Chapter 19
Chapter 19: Are Prince Gong’s Children Not His Real Blood?
Shi Mei You laughed even harder, looking Sweetie up and down—then sneering at the plain carriage behind her. “Hah. You only brought an old coachman? A poor girl without even a maid thinks she can point fingers at this Commandery Princess? If you know what’s good for you, get lost!”
“How dare you!” Old Chen finally snapped. He’d received strict orders from Eunuch Wu: protect the Ninth Princess with his life.
He stepped forward in one stride, blocking Sweetie. His back went straight, and his voice rang with the particular authority of the palace. “Prince Gong’s Heir Apparent, Commandery Princess—how dare you be rude before Ninth Princess, Your Highness? Hurry and salute!”
“N-Ninth Princess?!” Shi Mei You blurted, face flashing white. “Impossible! You… you’re lying!”
Shi Zhi stiffened his neck, still trying to bluff, and barked at Old Chen. “Move! A lowly commoner thinks he can block the road? Men! Throw those two eyesores into the gutter!”
A few burly household guards grinned and surged forward.
Chu Tian Tian’s little face tightened. Her baby voice turned cold. “Stop them.”
Swish. Swish. Swish.
Three black shadows appeared out of nowhere—ghost-fast—and instantly stood between the Shi guards and the carriage.
Each newcomer was tall, straight-backed, and icy in presence. At their waists hung dragon-pattern jade tokens—the unmistakable mark of the palace shadow guards.
Shi Zhi’s pupils shrank. His legs went soft, and he nearly dropped to his knees.
Those tokens were the sign of the emperor’s personal guards.
This little pink dumpling really was the Ninth Princess.
Terror punched the air out of him. He grabbed Shi Mei You, voice shaking like a sieve. “S-sister! Quickly! Bow and admit fault! It’s… it’s Ninth Princess, Your Highness!”
Shi Mei You’s swagger collapsed on the spot. Her lips trembled, face drained pale. Shi Zhi practically forced her head down.
“N-Ninth Princess, Your Highness… w-we were wrong. We won’t dare again!”
Chu Tian Tian looked at the siblings, now quivering like frightened quails, and nodded with the solemnity of a tiny official. “Knowing your mistake and correcting it is good. Tian Tian is in a hurry to return to the palace, so Tian Tian won’t argue with you. Move aside.”
The shadow guards withdrew without a sound.
The Shi siblings looked like they’d been granted a pardon. They scrambled to order their guards to move the carriage, heads lowered, not daring to breathe as they bowed and saw her off.
Old Chen helped Sweetie back into the carriage with reverent care.
The wheels had barely started rolling when a crisp voice sounded in Chu Tian Tian’s mind.
[Ding! Emergency redemption mission issued!]
[Under the host’s tyrannical rule, Prince Gong intends to remove you and take your place!]
[Mission: Find Prince Gong’s only legitimate son, lost among the common folk, and stop the Prince’s household from rebelling!]
[Reward: Unlock divine skill—gossip sense.]
Chu Tian Tian nearly jumped out of her skin.
Gossip sense?
She could hear gossip?
That was amazing!
But the mission itself made her scalp go cold.
Prince Gong’s only legitimate child was lost among the common folk?
Then what about those two just now… weren’t they his children?
Unless—
They weren’t his real blood?
Her little brain filled up with enormous question marks.
Inside the Imperial Study, Sweetie ran in at a pitter-patter. She arrived just in time to see Prince Gong reporting military matters.
“Imperial Father!” Sweetie dove into the emperor’s arms, lower lip jutting as she recounted what happened on the road: the Shi siblings bullying people, the injured girls, and how she revealed her identity to scare them off.
She emphasized, in great detail, how pitiful the sisters were—and how arrogantly the Shi siblings behaved.
Prince Gong, Shi Sheng, broke into a cold sweat the moment he heard it.
He dropped to his knees with a heavy thud. “Your Majesty! Ninth Princess! This minister failed to teach his children. This minister deserves death! Please punish this minister and the princess severely!”
His face was full of remorse.
“Back then, this minister was away campaigning. Madam suffered a difficult birth and died after giving birth to twins.” His voice shook. “And because of my injuries, I can never have children again. Th-these are my only bloodline. It is because this minister spoiled them that they became so lawless. This minister… has failed Your Majesty and failed the princess!”
Sweetie watched Prince Gong kneeling there, begging for punishment, and remembered the system’s hint about the true heir apparent lost among the common folk. Her big eyes rolled once.
She waved her little hand. “Uncle Prince Gong, get up! Tian Tian is fine. Brother and Sister Shi already admitted their mistake. Imperial Father always says: if you know your mistake and fix it, you’re a good child!”
Seeing his precious daughter unharmed—and even this sensible—the emperor’s expression eased.
But his voice remained stern. “Children are the pillars of the future. Spoiling them is harming them. Remember this lesson and discipline them strictly. If it happens again, I will not be lenient.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty! Thank you, Ninth Princess, Your Highness, for mercy!” Prince Gong said, tears in his eyes, bowing repeatedly.
Only then did the emperor fully relax. He looked at Sweetie and laughed, delighted. “My Sweetie has double joy today: first place in the entrance exam, and such kindness and broad-mindedness! Imperial Father will throw you the grandest celebration banquet. The entire capital will know how clever and benevolent my Ninth Princess is!”
The moment Chu Tian Tian heard “grand banquet,” she pictured a table overflowing with delicacies. Her eyes lit up.
She wrapped her arms around the emperor’s neck like a kitten and cheered in a baby voice sweet enough to make teeth ache. “Imperial Father is the best! Tian Tian is the happiest, luckiest little treasure in the whole world!”
The celebration banquet was set for half a month later, and the entire harem turned busy.
Sweetie’s living arrangements, however, became a problem.
The Empress, sharp and considerate, took the initiative. “Your Majesty, I find Ninth Princess very dear. Why not let Sweetie stay in the Palace of Earthly Tranquility for now? Once Consort Li regains favor, mother and daughter can reunite.”
The emperor was pleased and nodded. “The Empress is thoughtful. Very well.”
After a pause, he decided to go to the cold palace himself to tell Consort Li.
When he stepped into the cold palace courtyard, the sight made him stop.
Consort Li, stripped of fine robes, had her sleeves rolled up. A pale yet strong arm flashed as she swung a small hoe, briskly turning over a patch of earth.
Sweat dampened loose strands at her brow. Sunlight fell over her lowered, focused profile, giving her a rare look of life.
How did this look like a consort abandoned in the cold palace?
She looked like a village woman with her head down, working the soil.
The emperor stood in the corridor’s shadow, watching with a complicated gaze.
He knew Consort Li too well. The thing that had hooked him back then wasn’t just her beauty—it was that blunt, un-palace-like sharpness, and the stubborn toughness in her bones.
He watched for a long time.
Consort Li had known it was him the whole time, yet refused to look up. Only after she patted the last ridge of soil flat did she turn, as if she’d just noticed him. She bowed with the perfect mix of surprise and distance. “This concubine greets Your Majesty.”
“Rise.” The emperor lifted his hand, as if to help her up. His fingertip brushed her cool hand—callused, roughened—and his heart tightened for no reason.
His eyes swept over the mud at her hem and the worn lines in her palm. His voice sank. “I saw your letter. The disaster-relief matter isn’t settled yet, so endure a little longer. Once this period passes, I… will find an excuse to let you return to Li Xiu Palace.”
Consort Li lowered her eyes. Her voice was respectful and flawless, and yet there wasn’t a hint of warmth in it. “This concubine thanks Your Majesty for your grace.”
That obedient, distant posture was like a stone lodged in the emperor’s chest, heavy enough to make breathing unpleasant.
He truly hated that he couldn’t drag her out of this damned cold palace right now.