Chapter Four: The Mysterious Wooden Box

Inside the Lotus Pavilion.

Li Pingyang was half-awake, vaguely aware that someone was sleeping beside him. In his dream, he was eating steamed buns, his hands restlessly wandering. Suddenly, he felt a soft warmth in his grasp, and a faint, delicate fragrance drifted into his nose. Li Pingyang’s eyes flew open. To his shock, the Third Prince was lying next to him, having slipped in at some point. While Li Pingyang was still reeling, the Third Prince suddenly pulled him into an embrace.

Li Pingyang was so frightened he didn’t dare breathe. Just as he was about to say something, the Third Prince’s eyes also snapped open, and in an instant, an awkward silence descended between them.

The Third Prince leapt straight off the bed, spun around to grab his sword at the bedside, and declared he was going to cut off Li Pingyang’s head. Li Pingyang cried out in terror, “I’m doomed, I’m doomed!”

Covering his eyes with his hands, Li Pingyang stammered, “I saw nothing, I know nothing,” and pointed to the Third Prince’s state of undress.

The Third Prince, startled, realized he was clad only in a thin undergarment and hastily covered himself, forgetting all about beheading Li Pingyang.

While the Third Prince dressed, Li Pingyang shuffled quickly to the door. Just as he was about to dash out, he forgot how high the door threshold was in Song Dynasty buildings. With a cry, he tripped and landed hard on the ground.

He got up clutching his nose, blood streaming down to his lips, his front teeth loose and wobbly.

“Fortunately, I’m nimble. Just a bloody nose—nothing serious!” Li Pingyang told himself. One more fall, he thought, and he’d return to the afterlife.

Li Hu, feeling he’d done a good deed the night before, walked in cheerfully with two bowls of porridge. He grinned, “How did you both sleep last night?”

The Third Prince, still fuming at the memory, snatched up his sword and swung it at Li Hu.

Seeing this, Li Pingyang rushed forward and hugged the Third Prince from behind. The Third Prince gasped, and Li Pingyang was struck by how slender the man’s waist was, his figure far from masculine.

Li Pingyang questioned himself—could he really be attracted to men?

Li Hu, legs apart and hands raised above his head, tried to diffuse the situation, but seeing the flushed faces and tangled motives of the two, was utterly stunned.

So the Third Prince liked that sort of thing? If only he’d known! He’d have volunteered himself and maybe earned a promotion by now.

While the awkwardness lingered, Chief Steward Ding burst into the hall, his face filled with urgency.

The Third Prince composed himself, coughed, and sheathed his sword. “There are no outsiders here. Speak freely.”

Chief Steward Ding caught his breath, drained a bowl of water from the table, and said, “A special envoy from a neighboring country was attacked en route and is near death. His dying wish is to see someone named Li Gou Dan one last time.”

The Third Prince was taken aback. How could Li Gou Dan be involved in this?

Chief Steward Ding continued, “Lan Prefecture may be small, but finding one person is still like fishing for a needle in the sea!”

The Third Prince, surprisingly relieved, replied, “I do know a Li Gou Dan, but I’m not sure if it’s the one you seek.”

“There he is, right behind you.”

Chief Steward Ding turned around, baffled—so easily found?

Soon after, Li Pingyang followed Chief Steward Ding to a camp in the wilds.

Two guards, blades drawn, blocked their way. Chief Steward Ding hurriedly explained that this was the man the envoy wished to see, warning the guards that any delay could cost them their heads.

The guards hastily stepped aside, one leading the way.

They arrived at the largest tent in the camp. Li Pingyang lifted a corner of the curtain and peeked inside.

An old man was lying on the bed playing a mobile game on the latest smartphone, shouting, “You’re all hopeless! I can’t carry you anymore! Don’t ask me to play with you again!”

Scratching his head, Li Pingyang wondered if Chief Steward Ding was playing a trick on him—this old man looked lively, hardly at death’s door.

Behind him, Chief Steward Ding noticed Li Pingyang frozen at the entrance and was perplexed.

Li Pingyang cleared his throat, pushed aside the curtain, and approached the old man. Glancing at the phone screen, he saw the game was “Honor of Kings,” and the old man was only at bronze rank. Li Pingyang muttered under his breath, “Trash!”

The old man turned, saw the handsome youth, and said, “Think you can do better? Take it, then!”

Li Pingyang simply smiled and nodded as he accepted the phone. Immediately, the screen buzzed with triple, quadruple, and quintuple kills—he was unstoppable.

Sweat poured down the old man’s forehead as he exclaimed in awe, struggling to sit up and begging, “Teach me!”

Li Pingyang burst out laughing.

A fit of coughing brought him back to reality—he turned to see Chief Steward Ding scowling behind him, and realized it was all an illusion.

In fact, he was still standing at the curtain, clutching it, lost in thought.

On the bed, the envoy was barely breathing. Li Pingyang rushed forward, took the old man’s trembling hand, and introduced himself as Li Gou Dan.

The envoy forced his eyes open, took one look at Li Pingyang, and grabbed his ear. “Couldn’t you have come sooner? Got any wine?”

Li Pingyang called out to Chief Steward Ding outside, “Bring me a jug of Ma Lan Mountain.”

Soon, with Li Pingyang’s support, the envoy sat up and sipped the wine. After just one mouthful, he seemed to revive, roaring with laughter and praising the wine before falling silent.

Li Pingyang was left dumbfounded—what had he been summoned for?

Just as he thought the envoy had passed, the old man suddenly seized his hand. Li Pingyang yelped, “He’s come back from the dead!” and prepared to bolt.

The envoy croaked that he wasn’t dead yet, and said someone had entrusted him with something for Li Pingyang. He looked toward a wooden box by his pillow.

Li Pingyang followed his gaze. The black box was carved with serpent-like patterns, chilling to the touch like ice. He was about to open it when the envoy stopped him, urging him to wait until he was alone, lest anyone else discover it.

Suppressing his curiosity, Li Pingyang tucked the box into his robe while no one was looking. He turned to ask the envoy more, only to find he had slipped away.

Exiting the tent, Li Pingyang bumped into Chief Steward Ding. The steward explained he’d heard the room fall silent and was worried.

Li Pingyang nodded and smiled, acting as if nothing had happened, but inwardly, he began to grow suspicious of Chief Steward Ding.

Thinking the matter settled, Li Pingyang prepared to leave. As he reached the edge of the camp, the envoy’s guards rushed up and blocked his way. There was one more task.

Before his death, the envoy had entrusted a very important letter to be delivered personally to the Lord of Tianyu City. They handed the letter to Li Pingyang. Though he was reluctant, he had no choice but to accept.

They also gave him a sheepskin map, marked with place names he did not recognize. Much of the map was covered with odd triangles and circles, their meanings obscure.

To help him on his journey, the guards provided him with a fine horse named Windchaser, its saddlebags packed with enough rations for a week.

The only problem—Li Pingyang couldn’t ride.

Just as he was fretting, Li Hu clapped him on the shoulder. “Need a groom?” he asked.