Chapter 2: The Scholar’s Peculiar Appearance

The leading constable, Zhang Jifeng, strode over to Li Chuanglai, who was sprawled on the ground. His broad, greasy face bore the marks of middle age. "What are you doing lying there? Trying to hatch eggs in the spinach field?"

Li Chuanglai sprang to his feet, his backside caked with mud and sprinkled with weeds, making him look utterly ridiculous.

Another constable jeered, "Well, well, getting cozy for a bird's nest—ready to lay an egg, are you?" The three constables burst out laughing.

Erhu and Uncle De, though amused, worried their laughter might arouse suspicion and quickly stifled it. Zhang Jifeng surveyed the farmers at work, then approached Uncle De and asked quietly, "Old man, has there been anything strange in the village lately?"

Uncle De's eyes darted uneasily. Fearing trouble, he shook his head at once. For a commoner, nothing was more desirable than a peaceful life, tending a small patch of land. Encounters with officers rarely spelled good news.

Li Chuanglai kept staring at the pattern on the constables' hats—there was something oddly familiar about it, though he couldn't place it.

Zhang Jifeng lowered his horizontal blade, his pronounced sword-like brows furrowing on that greasy face, marring their handsome shape.

A flicker of those brows made Li Chuanglai jump. After all, he had always relied on luck and a thick skin to get by.

Suddenly, Zhang Jifeng sensed something amiss. He turned his sharp gaze on Li Chuanglai, staring at him as if ready to devour him.

Li Chuanglai, sensing danger, blurted out in panic, "Nothing strange! Nowhere is strange!"

This bizarre outburst only made the constables more suspicious. One barked, "You look unfamiliar. Where are you from?"

Li Chuanglai tried to maintain a calm face, though inwardly he was flustered. Erhu, never one to tolerate officials bullying commoners, grew indignant.

Erhu said, "Sir, this is A Luo, he lives next door to me. Been here for years, always on his own, not in the best of health, doesn't work much."

Though still doubtful, the constables let it go after Erhu's confident reply.

Zhang Jifeng gave a hearty laugh, his shoulders shaking, then looked at Erhu with an ambiguous smile. "These days have been unusual. If you notice anything odd, be sure to report it promptly."

Everyone nodded, and Zhang Jifeng hurried off with his companions. Li Chuanglai sensed the tension left in their wake; the farmers had already begun to whisper among themselves.

One said, "Could that rumor about the rat monster be true?"

Another replied, "It must have to do with the strange illness plaguing Magistrate Sima lately."

Hearing this, Erhu scoffed, swinging his hoe, "You lot don't actually believe it's some rat monster, do you? What do you think, Uncle De?"

Uncle De stroked his beard thoughtfully. "It's only a rumor, but better to believe than not. We should all be cautious."

Erhu grunted, "If a spirit that drains human vitality is causing havoc at the yamen, that's Heaven's punishment for them! Serves them right, those bastards sitting high in their halls, never caring if we common folk live or die!"

---

The sun blazed overhead, and the sweat soaking everyone's bodies seemed almost enough to water a seedling. Erhu swung his dark arm, the smell of sweat wafting off him could only be matched by a sewer left untouched for ages—a pity, for Chuanglai had no way to describe it like that, since there were no sewers in this Tang Dynasty.

Tang Dynasty! The thought jolted Li Chuanglai, reminding him this was only a game. Yet everything before him felt so real, it was impossible to distinguish reality from illusion.

He vaguely remembered the game designers saying that in this era, victory lay in being the first to complete the mission.

Easier said than done.

The first issue: what era was this, exactly?

Li Chuanglai quickly asked those around him what time period it was. No one understood what he meant, so he tried another way: "Which emperor reigns now?"

Uncle De sighed, "It's the Zhenguan reign."

Zhenguan? Wonderful! Even the most uninformed knew Zhenguan was the time of Emperor Taizong—a golden age for the Tang Dynasty, when the realm was at peace and the people prospered.

But a glance at the despondent faces around him dispelled that illusion. This was only the beginning of Zhenguan, the emperor had only recently ascended the throne.

No clue at all! As the others returned to their plowing, Erhu called Li Chuanglai over to join in.

Listlessly, Chuanglai worked a few rows before squatting down to think. If he couldn't complete the mission, he might be trapped in this world forever! No prize money—and stuck inside a game? What if he could never return?

The thought filled him with anguish; he covered his face, almost in tears.

Suddenly, a beeping sound caught his ear. At his feet, a blue light flickered from a stalk of spinach—definitely not something from the Tang Dynasty.

He quickly pulled up the spinach and examined it closely. On its leaf, faint marks appeared; held up to the sun, a line of simplified characters shone through:

"Find the cause of the strange events, and patiently await the arrival of your destined ally."

The next day, Li Chuanglai emerged from his shabby house and began asking around about any recent odd occurrences. He learned that three households had encountered misfortune, all affecting the male heads of the families.

Conversations with two families went poorly—they thought him untrustworthy and shut their doors in his face.

The third household was impoverished: a scholar and his elderly father, who reluctantly let Chuanglai in after he insisted he was a physician, allowing him to see the scholar lying in bed.

Their family name was Liu, though they had previously been Tang, but had changed it due to a taboo. The scholar had failed the imperial exams twice, and his father just managed a few small shops to keep them afloat.

The scholar, seeing Chuanglai's shabby appearance, turned away without so much as a glance.

The old father gazed at his unfilial son, shook his head, and sighed. He offered Chuanglai a seat and brought out some flatbread to share.

---

This scholar was a peculiar case—pale, lacking vitality, yet not suffering from any obvious illness or contagious disease. His father explained that since a certain day, the scholar's complexion had worsened, his appetite faded, and his spirit flagged. Many doctors had come, but none found the cause.

"Forgive me, let me check your pulse," Chuanglai said. The scholar ignored him, so Chuanglai reached under the quilt to feel the pulse himself.

In truth, Chuanglai knew nothing of traditional diagnosis—he only understood that pulse rate had something to do with health. Still, he went through the motions, trying to look the part of a doctor, hoping to learn more about the supposed spirit.

The pulse seemed normal, though perhaps a bit weak—deficiency of energy? Was it a problem with the spleen and stomach, or something else? He was utterly lost, and wracked his brain for how wandering doctors or magicians in TV dramas would act.

The old father returned with flatbread and two slices of raw fish. Raw fish was common enough, but to Chuanglai, it was a fine treat. Starving, he abandoned all decorum and devoured the fish, letting it swim merrily in his stomach.

The old man, watching this "doctor" eat so heartily, felt hope rise within him. He smiled and asked, "So, esteemed physician, is there a cure for my son?"

A cure? What cure? If only he had brought some Liuwei Dihuang pills—he might have become a Tang Dynasty millionaire!

Chuanglai shook his head, struck a flamboyant pose with his fingers splayed, as he'd seen in dramas. The old man, thinking a ritual was about to begin, stepped back and knelt reverently, awaiting a miracle.

Now things had gotten out of hand. With the old man kneeling, how was he supposed to handle this? In his panic, images of calisthenics from school flashed through his mind, and his body moved of its own accord...

He performed a full set of school radio exercises. The old man, delighted, recalled hearing of the legendary physician Hua Tuo's Five Animal Frolics—though he'd never learned them. This doctor's moves were like a tiger pouncing, a roc spreading its wings, a dragon gliding through water—powerful, graceful, captivating.

"Divine Physician Luo, your Five Animal Frolics are truly a lifesaving medicine!"

Chuanglai forced a smile, noticing the scholar on the bed staring at him in astonishment, and couldn't help but feel a surge of pride.

He had stumbled out of trouble and even gained admiration—a set of radio exercises had worked wonders beyond his wildest imagination.

After leaving the scholar's home, the old father, on his own initiative, handed over the notebook his son always carried, feeling it might be useful.

"Divine Physician, this book is my son's treasure. I don't know if it will be of any use."

Chuanglai flipped through it. "Doesn't look like much. Is there some hidden meaning?"

The old man shook his head. "Think of it as a clue, just in case."

What use could an ordinary book possibly have? Chuanglai thought little of it—until a faint blue glow began to shimmer from its pages, making him realize he might have just stumbled upon another clue in his quest.