Chapter 10

The Little Dragon Cub had developed a fever.  

Though she was a dragon at heart, residing in a human infant’s body meant she was just as susceptible to catching a chill.  

Now, back to the Qin Emperor.  

He carried his daughter into the inner chamber and only realized something was amiss when he placed her on the bed—the Little Dragon Cub’s cheeks were flushed bright red. She often turned pink while sleeping or when happy, but that healthy rosy glow was entirely different from the feverish redness now spreading across her face.  

The Qin Emperor was a rough-mannered man, a typical gruff old Qin gentleman—where others might be one part straightforward, he was ten. At first, he hadn’t noticed the Little Dragon Cub was feverish. It wasn’t until he touched her burning skin that he realized it wasn’t just the lingering redness from earlier pinches but a genuine chill and fever.  

When the Qin Emperor was close to the Little Dragon Cub, he could sometimes sense her thoughts—a connection he attributed to the unspoken bond between father and daughter. Yet, throughout their journey back, she hadn’t once cried out in pain or complained of the heat. Instead, she had only whimpered pitifully, scolding him as a “bad daddy” in that adorably fierce baby voice. He had assumed it was just minor scrapes, nothing serious—but now she was burning up.  

Even adults could suffer brain damage from high fevers, let alone a child not yet a month old. At this stage, infants were at their most fragile; a simple cold could easily claim their lives.  

Zhao Gao arrived belatedly, and upon hearing the little princess had a fever, swiftly ordered a royal physician to be summoned. The Qin Emperor, however, cut in, “No need. Fetch the Imperial Hospital Director instead.”  

The palace servants were momentarily stunned—that was the elder physician reserved exclusively for the Emperor’s own health.  

The Little Dragon Cub, dazed and feverish, refused to let anyone leave her side. When the Qin Emperor tried to rise to question Huhai, she wouldn’t allow it, her tiny fist still clutching tightly at the corner of his robe. Half-asleep, she burned with fever, her little face flushed crimson.  

The man sighed and sat back down. The elderly physician was practically dragged in by the guards, arms held up for support. The moment he entered, he trembled under the Emperor’s piercing gaze and hurried forward without prompting to examine the little princess.  

After taking her pulse, feeling her forehead, and lifting her eyelids for inspection, the physician hesitated before speaking. “The princess was born prematurely and remains physically frail. Though she appears plump, her constitution is weak. Before she could fully recover, she was exposed to the cold…”  

Here, he faltered.  

The Qin Emperor glared. “Speak.”  

The physician bowed. “She must be carefully nursed—not the slightest draft can be allowed, lest the cold and evil qi invade her body. For now, we must first dispel the chill and reduce the fever.”  

Some medicines were too potent for infants, so the physician revised the prescription several times before settling on one. “Let us try this formula first. If the fever subsides somewhat today, and she is properly cared for, she may yet recover.”  

In short, if the fever didn’t break today, she might suffer lasting damage.  

In these times, it was all too common for children to be left addled by high fevers, growing into drooling, incoherent fools. The Qin Emperor recalled a minister’s family with just such a case.  

His voice darkened. “If the fever does not break today, every attendant on duty and everyone involved will be drenched in rain for eight to ten days. If they still live afterward, I’ll grant them a merciful death.”  

The palace servants immediately dropped to their knees, too terrified to beg for mercy. They could only pray silently to the heavens and the ancestors, beseeching them to protect the little princess and ensure her swift recovery.  

The bedchamber quickly descended into a flurry of activity.  

When the maids stepped forward to wipe the little princess down and change her clothes, the Qin Emperor waved them off. He did it himself, carefully peeling off her damp garments, drying every inch of her skin until not a trace of moisture remained, then dressing her anew and bundling her snugly in swaddling clothes.

This was the first time the Qin Emperor had personally changed the clothes of the little chick. Previously, even when he had lived with the child, the most he had done was feed her milk or the like. His movements were slow, and his large hands didn’t seem suited for delicate tasks like wiping a child’s body or changing clothes. But his memory was sharp, and his comprehension was excellent. Recalling how the palace maids had done it before, he managed to change the clothes successfully.

The palace attendants watched in stunned silence. The hands that wielded blades to slay enemies, the hands that reviewed memorials—could they really perform such trivial tasks as changing a child’s clothes?

Every maid, eunuch, and even the guards on duty that day felt as though their heads were hanging by a thread. As long as the princess didn’t recover from her fever safely, they would remain on edge every moment.

The medicine was soon brewed, and a maid presented it before him. The Qin Emperor said, “Give it to me.”

The young maid hesitated. She feared His Majesty’s rough hands wouldn’t be gentle enough to feed the medicine properly. Could the Emperor even feed someone medicine? Though he had just learned to change the little princess’s clothes.

The man’s cold, heavy gaze intimidated her. Not daring to utter a single unnecessary word or question, she handed it over. Once the Emperor took it, she quickly added, “Your Majesty, be careful—it’s hot.”

The maid thought to herself that if the princess didn’t recover, they’d all die anyway. There was no difference between that and offending His Majesty and being beheaded. So, gathering her courage, she reminded him, “The imperial physician said this medicine is difficult to brew. A whole pot of herbs was boiled down to just this small bowl—only one small bowl, no more.”

The Qin Emperor: “…I know.”

The other attendants silently gave her a thumbs-up. What a bold one, daring to say that!

Even if they privately doubted His Majesty’s ability to feed the medicine, none of them would dare voice a single word!

The Qin Emperor lowered his head, holding the bowl in one hand and a spoon in the other, slowly feeding the Little Chick. At first, she wouldn’t drink. He leaned close to the little one’s ear and whispered, “Be good, and I’ll let you ride a big horse.”

As if possessed by a spirit, the moment the words left his mouth, she began drinking the medicine.

The Qin Emperor: “…”

Contrary to what the attendants imagined, their Emperor was no longer the man of old. He was now a nursemaid who had raised a child, a furious dragon who had fed milk in the dead of night. Feeding medicine was no different from feeding milk—once you got the hang of it, there wasn’t much distinction.

Finishing the small bowl of medicine wasn’t difficult. Not a single drop was wasted; all of it made its way into the little princess’s mouth. The maid who had initially brought the medicine and dared to question him now promptly knelt and kowtowed, lavishing him with exaggerated praise. “Your Majesty is truly the greatest under heaven, capable of conquering battlefields and courtrooms alike while also tending to children. This servant’s vision was too narrow—I failed to see Your Majesty’s tender side. I deserve death.”

The man above her said coldly, “Then you may die.”

The maid: “…”

The entire palace staff stared at her in astonishment. Where had this oddball come from? First questioning the Emperor, then showering him with such blatantly fake, over-the-top flattery?

The Qin Emperor ordered her to lift her head and studied her carefully—a round face, almond eyes, a flat nose, and an air of simple-mindedness, yet her gaze was sharp and clever.

He asked for her name. When she said it was Hong Tao, he pointed at her. “From now on, you will serve by the little princess’s side. If I’m not present, you are to stay with her at all times. If anything happens to her, I’ll hold you accountable.”

The little palace maid was overwhelmed by the unexpected favor. She was merely a lowly attendant who brewed medicine—strictly speaking, her rank was even lower than the maids serving in the inner chambers, and her living conditions were far inferior. With the emperor’s words, it was as if she had been promoted.  

The little princess had been personally raised by the emperor, and now that she had gone missing, the emperor’s furious reaction made the palace servants realize that the little princess held no small place in His Majesty’s heart—in fact, it was likely an exceptionally high one. Looking around, which of the emperor’s other princes or princesses had ever received such treatment?  

Just take Young Master Huhai as an example—with only a little more of the emperor’s attention, he had already run rampant in the inner palace. If that was the case, wouldn’t the little princess soon reign supreme?  

Judging by Young Master Huhai’s lawless behavior, the mortal world was no longer a suitable place for the little princess. She could easily dominate even the heavens.  

And so, the little palace maid was overwhelmed with gratitude. Had she, a lowly nobody, suddenly risen to the heavens in a single step? By serving such an esteemed little princess, she would surely enjoy good food and drink in the future—at the very least, it couldn’t be worse than serving the emperor himself!  

Her eyes gleaming, the little maid kowtowed repeatedly. As she left, she cradled the empty bowl, reluctant to depart, glancing back every few steps. Her future livelihood now rested entirely on that tiny bundle lying on the bed. At this moment, Hong Tao fervently wished for the little princess to recover quickly, so she could ascend to the heavens with her. She longed to become the little princess’s celestial servant.  

Yet even after feeding the medicine, there was still no movement. The entire palace was on edge—until, fortunately, the Eldest Young Master Fusu arrived.  

When he appeared, the palace servants’ eyes lit up with hope. The Eldest Young Master had finally come! If the emperor decided to execute anyone, hiding behind the Eldest Young Master might just save their lives.  

As Fusu stepped into the hall, the thick scent of medicine assaulted his senses. He had always been sensitive—since childhood, he could distinguish seven or eight ingredients in a single prescription. Well-read in all manner of books, including medical texts, his natural talent was extraordinary. Though not a master, he still had considerable knowledge. Had he not been the emperor’s eldest son and a likely heir to the throne, the Imperial Hospital Director would have fought to take him as a medical apprentice.  

After inhaling the scent, Fusu asked immediately upon entering, “Has the Little Imperial Sister caught a fever from the cold?”