Chapter 21
Chapter 21: Saving the True Heir Apparent
Three days remained before enrollment at the Royal Academy.
By the lotus pond at Yang Qing Hall, Chu Tian Tian clung to the Retired Emperor’s arm like a kitten that had found the warmest blanket in the world, shaking it so hard his sleeve nearly tore.
Her milky voice dragged sweetly. “Imperial Grandfather~ Imperial Grandfather is the very, very, very best~ Tian Tian is so bored in the palace. I just want to peek outside—just one peek! Please, please, pretty please~”
The Retired Emperor was worn down to dust. His heart melted clean through. “All right, all right! My little ancestor—approved, approved! Let Chen Zi Gong go with you. Only for a little while. You must be back before sunset!”
“Yay! Long live Imperial Grandfather!” Sweetie whooped and planted a loud kiss on his cheek.
The moment they passed the palace gates, Sweetie pointed and commanded the carriage straight toward the west side of the capital—the run-down slum district.
It was where she used to play and beg with her friends, back when she’d been nobody at all.
The carriage stopped at the mouth of a filthy, narrow alley.
Sweetie hopped down, inhaled the familiar air—dust, old smoke, and something that tasted like survival—and shouted brightly at the ragged children squatting in the mud. “Wow! I’m back! Did you miss me?”
The alley went dead silent.
Every child froze as if someone had slapped a spell on them, staring at the figure standing at the entrance—a Little Immortal Maiden who looked like she was glowing.
Goose-yellow palace robes. A doll-pretty face. And behind her, a tall, cold guard with a blade at his waist.
Who… who was that?
Sweetie’s grin wobbled. “It’s… it’s me! Tian Tian! You don’t recognize me?”
“Ti… Tian Tian?” A braver boy crept forward, his filthy little face full of disbelief. “You… you’re really Tian Tian? The Tian Tian who was always hungry and still shared half a bun with us?”
“It’s me!” Sweetie nodded hard, eyes shining.
The moment they recognized that familiar voice and those familiar eyes, the alley erupted.
“Tian Tian!” “It’s really Tian Tian!”
A swarm of little mud monkeys charged her all at once.
Chen Zi Gong’s expression snapped cold. He stepped in front of Sweetie in a blink, palm dropping to his sword hilt.
His gaze swept over the children—sharp, icy, deadly.
The air tightened into steel.
The kids screamed and scattered like startled birds, stumbling back in a messy clump, trembling as they stared at him.
“Uncle Chen, don’t scare them!” Sweetie wriggled out from behind his tall frame and flung her little arms wide, shielding the shaking children. “They’re Tian Tian’s best friends! They won’t hurt Tian Tian!”
She lifted bright, earnest eyes to him. “Uncle Chen, Tian Tian knows you’re worried. But can you trust them, okay?”
Uncle Chen?
Chen Zi Gong jolted as if struck.
He was a lowly guard. A speck of dust.
And the noble Ninth Princess—golden branch, jade leaf—was calling him uncle. Softly. Like he mattered.
He watched her stand among the dirty children without a hint of disgust, like a tiny sun—warm, fearless. He saw the pure joy and dependence in their eyes as they looked at her.
Something hot and aching rose in his throat.
Slowly, he loosened his grip on the sword hilt and stepped back half a pace. His voice came out low, rough, and unexpectedly gentle. “Yes. This subordinate understands.”
Only then did the children dare inch closer again, still cautious, still shaken.
A little girl in patched clothes crept forward, eyes wide with cautious hope. “Tian Tian… did you find your real parents?”
Chu Tian Tian nodded hard, a warm smile blooming. She tugged off her little satchel like it was a treasure chest and rummaged inside.
“Little Duck, look!” She pulled out a glittering butterfly hairpin wrapped in bright silk and placed it into Little Duck’s grimy palm. “The hairpin I promised you! Pretty, right?”
Then she shoved a few candies wrapped in shiny paper into the hands of a snot-nosed boy. “Yang Yang! The candy Tian Tian promised you! Take it—super sweet!”
Her satchel really was like Doraemon’s pocket. Gift after gift popped out: a smooth wooden sword for Hu Zi, who loved playing war; a little box of colorful silk threads for Niu Niu, who liked pretty things; even a packet of flower seeds for Little Grass, who liked crouching by the wall to watch wildflowers.
Every friend received something she’d remembered.
Not one was missed.
Chen Zi Gong stood off to the side, staring as if he’d been struck dumb. The noble Ninth Princess had remembered the likes, the wishes, the tiny promises of beggar children living on the edge of starvation.
His nose stung. His eyes went red.
After Sweetie finished handing out gifts, she beamed—then dug into her bag again and pulled out a brand-new writing brush and a small inkstone. She looked around, confused. “Little Duck, where’s Brother A Sheng? This is for him! He said he wanted to study and become top scholar, so everyone could live a good life…”
At the name, Little Duck’s tears finally broke.
Her thin shoulders shook violently.
Yang Yang sniffed, voice thick with sobs. “Tian Tian… Brother A Sheng is gone. Sister Chun Cao had a fever a few days ago, burning hot. Brother A Sheng said he’d go gather herbs outside the city, and then… then he fell off a cliff…”
Clatter.
Sweetie’s inkstone slipped from her hands and hit the filthy ground.
Her little face went paper-white. Disbelief flooded her eyes—then grief so huge it didn’t seem like it could fit inside a three-year-old body.
Brother A Sheng… the one who always protected her. The one who split his half bun with her. The one who wrote the word “home” in the dirt under moonlight and taught her to read it…
Gone?