If I traveled back to the Tang Dynasty, all I really wanted to be was a carefree prince.

2:47 AM.

The ICU doctor's on-call room at the Capital Medical University Affiliated Hospital.

Li Ke stared at the case report on the computer screen, his eyes bloodshot. He had been working continuously for thirty-six hours, but he couldn't stop—it was a rare case of arsenic poisoning, and the patient's symptoms were strikingly similar to those of arsenic poisoning recorded in ancient literature.

He rubbed his temples, picked up his seventh cup of coffee, and continued flipping through the documents. The words on the screen began to blur; he thought his eyes were too tired and blinked hard.

Then a sharp pain shot through my chest.

It felt like someone had detonated a bomb in his heart. The pain radiated to his left shoulder, his fingers went numb, and cold sweat instantly soaked his back.

Li Ke tried to reach for his phone, but his fingers wouldn't obey him. He slid off the chair, fell backward to the floor, and stared at the pale white fluorescent light on the ceiling.

"Help..." He opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

The view gradually darkened.

In his final moments before losing consciousness, a ridiculous thought flashed through his mind—if only he had been a little earlier, that arsenic poisoning patient…

Then, everything went dark.

water.

Water was everywhere.

The icy pool water rushed into his nose, mouth, and ears, and his lungs felt like they were on fire. Li Ke struggled desperately, but his limbs were limp and powerless—no, his limbs were too small, too thin; this was not an adult's body.

This is the child's body.

He used his last bit of strength to paddle upwards, and his fingers touched something—a hand, a rough and powerful hand, which gripped his wrist tightly and pulled him out of the water.

"Your Highness! Your Highness!"

Someone was shouting, the voice high-pitched and distant, as if it came from across the water.

Li Ke was placed on the ground—no, on a stone slab. His back pressed against the hard, cold stone. Someone was pressing on his chest, the technique rough and the force considerable.

He coughed.

Water gushed from his mouth and nose, choking him and causing his entire chest to spasm. He turned his head to the side and vomited more water, a mixture of stomach acid and muddy water.

"His Highness is awake! His Highness is awake!"

The voice rang out again, this time with a sob in it.

Li Ke opened his eyes.

Above us stretched a vast sky—an unbelievably blue sky. At the edge of the sky were the upturned eaves of palace roofs, their glazed tiles shimmering in the sunlight.

palace?

He turned his head to one side and saw a rockery and a pool of clear water.

Then he saw the person kneeling beside him—a round-faced eunuch, about fifteen or sixteen years old, wearing a blue round-necked robe, his face covered in tears and snot.

"Your Highness! Your Highness, you're finally awake! You scared this servant to death!"

Li Ke opened his mouth, but his throat felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and he could only make hoarse, breathy sounds.

He looked down at his hands.

The hand was very small. The knuckles were delicate, and the skin was so white it was almost translucent. It was a child's hand.

His hand.

His pupils suddenly contracted.

"Your Highness fell into the Taiye Pond! Commander Zhao jumped in and pulled you out! You've been submerged for quite a while..." the little eunuch continued rambling.

Li Ke didn't listen. He was staring at his reflection on the water—a young man's face, with delicate features, pale lips, and a wound on his forehead from which blood was seeping.

He didn't recognize the face.

But he recognized the name.

"What did you call me?" His voice was as hoarse as sandpaper.

"Your Highness... Your Highness the Prince of Shu, don't you remember?"

King of Shu.

Li Ke.

Li Ke's heart skipped a beat.

He—a modern ICU doctor—died suddenly and was transported to the Tang Dynasty, becoming Li Ke, the third son of Li Shimin and the Prince of Shu.

The Li Ke who was sentenced to death at the young age of thirty-four, according to historical records.

He opened his mouth, but said nothing, and lowered his head to cough violently.

Li Ke was carried back to the side hall in a sedan chair.

He lay on the couch, soaked to the bone and shivering with cold, but his mind was racing—the fourth year of the Zhenguan era, 630 AD, he was eleven years old. There were still six years until Empress Zhangsun's death, seven years until Li Chengqian's rebellion, and twenty-three years until Li Ke himself was ordered to commit suicide.

He has time.

But he needs to survive today first.

The door to the side hall was pushed open, and a woman in palace attire stumbled in. She looked to be in her early twenties, with beautiful features, her eyes filled with worry, and her hair disheveled, clearly having rushed there. She threw herself at the bedside, grabbed Li Ke's hand, and tears streamed down her face like a broken string of pearls.

"Ke'er... Ke'er, look at your mother... Open your eyes and look at your mother..."

Her voice was trembling, and her whole body was shaking.

Li Ke recognized her—not from memory, but from intuition. He had seen that look in her eyes, the look of someone seeing a lost treasure again, far too many times outside the ICU.

These are my mother's eyes.

"Mother," he said, his voice hoarse.

Consort Yang pulled him into her arms, trembling with sobs. "You scared your mother to death... If anything were to happen to you, I wouldn't want to live anymore..."

Li Ke froze for a moment, then slowly relaxed and patted her back.

"Don't cry," he said. "I'm okay now."

Consort Yang cried even harder.

In the corridor outside the door, a man dressed in a bright yellow robe was pacing back and forth. His steps were hurried, and the hem of his dragon robe stirred up a gust of wind.

"Where is the imperial physician? Why hasn't he arrived yet?"

His voice was deep and resonant, carrying an undeniable authority. But at this moment, there was a hint of anxiety in his voice—the anxiety of a father.

He was Li Shimin, the emperor of the Tang Dynasty, the Heavenly Khan.

In the imperial court, he was a decisive and ruthless emperor; but at this moment, he was just a father whose son had fallen into the water, was unconscious, and whose fate was unknown.

"Your Majesty, the Imperial Physician is on his way," the eunuch beside him answered cautiously.

Li Shimin stopped and looked at the tightly closed door of the side hall. He wanted to go in, but he knew that the person guarding the child at this moment was Consort Yang—the child's birth mother. He couldn't go in at this time; he couldn't disturb a mother and her child.

He could only wait outside.

"Go and urge them again," he said.

"Yes."

Imperial Physician Wang Yongzheng practically ran in. He was over sixty years old, panting heavily, his forehead covered in sweat.

"Your subject pays his respects—"

"Alright, enough with the formalities, let's go inside and take a look." Li Shimin waved his hand.

Wang Yongzheng hurriedly pushed open the door and entered the side hall.

Consort Yang had already stepped aside, her eyes red and swollen from crying, but she stared intently at the imperial physician's every move.

Wang Yongzheng sat down on the edge of the bed and reached out to feel Li Ke's pulse. His brows gradually furrowed—the pulse was weak and feeble, a sign of severe depletion of vital energy after drowning. He then examined Li Ke's pupils, looked at his eyelids, and asked a few questions.

Li Ke answered each question in turn, his voice hoarse but his reasoning clear.

Wang Yongzheng was secretly amazed—an eleven-year-old child, who had just returned from the brink of death, was able to answer his questions so calmly, without crying or making a fuss, and even had the mind to ask him, "Imperial Physician, does the wound on my forehead need to be stitched up?"

"Your Highness, rest assured, the wound is not deep. Applying medicine will suffice; there is no need for stitches," Wang Yongzheng said, then turned to write out the prescription.

Li Ke lay on the couch, watching the imperial physician's retreating figure, silently assessing his condition—he was conscious, breathing steadily, his heart rate was slightly fast but regular, and there were no obvious neurological sequelae. The wound on his forehead was indeed not deep, but he needed to prevent infection—without antibiotics, he could only rely on topical medication and his body's immunity.

He needs to familiarize himself with the medicinal herbs and medical techniques of this era as soon as possible.

After writing the prescription, Wang Yongzheng turned to Consort Yang and said, "Your Majesty, rest assured, although His Highness's pulse is weak, his constitution is still good. He will recover after taking a few doses of medicine and resting for a few days."

Consort Yang nodded repeatedly, tears falling again.

As Wang Yongzheng left the side hall, Li Shimin immediately came to greet him.

"how?"

"Your Majesty, please rest assured, His Highness the Prince of Shu is out of danger. However, the shock from drowning has damaged his vital energy, and he needs to rest for several days. I have already prescribed a formula to calm his mind, stabilize his spirit, and strengthen his constitution."

Li Shimin breathed a sigh of relief, and his tense shoulders relaxed slightly.

"Take good care of him," he said, then glanced at the door of the side hall and turned to leave.

After walking a few steps, he suddenly stopped and said to the eunuch beside him, "Have the imperial kitchen prepare some porridge and send it over. Also, tell Consort Yang to rest well and not ruin her health."

"Yes."

The eunuch responded, secretly wondering to himself—when did His Majesty become so attentive?

That afternoon, Empress Zhangsun sent a palace maid to visit him, bringing with her the finest medicines and tonics. The maid relayed the message: "Her Majesty the Empress said that His Highness the Prince of Shu should rest and recuperate, and that he should pay his respects to her once he has recovered. Her Majesty also told Consort Yang to take care of her health and not overwork herself."

Consort Yang thanked the Empress for her kindness, feeling deeply grateful. She knew that although Empress Zhangsun had her own son, she had always treated her and Li Ke well. In this deep palace, her stepmother's kindness was their greatest protection.

Li Ke lay on the couch, watching the people coming and going—imperial physicians, palace maids, eunuchs, guards—each of them with a look of relief on their faces.

But he knew this was just the beginning.

He closed his eyes, and the words in the history books floated into his mind—Empress Zhangsun's death, Li Chengqian's rebellion, Hou Junji's rebellion, Zhangsun Wuji's framing... and Li Ke's own end, being sentenced to death at the age of thirty-four.

He will change all of this.

He didn't come alone. He brought with him knowledge of modern medicine, an understanding of history, and the heart of a doctor.

He had many people to save—his mother, Consort Yang; his stepmother, Empress Zhangsun; his eldest brother, Li Chengqian; his younger sister, Li Lizhi; his fourth brother, Li Tai; his ninth brother, Li Zhi; Qin Qiong; Li Jing; Wei Zheng…

And Li Ke himself.

The sky outside the window gradually darkened. The palace servants lit candles, and the flickering candlelight cast shadows on the wall.

Consort Yang sat on the edge of the couch, holding Li Ke's hand, and softly hummed a lullaby. Her voice was very soft, with a gentle Jiangnan accent, like a feather falling on the water.

As Li Ke listened to that song, he suddenly felt at ease.

He arrived in this unfamiliar era, facing unknown dangers, but he was not alone. He had a loving mother, a caring stepmother, and a father who, though stern, would pace anxiously outside the door.

He must protect all these people.

"Mother," he said softly, "you need to rest well too. Your health isn't good, you need to take care of yourself."

Consort Yang was taken aback for a moment, then smiled. "How old are you, yet you're already worrying about your mother's health?"

Li Ke didn't laugh. He looked at her seriously and said, "I'm telling the truth. Your pulse is weak, your complexion is pale, and your eyelids are swollen. You may have anemia and stomach problems. I'll help you with those later."

Looking at his earnest little face, Consort Yang felt both touched and amused. She thought this was a sign that the child had become sensible after falling into the water, but little did she know that this small body contained the soul of a thirty-four-year-old medical doctor.

"Okay," she gently patted his hand, "we'll help Mother take care of herself once you've recovered."

Li Ke nodded and closed his eyes.