Chapter 22: The Liu Residence Remains Unaware

Welcomed inside, Luo Gan followed the host into the courtyard. Frost already clung to the pine trees, and the potted plants left on the long bench had lost all vitality. By rights, winters in the south should never be this cold. How had autumn so quickly turned to such a scene?

"Not long ago, when I took my leave from you, there was nothing like this in the city," Luo Gan remarked.

Master Liu shook his head, sighing deeply. "People nowadays say we’ve been struck by the snow demon. I’ve heard something of it myself."

"Is it true that women can no longer bear children?"

"It is indeed true."

Master Liu led Luo Gan into the inner rooms, heading directly to the study. Inside, a scholar was practicing calligraphy and painting. When he saw Luo Gan, he rose and offered a slight bow. The difference between a man who has read thousands of books and ordinary folk lies in the way every gesture is tinged with inscrutable thought.

Having once impersonated a physician and taught this scholar a series of calisthenics, Luo Gan naturally cared about his condition. "How have you been lately?"

"The set of exercises you taught me, the Five Animal Frolics, has truly been effective. My energy and blood feel unblocked—there’s been real improvement."

"That is excellent to hear."

Master Liu brought out some pastries for Luo Gan to eat, but Luo Gan politely declined.

"My son’s condition has improved somewhat. If you know of any further remedies, perhaps you could suggest them," Master Liu said.

He had originally taught the scholar those exercises in hopes of tracking down the rat demon. Yet after all this trouble, he’d still found no trace of it—truly a mortifying thought. As for remedies, Luo Gan, a man of the modern age, couldn’t very well recommend antibiotics or similar things. To admit he was no physician would not only be embarrassing; in front of such a respectable family, he might even be shown the door.

After a brief struggle with himself, Luo Gan made up his mind.

"Master Liu, to tell the truth, I am not a physician."

Both Master Liu and the scholar were filled with questions, not understanding.

"In fact, I was once a Taoist, but have since retired to a life of seclusion."

"No wonder! I always thought you seemed far more at ease than most doctors, so knowledgeable about the flow of energy. That explains it," Master Liu said.

The scholar, however, remained skeptical, clearly not someone easily deceived.

"I saw your son in difficulty, and wanted to use what little learning I had to help if I could."

"I am ashamed... It was that very book which brought you trouble before. I truly feel I have wronged you!"

"It's all in the past," Luo Gan replied. "If not for your help, I would not have gotten through my ordeal. But tell me, have you any news for me this time?"

For Luo Gan, every relationship might be the key to his next step. He had to seize every opportunity.

"I oversee the archives in Anping County," Master Liu explained. "That wordless book was titled 'Three Hundred Tang Poems.' It contains many comments detrimental to the current dynasty, even talk of the late Tang, so it was suspected of being seditious."

So that was the reason for the trouble. But the book had only just revealed its text—how could news have leaked so quickly? Was it possible... that those farmer brothers had betrayed him? Could someone have reported him? Everyone acted as if they hated the officials, but perhaps some paid lip service while secretly doing otherwise. The thought sent a chill down his spine.

"A thing so unlucky brings nothing but misfortune. It’s a blessing the matter has passed," the scholar said indifferently, sipping his hot tea.

"Passed? It’s far from over."

Master Liu assumed Luo Gan was still harboring resentment against Magistrate Wang and tried to persuade him earnestly. "That magistrate is infamous for his wickedness and for preying on the people. We all endure as best we can; you are still young, why go against him?"

"It’s not about the magistrate. I must retrieve that book."

His unwavering determination caught the scholar’s interest, who set his tea aside.

"You escaped with your life—why risk it all for such a cursed thing? Is there some secret within?"

Luo Gan paused. He had no idea how to explain the book’s true nature. He couldn’t tell anyone, except perhaps an NPC, that he was from the modern world, nor could he admit the book was a vital clue. What if another competitor took it? There was no good answer—then, suddenly, inspiration struck.

"If this poetry collection is connected to the rat demon’s mischief and the present snow disaster, I cannot stand idly by. I must eliminate the threat for the sake of the people."

His words rang with conviction. Master Liu and his son exchanged glances; Master Liu seemed moved, while the scholar remained doubtful.

"Your words are truly noble! Young men like you give us hope! Buwen, you should learn from him."

"Father, you can’t expect me to be a paragon one moment and a shrewd operator the next," the scholar replied, with a hint of resignation.

"You simply don’t understand how to adapt, in life or in work," Master Liu said meaningfully, but left it at that, unwilling to wound his son, who had failed the civil exams so many times.

The scholar bowed to Luo Gan. "I haven’t introduced myself. I am called Buwen, as in ‘I will not rest until I hear of Great Unity.’ If you need my help, I will give it."

"Not if you need help—you should go with him now," Master Liu interjected. "Didn’t you say there’s a lead about the poetry collection?"

At the mention of a lead, Luo Gan’s eyes shone, though Buwen himself seemed noncommittal.

"Has the book been found?"

"It’s in the archives I manage. Magistrate Wang has no understanding of such things and left it for us to study, but it cannot be taken out," said Master Liu.

"Then, young master Liu, do you have any ideas?" Luo Gan asked, testing the waters.

"Some poems in it were written by Lord Wang Ji, a famed poet of the Secretariat. Yet many of these verses I’ve never heard of before. It’s odd."

Wang Ji? Luo Gan recalled: wasn’t he the great-uncle of Wang Bo, one of the Four Literary Eminences of the Early Tang? To think he would encounter a poet from the 'Three Hundred Tang Poems' during the Zhenguan era—could there truly be some connection?

"If we could recover the poetry collection, it would be of great help," Luo Gan said.

"But... the archives are heavily guarded, and it is strictly forbidden to remove documents. Stealing would mean death," Master Liu said, worried.

The scholar’s eyes lit up. He paced back and forth, then suddenly laughed.

"In that case, why not make a rubbing—a perfect copy to pass for the original?"

Both Luo Gan and Master Liu agreed at once.

"But I’ll need someone to stand watch. My father’s position makes it difficult for him. I hope you can assist me," the scholar said.

"No, it’s you who will be helping me," Luo Gan replied.

Meanwhile, the Tiger Roost Pavilion was bustling as ever. In the bitter cold, no one wished to be outdoors; gathering for drinks and hot dishes was what mattered. Han Xiaozhi carried out plate after plate of delicious food from the kitchen. Zhang the Bamboo worked amid the steam, helping out, but the chef, known for his bad temper, scolded him fiercely whenever he fell behind.

Old Lin greeted guests at the door, beaming. Each time a patron entered, he hurried after, shivering all the while.

The aroma of fine food and wine carried from afar. Luo Gan saw Old Lin bending as he entered and, eager, hurried up the stairs of the Tiger Roost Pavilion. Looking around, he at once spotted Han Xiaozhi, dressed unmistakably as a waiter and hard at work.

Han Xiaozhi caught sight of Luo Gan and greeted him warmly. "Brother Luo, you’re here! Let me finish up and I’ll come over!"

Luo Gan couldn’t help but chuckle. To see the Red Ogre of Anping gone straight was yet another good deed accomplished.