ITVCFITB CHAPTER 93

 Chapter 93 — All Here, All Whole

New Year’s Eve turned the capital into a lantern-lit roar, firecrackers rolling, vermilion everywhere.

Inside the Third Prince’s residence, nerves stretched taut.

Luo Shuyu’s memories of childbirth from his last life were a smear of darkness: the sensation of being torn apart from the inside, a wild wish to punch Li Mingjin just to have somewhere to put the pain. Since death had overshadowed everything back then, he’d almost filed that agony away as “unimportant.”

Now it returned, only this time pain meant life arriving, not life ending.

He didn’t resist it; he was ready. Whatever happened, this child would be born safely.

Having learned from Shen Mingyun’s “example,” Luo Shuyu had kept moving throughout the pregnancy. All those years in Gucheng, walking borders with Li Mingjin, roaming instead of cloistering, had remade his body. From the first twinges to active labor, it hurt, yes, but not like last time. It felt… doable.

Li Mingjin was the one unraveling. Each basin of bloody water carried out of the room made him think the next would carry away half his world. He’d dug fingernails into his philtrum more than once just to feel something he could control.

Chen Rong was worried too, but far cooler. He murmured, “Doctor Lin said the baby’s well-positioned, Shuyu’s healthy, he’s been walking daily. It should be fine.”

Even with braziers blazing, Li Mingjin’s hands were ice. “Look at that blood, basin after basin!”

He kept edging toward the door as if to peek in; Chen Rong raised a hand. “Your Highness, don’t. Shuyu will fret if he sees you. Doctor Lin has him.”

“My legs won’t stop shaking,” Li Mingjin admitted.

“Then sit. And breathe,” Chen Rong said, pouring tea and letting him quake in peace.

In the palace, the New Year’s banquet was underway, but His Majesty and the consorts knew Luo Shuyu had gone into labor that afternoon. Every half hour a runner came and went with nothing more than: “Still progressing.”

The Emperor’s worry was written plainly on his face. He had only ever favored one ger in the harem, Noble Consort Wei, and she hadn’t borne a child. He knew, in the abstract, that gers births were risky, one misstep, two lives lost. The thought alone made him cold.

Consort Mei was already anxious; the Emperor’s pacing didn’t help. Noble Consort Wei finally cut in gently, “Your Majesty, the Third Prince Consort has an imperial physician and a resident doctor he trusts. It’s not as dire as you imagine, just… longer.”

“Send two more physicians anyway,” the Emperor said, exhaling.

Back at the Third Prince’s estate, even the servants, usually tiptoeing lest Steward Sun bark at them, sat bright-eyed around braziers, sleeves rolled, ready to help. The wages here weren’t higher than elsewhere, but the life was better: four seasonal outfits a year, holiday bonuses in coin or grain, decent masters, few messes. A child for the household felt like a child for them all.

Other estates celebrated heirs born of new wives and concubines. Their new arrival was different, a longed-for little master, loved before he’d drawn breath.

Not everyone wished them well.

At the palace banquet, the Fourth Prince’s son had been primed to recite multiplication tables for His Majesty, only for news to break that Luo Shuyu was in labor. The carefully staged show would go unseen. Shen Mingyun, who’d counted on Luo Shuyu “over-tonicking” into a difficult, oversized baby, had watched the man in person and seen nothing of the kind. Shuyu was self-disciplined to the bone.

With the birth at hand, Shen wanted to meddle, but his “tools” required contact and he couldn’t get within three paces of Luo Shuyu. Since announcing he couldn’t stand powder scents while pregnant, Shuyu had kept distance from everyone and rarely left home. Shen had tried to plant servants; the Third Prince’s estate required an internal guarantor for any “new face,” and no one risked a good post for a stranger.

Even the Fourth, meticulous as he was, had never gotten eyes inside, only around the perimeter. Li Mingjin’s movements were, in theory, easier to track, but the man’s skill and loyal guard made tailing him an exercise in suicide. The methods they used, the stories of those methods, made Shen’s skin crawl. This wasn’t a drama. It was the era dramas stole from.

For once, the Fourth had begun sharing more of his work with Shen, both to buy goodwill after a near-exposure of an affair and to stop leaving handles for rivals to grab. On paper, Li Mingjin had no intention of fighting; he told the Emperor plainly that he’d take his wife and newborn back to Gucheng after the birth.

The Fourth and Shen clung to that hope.

If only the baby would be a girl, or a ger like his parent or, darkest of all possibilities, not live. New Year’s Eve felt like a sword hanging over their heads.

---

Hopeful, prayerful, and ill-wishing hearts alike waited for news.

When the first bell of New Year’s Day rang, a wail rose with it from the Third Prince’s estate.

Seven hours after it began, he arrived.

The servants who’d kept vigil erupted. Li Mingjin sprang from his chair, forgot his legs had been locked in one position, crumpled to one knee, and let Chen Rong haul him upright with a rueful shake of the head.

“Go,” Chen Rong said. He himself stayed outside; it wasn’t his place to enter.

Li Mingjin disappeared. The congratulations of “It’s a boy!” glanced off him; he only had eyes for Luo Shuyu.

Shuyu was pale but lucid, changed into a clean single robe and propped against pillows. “Are you alright?” Li Mingjin asked, gripping his hand.

“A little tired,” Shuyu whispered, smiling faintly. “Go see him. Hold him. Say a few words.”

“Okay,” Li Mingjin said. “Sleep. I’ll be right here. Then I’ll meet him.”

Shuyu had meant something else, last life’s regrets, last goodbyes never spoken. This time he wanted Li Mingjin to be the first voice to greet their child: hello, welcome. Whatever words came would be enough.

When Shuyu’s breathing deepened, Li Mingjin slipped into the adjoining room, nerves jangling. Nine months of imagining collapsed into a soft sound as the bundle in the crib let out a little hum.

“Feng Momo,” he said, hovering, “may I?”

“Of course, Your Highness.”

He sat, arms stiff as boards, while the wet-warm weight settled into his hands.

“You’re… kind of funny-looking,” he told the baby solemnly.

Feng Momo laughed. “All newborns are. He’ll be lovely once he settles. The brows are like Your Highness, the nose and mouth like the Prince Consort’s. A lucky child.”

“A handful,” Li Mingjin said, and carefully passed him back. “Let him sleep. Don’t let anyone disturb Shuyu. We’ll bring him over when he wakes.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

He dragged a chair beside the cradle and studied the little face. Where was he? Where was Shuyu? Hard to tell beneath all those wrinkles. At least the skin was fair like Shuyu. The full head of hair, his.

“Don’t you dare take after your Fourth Uncle’s bald patch,” he muttered, deadpan.

“Has he fed?”

“A bowlful,” Feng Mono said, pleased. “Strong boy.”

The staring contest might have lasted all night if Qingwang hadn’t coughed quietly from the door: Doctor Lin and Chen Rong were still waiting.

Red envelopes were, of course, given.

Chen Rong had stayed stoic, but now that all was well his fingers itched to meet his little nephew. Li Mingjin flashed a smug grin. “Give it a few days. It’s cold, and he’s… a little crinkly still.”

Rules were rules; winter was winter. Chen Rong settled for Doctor Lin’s animated descriptions on the walk back.

Half an hour later, both the palace and the Fourth’s residence had the news: a healthy little prince, born at the Third Prince’s estate.

His Majesty had already retired; the grandfatherly doting would have to wait.

At the Fourth’s, Shen rolled over and huffed, “Once Cousin is out of confinement, send them back to Gucheng.”

Of course the worst timing, this “little grandson” of the Emperor’s arrived precisely when least convenient.

“Naturally,” the Fourth said. “Their staying in the capital does us no good.”

“Isn’t it just because Consort Mei is at Father’s side?” Shen muttered. “She must be whispering on the pillow.”

The Fourth nearly rolled his eyes. He knew Consort Mei’s temper. Her taking poison in His Majesty’s stead had brought them closer, yes, but that wasn’t why Father favored Third. There was something else, something the Fourth couldn’t copy, no matter how he tried.

Enough. No good news tonight; better to sleep and meet the problem in daylight.

Shen’s snores rose moments later. The Fourth, grimacing, took his quilt to the outer couch.

---

Luo Shuyu slept until hunger woke him.

He cracked his eyes to find Li Mingjin pretending to read a military classic, head snapping up the instant Shuyu shifted. “Awake? Thirsty? Hungry? Can you sit up? I’ll—”

“Water,” Luo Shuyu said, amused.

Li Mingjin nearly tangled himself helping him up to sip, then sent for food.

He would be confined indoors for the next month, thankfully in winter, not sweating through summer. All the strength spent yesterday left him content to lean on Li Mingjin and not move at all.

“Want to see our son?” Li Mingjin asked.

Shuyu nodded. “Yes.”

Propped against soft pillows, he held out his arms. Feng Momo nestled the sleeping bundle into them; Shuyu rested back against Li Mingjin’s chest.

A tiny cheek, soft under his fingertip. A warm little hand.

His eyes stung. Late or not, the child had come, and neither of his parents were the men who’d failed him last time.

This time they were three, together.

Li Mingjin tightened his arm around them both. “Thank you. Both of you.” His heart had gone to water.

“What for?” Shuyu asked, laughing through tears.

“For making me this happy,” Li Mingjin said, thumb brushing the wetness from Shuyu’s lashes. “Our home’s only going to get fuller.”

Shuyu looked at the sleeping face and answered simply, “It will.”

The best gift of his second chance.

The baby was carried back to rest; Shuyu ate and drifted off again. For days, big one and small one mostly slept; Li Mingjin could have watched them forever.

By the third day, the wrinkles had smoothed; the little face was already handsome.

It was the three-day wash. The Luo clan sent a mountain of gifts; Li Mingjin, in a generous mood, accepted everything. The estate buzzed; it was still New Year, and everyone wanted a look. His Majesty even swanned over with Consort Mei in tow.

She’d argued against an outing, so small a child! but even she wanted a cuddle.

All the way, the Emperor stroked his beard and chuckled, “Beloved, this is the first time I’ve left the palace to see a grandson.”

“Your Majesty,” Consort Mei said evenly, eyeing the beard, “do mind that you don’t poke him with that.”

“…” said the Emperor.

---

Author’s Note:

Third Prince: hehehehe~ cargo delivered~~ which means we can now~~ hehehehe~

Luo Shuyu: …

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