A Concubine's Competitive Life in the Prince's Household - Chapter 7

My name is Qin Jue. At only 16 years of age, I'm already the youngest person to ever become an uncle-grandmaster in the Xuanyi Mountain Sect.Also, I'm the strongest being in this entire world!But unlike other transmigrators, I want nothing to do with the outside world and wish to live a leisurely life on a cliff behind the sect, sipping wine and singing songs.That is until one day, a mysterious girl appears in front of my yard…Join Qin Jue as he deals with sneaky sects and greedy, hostile clans, all while raising a "weed" to sentience and creating heaven-defying spirit-energy "guns".

Three Emperors have died in quick succession. The prince whom nobody had taken notice of unexpectedly succeeds to the throne. He is quickly plunged into layers upon layers of danger. The Empress Dowager dislikes him, wishing to install a younger, more obedient Emperor. His half-brother dislikes him, accusing him of stealing the throne that is rightfully his. The palace attendants and servants dislike him, believing that he is not a true Emperor. The Child Emperor must save himself.

Bai Qingqing, the disciple of the Divine Physician, with goodwill, treats the domineering Prince for blindness, only to render herself at the mercy of him. In the name of practicing medicine, the doctress makes him have spicy cuisine for every meal as revenge. Seeing him frown upon the food, sweat at the pungent dishes, she is merely stoked! Poor Qingqing is no villain material, she ends up having a soft spot for him. Her tender care for the Prince unknowingly reveals her biggest secret-her true identity. After the prince’s eyes are cured, he mobilizes the military with great fanfare to keep her around…

[Longevity + Discipleship + No Female Lead + Lighthearted Humor with No Tragic Moments]When his master picks food, he spins the table there;When his master chants spells, he chats without a care;When his master takes rest, he sings a lively song;When his master lies late, he bangs the pot along;His master lives on long, but his life is rather short;His master lays him down on the hillside, as a sort;His master lifts a cup, but he won’t take a drink;His master shares a tale, but he won’t stop to think;His master holds a feast, but he leaves the table wide;His master calls his soul, but he’s nowhere to abide.Spring returns to the hills, with blooms so bright and fair,Yet master and disciple are parted, one in heaven, one elsewhere.