The General Was Pregnant with the Emperor's Child - Chapter 20

Ye Wuyou vomited until the world went dark.

Two days before the army was set to set out on the campaign, the camp was given a day of rest. Following tradition, Ye Wuyou ordered sheep to be slaughtered to reward the soldiers.

Right at dawn, thick smoke rose in the camp. Ye Wuyou held down a sheep’s leg with one hand while grabbing a rope to wind around its body with the other. Rewards before a campaign were always exhilarating, and the soldiers joined in the slaughter with great enthusiasm.

The smell of blood was nothing to Ye Wuyou. He easily suppressed the rising nausea in his stomach, helping the soldiers lift the shorn sheep onto the roasting racks before slipping away to the imperial chef to snatch two steamed buns.

“We’ll have mutton soup to drink later; the General should eat fewer of those.” The flour brought from the palace was nearly gone. The imperial chef finally understood why His Majesty, while preparing military supplies, had insisted he bring those few bags of flour along.

It was because the General liked them; His Majesty was specifically catering to his tastes.

Indeed, to be able to grant even the absurd ‘reward’ of exiling an imperial chef without blinking—it’s clear how much favor the General holds with the Emperor.

“These are good things; they won’t get in the way!” Ye Wuyou chewed on his bun while thinking of Xiao Yun’an. Before long, the mutton soup was already brewing outside.

As the rare aroma of meat drifted toward the steamers, Ye Wuyou suddenly covered his nose.

The food in his mouth refused to go down. The waves of nausea surging up his throat grew more intense. Ye Wuyou practically bolted back to his tent.

Away from the fragrant stove, he drank several gulps of fresh water before his restless stomach finally settled. He looked at the bun in his hand, only two bites taken, and realized he had lost his appetite entirely.

He set it aside on the low table and turned his attention to the sand table to distract himself.

According to reports from hidden scouts, Luren, having failed in his sneak attack, actually dared to move his camp forward. He was now stationed barely twenty li (about 10km) from the Ye Army camp.

It seemed that after the initial probe a month ago, Luren had begun plotting for another battle. The sneak attack two days ago was another test, and the exposure of Ye Wuyou’s Kun-ze (Omega) identity had clearly made Luren arrogant.

Ye Wuyou didn’t know when his Omega status had been exposed to the enemy. He had even kept it from the Emperor; how could a barbarian foe find out?

The soldiers stationed in the Jing camp were all trained personally by Ye Wuyou. Even the logistics and supply teams had received the General’s kindness and could be called his confidants. The exposure of his identity had indeed caused the army to waver for half a day, but not a single person thought of sending the news back to the capital.

What a joke… if they replaced their General, who else could lead them to achieve such rich military merit? Who else would be willing to distribute imperial rewards equally among the ranks?

If they betrayed their master for glory, would a new commanding general ever give them a good life? General Ye’s Omega identity could only stay within the North; it must never be reported to the capital.

Although no one dared to openly rebel, the wavering of morale was still an issue. Under Ye Wuyou’s direction, Yang Shen and the doctor spread information while busy bandaging the wounded. Within half a day, the truth of Ye Wuyou’s presentation as an Omega at age seventeen had spread throughout the camp.

The army’s admiration for Ye Wuyou only grew.

However, “softness” alone couldn’t suppress soldiers. Ye Wuyou deliberately crushed the hand bones of several Alphas who tried to sneak-attack him and used military law to deal with several fickle officers who were spreading rumors.

The morale that had wavered for half a day was gathered back together with a mix of faith and fear. The young soldiers who had smelled Ye Wuyou’s pheromones on the battlefield also stepped forward to speak for their General.

Judging by the sheep-slaughtering today, the Ye Army was more united than ever. With the name “Ye” at the front, their glory was tied to General Ye.

As noon approached, a bowl of steaming mutton soup was brought into the commander’s tent.

“General, the mutton has been stewed soft. Taste it first.”

“Mmh. Put it there.” Ye Wuyou stared at the sand table without turning his head.

However, starting from that single bowl of mutton soup, Ye Wuyou’s belated morning sickness tormented him relentlessly.

He urgently summoned Yang Shen. He had vomited until there was nothing left in his stomach, yet he continued to dry heave uncontrollably. He finally understood the doctor’s meaningful look from that morning. After carrying this “little brat” for two months, Ye Wuyou realized for the first time that pregnancy was no easy task.

Previously, when Yang Shen and the doctor nagged about his health, Ye Wuyou had sneered, thinking they were making a mountain out of a molehill. Aside from occasional dull pain and his growing longing for the Emperor, he had experienced almost no discomfort during the first two months. Even after coming off the battlefield, the pain in his abdomen was nothing compared to his other injuries. He had always thought that as long as he was careful through these ten months, the most he would suffer was the pain of childbirth before the baby was born.

Yet now… Ye Wuyou was slumped weakly before a spittoon. The strong smell of mutton was everywhere, and there was no escape. The mutton soup sitting on the table looked like a bowl of delicious torture.

“…Save me, Yang Shen. I can see the Naihe Bridge (the bridge to the afterlife).” Having been “paralyzed” by the doctor’s needles just a day ago, Ye Wuyou felt an irrational shadow of fear toward the old man. His vice-general, Yang Shen, was much easier to handle.

Yang Shen smelled the fragrant mutton soup before he even entered the room. He looked at the meat on the table and smiled thoughtfully. “One always vomits a few times during early pregnancy. Don’t worry, General.”

Then, right in front of Ye Wuyou, he slowly put a piece of meat into his mouth.

“It’s rare to have meat in the camp; I’ll take this benefit.” Yang Shen ate with gusto. Ye Wuyou looked at the oily chunks of meat and turned back to hug the spittoon tightly.

“When I get better, Yang Shen, you… urgh… just you wait!” Ye Wuyou cursed through gritted teeth. He knew his nausea was normal “morning sickness”; no matter how careless he was, he had been forcibly educated on the subject by the doctor.

Several sour fruits were held out to him. Smelling the fruit fragrance, Ye Wuyou looked up at Yang Shen in surprise.

“To stop the vomiting,” Yang Shen said, mimicking the doctor’s succinct style.

Ye Wuyou unceremoniously snatched one and popped it into his mouth. The sourness exploded on his taste buds; the tartness he usually couldn’t stand became a delicacy in that moment. The churning in his stomach was successfully suppressed by a single, unremarkable sour fruit.

“Hmph. For the sake of the fruit, I’ll consider your ‘sin’ atoned for.” Ye Wuyou chewed away.

“The General is two people now; you still need to eat some meat. Sour fruit alone won’t do. I’ll go ask the doctor for a prescription later. Starting tonight, we have things to do.” Yang Shen chewed away at his bowl beside him.

Recalling the taste of mutton, Ye Wuyou frowned and stuffed a few more fruits into his mouth.

“Yang Shen, can you go eat somewhere else?”

“Don’t snatch! The last bite!”

Ye Wuyou was sheepishly escorted into the doctor’s tent. Yang Shen and the doctor exchanged looks, completing the “handover.”

“You two are ganging up to bully me,” Ye Wuyou complained first.

“You can’t say that; the General’s health is paramount.” The doctor pulled out another row of silver needles. Ye Wuyou’s throat tightened instinctively, and his fingers gripped the hem of his robe in nervousness. The doctor smiled gently. “Hand.”

After a few needles, Ye Wuyou had tensed himself into another state of “paralysis.” Yang Shen, with great chemistry, brought him another bowl of fresh mutton soup. Ye Wuyou discovered that his morning sickness had been miraculously “needled” away.

“Doctor, you are truly a divine physician!” Ye Wuyou ate heartily, quickly refilling his empty stomach.

Yang Shen and the doctor looked at each other and smiled, finally having won a round against Ye Wuyou.

Before the meal officially began for the troops, Ye Wuyou stood on a high platform, holding a wine bowl that Yang Shen had secretly filled with water to inspire morale.

Gone was his morning lethargy. He shouted in a booming voice: “Soldiers! Eat and drink your fill today! The day after tomorrow, follow me on the campaign don’t you dare fail to lift your spears!”

“The General is mighty!” “The Ye Army is invincible!” “Invincible!” “Invincible!”

Night slowly fell, a black curtain shrouding the grasslands. Mist emerged, and the sounds of drinking and revelry in the camp drowned out the sound of approaching hoofbeats in the distance.

The Imperial City.

Xiao Yun’an, who still hadn’t received a letter from Ye Wuyou, had fallen ill. The Emperor, who had suspended court for two days, leaned on his Dragon Bed, covering his mouth and nose to suppress a dry heave. He didn’t know why, but for the past two days, even looking at fish or meat caused sour fluid to surge in his stomach.

“Your Majesty is suffering from excessive worry, leading to a cold and weak spleen and stomach. For the next few days, you should avoid greasy meat; light snacks are best.”

Xiao Yun’an stared at Imperial Physician Liu, who was kneeling before him, his face dark and somber.