My Mother Was Murdered… So I Seduced the Emperor’s Sister for Ultimate Revenge!
Chapter 15 - The Emperor’s Test! Li Yunrui’s Dotage, Fan Xian: Did I Time-Travel?

Chapter 15: The Emperor’s Test! Li Yunrui’s Dotage, Fan Xian: Did I Time-Travel?

The Emperor’s gaze shifted from the crib to Li Yunrui.

Those deep, inscrutable eyes concealed unfathomable emotions.

He paced closer to her, his voice soft yet carrying an intangible pressure.

“Why him, Yunrui?”

The Emperor’s tone was light.

“There are many children in the palace. Why must you keep Ye Qingmei’s son by your side?”

The question sliced through the veneer of warmth like an invisible blade.

Li Yunrui raised her head, meeting the Emperor’s gaze. The faint smile at her lips did not waver—if anything, it grew more provocative.

“What reason does Your Majesty think I should have?”

Her voice carried a trace of languid amusement.

“Perhaps I simply find this child pleasing. Is that not reason enough?”

The Emperor let out a low chuckle—devoid of any warmth.

“Pleasing?”

He repeated the word as if savoring its absurdity.

“Or is it that you wish to use him to hold onto something?”

His implication was clear.

Li Yunrui’s eyes did not flicker.

“Your Majesty overestimates my intentions.”

She shook her head lightly.

“He is, after all, your son. What harm is there in my caring for him?”

The Emperor scoffed inwardly. Did she truly believe he did not see through her?

That twisted obsession of hers had long seeped into her bones.

Keeping Ye Qingmei’s son by her side—perhaps she sought to maintain some tenuous connection to him, or perhaps it was born of something darker: vengeance, possessiveness.

But there was no need to voice it.

He stepped closer, so near he could catch the faint fragrance of her perfume.

His voice dropped lower, laced with unquestionable authority.

“Whatever schemes lie in your heart—”

“Remember, he is my son.”

“Raise him well. Ensure he grows up safe.”

The words were both an order and a warning.

Li Yunrui lowered her lashes, veiling the emotions in her eyes.

“As Your Majesty commands.”

The Emperor said no more.

His gaze lingered one last time on the infant in the crib—Li Changsheng—his expression unreadable.

Then he turned, the hem of his dragon robe sweeping in an arc as he strode out of Qing Temple.

The heavy doors closed behind him, sealing away the outside world.

Li Yunrui stood motionless until the Emperor’s footsteps faded entirely.

The smile on her face vanished, replaced by icy mockery.

She walked slowly back to the crib and looked down at Li Changsheng.

“See that, little one?”

Her voice was weary, laced with biting scorn.

“That is your father—the Emperor of Southern Qing.”

“He speaks of blood ties, yet his eyes see only calculation.”

Her fingers brushed the baby’s cheek—gentle in touch, cold in intent.

“The cruelest hearts belong to the imperial family.”

“For the sake of power, for this empire—”

Her voice was low, dripping with frost.

“He cast Ye Qingmei aside without hesitation.”

“Naturally, he could discard you, me—anyone—just as easily.”

She leaned down, tracing a fingertip along the baby’s nose.

Li Changsheng wrinkled his face, babbling incoherently, tiny hands swiping at the teasing finger.

A complicated smile tugged at Li Yunrui’s lips.

“So don’t you dare hope for anything from him.”

“In this palace, the only one you can rely on is yourself.”

She lifted him—not gently, but with care.

When a nursemaid stepped forward to take him, Li Yunrui waved her away.

Cradling the child, she paced the hall slowly.

Sunlight streamed through the lattice windows, casting long shadows behind them.

The black cat trailed silently at her feet, golden-slitted eyes scanning the surroundings warily.

Occasionally, it rubbed against Li Yunrui’s skirts or nudged Li Changsheng’s tiny feet with its head.

Days passed in this semblance of peace—yet beneath the surface, undercurrents churned.

Seasons turned. Winters gave way to springs.

Li Changsheng grew from a swaddled infant to one who could roll over, crawl, and eventually toddle unsteadily.

His body matured, and the memories buried deep within his soul gradually stirred awake.

Li Yunrui’s attitude toward him remained as complex as ever.

Sometimes playful, sometimes distant—as if observing an intriguing toy, yet with a thread of wariness.

She fed him with her own hands, read to him though he could not understand.

But more often, she left him to play on soft cushions or watched as he interacted with the black cat.

The cat showed unusual protectiveness toward Li Changsheng.

It guarded him, refusing to let strangers near.

Even Lin Wan’er, who was occasionally permitted to visit, initially faced its suspicion.

But over time, the cat seemed to sense her lack of malice—or perhaps Li Changsheng’s own acceptance—and allowed her closeness.

Lin Wan’er would tentatively touch the baby’s cheek or stroke the cat’s glossy fur.

The feline merely flicked its tail lazily, unbothered.

To all appearances, Li Changsheng was just an ordinary growing child.

But no one knew—within that small frame, a faint yet tenacious force was quietly at work.

The Art of Eternal Life.

This was the cultivation technique his soul had carried across time.

An infant’s meridians were fragile, his body undeveloped—progress was painstakingly slow, like a snail’s crawl.

But he never gave up.

In every waking moment, he silently cycled the technique, drawing wisps of sparse spiritual energy into his body to temper it.

The process was agonizingly gradual, the results minuscule.

Yet he could feel it—each cycle sharpened his senses, nourished his spirit.

“Sign-in successful. Reward: Nine Heavens Thunder Arrow Art!”

“Sign-in successful. Reward: Thunder Emperor’s Bow!”

“Sign-in successful. Reward: Medical Truth Scripture—complete mastery of medicine, pharmacology, acupuncture…”

With each icy prompt, torrents of knowledge and power flooded his soul.

The secrets of the Nine Heavens Thunder Arrow Art, the form and might of the Thunder Emperor’s Bow, the vast ocean of medical wisdom—

All imprinted themselves into his consciousness as if innate.

His body was still too weak to wield the bow, let alone fire an arrow or hold a needle.

But knowledge was power. Potential was his foundation.

Every day, he signed in. Every day, he grew stronger.

This tangible progress sustained him through the tedium and helplessness of infancy.

Meanwhile, far away in Danzhou…

Salty sea winds swept through the quiet port town.

Inside an unremarkable residence, another infant abruptly opened his eyes.

Unlike Li Changsheng’s calm awareness, this child’s gaze was filled with confusion, shock, and disbelief.

Who am I?

Where am I?

Why are my arms and legs so weak?

The ancient furnishings, the elderly woman calling herself his grandmother—

Fragmented memories clashed violently with his past life’s knowledge.

Fan Shen? Fan Xian?

Danzhou? Qing Kingdom?

Did I… time-travel?

And as a baby?!

Trapped in this unfamiliar, helpless body, Fan Xian—no, now he was Fan Xian—felt his mind reel.

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