Chapter 22

Chapter 22: A Challenge from an Eight-Year-Old Prodigy

She… still came too late.

Even Chen Zi Gong felt as if an invisible hand had clenched around his heart.

A boy he’d never met—yet who carried such an ambitious dream—had died in silence, chasing medicine for his sister.

Years in the palace had hammered Chen Zi Gong into cold iron, but in that moment, a crack split the metal. Heat poured through: fury and sorrow, sharp enough to burn.

“Waaah—!” Little Duck broke completely and sobbed out loud.

“Tian Tian… Sister Chun Cao is… is gone too! Brother A Sheng is gone! We… we really are like trash, aren’t we? Nobody wants us… waaah…”

Yang Yang and the others started crying too, their tiny bodies painfully thin in the cold wind.

For children like them, death was as ordinary as breathing.

Growing up alive felt like some ridiculous, faraway luxury.

Chu Tian Tian raised a hand and scrubbed her cheeks hard. Her little fist clenched so tight her nails nearly bit into her skin.

She stared at her crying friends—and something fierce lit inside her, bright as flame.

Brother A Sheng… your wish… Tian Tian will do it for you.

Imperial Father.

Tian Tian would give them a home.

A real home—warm, safe, with no more hunger, no more freezing nights, no more sudden deaths that snuffed out like a candle.

She forced down the ache in her throat and opened her satchel again.

This time she pulled out several gold leaves, blazing in the sunlight.

She shoved them into Little Duck’s hands without hesitation. “Little Duck, take them! Hide them! Take everyone to eat! Buy clothes! Tian Tian will come back. Tian Tian will help you!”

Little Duck recoiled as if the gold had burned her.

The leaves clinked to the ground.

“No!” she cried, panicked, scrubbing her dirty hands on her torn clothes as if filth itself could be punished away. “Tian Tian, it’s too precious! We can’t! If your family finds out, they’ll beat you!”

The other children crowded in, nodding frantically. “Yes, yes! Put it away!” “We’re used to being hungry—we’re fine!”

Right in the middle of their frantic refusal—

Thud.

A small boy, even skinnier than Yang Yang and dressed in rags that were more hole than cloth, stumbled into the alley clutching a broken begging bowl… and collapsed face-first at the entrance.

His face was gray-white. His lips were cracked. He looked like a breath pretending to be a person.

“A Dai!” Little Duck shrieked, diving toward him. “Tian Tian, this is A Dai! He… he’s like Brother A Sheng—he loves listening to the teacher read at the little school! But he’s so slow, he never manages to beg enough food… Look, he fainted again!”

Chu Tian Tian’s heart twisted.

She snatched up a gold leaf and thrust it at Chen Zi Gong. “Uncle Chen! Quick! Buy buns! Buy all the buns from the stall up ahead—hot ones!”

Chen Zi Gong’s throat tightened. He couldn’t take the princess’s gold.

“Your Highness, you must not.” His voice came out hoarse as he dug into his own clothes and yanked out every copper coin and scrap of silver he had. “This subordinate will handle it!”

He sprinted off like a gust of wind.

Minutes later, he came barreling back, hauling two stacked bamboo steamers. Steam poured out. The scent of fresh white buns flooded the alley like a miracle.

The children’s eyes went round—but none of them grabbed or fought.

Instead, with the quiet teamwork of kids who’d learned survival too early, they tore a soft bun into pieces and fed it to A Dai bit by bit, warming his mouth and coaxing him back.

And then—

[Ding! Congratulations, Host!]

[Redemption Mission: “Find Prince Gong’s Lost Bloodline” completed!]

[Successfully saved Prince Gong Manor’s legitimate son!]

[Reward granted: Divine Skill—Gossip Sense!]

Chu Tian Tian’s eyes went wide. “!!!”

She stared at the boy on the ground, who had finally swallowed enough bun to look a shade less dead.

A Dai…?

He was Prince Gong’s lost bloodline—the child who’d nearly starved to death out here.

The True Heir Apparent.

Chu Tian Tian’s little brows knitted. Her baby voice stayed soft, but it left no room to argue. “A Dai is hurt. Tian Tian is taking him back to see a doctor.”

She squatted down and peered into his dazed face like she’d just found a rare treasure in the mud. “A Dai, come home with Tian Tian, okay? There are meat buns.”

A Dai’s eyes were unfocused. He looked like he genuinely believed he’d died and met a fairy.

Little Duck smacked him on the back. “What are you spacing out for! Tian Tian is taking you to live the good life! Are you going or not?”

“I’m going! I’m going!” A Dai blurted, suddenly waking up.

The other children crowded around him, envy bright in their eyes—but not a hint of bitterness. “Brother A Dai is going to live the good life!” “Tian Tian is the best!”

Chu Tian Tian puffed up her chest, proud as a tiny general. Then she tugged Chen Zi Gong down by his sleeve and cupped a hand by his ear, whispering like she was sharing state secrets.

“Uncle Chen, Tian Tian’s gold leaves are for you. Buy a big courtyard. Name it ‘Tian Tian Charity Hall’ and take in all the poor little ones with no home.”

Her eyes sparkled as she rattled it off, dead serious. “Hire a few poor grandmas to cook and wash clothes. Pay them wages. Invite teachers to teach reading and writing. And hire carpenters and embroiderers to teach skills! Kids with no parents need skills the most—they have to feed themselves!”

Chen Zi Gong just stared.

This little ancestor had mapped out the future of dozens of people in one breath.

And she was three.

Seeing him frozen, Chu Tian Tian mistook it for doubt—or worse, not enough funds. Her little mouth pouted, and she upended her pouch into his hands, shoving every last gold leaf at him.

“All of it for Uncle Chen! If it’s not enough, Tian Tian will ask Imperial Grandfather for more! Tian Tian will send money forever!”

Chen Zi Gong fumbled to catch the gold, his voice drifting like his soul had stepped out for fresh air. “Enough… enough. Your Highness, please rest assured. Zi Gong will get it done.”

He went to report to the Retired Emperor with his steps practically floating.

After listening, the Retired Emperor fell silent for a beat. Then a sharp light flashed in his eyes as he waved a decisive hand.

“Teng Fu—allocate double the silver. Make sure my good granddaughter’s plan is done beautifully. And make sure every beggar and orphan in the capital knows this is the Ninth Princess’s grace.”

Eunuch Teng bowed, smiling. “This servant obeys.”

The Retired Emperor stared out the window and murmured, half regret, half awe, “Only three years old… yet her heart is with the people, and her mind reaches far. What a pity she wasn’t born a boy…”

Eunuch Teng immediately leaned in. “Your Majesty, this old servant thinks the Ninth Princess’s spirit surpasses plenty of princes. Who says women are worse than men? Our Ninth Princess is Great Ning’s lucky star.”

The Retired Emperor threw back his head and laughed. “Well said. Then I want to see what kind of hole this little girl can poke in the sky!”

Inside the Palace of Earthly Tranquility, Chu Tian Tian clung to the Empress’s neck, rolling and whining like a tiny koala determined to win a war of attrition.

“Empress Mother~ the very best Empress Mother~ please, please! Let A Dai stay with Tian Tian!” Her baby voice was sticky enough to glue the ceiling down. “Tian Tian wants A Dai as my guard. Tian Tian likes him!”

Then she scrunched her little face like it physically hurt. “Chen Zi Gong said… if he stays, he has to get snip-snip and become a eunuch…”

She shook her head so hard her hair almost flew off. “No, no, no! A Dai has to marry a wife someday! Empress Mother loves Tian Tian the most~”

The Empress’s heart melted into a puddle. She pinched Tian Tian’s nose. “All right, all right. If my precious darling asks, what’s one guard? Granted.”

“Yay! Empress Mother is the best!” Tian Tian smacked a loud kiss onto the Empress’s cheek.

A Dai was brought in soon after, cleaned up and dressed in a fitting guard uniform.

He looked like someone had swapped him out for a different child.

He was still thin, but his brows were sharp, his eyes bright, his nose high. That clean, handsome air couldn’t be hidden even if you tried.

Chu Tian Tian stared, mouth open. “Wow! A Dai, you… you’re even better-looking than Uncle Prince Gong!”

A Dai nearly dropped to his knees when he learned the Little Immortal Maiden in front of him was the noble Ninth Princess, but Chu Tian Tian grabbed him before his kneecaps could hit the ground.

“From now on, you follow me and protect me! If anyone bullies Tian Tian, you…” She paused, thinking hard, then nodded solemnly. “…you glare at them!”

The next morning was the opening day at the Royal Academy.

Crown Prince Chu Cheng Xuan was already waiting outside the Palace of Earthly Tranquility, dressed in light apricot-yellow and wearing a rare, eager smile.

The Empress personally watched the Crown Prince and Tian Tian finish breakfast, then warned him again and again. “Xuan Er, in the academy you must take good care of your sister. Don’t let anyone bully Sweetie.”

The Crown Prince nodded hard, then took Tian Tian’s soft little hand. “Imperial Mother, rest assured. This son will protect Imperial Sister.”

Watching the two children walk off hand in hand, close and sweet, the Empress’s eyes warmed. She sighed to the nanny beside her, “How long has it been since Xuan Er looked this happy? Sweetie truly is his little lucky star.”

Outside the grand, ancient gates of the Royal Academy, Eldest Prince Chu Cheng Yan stood tall and composed in blue robes, his gentle gaze fixed on the palace road.

When he saw the Crown Prince approaching, holding a bouncing little pink dumpling, his face lit with a warm smile. He hurried forward. “Sweetie! Your Highness.”

“Big Imperial Brother!” Chu Tian Tian’s eyes lit up. She let go of the Crown Prince’s hand and trotted toward Chu Cheng Yan with quick little steps.

Behind a corridor pillar, Chu Jiao Jiao stared at the scene like she wanted to burn it into ash.

That little bitch Chu Tian Tian had Crown Prince Brother holding her left hand and Eldest Prince guarding her right side—like she was some treasured jewel being escorted by the stars themselves.

Her nails dug into her palm. Be smug. Laugh. Let’s see how long you can stay smug. Disaster star… I’ll make you live up to that name and grind you into the mud forever.

She hadn’t even finished her poisonous daydream when an angry figure shot toward Chu Tian Tian like a cannonball.

“Chu Tian Tian! Stop right there!”

The shout cracked through the courtyard.

The boy charging over was Zheng Kun, the eight-year-old prodigy of Class A. His face was flushed with rage, his eyes blazing with jealousy.

He’d been swallowing this fury for days.

He, Zheng Kun, had studied for years. He’d dreamed of Sun-Chasing Class like it was the gates of heaven.

And now this three-year-old bean got in on a special exception?

Why?

He jabbed a finger at Tian Tian’s face. “Tell me—did the emperor open the back door for you?! Because you’re a princess, you steal someone else’s spot? Sun-Chasing Class is a place you can just enter?!”

The courtyard fell instantly quiet. Every gaze snapped toward them.

The Crown Prince’s expression darkened. He was about to speak, but Chu Cheng Yan stopped him with a single look.

Academy rules—status didn’t mean anything here.

Chu Tian Tian blinked, calm as still water. “Nope. Tian Tian got in with my own ability.”

“With ability?” Zheng Kun laughed like he’d just heard the dumbest joke on earth. “You? A three-year-old milk baby? You probably can’t even recite the Three-Character Classic without tripping! Dare to accept my challenge? Let everyone see your ‘real ability’!”

“Sure!” Chu Tian Tian agreed instantly, baby voice bright and fearless. “Anyone who wants to challenge Tian Tian, come on! Tian Tian will prove Imperial Father didn’t open any back door. Don’t slander Imperial Father!”

The headmaster rushed over, heard the commotion, and instead of stopping it, his eyes lit up. “Good. Academy rules—strength speaks. Set up the stage!”

The challenge platform went up in a flash.

Chu Cheng Yan lifted the little dumpling onto the high platform and murmured, “Sweetie, don’t be afraid.”

Chu Tian Tian stood there tiny as a button, drawing every student’s gaze—curious, doubtful, sympathetic, gleeful.

Zheng Kun hopped up too, pretending to be generous. “Hmph. I won’t bully a little kid. What do we compete in? You decide.”

Chu Tian Tian tilted her head, thinking. Then her eyes brightened. “We’ll compete in who remembers faster! The teacher reads, we recite. Whoever recites more—and more accurately—wins!”

“Reciting?” Zheng Kun blinked, then nearly laughed. His memory was his pride.

“Little girl, are you sure? If the teacher picks something I’ve already read, don’t cry and accuse me of bullying you.”

“It’s okay. Start!” Chu Tian Tian waved a tiny hand, relaxed as if she was about to hear a bedtime story.

At the headmaster’s instruction, the teacher fetched a painfully obscure book: Strange Creature Records of the Southern Wastes, Volume One.

The title alone made the crowd suck in a breath. Plenty of students had never even heard of it.

The teacher cleared his throat and began to read.

The content was harsh and strange—packed with rare names of insects, fish, birds, and beasts. The students below frowned and struggled to follow, soon looking dizzy.

Zheng Kun tensed at first, then his mouth curled with smug relief.

What a coincidence.

His father’s study had this set. He’d flipped through it when he was bored. He didn’t remember every word, but he was still a hundred times better than a three-year-old.

The teacher finally finished and set the book down.

“Zheng Kun,” the headmaster said. “You first.”

Zheng Kun recited confidently. He stumbled in a few spots, but he got through most of it.

Scattered applause rose from the crowd.

Zheng Kun turned, triumphant. “Your turn, little princess. If you can’t do it, admit defeat.”

Chu Tian Tian inhaled, then began.

Her baby voice rang out clear and smooth, flowing like a bright stream over stones. She recited word for word—perfectly—and even her rhythm and pauses were better than the teacher’s, as if she’d memorized it long ago.

Silence.

Dead, stunned silence.