Chapter 18

The willows turned yellow and then green again, the flowers in the Imperial Garden bloomed one season after another, and the birds chirped joyfully, heralding the arrival of another spring.  

This year, the little princess Ying Chao turned three.  

Children grow up fast, their appearances changing day by day. Fusu still remembered the first time he held his little imperial sister—she was no bigger than two or three palms, plump yet tiny, small enough to be cradled in one hand.  

Now, that little bundle had grown slightly, learning to speak and toddle around clumsily. When she ran, she looked like a downy duckling, awkward yet adorable.  

A faint smile played on his lips as he headed toward the emperor’s chambers, though it dimmed slightly at the thought of the distant assignment he had been given.  

From afar, the sound of a child’s sweet laughter drifted from the palace, occasionally punctuated by imperious little shouts and the amused responses of the palace attendants.  

The nursemaids and elderly matrons were beside themselves with worry. The little princess dashed about, climbing and jumping, yet the attendants indulged her, even playing hide-and-seek with her. They feared that if she so much as stumbled, the emperor would hold them accountable upon his return.  

This scene seemed to repeat daily. The nursemaids and matrons found serving the little princess both exhausting and delightful, losing a few strands of hair each day. Yet, when the little princess sweetly coaxed them with her childish charm, they would relent without hesitation, even feeling fortunate to be by her side.  

Fusu stepped into the courtyard of the palace, signaling the attendants not to announce his arrival. He quietly approached a tree and gently plucked the chubby little one, who was straining with all her might to climb it, cradling her in his arms.  

A deep, gentle voice sounded above her: “Zhaozhao being naughty again?”  

The Little Dragon Cub looked up without struggling, recognizing the voice. She immediately clung to her elder brother’s neck and affectionately called out, “Gege!”  

Only after a moment did she retort, “Zhaozhao isn’t naughty! Zhaozhao is the best!”  

The man chuckled. At twenty-five, Fusu had once been engaged, but his betrothed had met with misfortune, delaying his marriage. This year, another match had been arranged, with the wedding set for the year’s end.  

Fusu pinched the Little Dragon Cub’s tiny nose. “Yes, Zhaozhao is the best.”  

The nursemaids and matrons sighed in relief. Thankfully, the eldest prince had returned. Otherwise, they would have faced the emperor’s reprimand.  

In the palace now, only the emperor and the eldest prince could manage the little princess. The emperor was the strictest—when the little princess misbehaved, he never scolded her but instead held the attendants accountable. The eldest prince, gentle and courteous, never took his frustrations out on others, which made him all the more beloved.  

The Little Dragon Cub had been well-fed, her skin milky and soft, her arms plump and stubby, her little legs thumping loudly as she ran.  

No sooner had Fusu set his sister down than a young eunuch’s voice announced from the entrance—the emperor had returned.  

The Little Dragon Cub clung to the doorframe, peeking out with just her little head. When she caught sight of the hem of the dragon-patterned black robe, she pressed a tiny finger to her lips, signaling her elder brother to stay quiet, then swiftly hid under a nearby table.  

The man entered the chamber and, upon seeing Fusu, asked, “Where’s the little Zhao Cub?”  

Fusu sighed inwardly. Every time he heard his father’s nickname for his little sister, he was left speechless. The peculiar moniker “Little Chick” had been vehemently rejected by the little princess once she learned to speak, so the emperor had switched to “little Zhao Cub.” It sounded gruff, yet carried an undeniable affection.

Fusu opened his mouth, momentarily led astray by his father’s words. “Little Zhao Cub…” He paused. “Zhaozhao might not be in the palace.”

The Qin Emperor walked to the table, sat down, and took a sip of the hot tea just served by the palace attendants. “Fusu, have you been slacking off lately?” he asked.

The young prince smiled and countered, “What does Father mean by that?”

The man tugged at the corner of his mouth. His full beard had long been shaved off over the past three years, constantly victimized and scorned by the little cub, revealing handsome features that made him appear several years younger. Occasionally, palace maids would even sneak glances at the emperor’s profile in admiration.

The man’s striking features carried seven parts coldness and three parts severity as he glanced sideways at his son. “From now on, don’t come running to my palace whether you have business or not. Focus on your duties. As the eldest prince, you should lead by example. Understand?”

Fusu smiled wryly. “This time, your son will be traveling to Dai Commandery. At the very least, I won’t appear in the palace for two or three months.”

The Qin Emperor nodded in satisfaction. Just as he was about to give his son some final instructions, he felt a sudden weight on his calf followed by a sharp pain. Looking down, he saw the little cub crouched beneath the table, gnawing on his leg with all her might. Her chubby little face was tense and slightly red from exertion.

The Qin Emperor: “…”

The dissatisfied grumbles of the chubby cub came through muffled: “Daddy bad! Bullying big brother again!”

Fusu looked down with an amused smile and sipped his hot tea.

A vein twitched at the Qin Emperor’s temple as he glared fiercely at Fusu before bending down to pick up the little cub who clung stubbornly to his leg. “Father didn’t bully your big brother.”

The Little Dragon Cub didn’t believe him. With a huff, she reached out with her chubby paws to pinch the emperor’s face, mimicking how he usually pinched her cheeks, tugging in protest. “Daddy bullies big brother every day!”

The palace attendants lowered their heads to hide their smiles. In all the world, only the little princess dared to mess with the emperor’s dignity. Their initial shock had long since turned to accustomed acceptance over these three years.

Dai Commandery, located in the north with developed agriculture, was formerly part of the Zhao territory. Since last year, there had been several uprisings among the displaced people. Reports suggested the marauding bandits might be remnants of the old Zhao forces, so the emperor sent Fusu and a general to investigate and suppress the unrest.

Before departure, the Little Dragon Cub clung to her big brother, tiny hands gripping his collar tightly, her eyes brimming with tears. “Big brother, Zhaozhao doesn’t want you to go.” After a moment’s thought, she added, “Zhaozhao wants to go too.”

A pair of large hands lifted her up and took her from Fusu’s embrace. The long procession stood ready, and soon moved out of the city in an orderly line like a well-trained dragon, leaving only clouds of dust in their wake.

The Little Dragon Cub thought back to what she’d seen during her time-traveling experiences—it seemed her big brother faced no real danger on this trip, so she relaxed.

Remembering how she’d secretly asked her big brother to help dig up treasure for her before he left, her eyes curved into happy crescents. She seemed to recall storing one of her treasure vaults in Dai Commandery, though she couldn’t remember exactly where. But she had a solution—she’d given her big brother the jade pendant he’d gifted her at birth to take with him. Having been worn close to her body for so long, it carried traces of her Dragon Breath. She’d placed restrictions on the treasure vault so it would react within a hundred-mile radius. With luck, he might bring back her first little treasure hoard.

The Little Dragon Cub had only told her big brother that she’d dreamed of treasure and hoped he could dig it up for her. Her ever-doting big brother hadn’t even asked why before agreeing without hesitation.

Thinking this over, the Little Dragon Cub decided that when the treasure came back, she’d give her big brother a larger share.

The Qin Emperor strode back with a stern expression, his handsome face furrowed in a fierce scowl. If not for the Little Dragon Cub insisting on seeing her brother off outside the palace gates, why would he have personally escorted them?

The Little Dragon Cub was sharp as ever. Though she often teamed up with her eldest brother to tease their Dragon Father, in her heart, the Dragon Father who had relied on her in the Upper Realm was still the most important—a little baby who needed constant reassurance. She stretched out her chubby paws to cup his handsome face and planted a loud kiss on his chin, sincerely praising, “Father has grown even more handsome lately.”

She held her own chin, gesturing slightly, “Just a tiny bit more handsome than Eldest Brother.”

The man’s tense expression finally eased a little, and his steps lightened. The palace attendants following behind exchanged glances, collectively sighing in relief.

Tonight, His Majesty would likely be easier to serve.

Not long after Prince Fusu left for Daijun on official business, news spread through the palace: the Emperor intended to begin the Little Princess’s education.

Most princes started their education at five or six, and princesses typically followed the same age for basic instruction. Only the eldest prince, Fusu, had been exceptionally gifted—personally tutored by the Emperor since childhood and beginning his studies at three. Now, with the Little Princess just turning three, the Emperor couldn’t wait to send her off to study?

Zhao Gao read the imperial decree, glanced around, and announced, “Gentlemen, give this careful thought. If you have outstanding children of suitable age, they may be sent to the palace as the Little Princess’s study companions.”

With that, court was dismissed.

The ministers hurried home almost immediately, rummaging through their households for eligible children while speculating on the Emperor’s intentions.

Though the dynasty’s laws were strict, the rules for imperial offspring were relatively few. Apart from their noble birth, imperial children weren’t much different from the sons and daughters of high-ranking officials. Over the years, aside from Prince Fusu, none of the other princes or princesses had been assigned study companions—even Huhai attended the Academy, where he mostly befriended classmates his own age.

Now, with Princess Longbao barely three, the Emperor was already selecting study companions? And he had specified outstanding boys.

The ministers began to speculate. The first thought: Could the Emperor be raising a child groom for the Little Princess from infancy?

This seemed highly plausible. Those who aspired to royal connections but lacked eligible children at home cursed their misfortune, wishing they could borrow a child from someone else. Those with both aspirations and eligible children sprang into action, carefully selecting their best candidates in hopes of catching the Emperor’s eye.

As the Emperor’s most favored child, the courtiers were brimming with anticipation. Unlike in some dynasties, there was no rule forbidding imperial sons-in-law from participating in politics. Marrying a princess might even earn the Emperor’s deeper trust.

Zhang Da was torn. The Emperor had declared that children up to six years old were eligible for selection, and his precious son had just turned five—right within the range.

Should he send him or not?

If he did, he wouldn’t be able to play Ride Horsey with his son every day. But if he didn’t…

Zhang Da imagined a future where his son might, by some stroke of luck, marry the Little Princess. Wouldn’t that mean he could hear the Little Princess call him “Father,” just like the majestic Emperor?

The thought was delightful. So, after discussing it with his wife, the doting Zhang Da reluctantly signed his son up.

Wang Er, after being confined by his father and elder brother for a while, had long forgotten the incident three years prior when he’d touched the Little Princess’s hand. Now, hearing about the selection for her study companions, he floated back to his old self and begged his father to enroll him.

A few years ago, his parents had given him a younger brother, Wang San, who was now three years old—the same age as the princess, though a few months younger. Quiet and well-behaved, the boy was the polar opposite of his mischievous, pleasure-seeking, and unreliable second son. Without a second thought, Minister Wang and his wife decided to send their third son to the palace as a study companion. Compared to his unruly elder brother, the younger son was far more dependable and had the advantage of age.  

On the eve of submitting the list, the six-year-old boy sneaked into his father’s study. After searching the desk for a long time, he finally found the enrollment form. He quietly replaced it with a new one, clutching the original as he slipped away.  

Tucking the stolen list into his chest, the boy prepared to find a place to burn it. His youthful face brimmed with triumph as he walked leisurely back, hands behind his back in an exaggerated swagger, utterly unbothered by guilt.  

He thought smugly to himself—thankfully, he had mastered the skill of imitating his father’s handwriting. Life wasn’t easy, but happiness had to be seized by one’s own hands.  

The next day, Zhao Gao stood before the palace hall and announced the list of study companions. As the long string of names was read out, Wang Er’s name stood out unmistakably. Minister Wang swayed on his feet, feeling as though the sky had darkened.  

Had he just hallucinated?