Cold. Hard. Strange ridges and textures pressed against him. In the pitch-black darkness, where not even a hand could be seen, Li Ce groped about, trying to identify the things around him. A curved-neck beast with twin heads, branching antlers jutting from its skull, enormous eyes wide open, a tongue hanging long and limp to its throat, its neck bound in tattered furs. Li Ce cried out and staggered backwards, his voice echoing for a breath before vanishing, as if swallowed by something unseen.
This was a tomb chamber. He was surrounded by tomb guardians.
He reached out, fumbling his way along the frigid passageway, struggling to move forward in the thin air. The silence was terrifying—this deathly stillness, this biting cold, this eerie absurdity. Ahead, a flicker of light—perhaps candlelight—swayed gently. He crept toward it and saw a massive coffin, mountains of burial treasures, and the corpses of tomb raiders who had perished in the traps. Giant crossbow bolts had pinned them to the walls, skewering their chests and tearing through their necks.
Li Ce stood as if struck by lightning.
He remembered now—he had slipped into this place through a raiders' tunnel. He now stood alone in the tightly sealed imperial mausoleum of the Tang Dynasty, with no way out.
Terror gripped his heart. His small body stood frozen as he heard the faint sound of nails scratching across stone. Who was it? Who was crawling after him? Overhead came a thunderous rumble. Shadows surged and coiled around him, lunging in the darkness. He curled up on the ground, sobbing for help, his heart nearly shattered by fear.
Then, suddenly, a warm hand gently stroked his head.
"Don't be afraid," came a voice, hot as flame. "I'm here."
Li Ce opened his eyes, raised his head—and felt himself falling. His limbs floated weightlessly for a breath, then all at once his body collapsed. Strength returned to his hands and feet, and with it, a sense of heaviness. A breeze stirred his hair. Light cleaved into his eyes like a blade. Daylight—bright, dazzling daylight. A slab of Mount Tai stone loomed before him, nearly touching the tip of his nose.
So it had all been a dream. A memory of childhood.
Li Ce coughed and brushed the stone aside. Behind it appeared the face of the Fifth Prince, Li Jing.
"You're alive?" Li Jing clutched the stone tightly. "Just now you couldn't even breathe—I thought you'd die here!"
Still shaken, he sat by the bedside, arms crossed. "Thank the heavens my Ninth Brother survived. You don't know—the imperial physician on the street was paler than you were!"
Lying on the bed, Li Ce recalled the chaos—the bustling crowd on Imperial Street, the pressure in his chest as he ran, that smiling face, and the arrow that pierced iron and willow alike. Ye Changgen should have escaped by now.
This was the Fifth Prince's residence. He had returned.
A hollow emptiness filled his heart. Li Ce sighed. "Thank you for your concern, Brother. I feel much better now."
Li Jing brightened at once. "Since you're better," he leaned in, "could you maybe talk to that little lady of yours and get her to leave already?"
"Little lady?" Li Ce frowned in confusion.
"That demoness from the Ye family!" Li Jing looked as if he were trying to swallow a stone, his voice full of suffering. "Do you know how much silver she's spent?"
According to Li Jing's complaints, ever since Ye Jiao arrived at the residence, she had burned through mountains of silver. After the physician prescribed a remedy, she refused to wait for the palace apothecary and instead dragged Li Jing's steward to the West Market to purchase the medicine herself.
"She bought ten roots of five-year-old Changbai Mountain ginseng!" he moaned.
"She went to buy medicine for me?" Li Ce's eyes lit up.
"Yes!" Li Jing stomped. "With my silver!"
"And then," Li Jing continued, "she said the weather was turning cold and your bedding wasn't thick enough. The steward brought thicker ones—she said they were too heavy! So off she went again, dragging the steward to buy ten silk quilts from Jiangnan! Kept two for you, handed the rest out to the ladies of the house!"
Li Ce sat up, gripping the bedding, his eyes ablaze. "She bought quilts for me?"
"Yes!" Li Jing was furious. "With my silver!"
Li Ce felt as though he were wrapped in clouds—too soft to sit up straight, too warm to lie still. He was caught in a dream, one he never wanted to wake from.
"Where is she now?"
Li Jing sighed. "She's chatting with the madam and some concubines. I overheard her talking about how to beat dogs—and people too. Teaching the women how to resist bullies. They were listening intently. One literate maid was even taking notes."
"Well, that sounds wonderful," Li Ce said, coughing with a smile, his cheeks gradually regaining color.
"Wonderful?" Li Jing was livid. "There are guards at every corner! Who would they be resisting? She's teaching them to beat me! Take her away! Now!"
She spent his money and plotted his downfall. How could he let her stay?
Li Ce grinned, revealing a neat row of teeth. When he finished laughing, he said, "Brother, would you kindly invite her in?"
Ye Jiao soon appeared. It was late summer, early autumn. Perhaps she had hurried; a sheen of sweat glistened at her nose, a flush warmed her cheeks. Dressed in red, she stepped into the room like a sunburst.
"You're awake?" she asked, sitting at his bedside, her concern written plainly on her face.
"I'm fine. Just an old ailment, I suppose." Li Ce couldn't bear to see her worry.
She nodded in sudden understanding. "No wonder they call you the 'Living Dead.' A few steps and you're down."
Her peach blossom eyes blinked, and she made to rise. "Since you're fine, I'll go now. Who knows what His Majesty will do after seeing my brother?"
Li Ce slowly lay back, a quiet thought stirring in his heart—perhaps he still needed someone to care for him.
"I don't feel quite well yet," he murmured, voice suddenly delicate. "Could you bring me a cup of tea?"
So she fetched the tea, tucked his quilt, and adjusted a screen before she was finally allowed to leave.
Her figure moved about the room, bright and full of life, making one forget the nightmare—assuring him that this, indeed, was the world of the living.
"Anything else?" Ye Jiao wasn't annoyed in the least. She didn't mind being ordered around like a servant. She was someone who repaid kindness and debt both. Knowing Li Ce had collapsed while protecting her brother, she only wanted to do more.
Li Ce thought for a moment. "I heard there's a tofu pudding shop in the West Market. It's said to be delicious."
"I'll get some!" Ye Jiao was an expert in all things food.
"Not today," Li Ce said softly, gazing at her radiant figure. "Tomorrow, perhaps?"
His expression held a faint hope, pride fragile in his illness, as though fearing rejection.
"Alright," Ye Jiao agreed. "Tofu pudding for breakfast tomorrow, then."
Before leaving, she reminded him like a mother might her child, "Take care and rest well."
"Tsk, tsk." The moment Ye Jiao left, Li Jing popped out. "Now I get it. That girl's fierce—but gullible. Just pretend to be sick and she's all over you. I should try it next time."
Li Ce cast him a sidelong glance from the bed. "You?" he snorted. "Being sick isn't enough. You'd have to play dead."
The Emperor rarely lost his temper. He considered rage a sign of incompetence. If one truly held control, what cause was there for anger?
Thus, he sat in calm silence, reviewing memorials as he awaited an explanation from Yan Jide, Commander of the Imperial Guards, and Liu Yan, Prefect of Jingzhao.
How had a willow leaf become iron? Who was responsible? What was their intention?
Was it a deliberate attempt to ruin Ye Changgen—or to slap the court in the face?
Today, the people and foreign envoys alike believed this was a grand spectacle arranged by the imperial court. The people cheered, the envoys were stunned. But if Ye Changgen had failed to pierce the iron leaf, would the court not have been mocked as dishonest and sinister?
The Emperor enjoyed watching others make fools of themselves—but he detested being made a fool.
Liu Yan, the Prefect, spoke first. "Your Majesty, I do not know what happened. The arrow performance on Imperial Street was under the purview of the Imperial Guards. Let Commander Yan provide an explanation."