"That's my mother, that's my father, and that's my little empress! What's wrong with me going back to see them? I haven't left the palace in over half a year—even prisoners aren't locked up like this! I'm the emperor!!!"
Prime Minister Shen rushed over early in the morning to explain: "Your Majesty, please calm down. It's far too dangerous for the Son of Heaven to leave the palace in secret. If someone with ill intentions were to plan an assassination... If anything were to happen to you, we would all be punished by the Duke of State Protection."
The little troublemaker fumed: "He's not even in the capital! If you don’t tell and I don’t tell, who would know I sneaked out? And just for a day—no, half a day! I promise to return before dark, alright?"
Prime Minister Shen shook his head in distress. "No, this old minister dares not make such a decision."
Chu Jincheng was angry—the kind of anger that couldn’t be soothed.
He sat down and began writing a letter. He would tell his father and have him come take him home!
---
General’s Manor.
Xu Wan had been in labor for an hour. According to the midwife, the earliest she would deliver was the afternoon. Zong Zhao sat by her bedside, saying with practiced ease, "If it hurts, bite me."
Xu Wan, caught between pain and laughter, gasped, "What nonsense are you... ah—!"
A contraction hit, and she gripped his wrist tightly.
She hadn’t seen much of Zong Zhao this past month, and pretending she didn’t miss him was impossible. The moment he appeared, Xu Wan felt an overwhelming sense of security—even the pain of labor seemed easier to bear.
Zong Zhao wiped the sweat from her forehead, pressing his own against hers as if trying to transfer some comfort.
The room was filled with warmth.
The maids quietly retreated, leaving the couple undisturbed.
Shunzi called from outside, "General, a letter has arrived from the palace—it’s from His Majesty to you."
Xu Wan, catching her breath between contractions, asked, "Has something happened in the palace?"
Zong Zhao took the letter, quickly read it, and told her, "Jincheng knows you’re in labor and wants to come see you. He’s worried."
"What? He can’t possibly come..." Though Xu Wan missed him too, Jincheng was now the emperor—young and vulnerable outside the palace.
Zong Zhao thought for a moment. "Sneaking out would indeed be unsafe. Then let him come openly, with a full imperial procession."
Xu Wan: "?? So... grand?"
Zong Zhao smiled. "Lady Fusheng is worth it."
With the general’s suggestion, Prime Minister Shen considered it feasible and ordered preparations for the imperial procession.
This was the second year of the little emperor’s reign.
But his first time leaving the palace.
The streets along the imperial route were heavily guarded. Curious onlookers craned their necks but were kept at a distance—no one was allowed near the main road.
Chu Jincheng sat inside the dragon carriage, not even lifting the curtain.
In the past, he would have waved and boasted to everyone, but today, his mother was in labor. He had no room for childish antics, nor did he want any complications.
Upon arriving at the manor, the little troublemaker leaped from the carriage and dashed inside, familiar with every turn. The servants and maids gaped—who would have thought the young master they once raised would now be the reigning emperor?
They all knelt in reverence. "Long live Your Majesty!"
Chu Jincheng was used to people kneeling before him. He didn’t even bother with formalities—they’d rise on their own once he passed.
"Mother! Mother! I’m back!!" His voice echoed through the halls, growing louder.
The Old Marchioness and Yan Suxue, waiting outside, froze. "Is that Jincheng? Or am I hearing things?"
Yan Suxue blinked. "It must be a mistake. His Majesty is still in the palace."
But the next moment, the little troublemaker rounded the corner.
His round face, tiny dimples, and fast little legs—every bit the boy they remembered.
"Grandmother! Aunt Suxue!" Chu Jincheng waved cheerfully.
Yan Suxue gasped. "Heavens...!"
"Jincheng, my dear grandson!" The Old Marchioness reached out just as the little troublemaker barreled into her arms.
Happiness overflowed.
Only when the servants knelt did the Old Marchioness remember his status. She moved to kneel too, but Jincheng held her steady. "No kneeling today! I’m not the emperor right now—I’m Jincheng, Mother’s son, Grandmother’s grandson!"
Tears welled in the Old Marchioness’s eyes. The boy hadn’t changed despite becoming emperor. They hadn’t raised him in vain.
"Good child, sit down. It’s almost noon—have you eaten? I’ll have the kitchen prepare something."
The little troublemaker grinned. "Not yet! Grandmother, have them make something. Oh, how’s Mother? Has she delivered?"
Yan Suxue sent someone to arrange lunch.
The Old Marchioness guided him to a seat outside. "Not yet. The midwife says it’ll be afternoon at the earliest. Childbirth takes time—this is already considered quick."
"Ah, then I’ll wait."
Lunch was soon served. Chu Jincheng spotted Shunzi and brightened. "Shunzi! Long time no see!"
The ever-sweet Shunzi smoothly adjusted his address. "Young Master Cheng, I’ve missed you!"
Having cared for the boy since childhood, Shunzi’s words were heartfelt.
Chu Jincheng smirked. "Missed me? Then why didn’t you come to the palace? I was going to promote you to Chief Eunuch—a fourth-rank position, higher than even Buyan’s guard captain. Twelve ranks up in one go!"
Shunzi instinctively covered his crotch, coughing. "Thank you for your kindness, Young Master Cheng, but no, no. My family has nine generations of single-line heirs. My mother’s too old for that kind of shock."
The little troublemaker burst into laughter—he’d only been teasing.
After a quick meal, the anxious waiting resumed.
In the afternoon, the midwife’s voice carried from inside. "No matter how close you are, men aren’t allowed in the birthing room! Out, out!"
Moments later, Zong Zhao was unceremoniously ejected.
The group outside stifled their laughter.
Jincheng didn’t hold back. He cackled. "Hahaha! Father, how tragic! Now you’re stuck waiting with the rest of us!"
Zong Zhao: "..."
The Old Marchioness chided gently, "Zhao’er, come eat something. You skipped lunch."
Zong Zhao nodded and ate lightly.
---
"Madam, push with the contractions—rest when the pain eases."
"Ah—!"
"Don’t scream—you’ll waste energy. Someone, give her a cloth to bite so she doesn’t hurt her tongue."
"The ginseng soup! Feed her some!"
"Almost there! Keep pushing, Madam—don’t stop now, or the baby will suffocate!"
"Waa—!"
A clear, piercing cry cut through the midwives’ commands.
"It’s out! The baby’s here!"
A midwife carried the newborn out, beaming. "General, Madam has delivered! She’s given you a healthy heir!"
"Congratulations, General! Congratulations, Madam!"
The servants chorused their well-wishes.
Zong Zhao took the child—a tiny, red, wrinkled bundle, eyes still tightly shut.
Though the child wasn’t particularly handsome yet, the mere thought that it was his and Xu Wan’s filled his heart with uncontrollable joy.
Meanwhile, standing beside him, Chu Jincheng—brimming with anticipation—was utterly baffled: "???"
The… the legitimate eldest son?
Then where’s my little empress?
Where’s my perfectly sized little empress??
