ITVCFITB CHAPTER 94

 Chapter 94 — Heaven Helps Me!

For sons, the Tiansheng Emperor’s luck had been decent. For grandsons… not so much. All these years, only the Fourth Prince had produced one. Until now.

Before Li Mingjin’s child, that little heir enjoyed the Emperor’s undivided doting. No wonder the Fourth was desperate to hustle Li Mingjin and Luo Shuyu back to Gucheng and to meddle with the pregnancy when he could. But the Third Prince’s residence was a sealed drum; there was never a seam to pry open.

Now a second imperial grandson had arrived, and His Majesty’s delight was palpable. This one felt hard-won: the couple had been married for years; the pregnancy went unnoticed even on the journey home. Think too long about what might have happened on the road and the Emperor could only shudder. Gratitude sharpened affection.

Luo Shuyu recovered well, on his feet by the second day. Lin Yuan prescribed gentle walking and a tailored confinement diet: balanced, restorative, and not the sort to ruin a figure. Winter helped; he was used to quiet Gucheng winters anyway.

The palace visit didn’t throw the estate into chaos. Li Mingjin received His Majesty in the main hall while Consort Mei went straight to the inner court to see mother and child; afterward the Emperor himself came only to look from the threshold, no drafts for tiny lungs.

He’d already prepared a name. The child became Li Cheng’an ‘Cheng’an’, “to inherit peace.” Luo Shuyu chose the milk name Chongchong (重重): a reminder to remember, this was a second chance. Prosperity blinds; keep danger in mind even in safety.

Li Mingjin privately mourned not getting to name his son, but the imperial visit conferred glory enough for three lifetimes, more than the couple wanted, honestly. They knew how swiftly “honor” becomes a target.

His Majesty chattered all the way back to the palace until Consort Mei’s patience ran thin. At the gate he sighed, “I should like to watch Chongchong grow up.”

“May Your Majesty live a hundred years and see him do just that,” she replied.

He knew his own body; he only smiled. “I hope so.”

---

No sooner had the imperial carriage rolled away than Luo Renshou arrived with a thick skin and a thicker agenda. Gifts by proxy were one thing; appearing in person was… nauseating. Only Li Mingjin went out to see him. Maybe fatherly euphoria kept him civil; on any other day the steward wouldn’t have let the man inside the gate.

Renshou had timed it for New Year, angling for face on both sides, favors from the Fourth, grace from the Third, anything to keep the Luo clan unscathed. He and the Third rarely met outside court. Faced with Li Mingjin’s battlefield aura, he felt what countless enemies had: that pressure in the chest that says do not move.

“Why is my dear father-in-law’s tea not steaming?” Li Mingjin asked mildly. One glance sent the server scurrying to change the pot.

Renshou hurried to smooth it over, “Cold day, the tea cools quickly.”

“In my house,” Li Mingjin said, all indifference, “we don’t neglect guests.”

They traded a few empty sentences. Renshou didn’t even ask to see the baby; he knew he wouldn’t be allowed, and seeing Luo Shuyu was a fantasy. He left with a basket of red eggs and two scraps of information: milk name Chongchong, given name Li Cheng’an.

Back home, he parceled out eggs and carried a portion to the old matriarch. Madam Luo’s spirit had dimmed with the years; the clan’s star might be rising, but she fretted the candle could gutter any time.

“How is Shuyu? Is the child well?” she pressed, worry clicking through her prayer beads.

“Didn’t see them,” Renshou admitted, “but His Majesty and Consort Mei left smiling. The name is imperial.”

“That’s good… only, what of the days to come?” she murmured.

Renshou hedged. She pushed. “Don’t treat me like a fool. You back the Fourth. If the Third rises, can we expect Shuyu to shield us?”

“That’s court business,” he deflected.

“I’m thinking of the Luo family,” she said, relentless. “If the Fourth and Mingyun take the throne, will they spare Shuyu?”

“No one can read the Holy One’s mind,” he said, then finally laid his bet bare. “We must support the Fourth. If the Third and Shuyu prevail… our branch is finished.”

“The Liu woman is gone, the household cleaned, what more does he want?” she whispered. “This was his home for over a decade.”

“It’s… complicated,” he said. “Leave the outside to me. The Luo family will yet bask in glory.”

She half believed, half feared then chose, for now, to trust her son.

---

After seeing Renshou out, Li Mingjin went straight back to the warm room. The cradle had been set nearby for ease; Luo Shuyu was jingling a rattle, the baby newly awake and alert.

“He’s up?” Li Mingjin asked, thawing his hands by the brazier before he dared come closer.

“Just now,” Shuyu said, smiling. He offered the rattle. “He likes the sound.”

Li Mingjin bent over the bundle. “If you sleep through the night without whimpering, we’ll like you even more.”

Since Shuyu could get out of bed, Mingjin had moved the cradle into their room at night. He wanted to be within arm’s reach, to know everything. He was the one getting up, every time.

Gers didn’t lactate; Mingjin had arranged two wet nurses but kept them at arm’s length. Milk was expressed into bowls; the nurses themselves never handled the child. In Daxia it was common, too much nursing-bond, and a child might grow closer to the woman than to his own father.

“Babies have small stomachs,” Shuyu laughed. “Of course he wakes up hungry.”

“I didn’t think one tiny human could be this exhausting,” Mingjin muttered.

“You’re overflowing with energy,” Shuyu said serenely. “Up twice more won’t kill you. And you’re not even on early court right now.”

“…You’re getting good at ordering me around.”

“Can’t I?”

“Of course you can.” He wouldn’t dare say otherwise. The little couch was always available for contrition.

“Don’t carry him constantly,” Shuyu added, settling back. “Makes for a hard habit to break.”

Mingjin nodded, wary eyes on the soft, soft neck. “He’s too floppy anyway.”

“Give it time, Father,” Shuyu teased. “You’ll have him on a schedule in no time.”

That set Mingjin off. “We’ll take him to the steppe to ride; in winter, ice cuju… I’ll teach him archery, and poems, and painting, but mostly martial arts—”

“He’s three days old. Spare him.”

Mingjin looked at the cradle. “Chongchong, grow faster.” He paused. “Shuyu, I’m writing a development plan.”

An hour later, still hunched over the desk, he’d drafted a campaign worthy of a general. Shuyu glanced at the sleeping baby and whispered, amused, “Chongchong, may your childhood be gentle and happy.”

---

Every official in the capital wanted an invitation to the one-month feast. Since returning, the Third Prince had been elusive, turning down banquets, drinking only with soldiers, ignoring would-be kingmakers. Rumor said His Majesty adored this newborn: visiting at three days old, bestowing a name, and declaring the full-month celebration must be done grandly. By comparison, even the Fourth’s eldest grandson hadn’t received such treatment.

Which way would the crown tilt, toward the general in Gucheng, or the well-placed Fourth? Hard to say.

Chongchong turned one month old in a blink. Invitations went out to everyone: allies, opponents, the undecided. It was a miniature court.

The baby now had a shock of black hair, bright dark eyes, and a laugh that came easily. He hummed to himself, too. “Talkative,” was Li Mingjin’s assessment.

He hated the idea of parading his son, but custom was custom. He personally carried Chongchong out and made a quick circuit, arms steady from a month of practice, before whisking him right back to the inner rooms. Better safe than sorry; for the first time ever the residence was packed, and the inner court was ringed with steel. No one would so much as breathe on his wife and son without going through a wall of blades.

The Fourth Prince and Shen Mingyun came, of course. Shen tried leaning on “cousin” to angle for a peek at the nursery; Li Mingjin didn’t even look his way. Shen stood there, stranded, while the Fourth couldn’t find a clean pretext to send him in.

Failure again. Li Mingjin wasn’t the type to trade etiquette for access, especially not with someone coarse and unpredictable. Even without a baby, he wouldn’t want Shen within bumping distance of Luo Shuyu.

“Third Brother,” Shen tried again the moment he sat, “could I see my cousin and the child, just a moment?”

Li Mingjin turned and greeted the Left Chancellor as if he hadn’t heard a thing.

Shen’s jaw worked. He was about to lose his temper when the Fourth pressed a hand to his sleeve. “Wait for your moment. Slip out after we’re seated.”

“Mm.”

“Do you know the way?”

“I do. I’ve been there.” He would wipe away past humiliation. Points for “tools” were ready; if he couldn’t stop the birth, he would ruin the growth. Turn the rival into a dullard, and what contest could there be?

“This time you must not fail,” the Fourth said quietly.

The hall filled; Chen Rong took half the attention by himself, battlefield fame had that effect, and Li Mingjin let him. The more eyes on Chen Rong, the fewer on the baby.

As soon as people settled, Shen rose “to relieve himself.” In mixed company, and with his size, no one blinked, of course he toddled off often.

He thought he was subtle. He wasn’t. Every step was tracked.

Shuyu couldn’t leave the inner court yet, but an undercover guard slipped him the signal: Shen was headed his way. “Understood,” Shuyu said. “Do as we planned. No mistakes.”

Shen strutted toward the inner court openly, flashing the titles of Fourth Prince Consort and “cousin.” The posted guards bristled, then stood aside, on paper, he had the right.

He stopped outside and called brightly, “Cousin Shuyu, I’m here to see you and the little one!”

From inside came Shuyu’s voice: “Come in. Give me a moment to change.”

Qingwang led Shen into the sitting room, shut the door, and withdrew. Alone.

From the bedchamber came the soft rustle of clothing. The cradle waited outside the door, swaddled in red silk, the very one Li Mingjin had carried earlier.

Heaven helps me! Shen exulted.

Exactly what he needed, exactly when he needed it and no one around.

---

Author’s Note

Third Prince: Today’s a rebirth story. I’m a fake-disabled tyrant. When you come of age you’ll be married to me to “ward off ill luck.” I don’t like your ugly birthmark. In our previous life I saved you in the palace fights; you were moved, reborn, and now you want to repay me… and have my child!

Luo Shuyu: Mmm, problem: when I’m reborn I’m an infant, and you’re about to kick the bucket. Maybe next next life.

Third Prince: …

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