Chapter Ninety-Nine: Morning Bells and Evening Drums (Continuing Through the Fifth Watch)

“That’s simple. I’ll have someone go to the hospital right away and buy a few bags of blood. Any blood type you need, no problem,” said Yue Leiting excitedly when he saw a breakthrough.

I shook my head regretfully.

“The blood bought from the hospital is useless. A millennia-old jade has its own spirit. The blood in hospitals is of unknown origin. The so-called ‘nourishing jade with blood’ means using blood to activate the ancient jade. If the blood doesn’t quickly permeate, it will clog the small pores. Once that happens, this white jade tofu is ruined.”

“Then… what kind of blood is needed?” Gu Anqi asked, puzzled.

I paced back and forth a few steps, then sat on the sofa, thinking deeply. Suddenly, I asked with significant meaning, “Few know that Zhu Yuanzhang secretly built the imperial tombs. He wanted to preserve the secrets of the Ming’s Fourteen Tombs. So, to whom would he pass these secrets?”

“Of course, to the next emperor to ascend the throne,” Yue Qianling said dismissively.

“Exactly! He would leave the secrets to the succeeding emperor. That means this white jade tofu is meant for the next emperor.”

“That’s obvious. He wouldn’t leave the kingdom he conquered to outsiders instead of his own descendants.”

“So, only the emperor would know the secret of this white jade tofu, and only the emperor would…”

At that moment, I suddenly stood up from the sofa, stunned for a long while before suddenly realizing, “This isn’t white jade tofu. It should be blood jade tofu. Since only the emperor knows the secret, it must require the emperor’s blood.”

Without hesitation, I picked up the knife on the table, cut my finger, and dripped blood onto the white jade tofu.

The blood fell on the jade’s surface and quickly seeped into the tiny pores. The white jade tofu, which had just gleamed with a white light, instantly reflected a blood-red glow.

The blurry images projected on the walls became unusually clear. Yet, the blood jade tofu projected not just one side, but characters from all four sides onto the room’s walls.

The room fell silent, everyone stunned by this strange scene.

“The clues to the Ming’s Fourteen Tombs really are hidden inside the white jade tofu. I never imagined the mechanism to be so ingenious and unfathomable. Without Yan Hui’s blood, no one could have unlocked this mystery,” Gu Anqi said with emotion.

Qiu Nuo quickly calmed down and looked at the characters on the walls, puzzled. “It seems we haven’t fully deciphered the secret of the white jade tofu. The final clue must lie in the texts on these four walls.”

On the front wall were two seven-character quatrains:

“At dawn, the bell echoes through the city,
Leaning on the railing, one hears the drum’s sound.”

Qiu Nuo repeated the lines quietly, then explained, “Morning bell and evening drum! The first line means the city can hear the morning bell ringing everywhere. ‘Hearing’ the drum here isn’t about sound but seeing—meaning from the bell tower, you can see where the drum is struck…”

“That’s obvious,” Yue Qianling said. “This refers to Jingzhao, the ancient capital of thirteen dynasties. Jingzhao’s landmark is the bell tower, and only half a mile from the bell tower is the drum tower. Both were built under Zhu Yuanzhang’s order.”

“In Jingzhao!” I whispered. “These two lines tell us the location. Could the Ming’s Fourteen Tombs be in Jingzhao?”

On the left wall were also two seven-character quatrains:

“The window frames the western peaks with eternal snow,
Laughing, watching the white monkey catch the lonely moon.”

“I recognize the first line. It’s from Du Fu’s famous Tang dynasty poem, ‘Quatrain.’ But I don’t understand the second line—‘laughing, watching the white monkey catch the lonely moon,’” Gu Anqi said, puzzled.

“Two unrelated poems combined must mean something else,” Qiu Nuo mused calmly. “The first line is Du Fu’s ‘Quatrain,’ describing the heavy snow season among the twenty-four solar terms…”

“Heavy snow! Solar term!” I looked up excitedly. “The front wall’s couplet tells us the location, and these two lines must indicate the time—the twelfth solar term, Heavy Snow, which falls on December seventh.”

“That explains the second line, ‘laughing, watching the white monkey catch the lonely moon,’” Yue Qianling continued happily. “The first line pinpoints the month and day, and the second line should specify the exact time of day. The monkey represents the hour from 3 to 5 p.m.”

“Together, that means December 7th, at 3 p.m., location Jingzhao. But what are we supposed to do then?” Xiao Lianshan asked, confused.

My gaze fell on the right wall’s characters:

“Fortunate to ascend Kunlun and paint the rivers and mountains,
From afar, gazing toward the northern gate, counting stars.”

I stroked my chin, pondering for a long time before murmuring, “’Ascend Kunlun to paint the rivers and mountains’—Kunlun Mountain is legendary, a sacred peak. In the Classic of Mountains and Seas, the heavens don’t question its height; instead, one must look upward to appreciate its grandeur. The poem means standing atop Kunlun Mountain and surveying the land with majestic spirit. Here, it likely means ‘climbing to a height.’”

Qiu Nuo nodded, agreeing with my analysis, calmly adding, “’From afar, gazing toward the northern gate, counting stars’—standing high to observe the stars makes them clear at a glance. The ‘northern gate’ in ancient astronomy refers to the Big Dipper. But what does ‘counting stars’ mean?”

“Counting stars? That’s easy. The more knowledge you have, the more complicated you make it,” Yue Leiting said with a relaxed shrug. “The Big Dipper has seven stars—of course, seven stars!”

My eyes brightened, and I smiled wryly at Yue Leiting. “You’re right, Brother Ting. These two seven-character quatrains convey ‘height.’ We must go to a high place, and the number seven is related!”

“What kind of clue is this? It gives us a place, time, and height?!” Xiao Lianshan rubbed his tired face, exhausted. “And the place is too vague. Jingzhao is an ancient capital of thirteen dynasties—how do we find anything in such a vast area?”

Unlike the previous three walls, the last wall displayed four seven-character quatrains:

“A century old, yet no one truly lives a century,
Hearing the Weiyang clock’s chime in drunkenness.
Today, watching Anba seize the kingdom,
The edict flies down amidst the five clouds.”

I racked my brains but couldn’t fathom the meaning of these four lines. Everyone else was even more baffled. Since these clues related to the Ming’s Fourteen Tombs, being too easily solved made me uneasy.

However, having deciphered the meanings on the previous three walls, we at least knew the Fourteen Tombs had a connection to Jingzhao, and the text mentioned the bell and drum towers—both personally ordered by Zhu Yuanzhang to be built. I wondered if these two places had some connection to the Fourteen Tombs.

I memorized all the texts on the four walls, then cleaned the white jade tofu thoroughly so no one else could ever discover its hidden secret.

When Xiao Lianshan turned on the light, he saw me smiling as I stared at the white jade tofu and the Jiulin Chengrui plate, hesitating before asking, “Yan Hui, this thing probably isn’t much use now, right?”

“No use at all, Brother Ting. I advise you to stop thinking about it. Some people have already made up their minds.”

I knew what Yue Leiting was after. These two items were genuinely priceless treasures, and he had long coveted them. But after hearing me, he realized what it means to be the bird caught in the trap.

“I’ll send them to the Archaeological Institute early tomorrow,” Yue Qianling said cheerfully as she packed the two artifacts. “Don’t worry, I’ll tell the institute you donated them to the country. Maybe they’ll even give you a reward, haha.”

Without delay, I told Yue Leiting I planned to set out for Jingzhao soon. He wanted to come along, but I guessed it wasn’t his call—Wei Yong probably wouldn’t let him leave his sight.

Yue Leiting agreed and told me Huo Qian happened to be in Jingzhao. If I encountered any difficulties, I should go find Huo Qian directly.

That night, I went alone to the balcony. The surroundings were silent. I realized it had been a long time since I felt this peaceful. A year ago, I was just a porter. Now, I held treasures rivaling the wealth of nations. After the battle at Gu Xiao Tian Villa, I wasn’t famous throughout the land, but at least my name was known.

Yet, the more this was so, the more I thought of Qin Yishou—why wouldn’t he let me learn Daoist mysticism and metaphysics, even cutting off one of my fingers so decisively? To be honest, on the day I won the competition, I really wished he had been there. I wanted to gain his recognition, even just a glance.

I don’t know what he’s doing now. Perhaps he never thought of me, but I have always thought of him.