Chapter 5: Poetry as a Prison

This "Three Hundred Tang Poems" shouldn't even exist at this time, should it? The Tang Dynasty isn't even over yet—how could anyone have compiled and summarized them already? Honestly, what was the game designer thinking?

Luo Gan picked up the poetry anthology and leafed through it. There were a handful of famous works, but apart from a few pieces like "The Song of Everlasting Regret," the rest seemed to come from who knows where, hardly resembling authentic works by renowned poets.

A book with blank pages suddenly showing legible text sparked excitement among the group. Uncle De was even more astonished than when he first saw the wordless tome.

Uncle De exclaimed, "You all have no idea! Clearly, this book is extraordinary!"

Er Hu scratched his head, unable to make sense of it. Illiterate, he couldn't understand why Luo Gan, who lacked scholarly learning, was so obsessed with these oddities.

Er Hu said, "You're no pale-faced scholar—why do you keep staring at that worthless book every day?"

Luo Gan replied, "Ah, that's where you're mistaken. Within these pages lies a house of gold."

Er Hu scoffed, "I don't believe it!"

He grabbed the book, stared at the bold title "Three Hundred Tang Poems," flipped through a few pages, then tossed it back to Luo Gan.

Er Hu grumbled, "I've leafed through it for ages and didn't see a single coin inside. Are you blind?"

Uncle De tapped Er Hu's head, "You may be strong, but you don't use your brains. So according to you, if the book promises beauties as fair as jade, we'd have to find a woman between the covers?"

Er Hu rubbed his head and walked away, muttering, "I don't get it. Can't eat it, anyway."

Luo Gan was absorbed in the book, while Uncle De watched him with unease flickering in his eyes.

Night deepened. The lantern flames danced and burned. Luo Gan turned the pages of the poetry collection, lost and clueless, unsure whether his progress was fast or slow.

The food on the table had gone cold. Soup was barely palatable with bread, yet it filled his stomach, and only then did Luo Gan recall his life as Li Chuang...

Intermittent grand ambitions, persistent muddling along. That was probably someone like him—raised with lofty aspirations in an ordinary family, hoping one day to achieve greatness and honor his parents. As time passed, all he gained was an increasingly weathered face.

Unable to afford a home, feeling no security in the city, lucked out with a beautiful girlfriend, thought his fortunes had turned, but love left as abruptly as it came. Without a slice of bread, romance was humble. "Charge ahead, charge ahead," but the older he got, the more cowardly and mediocre he became.

He opened his mouth wide and bit into the bread; it was as hard as a stone, nothing like the delicious food the noblemen enjoyed in Tang Dynasty dramas. The poor couldn't even compare to the scholar's humble cakes.

Yet over this meager piece of bread, Luo Gan's tears fell uncontrollably. Life had become so harsh that even a good meal was a rare treat. The scarcity here made pleasure impossible. Life was hard, but if you've never seen the light, perhaps you simply grow accustomed to darkness.

Cicadas sang on the tree trunk in summer, moss grew outside nearly reaching the window, moonlight gently bathed the ground. There was only one pair of shoes. Inside, Luo Gan, at his desk, slept and drifted into dreams.

The next day, Er Hu did not come to rouse Luo Gan for farm work. No shouting, and the sleep was all the sweeter for it. Half-awake, Luo Gan was startled by a fierce and urgent knocking at the door. The surroundings were eerily quiet, not bustling as usual during farming hours—a silence that felt strange.

Luo Gan, his peaceful sleep disturbed, rose in annoyance, stretched his neck to relieve the stiffness from sleeping at his desk, then hurried to the door.

Opening it, he found Zhang Jifeng with two constables at his side. Zhang Jifeng signaled to the others, who immediately tried to storm into the house.

Luo Gan tried to block them, "Hey! It's broad daylight—why are you searching my house? There's nothing here, not even a needle or thread. Are you robbing a civilian's home?"

The constables ignored him, barged past, and rushed inside. Luo Gan couldn't stop them, anger boiling as he confronted Zhang Jifeng, who looked down his nose at Luo Gan as if he were nothing but an ant.

Furious, Luo Gan grabbed Zhang Jifeng's collar, provoking the ruffian constable, who responded by slapping Luo Gan repeatedly.

Dazed and dizzy, Luo Gan felt the sting on his cheek. Numbers flashed before his eyes—his stamina value dropping to about 80%. Luo Gan muttered in frustration, "Seriously? Just a few hits and I've lost so much health? I'm this weak even in a game?"

Zhang Jifeng was surprised by Luo Gan's odd reaction. "I just slapped you a few times—did your brains get knocked loose?"

Vision blurred, Zhang Jifeng glowed with a warning red light. Luo Gan, indignant, wanted to fight back, but the alert kept flashing, indicating his chance of victory was only 1%.

Luo Gan thought, "No way—just one percent? I just beat the Dragon Man, and now the drop is this huge?"

The constables returned from the room, one handing the "Three Hundred Tang Poems" to Zhang Jifeng. Zhang Jifeng flipped through a few pages, casting a predatory glare at Luo Gan, who felt a chill and thanked the timely warning for keeping him from acting rashly.

Zhang Jifeng declared, "The evidence is here! Luo Gan secretly possessed an abnormal item, linked to the mysterious flood. He is to be arrested!"

Luo Gan was dumbfounded, exclaiming in shock.

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At the magistrate's office, constables stood on either side. Magistrate Wang Gemao played with a wooden carving of a fine horse. The "Three Hundred Tang Poems" lay on his desk. He lounged arrogantly in his chair, thin and severe-faced, hardly the picture of a man who enjoyed a comfortable life.

Below, Luo Gan was dragged before the court by constables, forced to kneel, but he refused.

Luo Gan pleaded, "Your honor, I beg you to see clearly! I have no idea why I was wrongly arrested today. Please, magistrate, investigate thoroughly!"

The magistrate eyed Luo Gan's disheveled appearance with contempt. Though he often saw all sorts in his court, he hated having such filthy people stand before him, believing it brought bad luck.

The magistrate said, "Since you want me to investigate thoroughly, you must be asking something of me, yes?"

Luo Gan was caught off guard. In his experience, when an official asked so directly, it usually meant a bribe was expected, but responding that way here felt inappropriate. For a moment, Luo Gan was truly at a loss as to the magistrate's intentions.

Luo Gan stammered, "Yes... I beg your honor."

The magistrate brusquely cut him off, "Rubbish! Begging favors from me and still so arrogant? You stand accused and won't kneel in court—how bold! Here, take a slap!"

Zhang Jifeng, seeing his chance, bowed and smiled obsequiously. "Yes, sir!" He gleefully slapped Luo Gan, not holding back in the slightest. Luo Gan reeled from the blow, finally understanding why these officials were so loathed.

The magistrate, brows drooping, watched Luo Gan's reaction with fascination, continuing to play with the wooden carving, savoring the feeling of holding life and death—and dignity—in his hands.

The magistrate thundered, "You wretch, you hid a book causing the flood—what punishment do you deserve?"

Luo Gan protested, "Your honor! How could a poetry collection cause a flood? Even a two-year-old knows that!"

The magistrate twitched at this retort. Zhang Jifeng caught on instantly and delivered another slap. Luo Gan saw stars. All the figures in the hall glowed with the red mark of dangerous characters, and his stamina value kept dropping. He realized there was no point in struggling—ending the game like this would render all his previous efforts worthless.

Zhang Jifeng bowed, "Reporting to Magistrate Wang! We have confirmed that the book in the wretch's hands was blank before, but after the rain, text appeared. This book is possessed, and this man must be the culprit behind the disaster!"

At once, Luo Gan dropped to his knees, "Your honor! I'm innocent!"

The magistrate sneered, "I just told you to kneel—you ignored the rules, and now you finally understand?"

His tone was laced with biting sarcasm. In his years in power, he'd accomplished little; Anping County remained poor. If anything had improved, it was that people had grown more subdued. The constables patrolled daily, eager to drag a few civilians in so Magistrate Wang could indulge his official authority.

The magistrate instructed the constables, "Follow the usual procedure."

The constables, like clockwork, swiftly spread out. Luo Gan sensed the atmosphere growing tense, the warning red lights in his vision flashing ever more frequently, anxiety creeping through him.

Soon, the constables brought forth a rattan table with three sealed boxes placed atop it.

Luo Gan shivered. The three boxes offered no clues, his saliva stuck in his throat, sweat beading as he hesitated to approach.

The magistrate found Luo Gan's nervousness amusing, delighting in tormenting prisoners. "Scared? You don't have to choose—you can go straight to the cells."

Luo Gan feigned calm, "With a clear conscience, my shadow stands upright. What... what do I have to fear?"

Knowing he'd be toyed with either way, he figured he might as well face his fate head-on. After all, it was just a game—at worst, he'd return to the real world and play the fool again.

The magistrate, sinister and mysterious, said, "Choose."

In the courtroom, under the weight of the sun and moon suspended overhead, Luo Gan could hardly breathe as he trudged step by step toward the rattan table.