Extravagant Girl, Do Not Call Yourself Little Treasure

For Sweet Dumpling, the scariest thing in her life so far has been punishment from Little Dumpling. Ghosts? Not scary at all. As for the little ghost in front of her—so skinny and small—she could flatten him with one slap. Sweet Dumpling didn’t take him seriously in the slightest.

"Hey, little ghost, what's your name?" Sweet Dumpling stepped forward and poked the boy's face.

Cold and bony, hardly any flesh at all—so this is what a little ghost looks like. Definitely not like her.

"Who are you? Have I seen you before?" the little boy asked, his voice so soft and weak that if Sweet Dumpling hadn’t been standing close, she might not have heard him at all.

"I just got here today, so of course you haven’t seen me before. Do you see a lot of people around here?" Sweet Dumpling asked curiously, wide-eyed as she peered behind the little ghost, but saw nothing at all.

The little ghost shook his head. "No one ever comes here. You should leave—this place isn’t good." With that, he ignored Sweet Dumpling and sat alone on a stone, head bowed, staring unmoving at his feet with pitch-black eyes...

"If this place isn’t good, why don’t you leave?" Sweet Dumpling mimicked him, sitting down beside him, her chubby little legs swinging restlessly...

Annoyed, she looked for a long time but didn’t spot anything fun at all.

"I can’t leave. They say I’m the descendant of sinners, so I have to stay here forever." When the little ghost said this, there was no joy or sorrow, just a calm statement of fact.

He’d lived in the Imperial Mausoleum since he could remember, knowing nothing of the outside world, not even joy or sorrow. Only when his mother was lucid would she teach him to speak.

So even though he was ten years old, he still didn’t know much.

"Descendant of sinners? Huh? You’re not a ghost?" Sweet Dumpling asked, extremely curious.

"Ghost? What’s that?" The boy turned his head to look at Sweet Dumpling, his blank face showing no expression, only his black eyes fixed and unmoving.

"You don’t know? I thought you were a ghost. But my senior brother said ghosts look scary, with long tongues and no heads. You look just like me, except your whole body is cold—almost like a ghost." Sweet Dumpling grabbed the boy’s hand and poked his skinny, purplish arm twice.

"Feels kind of soft, not like my senior brother said—cold and hard. Are you really not a ghost?" Sweet Dumpling asked seriously.

The boy blinked, then shook his head in confusion. He didn’t seem to understand.

"So you’re not a ghost. What’s your name?" Sweet Dumpling continued asking.

"Little Treasure. That’s what my mother calls me, at least when she’s clear-headed."

"Little Treasure? That’s my little brother’s name! You can’t use it." Sweet Dumpling stood up, unhappy. "My mom calls me that," the boy said, staring blankly at Sweet Dumpling, not understanding why she was upset.

But usually, even when he did nothing, his mother would still be unhappy. His great-aunt was like that too…

Whenever they were unhappy, they would come looking for him. It hurt—a lot.

"I don’t care! Little Treasure is my brother—you’re not allowed to use that name." Sweet Dumpling was very, very angry. How could someone steal her brother’s nickname?

Little Treasure lowered his head and kept silent, hugging his thin little hands tightly around himself: if he held on tight, it wouldn’t hurt.

But his body still trembled uncontrollably.

He was scared. He didn’t want to be hit!

"What’s wrong?" Sweet Dumpling was angry, but seeing Little Treasure shrink into himself, she couldn’t help but squat down in front of him.

"No, please, please don’t hit Little Treasure. I’ll be good." The boy seemed trapped in terror, his pale lips trembling, his whole body radiating sadness and fear.

No one would believe this child was older than Little Dumpling. Curled up like that, he looked only five or six years old.

"Hey, what’s wrong? Don’t scare me—I didn’t do anything." Sweet Dumpling’s face tensed as she reached out to touch the boy. But with just a light touch, the boy fainted dead away, collapsing to the ground with a thud.

"Ah—!" Sweet Dumpling jumped back in fright, staring blankly at the boy lying at her feet.

Did I kill someone?

Sweet Dumpling looked at her own hands, then at the boy lying on the ground. She swore she hadn’t done anything.

He’s probably not dead, right? Sweet Dumpling bent down to check the boy’s breathing—there was still air! She let out a sigh of relief. "Good thing he’s not dead. If Mother finds out I accidentally killed someone, she’ll definitely lock me up."

Sweet Dumpling relaxed, but now what about this little ghost?

He fainted because of her—she couldn’t just leave him here. But…

He’s so small, I should be able to carry him back, right? Sweet Dumpling hesitated, but her sense of responsibility as a doctor and her guilt won out. Gritting her teeth, she dragged the boy up and started walking back.

The shadow guards hiding in the corner were speechless: the boy had been fine, but after the little princess carried him, he ended up with who knows how many new injuries, and his shoes were worn through.

Poor kid—meeting the little princess, who knows if it’s good luck or bad.

Sweet Dumpling actually had a good sense of direction—at least better than Dorian Owen. Even though the underground mausoleum was easy to get lost in, with the shadow guards’ secret help, she managed to bring Little Treasure back safely. But…

"Huh? Why is his forehead split? His feet are bleeding? When did he get hurt?" Sweet Dumpling leaned against the bed, panting, but before she could catch her breath, she was startled by the boy’s pitiful state.

Could this mess be her doing?

Uh… Sweet Dumpling’s face turned red, and she quietly went to fetch water.

"Should we send him away?" The shadow guards discussed in secret—should they take advantage of Sweet Dumpling’s absence and return the boy?

Those minor injuries weren’t life-threatening. With a little medicine, he’d be fine in a couple of days.

"The Empress told us not to interfere." The shadow guards were conflicted.

They knew exactly who the boy was, and that the Emperor and Empress wouldn’t be happy about the princess meeting him. But somehow, the two had met.

"Let’s just wait and see—for now, the boy isn’t dangerous," the shadow guards hesitated, but ultimately decided to do nothing.

With the mausoleum guard’s help, Sweet Dumpling brought a basin of water, wet a cloth, cleaned the boy’s wounds, then expertly opened her medicine box, took out medicine and bandages, and quickly dressed his injuries.

When she finished, Sweet Dumpling stepped back to admire her work, nodding with satisfaction. "I’m amazing!"

Her first time bandaging someone alone, and she’d done such a good job.

"When Senior Brother arrives, he’ll definitely praise me." Sweet Dumpling was delighted, grabbing the dirty water and running out.

"Princess really is a princess—she uses bandages like they’re free." The shadow guards silently looked to the sky, giving silent applause for Sweet Dumpling’s handiwork.

His forehead was only a little swollen, but the princess wrapped it up like his head was split open.

It was just a scraped heel, but the princess bandaged it like both legs were broken.

Even if Her Majesty runs a medicine business, she can’t afford to let the princess waste supplies like this!