ITVCFITB CHAPTER 90

 Chapter 90 — The Longevity Stele

So the Third Prince’s consort hadn’t miscarried after all. It was slander, he was simply resting at home and protecting the pregnancy. The Third Prince was furious, and even His Majesty sent people to punish the rumor-mongers.

After that, no one dared smear Luo Shuyu again. The child he carried was now openly, eagerly awaited. If any harm befell him at this point, it would strike the Third Prince’s reverse scale.

With the Emperor himself acting as a shield, any future “accident” would lead straight back to the Fourth Prince, whether he did it or not. It was the first time since defeating the Crown Prince and the Yan faction that the Fourth had suffered a real setback. The feeling was… unpleasant. Still, he told himself to be optimistic: if Third Brother and his consort insisted on bearing this child, let them. His son was still the eldest imperial grandson, His Majesty’s favorite.

Shen Mingyun, meanwhile, was livid at having been played. He knew what he’d heard that day, Luo Shuyu had “lost it” and he’d even verified the medicine. Only later did he realize it had been a trap set just for him. He had no one to tell and nothing to prove it with; he’d snuck into the bedroom and eavesdropped alone. If he tried to complain, he’d only earn another scolding from the Fourth Prince. He could only swallow the bitter fruit.

That Luo Shuyu was evil!

When he ranted to the System, it merely sighed: as expected of Li Mingjin and Luo Shuyu, clever to the bone.

The System’s goal aligned with the Fourth Prince’s: drive Li Mingjin and Luo Shuyu back to Gucheng. Only after the Fourth secured the heir-apparency and then the throne would there be time to “handle” them. For now, with Li Mingjin commanding real troops, a direct clash was unwise.

What the Fourth Prince hadn’t anticipated was that the greatest threat to him would be the brother he’d let grow in Gucheng for six years. Father remained opaque about the heir: he hadn’t said “you,” but neither had he said “Li Mingjin.”

If the First Prince and the former Crown Prince had taught him anything, it was that open ambition pricked His Majesty’s reverse scale; one hint of it and he’d drag you and your backers to ruin. The Fourth understood his father’s temperament well enough. The problem was access: His Majesty now favored Consort Mei, and the old chief eunuch was a seasoned stone wall; as for the Left Chancellor, he’d guide the Fourth on many matters but turned taciturn whenever the topic edged toward the throne.

With Li Mingjin back in the capital, the Fourth’s prospects grew murkier. The military men were lukewarm to him; most of the generals who crushed the Yan rebellion had served under Old General Wei, and Wei’s son was in Gucheng, no doubt close to Li Mingjin. Otherwise, how could Li Mingjin have consolidated every lever of power there?

Only now did the Fourth truly grasp what giving Third Brother six years had created: a rival in full armor. No ambition? Impossible. It was simply well hidden. He was Goujian biding his time, Wang Mang weaving his net, lethal. And after years away, Father still doted on him. All of the Fourth’s careful courting had failed to win such warmth.

The realization made him anxious. Over a few days, handfuls of hair came out with his comb.

That night, unusually, he slept in the main room.
At dawn, their little daughter woke Shen Mingyun, and he rose with the Fourth Prince.

After coaxing the girl and handing her to the wet nurse, Shen Mingyun decided to play nice: he picked up a comb to tidy the prince’s hair.

He lifted his gaze and froze.

The Fourth Prince, already changing for court, snapped, “Didn’t you say you’d comb it?”

Shen Mingyun clapped a hand over his mouth. “Your Highness, are you… losing your hair? Your hairline’s retreated so much! You’re practically half bald, your handsome aura is taking a huge hit!”

He couldn’t believe it. The male lead, his male lead, under thirty and going bald? Weren’t protagonists supposed to have thick, glossy locks no matter how little they slept?

The Fourth checked the mirror, then felt his brow. The hairline had crept back; the crown was thinner. He’d always trusted his looks. Balding had never figured in the plan. Could you still be a beautiful man without hair?

“Do you have some miracle for regrowth?” he asked, grasping at Shen Mingyun’s “immortal arts.”

Shen Mingyun thought of his past life, when he’d been worse than this, practically a Mediterranean. He ran a palm through his current full mop, glanced at the mall’s pricey tonics, then at the man he’d lived with for years. He was bored of that face anyway; a little baldness didn’t ruffle him.

“I can ask the imperial physicians for a salve. I once read Western kings smeared pigeon droppings on their heads, mixed with herbs, and it worked. Want to try?” His points were for life-and-death emergencies; he wasn’t wasting them on male vanity.

“Pigeon droppings?” The Fourth’s lip twitched. How fitting that Shen Mingyun knew that remedy. “Let’s start with the physicians,” he said tightly. No way was bird poop touching his scalp.

Shen Mingyun eyed the hair scattered on the floor and thought, a touch envious, of Ha Chi’s astonishing mane.

The Fourth patted his chilly crown, full of dread, and went to court.

Over the next few days, Shen Mingyun loudly sought folk cures. Soon, everyone knew the Fourth Prince was battling baldness.

At morning court, Li Mingjin couldn’t help staring. The Fourth assumed it was jealousy of his merits and felt smug. “Third Brother, do you have something to consult me on?”

“No,” Li Mingjin said. “Just a question.”

“Ask.”

Li Mingjin looked straight at the thinning patch. “Aren’t you trying all sorts of hair remedies? Why do you look balding faster?”

The Fourth nearly blacked out. You’re balding! Your whole family’s balding!

Being needled by Shen Mingyun, he’d gotten used to. That stayed safely in the rear court. But Li Mingjin had just announced his bald spot to the world. The humiliation burned. Unable to touch Li Mingjin directly, he ordered censors to accuse the Third’s soldiers of thuggery in the streets.

It fell apart immediately. Everyone knew how strictly Li Mingjin ran his troops. The supposed offenders weren’t on his rolls, and the “soldiers” conveniently hanged themselves that very night, no testimonies left. Clear frame job. Li’s thousand men all had clean muster records and airtight alibis, they’d been drilling tactics at camp the entire time.

His Majesty watched without intervening, satisfied by the outcome. The Third was still the upright son he favored, unsullied by petty games. Good thing he ran a tight ship; otherwise even innocence would have been hard to prove.

The more anxious the Fourth became, the sloppier his moves. It felt as if Li Mingjin anticipated him at every turn. The chill in his bones deepened. He had to calm down and rethink, one more clumsy play and Father would peg him as the culprit every time.

Indeed, the Emperor’s attitude toward the Fourth cooled. He detested the whiff of fratricidal struggle, so like the old tragedy of Eldest and Second. He wasn’t naïve enough to expect brotherly love, but he’d be damned if he watched another son die because of another son.

What he wanted now was a father’s quiet contentment; the Fourth, immersed in palace-drama thinking, failed to grasp it. Li Mingjin had understood six years ago and kept supplying the “customer’s” needs, letting the old man find “father-son affection” and warmth in his presence. The Emperor relished the role, basking in domestic concern and talk of future grandchildren. It was a game he didn’t want to stop playing.

---

Compared to court squalls, Luo Shuyu’s worries were few. Li Mingjin screened out unpleasantness lest stress harm the pregnancy; the physicians insisted the expectant father be coddled.

As soon as they had the good news, Li Mingjin wrote to Gucheng for Chen Rong. The front lines needed him, but right now the couple needed someone they fully trusted. Where Chen Rong went, Lin Yuan would follow.

They arrived before Mid-Autumn and moved straight into the Third Prince’s residence.

Though the Chen case had been redressed after the Crown Prince fell, Chen Rong’s identity remained quiet. The enemies who’d destroyed his family were executed to the third degree of kin. His wish fulfilled, he no longer cared to polish his public image. Reunited with his only remaining kin, his spirits and health both improved. Hearing he would soon have a little nephew, he packed at once and, naturally, brought his senior brother Lin Yuan.

Lin Yuan took Luo Shuyu’s pulse the moment he arrived. His advice matched the imperial physicians’: worry less, rest more.

Of everyone, Li Mingjin was the most nervous. In the sixth and seventh months, just as in their past life, someone planted yangmei trees in the courtyard, Luo Shuyu’s favorite fruit. He ate until he was sick of them.

With Mid-Autumn nearing, Luo Shuyu started to get restless. Three months of “rest” had put some roundness on him; he refused to drift toward Shen Mingyun’s silhouette. Small meals, more often; daily walks in the garden; absolutely no fattening him like a pig.

Li Mingjin, however, never believed Luo Shuyu was full. After lunch he was already offering an apple.

“I’m really not hungry,” Luo Shuyu said, pushing it back. “If I keep eating like this I’ll explode. I’ve gained a lot.”

“I don’t see it,” Li Mingjin replied, gazing at that slightly rounder face. “It’s the little one adding weight. If you’re not hungry, maybe he is.”

“I’m going to feed the fish,” Luo Shuyu said, changing the subject before another lecture on “fetal education” chased his illicit romance novels from reach. “Coming?”

They found Chen Rong and Lin Yuan in a pavilion, tea set out, a casual game of chess underway. The board was put away when the couple approached. A few words about the baby led, after the servants had been dismissed, to solemn faces.

“Why so serious?” Luo Shuyu asked.

Chen Rong looked to Li Mingjin. “You didn’t tell him?”

“Ahem,” Li Mingjin said, turning his head. “No.”

“Tell me what? If he’s not pushing food, he’s pushing tonics. I’m going mad. Cousin, just say it.”

“I’m not sure how big this is,” Chen Rong said, “but it concerns you both.”

Luo Shuyu leaned in. “What is it?”

“Someone erected a Longevity Stele for you.”

“In the capital?”

Chen Rong nodded. “In the capital.”

“If it were Gucheng, I’d understand,” Luo Shuyu said at once. “But here? Someone’s trying to harm His Highness?”

Li Mingjin poured him tea. “Isn’t it obvious? Fourth Brother’s impatience.”

“This time, no,” Chen Rong said. “It was the Fourth Prince Consort.”

“Shen Mingyun?” Luo Shuyu blinked. “Why would he set up a Longevity Stele for us?”

“If he’d done it earlier, it might’ve seeded imperial suspicion,” Chen Rong said. “Now? He just handed you a boost.”

Luo Shuyu thought for a breath, then smiled. “Then I should thank him.” Free publicity for what they’d done in Gucheng, why not?

---

The next morning, Shen Mingyun woke to a gift of thanks from Luo Shuyu. He stared, baffled, and muttered to the System, “Is he stupid? I literally commissioned a curse, and he’s thanking me?”

The System: “…” It truly had no words.

If he didn’t know you’d done something idiotic, would he be sending you gifts?

---

Author’s Note

Third Prince: Wife, it’s hot. I’m taking my shirt off.

Luo Shuyu: …

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