Author’s Note: If you can’t read Chapter 1, go to the book’s forum and look for the author’s comment drop.
No one dared to neglect the little imperial grandson whom two esteemed figures had ordered to be well cared for.
When Wu Junji woke again, his consciousness hadn’t fully returned, and his mouth instinctively began to suckle.
By the time he realized what he was sucking on, his stomach churned violently.
Gwaa—
He vomited everything.
The wet nurse panicked.
She gasped, cleaned him up, and tried to feed him again, but Wu Junji kept his mouth shut and refused to eat.
All three wet nurses took turns holding their milk to his lips. Driven to desperation, the little prince let out a pitiful, whimpering cry, so faint and feeble that it seemed this child wouldn’t survive.
Fortunately, the wet nurses were experienced.
“Since the little prince doesn’t like human milk, go find cow’s milk or goat’s milk.”
They did, but he still refused to drink.
The little prince cried as if he were dying, vomiting after being fed, being fed again after vomiting, only to vomit once more.
Everyone was driven to their wits’ end.
He wouldn’t drink human milk, nor cow’s milk. Only when goat’s milk was mixed with millet broth and wheat fragrance, masking the milky and fishy smells, did the little prince deign to take a few reluctant sips.
What a difficult child to raise.
Every day, the little prince was listless, looking half-dead.
Wu Junji slept, ate, and slept again, completely unaware of how many days had passed.
He kept waiting for the old bastard to abandon him.
The moment he was abandoned, he would stop eating.
Better to die early and be reborn sooner.
But he didn’t wait for the old bastard—he waited for a System.
“System 88 is at your service. The System only has Chat-only Mode. We hope the host will keep their feet on the ground.”
After the mechanical prompt, a rough, masculine voice echoed in his mind:
“Fuck me! I’m exhausted. Fifth ancestor, Dad’s gonna sleep for a bit. You survive on your own for a few days.”
Wu Junji was stunned. A System? There had been no such thing in his previous life.
No matter how much he called out afterward, there was no response.
Strangely, Wu Junji was no longer afraid. If he were abandoned, he might live better than he had in his previous life.
Wu Junji waited for a long, long time, drifting in and out of sleep dozens of times.
88 remained silent.
The old bastard didn’t abandon him.
The old bastard left on his own.
From the wet nurses’ gossip, Wu Junji learned that Wu Bing had returned to ascend the throne.
He had heard of this in his previous life: after Consort Dong gave birth to the eldest prince, the Retired Emperor swiftly abdicated in favor of Emperor Zhou.
When asked, it was said to be out of deep father-son affection.
In his previous life, Wu Junji had no way to verify this, but now he understood.
It was said the Retired Emperor valued his reputation.
Knowing Emperor Zhou’s situation, seeing that Emperor Zhou could produce heirs, and considering his own advancing age, he quickly stepped down to preserve his good name. From then on, whether Emperor Zhou’s two children lived or died, or whether he could have more, was no longer his concern.
The little prince continued to chew on his hand. What did any of this have to do with him?
Another day wishing for death.
Half a year passed like this. He heard the old bastard had ascended the throne, changing the era name from Zhoukang to Zhouwu.
He heard Consort Dong, who had given birth to the eldest prince, had been elevated to Noble Consort.
He heard the ministers had petitioned for the establishment of a Crown Prince, and the eldest prince was highly likely to become the Crown Prince.
No one knew that outside Chang’an, in the summer retreat palace, there was another prince.
Since the old bastard left, for six months, aside from the palace servants delivering supplies, no one had come to visit even once.
The little prince ate and ate…
After six months of eating, he transformed from a tiny red monkey into a fair, tender dumpling.
Autumn arrived, and the little one rolled over, lying on the bed with his head raised, using his belly to push himself forward inch by inch.
Huffing and puffing, he crawled half a meter with all four limbs, exhausted and panting, before flopping back onto the bed to chew on his hand as a reward.
He was born prematurely. By seven months, most babies can crawl, sit, and even stand, but Wu Junji could only roll over and wiggle.
The old man probably wouldn’t come.
He was already seven months old. If the old man had forgotten him, he might have to scrape by in the detached palace for the rest of his life.
The little prince reflected deeply on himself—how could he despise poverty and adore wealth?
The thought of being raised by a trafficker made him wish only for death.
But being left to grow up in the detached palace made him think about how to survive.
To prepare for future hunger, he tried hard to eat and grow plump, covering himself well with blankets at night. Remarkably, he didn’t catch a single cold in half a year!
Hooray!
He had already endured seven months. Just three more months, and he would be able to walk. Once he could walk, life couldn’t possibly be worse than his previous one.
If the detached palace could sustain rats, surely it could sustain him too.
He could eat rats!
After resting for a while, the little prince continued to wiggle forward with effort.
Wu Bing… no, now he was Emperor Zhou.
Emperor Zhou had been standing at the doorway for quite some time, watching the little dough-like figure on the bed. The sparse hair on his head resembled a seedless foxtail, swaying back and forth as he wiggled.
But his belly was solid, making him look like a turtle flipped on its shell no matter how he wiggled.
Half a year had passed, and the red monkey had grown more pleasant to look at.
Half a year had passed, and Emperor Zhou dreamed every night.
In his dreams, there was always a man weeping bitterly over his coffin—so loud, so unbearably loud.
To get a good night’s sleep, Emperor Zhou had no choice but to come.
Was this little wretch blind? The emperor had been standing here for so long, yet he didn’t notice?
Ah, it must be because the emperor was too tall.
Emperor Zhou felt an inexplicable sense of satisfaction.
He walked inside, lifted the little thing by his armpits, and held him up with the air of a triumphant return.
“Little wretch, I’ve come to see you.”
The little prince: “…?”
Wu Junji’s beady eyes stared blankly, the light in them slowly fading.
The old man had come.
He was going to be sent away.
Survive? Survive what? Death would be just fine.
Wu Junji’s head drooped, and he greeted the old man with a stream of baby urine, right on his chest.
Emperor Zhou’s smug smile vanished.
The capable eunuch was horrified and quickly took the little prince away. Servants on both sides rushed to wipe the emperor with handkerchiefs.
Emperor Zhou pushed them aside.
“What’s there to wipe?”
He took off his robe and threw it on the floor. Soon, someone brought a new one. After the chaos subsided, the little prince, with damp pants, innocently gnawed on his fist.
Emperor Zhou snorted coldly, his large hand gripping Wu Junji’s neck. With just a little force, this little wretch would snap and be ready for burial.
Emperor Zhou had been raised as a boy since childhood, both psychologically and physically inclined toward masculinity.
But to have an heir, he had no choice but to alter his physical characteristics with medication.
However, he lacked the natural ability to carry a child, so artificial intervention was necessary. The fetus was extracted in the eighth month.
From the third month, he secluded himself in the summer palace, seeing no one.
He sought the most skilled surgeon in the world for the abdominal incision and suturing. Heaven did not disappoint, and he succeeded.
The mulberry bark sutures on his abdomen fused with his flesh. Three months of continuous medication and recuperation finally restored his body to normal.
He had secured the throne, and he could now father children with any woman.
But the scar and the shame could never be erased.
Emperor Zhou truly wanted to kill this little wretch.
Yet, he was so well-behaved. Afraid he wouldn’t survive, Emperor Zhou had taken bowl after bowl of medicine, anxiously poking and scolding him every sleepless night.
The little one was particularly lazy, only moving when he was gently rocked. That feeling of a blood connection was quite marvelous, soothing his tense nerves.
Half a year after returning to the palace, Emperor Zhou simply couldn’t bring himself to issue the order to kill. Every night, he felt as though something was missing beside him, and the emptiness of separation left his thoughts uncontrollable.
The hand that had once been around his neck had long since shifted from choking to a gentle caress.
Emperor Zhou’s expression was complicated.
He had seen Noble Consort Dong’s son.
The eldest prince was born fair-skinned.
A few months passed.
He had grown darker.
Every time Emperor Zhou saw the eldest prince, he would think of the little troublemaker in the detached palace.
Had he grown chubbier? Had he gotten darker? Had he eaten?
The Empress Dowager said the little troublemaker resembled him.
Emperor Zhou looked left and right, feeling the little troublemaker looked too delicate, lacking any of his own majestic aura.
But… he was still much better-looking than the eldest prince.
Although the child looked delicate, his courage was anything but weak.
The eldest prince would often cry upon seeing him, but this little troublemaker never cried.
He even dared to pee on him, and after doing so, he calmly sucked on his hand.
The little troublemaker sucked on his hand with such relish that Emperor Zhou pulled it out for him.
“Stop eating that.”
Wu Junji rolled his eyes and stuffed it back in.
Emperor Zhou pulled it out, and Wu Junji shoved it back in.
He pulled, and the child shoved.
Again and again.
Repeating no fewer than dozens of times.
Emperor Zhou grew furious: “This stubborn brat!”
He grabbed the stubborn brat’s arm and, with a chomp, stuffed the entire fist into his own mouth.
Eat, eat, eat—let’s see how you eat now!
The little prince was stunned.
The little prince, as if witnessing something incomprehensible, opened his big eyes wide, let out an “ah,” and tears gushed from his eyes.
Emperor Zhou watched with curiosity for a while—he had never seen a child’s tears fall like this. But as the wails grew louder and more intense,
Emperor Zhou patted his bottom and left.
The capable eunuch was caught in a dilemma, glancing at His Majesty and then at the crying little prince.
He had no choice but to pick up the little one, pleading, “Little ancestor, please stop crying! This servant has never comforted a child before!”
Wu Junji: “Waaah—!”
It stinks!
His hand stinks!
“Waaah-la-la…”
Wu Junji was utterly aggrieved, holding up the hand still bearing tooth marks, wanting to find someone to complain to, only to realize there was no one.
“Waaah—!”
Hearing the vigorous cries, Emperor Zhou’s mood grew even more cheerful.
A guard reported:
“Your Majesty, the three wet nurses have been taking turns requesting leave since a month ago. Only one is on duty each day, feeding the little prince three times during the day and once at night. Most of the rest of the time, they are not in the room.”
Emperor Zhou narrowed his eyes.
Noble Consort Dong had said that the eldest prince needed to be fed seven or eight times a day, sometimes being naughty and refusing to drink, or needing to be coaxed and played with before he would.
Ever since the eldest prince learned to roll over, thick carpets had been laid everywhere in Changchun Palace, with two or three servants watching and holding him without blinking.
Comparing the two situations, the thought of bringing the little troublemaker back to the palace became impossible to suppress.
The little troublemaker had crawled out of his own belly, inherently nobler than anyone else—how could he live so wretchedly?