Has the Little Emperor Recovered Yet?

● See below for the blurb of the new historical danmei novel about a sickly beauty, A Young Age, Unaware How Wonderful My Grandmaster Is Glor Plices, the thirty-seventh little emperor of the Empire and the supreme ruler of the continent of Aran. With golden hair and starry eyes, little wings folded and antlers on his head, he sat floating above the throne. His eyes curved into a smile, the warmth at their corners enough to set anyone’s heart alight. There was no one who didn’t like him. Unfortunately, great intelligence comes at a price, and none of the heirs to the Celestial Feather bloodline live long. The cleverer they are, the frailer their bodies. The imperial physicians judged that Glor would not live to see twenty-five, even from the day he was born. Glor never showed any concern about it. But after repeatedly failing to grasp a spoon, the little emperor grew despondent and let his little wings droop. * Clement Hedwig, imperial general and commander of the Western Garrison, was the youngest level-ten esper in history. The blood trampled beneath his iron boots had once spread across the entire Empire. Rumor had it he was fierce and difficult to get along with, arrogant about his talent and haughty by nature. In the years before he became commander, he had driven away three superiors every year. After taking command, the entire Western Garrison wailed in misery and never had a single good day. The nobles in the imperial capital all thought the newly arrived general was haughty, rude, and unfeeling. In just three months, countless nobles had tried and failed to win him over with flattery and favors. But inside the palace... The Emperor: “Clement, are you really this gentle with your soldiers? Won’t they stop taking you seriously?” The Emperor: “Clement, why do you have a picture of me by your bed?” The Emperor: “Clement, why do you have so many articles about me in your trunk?” The Emperor: “Clement, I just found this diary under your pillow. Let me read it...” The general grabbed the Emperor by the wings, effortlessly lifted him back onto the bed, then rolled over and pinned him down. His voice was low and languid. “Your Majesty, for every extra sentence you read, we’ll do it one more time. Want to test that?” A few things to know before reading: 1. This is a romance-focused writing exercise, so peace has already come to the land. There’s no career plot, and the pacing is slow. The early chapters are very, very slice-of-life, without any scheming or love-triangle drama. 2. “Monarch” and “emperor” are used interchangeably, as are “king” and “emperor.” No distinction is intended. October 26, 2022 ● Check out my completed sci-fi novel about a sickly protagonist next door, All Hands, Hear My Command ● ===New novel: A Young Age, Unaware How Wonderful My Grandmaster Is After Yu Wensong died, he transmigrated into a novel as a villainous immortal lord who shared his name, with the Daoist title Yunsong. In the original story, the immortal lord killed the protagonist’s master. The protagonist held a grudge against him, eventually turning evil and becoming a Demon Lord fifteen years into the story. When the immortal lord’s health failed, the Demon Lord imprisoned him and tortured him to death. System: Please play the role of the immortal lord, escape your imprisonment, and change your fate of being killed by the Demon Lord. Yu Wensong: ? Yu Wensong: If I don’t kill his master, can’t I just escape that fate? System: You must “change your fate of being killed by the Demon Lord.” First, he has to become the Demon Lord. Yu Wensong: ...Fine. If he couldn’t kill the boy or avoid him, then he’d choose a role least likely to get him tortured. The original protagonist would kill anyone and everyone, but he was the one exception when it came to respecting his master. He had always treated him with the utmost respect. Unfortunately, Yu Wensong arrived a little too late. The eight-year-old future Demon Lord had already become Daoist Qingyuan’s disciple. But no matter. If he couldn’t be the boy’s master, couldn’t he at least be his grandmaster? ^ ^ Shen Qianqiu had no parents and had been left to fend for himself in the countryside since childhood. He had nearly died before his sixth birthday. By chance, the wandering cultivator Daoist Qingyuan came across him and took him as a disciple, changing the course of his life. His master lived a hard life, so Shen Qianqiu resolved to cultivate diligently and give him a better one someday. He had barely begun to grow up when his master suddenly told him, delighted, that he now had a grandmaster: Yunsong, an immortal lord from the greatest sect in the world. Shen Qianqiu: ? An immortal lord, the role model his master admired and a god revered by the world, had taken his master, an unknown wandering cultivator, as a disciple? Eight-year-old Shen Qianqiu couldn’t make sense of it. When he went with his master to pay his first respects to the grandmaster, he snuck a glance up at him. The grandmaster lounged against a bamboo couch, his expression languid. As if he’d noticed Shen Qianqiu peeking, he gave him a cool, weary glance. His master then put him in solitary confinement for a month. Shen Qianqiu: ... Eight-year-old Shen Qianqiu gritted his teeth in fury! Everyone around him envied him for having an immortal lord as his grandmaster. But Shen Qianqiu thought: It was his master who had saved him and raised him. What did the grandmaster have to do with it? ...All the grandmaster ever did was put him in solitary confinement! But as the years passed and his skills improved, he found his attention drawn to his grandmaster more and more, for reasons he couldn’t explain. Over the years, his grandmaster’s health had steadily declined. His master anxiously searched for a cure, and every day personally brewed soup and medicine for him, waiting on him hand and foot. When Shen Qianqiu practiced swordsmanship alone, he could often catch glimpses through the trees of his master and grandmaster resting by the river. The grandmaster tired easily, so he would often rest his head on his master’s lap and close his eyes without a care in the world. The more Shen Qianqiu watched, the drier his throat became. The more he thought about it, the more his heart burned. At last, one day while his master was away, he couldn’t help knocking on the grandmaster’s door. The delicate fragrance of blue orchids in the grandmaster’s room bewitched him completely. He lowered his eyes, hiding every desire in his heart, and pretended to be obedient, making his voice as soft and gentle as he could. Only the slightest huskiness lingered in his final words: “Grandmaster, I can brew medicine too. Mine is better than Master’s.” Note 1: Shen Qianqiu is the gong. This is a story about a gong who has spent years plotting his secret love. Note 2: Yu Wensong’s health will be all right at first, then steadily decline. There will be a fake-death plot later, and he won’t recover until shortly before the ending. August 31, 2026 ● =======Please add this to your favorites, mwah! Theme: Keep striving to live, and life will give something back in return