ITVCFITB CHAPTER 123

 Chapter 123 — Extra: A Little Brother?

Because the late emperor spent years fixated on infighting, Great Xia hadn’t exactly been harmonious inside. After Li Mingjin took the throne, he began a sweeping purge of the bureaucracy: tedious, messy, but necessary. Parasites rot a nation; he wanted it vibrant, so out they went.

The results spoke for themselves; his reputation spread across the realm.

Strict, yes, but rewards and punishments were crystal clear. The History Ministry’s oversight was tight; no one dared poke their head up to try anything shady for fear of being hauled out as the “warning chicken.”

Three years blinked by. With a capable emperor on the throne, perhaps even a bit of Heaven’s favor, there had been no natural disasters. People prospered. Imperial roads, just as Li Mingjin had envisioned, now crisscrossed the country.

One thing still made officials twitchy: the royal nursery. Aside from one son, there were no other heirs. For a dynasty, that was… risky.

Hints and memorials, subtle and not, were all ignored. The emperor tossed such petitions straight into the brazier, then summoned their authors to be scolded raw: if you’ve got time to pry into my household, you’ve got time to do your jobs. He listed the chaos in their own homes one by one, couldn’t run their families yet wanted to run his? Keep it up and he’d vacate their seats for someone more useful.

Those chastised officials staggered out of the palace, shaking. They never brought it up again.

As for Li Mingjin, did he want more children? Of course. But after Chongchong’s birth, he couldn’t bear to risk Luo Shuyu’s life so soon again; the blood on delivery day still haunted him. The thought of another pregnancy chilled his hands. He was terrified of losing him.

So he never raised it. Even in bed, he was careful; fortunately, a ger’s body wasn’t a woman’s, and Luo Shuyu didn’t conceive easily. Their attention stayed on Chongchong.

Now four years old, their son was a bright, mischievous imp, sweet when sweet, unruly when unruly.

Three years earlier, Lin Yuan and Chen Rong each took in two pupils. These little rascals now tore around the palace with Chongchong and, when accompanied, even slipped beyond the gates. The fathers didn’t clip their boy’s wings as guards were everywhere, masters nearby, and Li Mingjin himself seldom far. The child wouldn’t so much as bruise.

They often took him out to see the other side of the world, fields, markets, workshops, rather than locking him in with books. Every few days the family toured the city or nearby towns: where grain came from, why everything was hard-won, why a ruler needs a broad view. With his fathers’ guidance and Chen Rong’s teaching, Chongchong already grasped the big picture far beyond his years, a tiny adult in many ways.

But they never smothered his childhood. What other kids had, he had; what they ate and played, he ate and played. A full, colorful boyhood.

Perhaps Luo Shuyu still carried a sliver of “making up for” in his heart, having lost and regained, he treasured fiercely. His rebirth was also a rebirth for father and son.

Today they had promised to take the children to watch winter cuju on ice. Chongchong’s fifth birthday was just around the corner.

The little prince had his own pony and insisted on riding himself. The escort bristled with hidden blades; there was no safer place.

Winter cuju had become a favorite sport throughout Xia after first flourishing in Gucheng. With the roads now seamless, the Ministry of Culture hosted the first nationwide winter tournament. Today was the final.

The palace had its own pitch where the boys usually played. Many times Chongchong had lamented that his father never competed with him.

Sitting straight on his pony, he looked up at his father on a tall horse. “Father, when can you play ice cuju with me? Master An San says I’m ready to graduate.”

Li Mingjin thought of how he’d been shorting their playtime lately. “Tomorrow, then.”

“You have to keep your word,” Chongchong said, solemn.

“Of course.”

Behind them, Luo Shuyu chuckled. “And your lessons?”

“Done!” Chongchong swivelled back to Li Mingjin. “Father, when are you and Papa giving me a little brother?”

With a brother, surely his fathers would go easier on homework. That’s how other families worked, so he’d heard.

Li Mingjin tapped him lightly on the forehead. “Why do you want a brother?” Those bright, spinning eyes screamed “scheme.”

Chongchong would never confess. “I just do. Uncle has two kids. I’m all alone, so pitiful.”

“You’re not telling the truth.” Li Mingjin’s face was mild, voice firm.

The boy shook his head hard. “I am! I just want a brother.”

“If you had one,” Li Mingjin asked, “how would you treat him?”

“Treat him?” Chongchong blinked. “Don’t we… both just do lessons?”

Ah. There it was.

“So the reason you want a brother,” Li Mingjin said, “is to make him do homework with you.”

“...No,” Chongchong muttered, defiant but caught.

A little clever, this cub, but a fox kit is still a kit. Tail up, thoughts obvious.

“Think it through,” Li Mingjin said gently but gravely. “If a brother is born, how will you guide him? How will you help him grow up healthy? Only if you love and protect him will Papa and I consider it. If it’s just for fun or convenience, no brother. So do you truly want one?”

He and Luo Shuyu had no other partners; any sibling would be their second child. But they’d seen too many brothers writ into tragedy. Li Mingjin’s own history offered no model of healthy kinship, and he’d never voiced this fear, he didn’t want to burden Luo Shuyu with it. Neither of their families had been examples to follow.

Chongchong went silent. In other homes, a new baby seemed as simple as pouring tea. Why was it such a serious matter for his parents?

“Is a brother… very important?” he asked at last.

“Very,” Li Mingjin said, steady and solemn. “He would be family, blood of our blood. As important as Father and Papa. If you want a brother, you must love him just as you love Papa, and care for him.”

The gravity reached him. A brother wasn’t an escape hatch from calligraphy. It was a life.

Chongchong scrunched his face. “Then… I’ll think about it?”

“This is a family decision,” Li Mingjin said. “Every life is precious. Don’t make choices lightly about this, or anything.”

“I understand,” the boy whispered, mind churning.

A brother meant protecting, teaching, sharing. That sounded… complicated. But also fun? Maybe?

Why did Father’s “brother” sound so different from the one in his head?

So… did he want one or not?

Behind them, Luo Shuyu had heard every word. Their son’s tiny frown of deep moral struggle made him smile until his eyes bent.

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Author’s Note: The extras begin!

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