novelraw Chapter 12 : The Mysterious Wooden Box
Chapter 12 : The Mysterious Wooden Box
Chapter 12: The Mysterious Wooden Box
Late at night, in the neighboring private room, Xiao Meier sat at the table in a huff, with the chilled lotus seed soup Honggu had sent placed before her.
She muttered nonstop under her breath, “Xu Fu… what a sharp-tongued vixen! Putting on airs! Ahh! So annoying!”
The more she thought about it, the angrier she became. Even her favorite lotus soup no longer went down, and she simply pushed the bowl and spoon aside.
She stood up and paced around the room twice, her gaze landing on an unfinished embroidered cloth doll beside the dressing table.
Her eyes shifted, and she grabbed a fine eyebrow brush, writing the two characters “Xu Fu” across the doll’s chest.
She examined it for a moment, still unsatisfied. Picking up the brush again, she drew two small eyes above the name, then added a large, slightly comical pig nose.
Looking at her “masterpiece,” she finally felt somewhat relieved. Holding the doll in one hand, she clenched the other into a delicate fist and thumped it several times, as if she were truly hitting Lin Xiaowan herself.
As midnight approached, Xiao Meier grew increasingly restless.
“Young Master Qin was only momentarily intrigued, fooled by that performance… yes, that must be it!” she tried to convince herself. “That Xu Fu—cold and sharp-tongued—how could Young Master Qin truly like her? It’s just for novelty!”
As she tried to persuade herself, Lin Xiaowan’s flawless face from their earlier argument inevitably surfaced in her mind—skin as smooth as porcelain, naturally red lips without adornment, and those long, thick lashes when she lifted her gaze… bah!
She shook her head, forcing the image away, yet inexplicably felt her confidence falter.
Suddenly, she heard footsteps echoing in the corridor, heading in her direction, finally stopping before the neighboring room.
She hurried to the door, forgetting even to put on her embroidered shoes, and pushed open a crack—just in time to see Qin Bai enter the room with a smile.
“Damn it! Damn it!!”
Xiao Meier shut the door, pacing anxiously back and forth. Her fingers unconsciously twirled her hair. After much hesitation, she could not suppress herself and finally walked to the wall adjacent to Lin Xiaowan’s room.
She pressed her ear tightly against the wall, holding her breath.
The walls of Drunken Immortal Pavilion were built thick for soundproofing, but if one pressed close and listened carefully, some sounds could still be caught.
“Maybe… Young Master Qin is just fiddling with that broken wooden thing again and won’t do anything to her…” she comforted herself with her last sliver of hope.
However, not long after she began listening—
“Young Master Qin… you…”
“Bang!”—it sounded like a table or chair being knocked.
Then came the rustling of fabric, mixed with faint, suppressed whimpers.
The floor seemed to creak slightly, and after a while, the sounds shifted toward the window, trembling faintly in the night breeze.
At first, Xiao Meier’s heart flared with anger, her teeth clenched. “That… that vixen! She really knows how to seduce men. Midnight has just begun, and already… already so impatient!”
After listening for a while, an overwhelming sense of grievance surged up. Her eyes grew hot, and tears began to fall drop by drop.
Even so, she bit her lip, her vision blurred with tears, continuing to eavesdrop.
The sounds lasted for an entire hour, with no sign of stopping.
Listening like this, her initial anger and grievance gradually gave way to a strange emotion—a mixture of bitterness and imagination.
The faint noises through the wall involuntarily conjured up blush-inducing scenes in her mind.
Unknowingly, Xiao Meier projected herself into it, imagining that she was the one entangled with Young Master Qin… As she listened, she became somewhat entranced, her body growing slightly weak.
After an unknown amount of time, the emotional highs and lows, coupled with the draining fantasies, left Xiao Meier feeling exhausted.
She slowly slid down along the wall, sitting on the floor, her head leaning against it. Curling up, she drifted into a hazy sleep.
In the neighboring room.
The storm of passion had just subsided. The red candles had burned halfway down, their light flickering.
Lin Xiaowan’s long hair cascaded loose, a fine sheen of sweat on her forehead as she lay against Qin Bai’s chest.
She slightly raised her head, her eyes carrying just the right trace of confusion and dependence after her first experience, her voice faintly hoarse. “Young Master Qin… was I… not able to serve you well?”
At this moment, fury surged within her heart, and even a hint of killing intent arose.
After all this time, she had secretly circulated the basic sensing technique of the Profound Essence Scripture, yet she could not detect even the slightest loosening or leakage of his Primordial Yang!
This Qin Bai had sealed his Primordial Yang so tightly!
Though angered, Lin Xiaowan did not dare to use the Cauldron Chapter to extract Female Essence, fearing it might alert this second young master of the Qin Family.
Qin Bai chuckled twice upon hearing her, not answering immediately.
He reached out, gently brushing aside the strands of hair stuck to her cheek with sweat. His gaze was no longer intoxicated—it was instead remarkably clear.
“Xu Fu,” he suddenly spoke, his voice steady, “do you know what a cultivator is?”
Lin Xiaowan’s heart tightened slightly, but on the surface, she revealed just the right amount of confusion and curiosity, gently shaking her head. “A cultivator? I’ve only heard storytellers mention them in teahouses—people who can fly through the heavens and escape the earth, immortal beings who live forever…”
She trailed off, her eyes filled with longing and admiration.
Qin Bai looked at her, his gaze lingering on her delicate face for a moment before speaking slowly, “Cultivators absorb the spiritual energy of heaven and earth to temper themselves. Primordial Yang for male cultivators, Primordial Yin for female cultivators—these are a point of innate life essence, and also the foundation of cultivation, of utmost importance. For cultivators like myself, Primordial Yang must not be easily depleted.”
His tone was calm, as if stating an unrelated fact. “The pleasures of the bed have their own enjoyment, but if it damages one’s Dao foundation, then the loss outweighs the gain.”
At that moment, as Lin Xiaowan lay against his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat, a chill she could not suppress rose in her heart.
She realized she had underestimated this second young master of the Qin Family.
The rumored hedonistic, indulgent young master from the streets had now revealed another layer before her—calm, self-controlled, and clearly aware of his own condition.
If not for her current identity as a courtesan of Drunken Immortal Pavilion, and having shared intimacy with him, she likely would not have glimpsed Qin Bai’s true face.
“I see.” Lin Xiaowan responded softly, as if half-understanding, burying her face back into the crook of his neck, concealing the sharp glint that flashed through her eyes.
Qin Bai seemed unwilling to dwell further on the matter. He gently patted her back, then rose from the bed, casually draping an outer robe over himself before walking to the wooden table in the center of the room.
On the table lay the “wooden lump” he had been fiddling with in Xiao Meier’s room the day before.
Lin Xiaowan remained on the bed for a moment before wrapping herself in a thin outer garment. Barefoot, she stepped onto the floor, walked over to the table, poured him a cup of warm tea, and handed it to him. Taking the opportunity, she sat beside him and curiously examined the strange object.
The item was about the size of two fists. Its top and bottom were square, while the four edges curved outward, making the middle bulge and the ends slightly taper—a peculiar shape.
The most unusual feature was its surface, densely carved with numerous characters arranged in no apparent order.
Seeing her interest, Qin Bai casually handed it to her. “Take a look.”
Lin Xiaowan accepted it. It felt heavy in her hand, neither metal nor wood, cold and hard to the touch. As she examined it closely, she noticed that the characters did not seem fixed. Lightly pressing her finger onto a raised “mountain” character—
“Click.” With a soft sound, the “mountain” character sank slightly. At the same time, on the opposite side of the box, a previously raised “bed” character popped back out and flattened.
“Oh?” Lin Xiaowan’s eyes widened slightly. This mechanism was rather interesting.
Qin Bai explained from the side, “A few days ago, I saw this item at an inconspicuous second-hand stall in the north of the city. The vendor acted mysteriously, claiming it was a ‘Thousand Mechanism Poetry Lock,’ containing ten layers of mechanisms. If one presses the corresponding characters in the correct sequence to unlock them all, the core can be opened, and inside lies a great opportunity.”
He pointed to the top of the box, where there was a recessed character “moon,” written in an ancient style. “It is said this is the starting hint.”
After speaking, he took the box back and deftly pressed two characters.
As the characters “bed” and “before” were pressed in sequence, they popped back up in response.
Resting her cheek on one hand, Lin Xiaowan watched his movements and suddenly asked in a somewhat innocent tone, “Since there is an opportunity, why doesn’t Young Master simply… smash it open? Or find a craftsman to force it open?”
Qin Bai laughed and shook his head, looking at her with a hint of “as expected” understanding.
“I’ve already tried.” His tone was casual. “It’s just a finely crafted toy. As for the opportunity…”
A faint, ambiguous smile curved his lips. “It’s likely just a gimmick by that vendor. However, the mechanism itself is quite interesting, and it aligns with the principles of poetry. Moreover…”
He paused, his fingers unconsciously brushing over the surface of the box. “I do quite like poetry. As a pastime, it’s not bad.”
Lin Xiaowan listened quietly and casually said, “Poetry… I know a little as well.”
“Oh?” Qin Bai raised a brow, intrigued. He turned to look at her, his eyes carrying both curiosity and a trace of amusement. “You know poetry too? Then I must test you.”
He leaned slightly closer, lowering his voice, laced with both coaxing and faint threat. “I’ll give you a topic. If you can answer, I’ll grant you one request—as long as it’s not excessive. But if you’re like certain people…”
He cast a meaningful glance toward the wall, “pretending to understand and making things up, then you’ll have to…”
His gaze swept across the room’s scattered traces, implying, “be properly punished.”
Lin Xiaowan met his gaze, her eyes clear and fearless. “Please give the topic, Young Master.”
Qin Bai pointed at himself and said leisurely, “Use ‘Qin’ to compose a poem. The surname ‘Qin’ holds a special status in Luoyang City—somewhat of a taboo. Ordinary people composing poetry would not dare use this character.”
Worried I would copy from the scholars in the brothels? That would be underestimating me, Lin Xiaowan thought.
She stood and walked to the window.
Moonlight fell upon her thinly clad figure, outlining her graceful silhouette.
Resting her chin lightly on one hand, she appeared to be deep in thought.
Qin Bai watched with interest, waiting for her answer.
However, after only a few breaths, Lin Xiaowan turned around. Her red lips parted, her voice cool and clear in the silent night:
“Smoke shrouds cold waters, moon veils the sands;
At night I moor by the Qinhuai, near a tavern.”
The playful smile on Qin Bai’s face instantly froze, a trace of undisguisable shock flashing through his eyes.
The imagery in these lines was vivid, the mood hazy and distant, the wording refined and elegant. Most ingenious of all—the use of the Qinhuai River south of the city!
The character “Qin” was seamlessly embedded, fulfilling his requirement without seeming forced.
“Excellent lines!” he exclaimed, straightening unconsciously. “These lines are exquisite! Who composed them? Did you hear them from some master before? Is that person still in Luoyang City?”
He could hardly believe such lines came from a courtesan.
Lin Xiaowan returned to the table, calmly meeting his gaze. She extended a slender finger and pointed at her own nose.
Qin Bai froze, then shook his head with a laugh. “I don’t believe it. What is the next line? Quickly, say it!”
Lin Xiaowan was in no hurry. Tilting her head, she reminded him, “Young Master did say that if I answered, I could make a request.”
Only then did Qin Bai recall his promise. Smiling, he said, “Indeed. What do you want?”
Lin Xiaowan’s gaze fell upon the Thousand Mechanism Poetry Lock, curiosity flickering in her eyes. “I find this box quite interesting. I would like… to borrow it to play with for a couple of days. Is that acceptable?”
Qin Bai did not expect this request. Slightly surprised, he nonetheless pushed the box toward her readily. “Take it. Two days, as agreed—don’t break it.”
Lin Xiaowan accepted the box, holding it in her arms. Only then did she smile faintly and softly recite the next lines:
“The merchant girl knows not the sorrow of a fallen land, Still across the river she sings ‘The Flower of the Rear Court.’”
Qin Bai stood frozen in place. He murmured the four lines repeatedly, the more he savored them, the more astonished he became.
He suddenly lifted his head, his gaze blazing as he stared at Lin Xiaowan. “This poem… was truly composed by you?”
Even in his shock, he could not fully believe it.
Holding the box, Lin Xiaowan lowered her eyes, her tone drifting slightly. “Perhaps it came from a dream, or perhaps… it was born from feeling.”
Qin Bai looked at her deeply.
This Xu Fu—not only possessed peerless beauty, but also such poetic talent…
That night, Qin Bai seemed especially satisfied, his interest even higher than before.
Only when the sky began to lighten did he dress and leave. Before departing, he not only left behind a generous sum of silver, but even his tone had grown more intimate.
Hearing his footsteps fade away—
Lin Xiaowan sat alone by the disheveled bed, holding the Thousand Mechanism Poetry Lock. Her fingers unconsciously brushed over the raised characters.
Failing to extract Qin Bai’s Primordial Yang was indeed a pity. Fortunately, tonight had brought an even greater gain.
Lowering her gaze, her ten fingers deftly moved across the lock.
“Bed—Before—Bright—Moon—Light…”
“I didn’t expect that in this world, there is another transmigrator besides me. Is this person already dead, leaving behind a legacy, or have they set a beacon, searching for those from their homeland?”
“Click—”
The “moon” character at the top of the Thousand Mechanism Poetry Lock sank, and a brand new “sun” character emerged.