ITVCFITB CHAPTER 50

 Chapter 50 — The Emperor’s “Baby Push”

Shen Mingyun was pregnant.

Yes. Pregnant.

When the imperial physician announced the diagnosis, his brain went blank.

Shen’s voice shook. “Doctor, could you… repeat that?”

The physician misunderstood the tone and took it for stunned joy. Bearing a prince’s child was a colossal blessing, after all. Patiently, he repeated himself and turned to the Fourth Prince with a bow. “Congratulations, Your Highness. Attendant Shen has conceived.”

The Fourth Prince was overjoyed and a little dazed. He looked from the physician to Shen. “Truly?”

Becoming a father without warning, he was at a loss.

“It’s true,” the physician said. “I checked three times. The pulse is certain, but the fetus is still unstable. He must rest for a month. I’ll prescribe tonics, one dose, three times a day for a month and strict bed rest. I’ll return every three days to monitor the pulse.”

“Good. Thank you,” the Fourth Prince said quickly.

When the physician left, the Fourth Prince wrapped Shen Mingyun in a tight embrace. “Yun’er, this is wonderful. We’re going to have a child. Stop fussing over shop openings, just rest and protect the baby.”

Shen’s face looked like chronic constipation; the corners of his mouth refused to lift. Did Li Mingchun just tell me to… “an-an-antepartum-rest”?

Damn it. He, a big, strapping man, had tripped straight into a pregnancy arc and “antenatal care” on top.

Back at the office he’d had colleagues who took leave for pregnancy. He’d thought they were being dramatic. Now it was his turn; it felt like swallowing a fly.

Are you kidding me? Weren’t gers supposed to have a low conception rate?

And didn’t the system’s contraceptives guarantee no “jackpot”?

If he had this kind of luck, why had he never won a weekly lottery ticket in his old life?

He’d read enough webnovels to recognize the trope: if the protagonist is fated to have children, one roll in the sheets with the male lead = instant success.

And here he was. Bullseye.

Part of him was pleased, protagonist aura confirmed. The other part was furious at the system. He’d been diligent with the pills. Why was he pregnant?

“System, explain. Why am I pregnant? I take the pills every time after I sleep with Li Mingchun. Isn’t this supposed to be a nation-building power fantasy, not a baby-raising sim?”

The system answered in a flat machine voice: “Host, you sometimes perform activities too… vigorously, without protective measures. Oral contraceptives alone are insufficient; conception can still occur. Furthermore, the Fourth Prince is a primary protagonist, his, ah, reproductive cells are unusually potent. And you are transmigrated, which confers protagonist fate.”

Shen wanted to scream. “So I’m stuck with a protagonist’s burden? How is a man supposed to give birth?”

“This world has a standardized process for gers childbirth,” the system said. “Follow it and you’ll be fine. Alternatively, purchase a painless natural-delivery package for 200 points in the mall.”

“No painless abortion package? Three minutes and I’m back to normal? I don’t want a child. I’m not a woman!”

“Host, if you help the Fourth Prince to the throne, the child in your belly will be his firstborn, the heir apparent. A life is a life.”

He wavered. “…You’re right. System, you’re brilliant. Why didn’t I think of that? If I’m the protagonist, then the Fourth Prince is the destined Son of Heaven. He will be emperor with my help.”

“Yes,” the system said. “We wanted you to discover this on your own.” After a dozen hints, none taken, here we are.

“Damn, if you’d told me earlier, I’d have clung to that thigh sooner. Still time, still time! I’ll witness an emperor’s rise. Ha!”

The system said nothing. Exactly the easily swayed host we selected.

Buoyed by this grand vision, Shen laughed out loud.

The Fourth Prince, smiling too, squeezed his hand. “Yun’er, you’re happy as well?”

Shen startled, nearly forgot the man was right there. “Of course I’m happy. We’re having our own child.” And once you’re emperor, my child will be a wise and glorious crown prince…

He had the system. He had the route. First, survive the awful month of bed rest. Then begin the “assist-the-emperor” questline.

First rest. Then conquer.

The news wasn’t trumpeted, but people who needed to know, knew. Thank goodness Shen wasn’t the principal consort; if he were required to greet the Empress and Grand Empress Dowager, a couple of petty punishments from the Crown Princess could end the pregnancy in days.

Luo Shuyu, for one, didn’t waste worry on the child. Shen had a talent for survival.

But whether this child lived or didn’t, the timing was terrible.

The Crown Princess had just miscarried. The Eldest Princess Consort was visibly pregnant. If she produced another daughter while Shen safely delivered a son, he’d become a bright red target. Both the Empress and Noble Consort Lin would see him as a thorn in the eye and a spike in the flesh.

---

Even on clear days, winter bit.

The palace wasn’t calm either. The Emperor had caught a chill and missed several courts. The Crown Prince and Eldest Prince took turns serving medicine at the bed. Li Mingjin also went to pay his respects.

When the Emperor rallied a little, Luo Shuyu and Li Mingjin entered the palace together to show the proper filial piety.

On the way, they murmured through where to stand and how to behave.

“Everyone will be there,” Li Mingjin said near Luo Shuyu’s ear.

In the jolting carriage, Li Mingjin clung as usual; Luo Shuyu leaned back into him, popped a date, and asked, “Why pick today to visit Father?”

“Because crowds are fun,” Li Mingjin said, straight-faced.

Luo Shuyu chuckled. “Didn’t know Your Highness had jokes.”

Mingjin tilted his chin with a finger, an invitation. Luo Shuyu dropped the pit into his palm. Only after Mingjin tossed it into a little bucket did Shuyu dab his hand clean with a cloth.

“I’m very funny every night,” Li said solemnly. “Surely you haven’t forgotten.”

Luo Shuyu rolled his eyes. “Shall we stand farther away later so we don’t block the Crown Prince and Eldest while they ‘show their devotion’?”

“Exactly my plan.”

“How will they place themselves?” Luo asked.

Li considered. “The Empress will sit at the bedside. Everyone else stands. The Crown Prince will stand at her side to speak to Father.”

“And Noble Consort Lin?”

“She’ll stand where Father can see her the moment he opens his eyes. Eldest Brother beside her.”

“So no one else will matter much,” Luo said. In his last life, he’d always stood in the back and barely noticed, more a set piece than a son-in-law.

“Right. Which is why we go today.”

If he went alone, the others would spin a thousand stories of ambition. Better to hide in plain sight.

They finished their snacks and arrived. Before they got down, Mingjin checked that nothing clung to Shuyu’s lips; Luo, in turn, tugged loose a few hairs from Mingjin’s topknot so he looked a touch more worn, slightly haggard.

Only then did they enter.

They were a little late. The Empress, Noble Consort Lin, and a ring of consorts were already waiting outside in the cold. No one was allowed in yet.

Truth was, the Emperor had nothing more than a chill; two imperial physicians hovered day and night. No real danger.

But everyone had calculations. The quicker you knew his condition, the better you could lay out your next moves.

They went in to salute. Up close, Luo Shuyu noted how the Emperor had waned since last time, face pale, lips bloodless, white threading twice as thick through his hair. Listless. A man who had aged ten years in a night.

No wonder the princes rushed to “serve.” They were afraid he wouldn’t rally.

But rally he had.

In Luo Shuyu’s previous timeline, the Emperor’s long illness stretched on for years; the Crown Prince and Eldest grew ever more ferocious, and the Fourth seized his window. Luo Shuyu and Li Mingjin were ground to dust in that three-way struggle over five long years.

After they died, the Eldest Prince rebelled and failed; the Fourth saved the Emperor, and within three months the Crown Prince was deposed. The Fourth then worked at the Emperor’s side until the end, reading memorials and taking decisions. In his last breath, the Emperor wrote the edict passing the throne to the Fourth, not because he preferred him, but because there was no one else: the remaining princes were barely of age or not yet grown, inferior in ability, courage, and merit.

Now, with time sliding forward, Luo Shuyu couldn’t tell if the Eldest would jump early. His maternal uncle held troops and if he blocked the city and pressed the Emperor to abdicate…

As of now, the Fourth had not gone north. Shen Mingyun was making money, but small money, nowhere near “rich enough to rival a nation.” Who knew if he’d even get his northern chance?

After their greeting, Luo Shuyu and Li Mingjin stood aside to endure the Empress and Noble Consort Lin’s alternating stream of soft consolations, hard to say how much was sincere.

After two sticks of incense, the Emperor had had enough. He dismissed everyone and kept only the Crown Prince. The Empress’s expression lightened; she left with a hint of triumph, keeping her son in the room was face for her. Noble Consort Lin smiled sweetly, but the twisted silk handkerchief in her fist betrayed her mood. The Eldest Prince escorted her away.

Luo Shuyu and Li Mingjin were drifting with the tide toward the exit when a eunuch came hurrying after them.

“Your Highnesses, the Emperor wishes to speak with you.”

Li Mingjin frowned. “Why call us back?”

“Your Highness, I… don’t know.”

They exchanged a look and returned.

The Emperor had sat up with a bowl of ginseng broth. The Crown Prince was gone.

The summons puzzled them both.

“Sit,” the Emperor said. “I’m not as feeble as they look at me. Their sniveling gives me a headache. You two are quiet. Stay and have lunch with me.”

“Sit,” he repeated, with a hint of humor.

Li Mingjin offered no comment on the ladies’ theatrics and sat openly. Luo Shuyu followed.

The Emperor’s tone gentled. “Just a family chat today. No need to be nervous, Shuyu.”

Luo Shuyu smiled. “I’m not nervous, Father.”

It was about lunch time.

He wasn’t sure what “family talk” meant in the Emperor’s mouth.

At least His Majesty no longer wore his earlier impatience; illness had dulled the lines of his face, but there was life in his eyes again.

“You two seem to be living well,” he said.

“Very well,” Li Mingjin replied. “Our manor is quiet. Not much trouble.”

The Emperor almost choked, then smiled. “You child.”

“It’s true,” Mingjin said. Also a chance to praise his spouse.

“Hard on Shuyu to tolerate your temper,” the Emperor teased.

“He treats me very well,” Luo Shuyu said truthfully. “He doesn’t lose his temper.”

“Good.” The Emperor pivoted. “News of heirs is popping up from the other manors, Fourth included. When will you let me hold a grandchild?”

Luo Shuyu tilted his head shyly. Li Mingjin deadpanned, “What’s the hurry, Father? When fate comes, it comes.”

“True,” the Emperor mused. “Fate can’t be forced.”

They hadn’t expected to be kept back for a… baby talk. From another angle, it might be a test whether Li Mingjin harbored designs on the throne.

If the Crown Prince’s position were truly solid, there’d be no need to probe. The Emperor’s lingering mistrust of his in-laws bled through; the Crown Prince himself wasn’t the problem, everything behind him was.

Lunch arrived, half meat, half vegetables. The meats were all Li Mingjin’s favorites.

So the Emperor remembered.

Li didn’t lift his chopsticks, earning a prompt: “What, not to your taste?”

He rubbed his nose and sniffed; both the Emperor and Luo Shuyu heard it. “Didn’t think Father remembered I like meat.”

This child is too easily moved, the Emperor thought, amusement loosening his expression. “I’ll have the imperial kitchen send dishes over to your manor.”

“Thank you, Father,” Li said brightly, immediately fishing a braised rib into his bowl.

Watching him, the Emperor’s appetite rose; he ate too. “Come keep me company for meals when you can.”

“Gladly. Father’s cooks are better than mine. Can I take one?”

“All right, all right,” the Emperor laughed. “The one who makes these ribs can be assigned to you.”

“And the one who made this mushroom dish?” Li added without shame.

The Emperor immediately understood, the first bite Luo Shuyu had taken had been the mushrooms.

Luo bumped Li’s elbow, deliberately letting the Emperor see, and hissed, “Your Highness!”

“Hah!” the Emperor laughed. “I’ll send that one too. It’s only two cooks.”

The little couple’s affection was a balm.

After lunch, they excused themselves so the Emperor could rest.

Naturally, the tale of the Third Prince and Consort sharing the Emperor’s noon meal rippled through the harem by sunset.

---

The next morning, the Emperor’s real purpose behind the “baby push” came clear.

Returning to court after his illness, the first item on the agenda: appointing the commander to go north.

Not the Crown Prince’s man. Not the Eldest’s. Not even the Fourth Prince.

It was Li Mingjin, supposedly the least competitive of the lot.

Yes: he would take troops north and relieve the Northern Garrison General.

Luo Shuyu couldn’t help thinking, is he choosing the man with the least ties or the household without a newborn?

Either way, it suited him.

In the last life, Shen Mingyun’s wealth had bankrolled the Fourth Prince’s stability on the throne.

Where had the money come from? A mountain no one else could find.

And Luo Shuyu knew the location from the book.

Only… if Li Mingjin went north, they would be parted for a long time.

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Author’s Note:
Third Prince: Sweetheart, tonight I’m the mine boss and you’re the boss’s darling! I’m lying down, come seduce me~
Luo Shuyu: …

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