The Emperor's Beloved: My Ancestor is the Crown Prince?

Chapter 1 Li Family Ancestral Hall

"Yiyi, slow down, watch out for the steps..."

Li Qi's voice was soft, tinged with laughter, like a gentle breeze chasing after that stumbling little figure.

That was his whole world—a tiny, exquisitely crafted figure dressed in a bright yellow, fluffy Psyduck onesie.

The duck head with its wide-open mouth on her clothes and hat bounced up and down as she ran. Her two little feet were not yet quite tamed by her slightly clumsy shoes and socks, so when she ran, she really looked like a duckling that was going into the water for the first time, excited and nervous, waddling along, each step touching the softest spot in her father's heart.

Suddenly, the wobbling "little duck" stopped in a corner deep in the courtyard. There was a secluded house that few people usually went there, and the walls were covered with evergreen vines that had stood silently through the years.

Little Qingyi looked up, her dark eyes reflecting an old wooden door, its doors tightly shut, like the closed page of a forgotten old book. She stretched out her small, lotus-root-like hand and, with all her might, gently pushed against the heavy door.

"Squeak—"

The door swung open, and years of accumulated dust were awakened by the sudden influx of light.

The house was spacious and simply furnished, except for an ancient painting hanging on the wall facing the entrance, which quietly appeared in the dust.

The painting depicts a young man. He is dressed in a dark, patterned, close-fitting outfit, over which he wears a plain white cloak with cloud patterns, standing beside ancient pines and strange rocks. His eyebrows are like swords, slanting upwards towards his temples; his eyes are like stars, shining brightly. His lips are tightly pressed together, outlining a sharp yet noble curve unique to young men. He holds a horizontal sword in one hand, the sword still sheathed, yet the imposing, poised spirit and innate nobility already leap from the paper, as if in the next second, the man in the painting could step down from the yellowed silk, his robes billowing.

Xiao Qingyi was mesmerized.

Everything in the world seemed to fade and fall silent in an instant, leaving only the pair of "speaking" eyes in the painting, gazing at her from afar. Unconsciously, she sucked on her index finger, and, in a daze, was drawn forward by that invisible attraction, taking a step forward.

"Bang!"

The small body ultimately failed to conquer that high threshold.

She fell heavily onto the cold floor tiles, her dreamlike world shattering instantly. Crystalline tears quickly gathered, like pearls from a broken string.

"Plop, plop," it rolled down, spreading dark, aggrieved dots on her dusty bright yellow coat.

"Daddy...it hurts..." The child's innocent crying voice, carrying the most righteous accusation in the world, instantly pierced the tranquility of the courtyard.

Almost at the same instant the sound rang out, Li Qi rushed forward. His tall figure blocked most of the light from the doorway. He bent down urgently, and his steady arms carefully scooped the soft "little duck" into his arms.

He brushed the dust off his daughter's clothes, his tone a mixture of heartache, amusement, and lingering fear: "You, you, you don't need to rush to give such a grand bow when you see your ancestors, do you? Did you hurt yourself? Let Daddy see."

Little Qingyi nestled against her father's broad, warm shoulder, sobbing. Hearing this, she turned her tear-streaked face to look at the painting, then at her father. Her pouting lips resembled a ripe cherry, and her rosy cheeks puffed up like two little buns. In a tearful voice thick with nasal emotion, she earnestly retorted:

"Daddy's lying... This is clearly a handsome young man, he's... he's not old at all." The child's words were innocent and unpolished, yet like a small pebble thrown into Li Qi's heart, they created ripples of emotion.

"Haha, yes, this is what our ancestor looked like when he was young." Li Qi tightened his arms, holding his daughter more securely, and affectionately rubbed the top of her head, which was as soft as baby hair, with his doting affection almost overflowing from every look and every breath.

"Grandpa said this was painted by a very famous artist back then. If you stare at it for a long time, it's like you can feel him talking to you. This is an antique that has been passed down in our family for who knows how many generations. It's even older than Dad's great-great-great-grandfather."

He held his daughter, his gaze returning to the spirited face of the person in the painting. The slanting sunlight cast a faint golden hue around the figure's outline, as if the spirit of an ancestor were gazing kindly through time upon the continuation of the bloodline.

A wonderful sense of connection flows silently through this tranquil old house.

"Now that we've 'invited' our ancestor out," Li Qi's voice deepened, carrying a natural respect, "let's offer him a stick of incense for peace and ask him to bless our little Yiyi, so that she may be free from illness and disaster, grow up safely and happily every day, just like she is now, okay?"

Xiao Qingyi seemed to understand but not quite, but the words "peace" and "happiness" reassured her.

She stopped sobbing, her long, wet eyelashes fluttering as she watched her father take out incense sticks from the altar, light them, and the tiny red star flickered in the dimly lit room. The crisp sandalwood scent slowly permeated the air, mixing with the smell of old wood and dust to create a solemn and peaceful atmosphere.

Just as Li Qi was holding his daughter and nodding slightly to the portrait, a gentle and clear female voice came from outside the courtyard at just the right moment:

"What are you two, father and daughter, tinkering with about some 'antiques' again? The food's getting cold, we're just waiting for you to start eating."

Ye Yier leaned against the door frame with a smile, the warm afternoon sun casting a fuzzy halo around her.

Her eyes crinkled into crescents, and the tenderness in them was enough to melt away all weariness and worries. Just moments before, the little one had been nestled in her father's arms, immersed in the mysterious atmosphere of "ancestors," but the moment she heard her mother's voice, she seemed to be infused with new vitality.

She twisted her body and eagerly slid down from Li Qi's arms. As soon as her feet touched the ground, she was like a fledgling bird returning to its nest, opening her arms and stumbling towards that warm embrace filled with the aroma of food and the warmth of the sun.

"Mommy! Mommy!"

She buried her face in her mother's soft waist, her voice sweet and coquettish, "Yiyi is hungry, Yiyi wants to eat meat!"

Ye Yier smiled and bent down to pick up her daughter, kissing her tear-streaked face with practiced ease: "Okay, okay, Mommy made your favorite braised pork ribs, all for us little gluttons."

Satisfied with the assurance, Xiao Qingyi hugged her mother's neck tightly, but didn't forget to turn around and look anxiously at her father, who was still standing in the house, with her big, bright eyes that had cleared after the rain. Her little feet kicked in the air as she urged, "Daddy, hurry up! The meat's getting cold!"

Li Qi looked at the two figures, one big and one small, at the doorway—his wife's gentle smile and his daughter's impatient and adorable expression—and then glanced back at the silent and heroic ancestor in the painting.

He shook his head and chuckled, then strode towards the patch of bustling, warm sunlight that belonged to him, muttering:

"Here she comes. Of all things, our little princess's mealtime is the most important."