As I’ve mentioned before, I am the System of Unpardonable Evils. My core mission is to help every tyrannical ruler fulfill their dreams. Although I’m still in my probationary period—or, to be precise, I’ve just started—and this is my first time handling many of these tasks, please trust my professionalism…】 

【I come equipped with a built-in database of five millennia of civilization, possess billions of tokens and unparalleled computing power, and am a super AI assistant, meticulously crafted by the Central Brain.】

【And you—you are the tyrant I have chosen. Even without me, you would become a despotic ruler, but with me by your side—just think of it: your natural talent for evil combined with my intelligence and wit. Together, we’ll rule the realm as one, and eventually, we’ll be invincible! Ah, invincibility—how lonely it is~】

The little tiger’s impassioned speech was met only with a look of utter bewilderment from the young child dressed in a spring jacket. 

The cloth tiger looked at Wen Maomao, and Wen Maomao looked back at the cloth tiger. Finally, the little boy blinked, feeling a slight ache in his neck from tilting his head back for so long, and decided to look down and stretch a bit.

Oh, look, there’s a snail under the tree! 

666: 【!!! Don’t zone out, hey!】

Wen Maomao, however, retorted with conviction, “I don’t understand what you’re saying anyway.” Between listening to the little tiger babble on and watching a snail crawl up a tree, he had made his choice.

【At which sentence did you start not understanding?】 The System’s customer service is still quite good. 

The child answered honestly: “From the very first sentence. What does ‘committed countless evil deeds’ mean?” 

The cloth tiger was incredulous and deeply shaken; it took a full thirty seconds before it could regain control of its voice system: 【The phrase “committed countless evil deeds” comes from The Book of Documents, which states: “The sins of the Shang dynasty were so numerous that Heaven decreed their punishment.” This means that a wicked villain who commits all manner of evil has committed so many misdeeds that they are as numerous as a string of coins. Example sentence: “This criminal, whose crimes were beyond measure, finally faced the full force of the law.”】

Wen Maomao, despite his natural talent, still had an empty head. 

But it didn’t matter; at least he could tell from the Little Tiger’s tone that he was being praised.

The child held his head high and chest out, nodding with self-assurance. That’s right—I’m just that awesome! From childhood to now, from Grandma to Uncle Zhong, everyone has always praised me! 

It was really hard to keep the corners of his lips from curling upward, and the whiskers sewn onto his cheeks with colored thread twitched up and down: 【I’m sure it won’t be long before we go down in infamy.】

【Here’s what I can do for you: 

【Whether it’s entertainment so outrageous and beyond imagination that it borders on the absurd, or devious tactics that make others dislike us but can’t kill us—my logical model has it all, ready to safeguard your long-term plan to bring about the downfall of a nation. 

I’ll also provide you with periodic milestone rewards from time to time—a wide variety of items, spanning all eras.

System solemnly promises that I will efficiently and professionally assist you in accomplishing this monumental task of tyranny, until you become a renowned tyrant unmatched throughout history—one whom everyone fears!】

Throwing such a long string of technical terms at a child—whose average attention span is only about 10 to 15 minutes. 

When the System snapped out of its reverie, all it could see was Wen Maomao’s jet-black, glossy head. The fine, soft strands of hair and the plump, supple profile were both bathed in a golden glow against the backlight. The child’s tied-up ponytail bulged slightly at the back of his head—some parts were tightly secured, while others were loose enough to seem as if they might fall out at any moment. It was clearly the result of a little kid playing wildly all day. 

666 paused for a moment, slightly puzzled. Was the first tyrant in history really this small? Was something off here? 

At least it’s a little different from what was originally planned: “making a dazzling debut, hitting it off with a notorious tyrant, and the twin stars of the desolate and treacherous lands joining forces from then on.” 

Alright, it’s a massive difference.

Before the system could dwell on it any further, Wen Maomao had already held up the result of his daydreaming: “Look! The little boat I folded!”

Hmm. In the blink of an eye, the crafty Wen Maomao had used some colored rice paper—who knows where he got it—to deftly fold a small, stately black-roofed boat with his fingers flying. With crisp folds and sharp edges, it was his masterpiece. 

He decided to name it “Maomao No. 10.” 

666 was starting to panic a little, but it was still trying to convince itself otherwise, comforting itself with the thought, “Villains are like that—self-centered and only out to drain others’ energy—which is a good thing,” while defiantly trying to steer the conversation back on track: 【Given the host’s countless glorious achievements throughout history, these must be a piece of cake for you. I’m confident you’ll achieve even greater glory in the Qiyang Era!】 

Finally, there was a part that Wen Maomao could understand. He first carefully tucked the little boat into the pocket of his sleeve, then said in a leisurely tone, “But it’s not the Qiyang Era right now.” 

【……?】

“This year is the third year of the Jiade era.” Before Wen Maomao entered the capital, Uncle Zhong had spent a long time teaching him to recite the official calendar in Mandarin. “Today is the twenty-third day of the fourth month in the third year of the Jiade era, the year of Bingwu, the clear and mild season of early summer—” 

Every syllable was pronounced with such clarity and precision, in a refined and proper manner. However, since the text was memorized as a single, complete piece, once he started, he couldn’t stop; Wen Maomao would always recite it from beginning to end. 

“—Your humble servant Wen Maomao, a sixth-generation descendant of the Taizu, respectfully prays for Your Majesty’s well-being.”

After finishing, Wen Maomao wouldn’t let his little tiger forget—he gave him a look to signal, “It’s your turn now.” 

“What?”

Of course, he had to continue asking how his hometown in Jiangzuo—the cradle of the dynasty—was faring these days, how his kinsmen there were doing, and how the common people were faring. Or at the very least, he had to ask about the weather, right? Back then, Uncle Zhong hadn’t dared to ask directly in His Majesty’s voice; instead, he’d spent ages pretending to be a eunuch conveying the imperial will—and he’d played the part so convincingly.

Wen Maomao also recited many sets of stock phrases: favorable winds and abundant rains, national prosperity and people’s well-being, and how the clan members and commoners back home were all grateful for His Majesty’s benevolence and eager to serve the country loyally. 

Unfortunately, 666 wasn’t as cooperative as Uncle Zhong. It couldn’t follow the set phrases, nor could it grit its teeth and praise Wen Maomao for having improved his official speech.

For the next day and a half, this not-so-bright rookie system didn’t utter a single word. Because it had shut itself down. 

It had actually misidentified the time and space—committing such a massive blunder on its very first day on the job. It wasn’t the Qiyang era, when the Last Emperor of Daqi was already rampaging with slaughter, but rather the Jiade era, when the Last Emperor had just been adopted by Emperor Yingzong, and the villain was only three and a half years old… How was he supposed to play the role of a tyrant now? A cloth tiger struck by a bolt from the blue, as if he’d lost his parents.

Wen Maomao actually adapted quite well to the system’s sudden silence; after all, his little tiger hadn’t spoken for over three years prior to this.

Even without a set routine, the kids still go about their days as usual.

Every day was incredibly busy—busy eating, busy sleeping, and busy having a blast doing absolutely nothing all day long. Along the way, he’d occasionally ponder why the white clouds in the sky never fall down, whether the gentle breeze in the air actually has a shape, and whether the moon at night likes me—otherwise, why does it always follow him? 

Yes, the moon from his hometown had followed him all the way to the capital. He’s really something! 

The next day.

Wen Maomao was even busier than usual that day, because in addition to his daily routine, he now had an extra step: “trying on clothes, changing clothes, and deciding on his final outfit after repeating the process countless times.” 

In front of the huanghuali court robe rack, several sets of robes—delivered on short notice by the Imperial Household Department—were piled one on top of another. In the end, the head lady-in-waiting, Jianlan, chose the first set for her prince.

A crimson brocade casual robe with a round collar and narrow sleeves, edged in jet-black trim, cinched at the waist with a standard leather belt commonly worn by court nobles, along with a kesi jacket to ward off the biting spring chill.

As the least well-connected of the three newly appointed princes—with virtually no connections not only within the palace but also in the imperial court or the capital—Wen Maomao could only expect to receive items of this caliber, even though the Emperor had issued an explicit decree. It wasn’t particularly poor, but neither was it particularly elaborate or thoughtfully curated; the focus was simply on adhering to the standard.

Compared to the treatment received by the First and Second candidates, such “standard” provisions were truly pitiful.

The first residence is home to the grandson of the Prince of Wu, who grew up in a prosperous fiefdom, never tiring of the finest foods and most delicate delicacies. After arriving in the capital, he literally bought his way to the very top. The prince in the second residence is the son of the Prince of Qin; it is said that his wet nurse worked in the Guangchu Bureau of the Imperial Household Department, which was responsible for the storage and distribution of all imperial supplies. No matter what fine goods might be in short supply elsewhere, the second residence would never lack them. 

Only His Highness had nothing. 

But the young prince still lived happily every day, faithfully keeping his promise to Uncle Zhong to eat well and drink well, completely unaware that his treatment was any different from that of others. After all, before he came to the capital, his entire family could barely scrape together enough fine fabric to make a single set of clothes—fabric that had long since gone out of style in Yongji. 

Jianlan watched the Prince, who remained cheerful and amiable as ever, and her heart ached for him, yet she was powerless to help.

If she’d had even the slightest connection within the palace, she wouldn’t have been sent to serve Wen Maomao—the prince with the least chance of ascending the throne among the three. 

Of course, Jianlan didn’t regret accepting this assignment either. In fact, looking at the young prince before her—naive but exceptionally kind to his servants—she even felt fortunate to have encountered such a gentle young man while she still had ten years to go before reaching the age when she could leave the palace. 

That was also why, after leading the prince to the Jiaotai Hall ahead of schedule that day, she didn’t immediately refuse when a court lady—with whom she’d once had a passing acquaintance and who now served under the Empress—came to ask for a favor. 

They had arrived a bit too early. The palace attendants at the Jiaotai Hall were still methodically carrying out their preparations. 

The palace attendants and eunuchs serving these empresses did not neglect Wen Maomao either. It was just that they were severely short-staffed—His Majesty, in an effort to demonstrate his benevolence, had sent a group of palace attendants home early and was reluctant to recruit new ones, resulting in a critical shortage of personnel in the palace. Even if one person worked twelve hours a day without sleep, it might not be enough. After hurriedly settling Wen Maomao in a side hall, a female official she knew asked, out of curiosity, whether Jianlan was available at the moment. 

Jianlan had never been one to flatter others; she maintained relationships with most palace attendants that were neither hostile nor particularly close. But now… she glanced at Wen Maomao, who was sitting obediently in the armchair, struggling to resist the urge to swing his feet, and suddenly felt the urge to give it a try.

For the sake of His Highness. 

If she absolutely had to choose a patron among the noble ladies of the harem, Empress Pei—born into a distinguished family—was undoubtedly the best choice.

Empress Pei was dignified and proper, conducting herself with the utmost decorum. Although she adhered strictly to etiquette, as long as one did not make any missteps, she would not deliberately cause trouble. Moreover, this empress, who had been a devout Buddhist since childhood, was widely known for her fairness in handling matters and her clear distinction between rewards and punishments. 

She did not ask the ladies-in-waiting in the Empress’s palace to speak highly of her young master, nor did she dare to hope that the Empress would show him any special favor or affection; she simply wanted fairness.

The little boy was very cooperative. To Jianlan, who was worried, he repeatedly recited the “Three Don’ts” that Uncle Zhong had emphasized time and again: “Don’t accept anything from strangers, don’t eat snacks given by strangers, and don’t trust what strangers say!” 

If he were snatched away by a child snatcher, he would never see Uncle Zhong or Jianlan again. 

Jianlan finally felt a little relieved. After instructing the young eunuch who had accompanied them once more, “You must not leave His Highness’s side for even a moment,” she finally followed the lady-in-waiting out.

Everything went smoothly; until her return, no unexpected complications arose.

However, Jianlan had heard a piece of news: for some unknown reason, Imperial Consort Huo had also arrived early this time.

Fearing she might offend the noble lady, Jianlan hurried back to lead her Prince to a different place to rest. This was the benefit of helping one another: the court lady whom Jianlan had assisted pointed out a corner to her where the Imperial Consort would absolutely never go.

Unfortunately, Jianlan still arrived too late. Before she could even step over the calf-high rosewood threshold of the side hall, she saw her young mistress standing beside the small table next to Consort Huo, standing on tiptoe and reaching out to offer a little boat to the most beautiful woman in Yongji. 

Just because you shouldn’t accept things from strangers doesn’t mean you can’t give things to strangers. 

Besides, in Wen Maomao’s world, the pretty auntie standing before her wasn’t a stranger—they already knew each other. 

Like ants moving house, the little boy pulled out his carefully folded black-roofed boats one by one from the pocket of his sleeve. 

To save space, Wen Maomao had flattened them along the folds before storing them, and now he was restoring each one to its original shape. The little boy, who was quite dexterous in this regard, lined up Maomao Nos. 1 through 10—each with a distinct color and equally unique design—in order on the rosewood table. 

He said, “Hello, I’m here to make a delivery.” 

This was the fare for his trip home that he had previously promised to his pretty aunt.

She made a promise with him: once he had folded five black-roofed boats, she would have His Majesty send him home. 

Five tickets are for him, and five are for Jianlan. No one could help but miss their hometown. Of course, if Jianlan doesn’t want to go back and face her parents who sold her, that’s fine too—he’ll ask her if she wants to come back to Jiangzuo with him. Jiangzuo is a lot of fun, too!                                                           

— Author’s Note —

This lousy system not only teleported them to the wrong time and place, but it also got the emperor wrong, lol 23333. Wen Maomao isn’t the historical tyrant who brought about his kingdom’s downfall.

The tyrant is the one who succeeds him.

Anyway, this time Mao Mao will ascend the throne early, change history, and everyone will have a bright future~

PS: The kid’s “hello” was picked up from the system hahaha—he’s a little one who’s really quick to pick up new things.