The Mottled Bamboo Cylinder

Sun Hongye opened his mouth to speak, but after glancing around, he said, "It's not convenient here." People bustled to and fro in the clinic. At that very moment, two young maids were changing dressings for a patient opposite him, occasionally turning to steal glances at He Lingchuan. This place was only suited for idle chatter. He Lingchuan understood and changed the subject. "How are you feeling right now?" "Sore, achy, and completely drained of strength." Having talked for so long, Sun Hongye was quite tired and made no attempt to hide it. "There are renowned physicians here, so just follow the doctor's orders. I won't bring you any medicine, so as to avoid any conflict between the herbs." The poison on the arrow had been vicious; this lad had brushed with death last night, and he was bound to suffer a bit more. "Rest well. I'll come see you again the day after tomorrow." Afterward, He Lingchuan went to find the attending physician himself, instructing him to nurse Sun Hongye back to health with meticulous care, with all expenses covered by the He family. That afternoon, Sun Hongye found that the meals brought by the clinic were entirely different: a carefully simmered pork liver congee infused with wolfberries, paired with two shredded radish pancakes fried to a crisp golden-brown, a large steamed meat bun packed densely with filling, and a small dish of pickles balanced between sweet and salty. It made everyone around him green with envy. When Sun Hongye asked about it, his goodwill toward He Lingchuan grew even deeper. Just as He Lingchuan stepped out of the clinic, Fixer Liu returned as well, and they rode the carriage back to the inn. He was a wounded man himself; after walking about outside, his wounds began to throb faintly again. Madam Ying had already stopped by his guest room once and found it empty. Seeing him return, she furrowed her brows. "Running around outside covered in wounds—do you value your life at all?" Detecting the care veiled beneath her scolding, He Lingchuan chuckled and produced a box, handing it over. "I bought a little something for Mother." The square box was made of Huanghuali rosewood, light brown and bearing the patina of age. Its surface was smooth, uncarved and undecorated, save for a wax seal stamped in the lower-left corner reading: Yangliu Mountain Workshop. Madam Ying opened the box and saw a pumpkin-shaped hand warmer resting on a cushion inside. She had several hand warmers of her own, styled after either flowers and birds or bats and longevity symbols, made of either red copper or nickel-brass. But the one before her bore dark gold patterns gilded over an indigo-blue base. There was no fixed pattern, and the veins shifted in depth and shade, yet it possessed an immense dignity, luxury, and grandeur, almost seeming to glow of its own accord in the dark. With just a single glance, Madam Ying could not tear her eyes away. Though no charcoal had been added, Madam Ying found it slightly warm to the touch, smooth and rounded. "Where did you find this?" "This is an antique from the previous dynasty," Fixer Liu chimed in opportunely. "Roughly two hundred years ago, the Yangliu Mountain Workshop was the most renowned craft shop in eastern Xiluo. This 'Spring Sight' hand warmer was a cherished piece kept by the master himself. Originally, the mirror, warmer, comb, hairpin, and box formed a complete set, each bearing an inscription on the bottom, but to this day, the other pieces are no longer to be found." Turning the little warmer in her hands, Madam Ying said, "It is certainly beautiful, but what does this color have to do with spring?" In spring, the grass grows and orioles flutter, themes typically conveyed in reds, yellows, and greens. How could it be such a somber, composed combination of deep blue and dark gold? It seemed far better suited to winter. Fixer Liu smiled and said, "You might not know this, but when the master of Yangliu Mountain Workshop was young, he once accidentally fell into the water. In the early spring, when the frozen lake was just beginning to thaw, he looked up from beneath the surface and saw sunlight breaking through fissures in the ice—and it created this very scene. He etched that sight into his memory and finally recreated it in his craft decades later." Madam Ying tried to maintain her composure, but her smile was too wide to suppress. "To think there was such a story behind it!" Not wishing to lose her poise before her eldest son, she cleared her throat forcefully. "Chuan'er is very thoughtful; Mother likes it immensely. Fixer Liu, a few officials' wives are coming to visit me shortly. Head into the city and buy some pastries from an established shop to treat our guests." Her leg was injured, but the bone had been spared, and after Lingguang applied medicine, the pain had been suppressed. Time in Shihuan City was precious and could not be wasted purely on convalescence. Fixer Liu hurried to agree, winking at He Lingchuan as he turned around. This piece had indeed been procured by him. Over the past month or two, numerous officials and wealthy merchants had their properties confiscated. Their valuable belongings quickly circulated into the market through various channels; so long as one possessed discerning eyes and deep pockets, this was truly an excellent time to hunt for treasures. Had the He family arrived a year later, the price of that Spring Sight hand warmer would have at least doubled. He Lingchuan gave him a thumbs-up. An antique was only truly good when it had a good story attached. Giving gifts to women was such a specialized endeavor that it truly had to be left to professionals; otherwise, one might as well not give anything at all. He had also prepared a silver-hair writing brush for He Yue and a set of garments for He Chunhua as gifts. While waiting for her guests, Madam Ying had the servants add charcoal to the Spring Sight warmer, placing it delightfully on the tea table, ready to fiddle with it casually during her conversation with the officials' wives. Something so beautiful and full of charm was like fine jewelry—it simply had to be displayed for others to see. ... He Lingchuan had just returned to his room in the inn and taken barely two sips of hot tea when a guard came to report: "Master Li Fubo of Songyang Mansion requests an audience." He Lingchuan was overjoyed and personally went out to greet him at the inn entrance. The chief master craftsman of Songyang Mansion's Middle Kiln arrived spryly, followed by two disciples. After exchanging pleasantries, Li Fubo introduced them. "These are my direct disciples. They wish to accompany me north to assist me while broadening their horizons. I will cover their board and lodging—would the patron mind accommodating them?" "I couldn't ask for more," He Lingchuan said with a smile. "Why must Master Li stand on such ceremony? Asking you to travel thousands of li with me is already burden enough. The two young brothers' expenses will all be on me." Seeing his generosity, Li Fubo no longer refused, shifting the topic to the broken saber: "Reforging a broken blade is like refining pills—it requires constant monitoring, and there is only one chance. The journey will be fraught with inconvenience, so I was thinking we should wait until reaching Xiazhou to begin?" He Lingchuan also understood that haste makes waste and said there was no rush. Then, taking the walnut boat from his robes, he said with a touch of embarrassment, "Could Master Li take a look at this and see if it can still be repaired?" "The Mustard Seed Boat?" Li Fubo was taken aback. "Was this Sun Fuping's as well?" "Sharp eyes. I thought this thing was called a walnut boat." He Lingchuan handed it toward him. "My father confiscated it from Sun Fuping. I borrowed it last night, only for an opponent to ruin it like this! Look, can it still be saved?" "This was originally crafted by our Songyang Mansion, so of course I recognize it." He Lingchuan was somewhat surprised. "This is also from Songyang Mansion? Sun Fuping said he borrowed it from a friend." "It was indeed borrowed from Songyang Mansion. Our Lord Marquis even brought it up a couple of times in the past." ?! Now that was awkward. The original owner of the Mustard Seed Boat was the Marquis of Songyang, yet it was also He Chunhua's spoils of war. Fortunately, Li Fubo examined it and said, "No matter. Belongings go to those fated to have them, and I imagine the Lord Marquis won't mind. Hmm, interesting... The Mustard Seed Boat was originally inscribed with arrays; its maker even bragged to me that once fueled by profound crystal, it would be impervious to fire and water." "Yet it was burned into this state—who slapped his face so thoroughly?" Li Fubo asked He Lingchuan. "Could it be a demon puppet?" He Lingchuan raised his brows. "So Master Li already knows?" "In a place like Shihuan City, news has wings," Li Fubo chuckled. "The demon puppets crafted by Dong Rui truly live up to their reputation. If that fire had burned an ordinary person, they would have turned to ash in an instant. Did you see that demon puppet?" "A crow's beak and face, bat wings, a snake-like neck, and very large. Does Master Li know what breed it is?" Li Fubo shook his head. "I'm curious as well. That kind of true fire would be splendid for artifact forging." Sensing he had strayed off-topic, he looked at the walnut boat and said, "My specialty lies in weapon smithing rather than intricate contraptions, so I don't have absolute certainty with this. Would you dare let me give it a try?" It would also keep him from being bored on the journey north. "Of course." Since the walnut boat wasn't his anyway, He Lingchuan agreed readily. Li Fubo added, "By the way, if I may ask, what other magical artifacts were among Sun Fuping's effects?" "Sun Fuping's?" He Lingchuan pondered carefully. "My father was the one who confiscated his belongings. I only know of the Entangling Silk Heaven's Net. Did Songyang Mansion lend other artifacts to Sun Fuping?" "There is a mottled bamboo cylinder stamped with three seals—gold, red, and purple—on its surface. It was an heirloom of the previous Master of Songyang Mansion, and our Lord Marquis hopes to recover it." "A bamboo cylinder with seals?" He Lingchuan nodded. "Once my father returns, I will certainly ask him." Li Fubo said solemnly, "Thank you, Patron!" Because the Auxiliary Army could depart for the north at any time, Li Fubo and his two disciples simply booked rooms in this inn rather than returning to their sect. This morning, the busiest person was He Yue. Last night, both the He family and Ke Jihai had been ambushed on the mountain descent from Luming Garden. Ke Jihai escorted the prisoners away, while He Chunhua entered the palace overnight to meet the King, setting off towering waves of commotion. This morning, dignitaries who received the news sent messengers to offer condolences to the Chief Administrator of Xiazhou and sound him out. After receiving a few, Madam Ying grew thoroughly annoyed and took the opportunity to slip out for shopping, leaving only He Yue at the inn to toil away without complaint. He Lingchuan simply played his part as the carefree young master, ignoring the mess entirely. After lunch, he retreated to his room to seize the time for breath regulation and martial arts practice. Last night's battle had been brief, perilous, and thrilling. It was both a tempering trial and a reminder: individual strength was the foundation, and he had to elevate it as quickly as possible. Compared to two or three months ago, He Lingchuan's cultivation had improved imperceptibly. His movement, vision, and divine sense in particular were far beyond what they once were. The werewolf demon puppet was as swift as a wraith; had it been the old He Lingchuan, he would have been disemboweled within two clashes, unable to hold out until He Chunhua finished reciting the Entangling Silk Incantation. Whether with origin power's assistance or not. At the end of the day, one's own cultivation was the foundation; origin power was merely a power amplifier. If the disparity in strength between two sides was too great, origin power would hardly make a difference—just as He Chunhua had been before Sun Fuping. That evening, He Chunhua returned from the capital, gathering the whole family for dinner to convey the royal decree. Seeing him beaming with radiant joy, He Lingchuan knew this trip to the capital had gone smoothly in every regard. Sure enough, He Chunhua informed his wife and sons that the King had summoned him to ask for details about the ambush at Luming Garden, then pointed to the sand table and questioned him on strategies for defending the northern border against enemies. Anyone else might have been caught off guard, after all having not yet arrived at the post nor witnessed the northern situation in person. Yet ever since being promoted to Chief Administrator of Xiazhou, He Chunhua had made a point of gathering frontline intelligence and frequently simulated scenarios with his advisors. Thus, he answered with fluent ease.