The Little Crybaby Continues to Court Death as a Cannon Fodder - Chapter 49

Chapter 49

One’s senses become extraordinarily sharp during pregnancy, and the skin is no exception. A touch that was once mundane now felt electric, transformed by the life growing within.

In the past, Yu Qing would never have reacted so violently to such a minor motion. Even Cang He froze in a daze when he realized the ink-black fabric of his uniform was becoming visibly soaked against the Prince’s chest. The bedchamber was thick with a dizzying, sweet aroma and the Prince’s irrepressible whimpers. He braced himself over the chaise longue, staring at the vivid rose-colored area that had nearly doubled in size.

The little Prince had always been delicate, but now he possessed a ripened allure. Before, he was a budding flower; now, he was a heavy plum—one that would spray sweet nectar if squeezed with the slightest force.

Just as Cang prepared to tend to the other side, a hand gripped his collar from behind and hurled him to the floor.

He looked up, ignoring the dull ache in his limbs, only to meet the frigid, murderous gaze of Qiu Zhiruo. Such an expression was alien to the “Elegant Prime Minister,” a man famed for his gentlemanly grace. Yet here it was—a raw, territorial snarl. Qiu Zhiruo’s fists were clenched so tightly his knuckles cracked in the oppressive silence. When he finally loosened his grip, his palms were bloody with crescent moons from his own nails.

The Prince on the chaise was entirely exposed. Seeing those glaring marks, Qiu Zhiruo felt as if a thousand needles were piercing his heart. Using every ounce of his remaining decorum, he spat: “Get out.”

He remained half-kneeling, calmly adjusting his robes and refastening his black mask. He was undaunted. “I only follow the orders of one person: the Crown Prince.”

“You—” Qiu Zhiruo started, but the Prince cut him off.

“Qiu Zhiruo, have you truly forgotten your place?” Yu Qing sat up slowly, a strand of damp hair clinging to his flushed cheek. His misty eyes were shards of ice. “Us is curious—whose territory is the Eastern Palace? Every time the Prime Minister visits, he acts as if he owns the place. One might think you are the master here.”

“Your Highness!” Qiu Zhiruo gasped.

“Get out!” Yu Qing snapped, hurling a soft pillow at him. “You cannot be here for us, yet you forbid others from staying? No one is allowed to be that domineering! Not even us!”

Qiu Zhiruo felt a pang of injustice. He had been drowning in state affairs, yet he had never stopped sending gifts to keep the Prince amused. He reached for the Prince’s arm, only to be violently shaken off.

“We slept together once; what does that matter?” Yu Qing sneered. “Many people have slept with us. You are the only one who takes yourself so seriously. Get out!”

…

The Father’s Devotion

Qiu Zhiruo was a proud man, and those words cut deeper than any blade. But he knew the Prince—when angry, Yu Qing spoke without filters. He blamed himself for being overconfident.

He knelt before the Prince, extending his long arms to gently embrace Yu Qing’s belly. Yu Qing’s brow twitched, but as a warm cheek pressed against his stomach, he hesitated. Qiu Zhiruo listened intently against the thin skin.

“Your Highness, has your appetite been poor?” he asked softly, his voice full of genuine worry.

Yu Qing’s heart softened. He was susceptible to this kind of humble devotion. “Mnh,” he murmured.

“Is the baby causing trouble?” Qiu Zhiruo’s calloused thumb rubbed the soft skin. The rough texture made the Prince let out a soft moan, his back arching before slumping back into the man’s arms.

“The baby is good. Not like you—always making us angry.”

Suddenly, as Qiu Zhiruo listened, there was a faint gurgle—a movement from within. Qiu Zhiruo went rigid, then flushed with an inexpressible ecstasy. “Your Highness! Our child moved! The child kicked me!”

Yu Qing turned his head away. “That was just Us’s stomach growling because I’m hungry…”

But a spark of joy flared in his chest. He had spent days fearing he was a monster, crying secretly while Qiu Zhiruo was away. Now, seeing the Prime Minister look like a starstruck father, the world felt a little less frightening.

…

The Exotic Intruder

Yu Qing soon learned why Qiu Zhiruo was so busy. Envoys from the Western Regions had arrived, led by the Ninth Prince, Wei Shengmo.

One afternoon, while Xie Xuanying fenced to amuse him and Hua Jingshi fed him pastries, Qiu Zhiruo arrived and took over the feeding, pulling the Prince onto his lap.

“Did you wash your hands?” Yu Qing asked lazily.

“Many times,” Qiu Zhiruo assured him, feeding him a cake.

Just then, Eunuch Lin chimed in. “Your Highness, the Western Prince has arrived. They say he is ‘stunningly handsome.’ Of course, he cannot compare to you…”

The temperature in the room plummeted as Xie Xuanying, Hua Jingshi, and Qiu Zhiruo all turned icy, jealous glares toward the eunuch.

“Handsome? How handsome?” Yu Qing asked, intrigued.

“Common grease and powder could never catch the eye of the Prince,” a voice boomed.

Standing there was a tall man with sun-kissed skin, eyes as dark as ink yet bright as lanterns, and a smile of wild, exotic beauty. Wei Shengmo stepped forward, gold ornaments jingling.

“I had heard the Prince of the Qing Dynasty was a peerless beauty. Today, I see the rumors were far too modest.” He bowed, his eyes burning with interest. “Your Highness, I am unfamiliar with the palace. Might you show me around?”

Qiu Zhiruo prepared to refuse, but Yu Qing stood up, placing his hand in the Western Prince’s dark palm. “Very well.”

“Your Highness!” Qiu Zhiruo pleaded, stroking the Prince’s belly.

“Continue watching Xie Xuanying dance,” Yu Qing said coldly. “Us will accompany the Ninth Prince. Do not prepare dinner; I will not be returning.”

The three men watched in silence as the “pearl” of the Prince’s hand was swallowed by the dark, large hand of the “barbarian.”

…

The New Consort

Yu Qing didn’t walk far before the heat became unbearable. He found shade, his skin turning a dusty rose from the exertion. Wei Shengmo leaned in close. “Your Highness, your ears are so red.”

“You aren’t hot?” Yu Qing frowned, pushing him back.

“Not at all. This weather is pleasant compared to the desert.” Wei Shengmo reached out to touch the Prince’s forehead. “The Emperor said I could choose anyone for a marriage alliance. I want to be your Prince Consort.”

Yu Qing didn’t answer. He turned and walked away, heading straight for Hua Jingshi’s quarters.

He burst into the room and sat on Hua Jingshi’s lap. “Only you are obedient,” he huffed, seeing the notes Hua had taken on the Prince’s favorite foods. “Do you want to be My Prince Consort?”

Hua Jingshi froze. “Your Highness, I dare not ask for so much. Just to be by your side is enough.”

“If a Consort is too much, how about a Lady of Virtue (Liangdi)?” Yu Qing declared. “Us does not like those who are disobedient.”

Thus, the male hostage Hua Jingshi became the first official member of the Prince’s harem.

…

The Secret in the Silk

That night, Hua Jingshi prepared for bed. He carried the lethargic Prince to the bed and leaned in for a kiss. Yu Qing, sensitive from the pregnancy, felt a jolt of heat and pushed him away, pulling the silk quilt up to his chin. “Us will not touch you tonight. Sleep.”

Hua Jingshi lay on the inner side, confused but obedient. He noticed the Prince smelled sweeter than ever, like warm milk.

Once he thought Hua was asleep, Yu Qing whispered to Cang He. The shadow guard appeared, his handsome face unmasked.

“It’s itchy again,” Yu Qing complained, pulling back his robes. His eyes darkened as he saw the red, swollen peaks.

“Don’t wake Hua Jingshi,” Yu Qing hissed.

Cang He leaned down, his lips wet. “Your Highness gave him a title. If you wish, I would take one too.”

“If you want one, Us will give it to you,” the Prince muttered, his voice becoming a slurred, sugary mess as Cang began his work. “Don’t… don’t bite…”

The sounds of friction and the Prince’s muffled gasps filled the air. To hide the noise, Yu Qing pulled Cang He’s head closer, pressing him against his chest. He didn’t notice that one of his own legs had slipped out from the quilt, dangling off the side of the bed.

Hua Jingshi had been listening for a long time. When he felt a sudden heat in his palm, he opened his eyes.

Through the flickering candlelight and the sheer curtains, he saw a silhouette. The sweet, milky scent was overpowering. He saw the Prince’s head tossing, his hair messy, his skin a vivid, swollen rose.

The little Prince, fearing discovery, grabbed a spare silk quilt and threw it over Hua Jingshi’s head to “blindfold” him. A dark, damp patch of grey stained the center of the white silk, right over Hua Jingshi’s nose and mouth.

“Hurry,” Yu Qing urged Cang He.

Suddenly, a long, slender hand shot out from beneath the quilt, firmly gripping the Prince’s ankle.