Chapter Seventy-Six: A Subtle Display of Skill

Cangzhou, the Li Residence.

“Dragonfly, come help me quickly!”

Li Pingyang was supporting Li Hu’s arm as he brought him back to the estate. He spotted Dragonfly sitting on the steps outside the door and called to her.

Dragonfly had been waiting anxiously for her young master, worried ever since she heard he had entered the beast-infested forest for a contest with the Tubo man. Lady Ajiao, concerned for her son, hadn’t slept a wink these past two nights.

Daylight had already broken. A solitary lamp still burned in Lady Ajiao’s room. Exhausted beyond measure, she supported her head with one hand and dozed, eyes half-shut.

As Li Pingyang returned, Dragonfly opened her mouth to wake Lady Ajiao, recalling the repeated instructions: if Dog Egg came home, she must notify her mistress instantly, without error.

Before she could call out, Li Pingyang swiftly pressed a hand over her lips, placing a finger to his own mouth in a gesture of silence, his eyes urging her not to disturb Lady Ajiao.

Dragonfly nodded; Li Pingyang withdrew his hand. Together they helped Li Hu to a guest room so he could rest.

Once Li Hu’s door was closed, Li Pingyang whispered, “Has my mother eaten?”

Dragonfly shook her head, explaining she was just heading to the kitchen to warm up some porridge for Lady Ajiao. She’d brought some earlier, but her mistress hadn’t touched it—the porridge was surely cold again by now.

Li Pingyang then asked if Dragonfly herself had eaten. She touched her empty stomach and shook her head once more.

“Perfect—I haven’t eaten either. Today, your young master will cook for you both. Let me treat you to something special!”

With a confident grin, Li Pingyang clasped his hands behind his back and strode to the kitchen, intent on showing off his culinary skills. Dragonfly watched him in confusion, brows furrowed.

When did the young master learn to cook? she wondered.

Curious, she followed to see what secret he was hiding.

In the kitchen, Li Pingyang went straight to the large vat where potatoes were grown. He picked up a small iron shovel and dug out several potatoes, washed them with water, and grabbed a kitchen knife, glancing at Dragonfly before tossing a potato into the air and slicing it in two mid-flight, letting the halves fall onto the chopping board.

He pressed one half down and, with remarkably swift knife skills, shredded the potato into thin strips. Even Dragonfly, who prided herself on her own abilities, was mesmerized.

He shredded the remaining potatoes, added other ingredients, and, with a flurry of stir-frying, coaxed out the color, aroma, and flavor of the dish.

After finishing the first dish, Li Pingyang dug out more potatoes, peeled and sliced them, boiled them, and handed the task of mashing them into potato puree to Dragonfly.

He then mixed in minced meat, eggs, and flour, rolling everything into round, plump meatballs.

With both dishes complete, Li Pingyang picked up a meatball with chopsticks and sampled it, making an exaggerated face.

Dragonfly, skeptical, grabbed one herself. The meatball was so hot she couldn’t swallow, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes. After a moment, she managed a garbled, “Delicious!”—making Li Pingyang laugh.

At the table, Li Pingyang set out his creations: one called Stir-fried Potato Shreds, the other Potato Meatball Soup.

When the meal was ready, Li Pingyang finally sent Dragonfly to call everyone. Lady Ajiao, upon learning her son had returned, shook off her fatigue and ran out excitedly.

That meal, Li Hu ate eight whole bowls of rice.

A stack of empty bowls lay before him, leaving everyone dumbfounded. At that pace, anyone slow with their chopsticks might go hungry.

The atmosphere shifted abruptly. The family attacked the food with a frenzy, the clatter of chopsticks echoing. Soon, only one meatball remained on the table!

Li Hu and Li Pingyang’s gazes locked onto the trembling, lonely meatball. Their chopsticks, like weapons for a duel, lunged simultaneously.

The chopstick tips collided, neither yielding.

Li Pingyang’s chopsticks touched the meatball first and tried to seize it, but Li Hu infused his chopsticks with true energy, knocking it back onto the plate.

Li Hu snatched it, only for Li Pingyang to wrest it back with his own energy. Back and forth they went, sparring over a single meatball.

Dragonfly propped her chin with both hands, sighing as she watched the meatball dart before her eyes. In the end, the meatball couldn't withstand the struggle and split in two.

The two men glanced at each other, unwilling to concede. Each took half the meatball and stuffed it into their mouths, never breaking eye contact, achieving a perfect synchrony.

…

The night passed without incident.

The next day.

Sunlight streamed through the gaps in the wooden window, casting its glow on Li Pingyang’s handsome face. His sleeping posture was peculiar: sprawled out in the shape of the character “big,” lips occasionally twitching.

Suddenly, his eyes opened.

He seemed to remember something important for today. Groggy, he half sat up, rubbing his sleepy eyes, looking not quite awake.

With a lazy yawn, Li Pingyang rolled off the bed.

Outside, the vegetable sellers had already gathered at the market, stalls arranged, awaiting customers. The elderly bun shop owner was up early too; the steaming buns, thin-skinned and generously stuffed, filled the air with their aroma.

Li Pingyang changed into stylish black clothes, swept his hair up into a topknot, leaving a fringe that slanted left, giving him a mature yet distinctive look.

Paired with his handsome features, he looked exceptionally pleasing—no matter the angle, he was easy on the eyes. Admiring himself in the mirror, Li Pingyang felt like the protagonist of the day.

He stepped out of the Li Residence; a carriage was waiting outside. Seeing him, the driver greeted him with a smile.

“Why is it you again?”

Li Pingyang recognized the coachman—Grand Eunuch Hong, whom he’d met yesterday. Today, Hong wore plain clothes, intentionally dressed simply; at first glance, he was hard to recognize.

Grand Eunuch Hong chuckled, ushered Li Pingyang into the carriage, and cracked his whip, driving away from the Li Residence. To Li Pingyang’s surprise, the carriage was stocked with bean cakes and grapes.

Without ceremony, Li Pingyang plucked a grape and popped it into his mouth. With some time to spare, he chatted with Grand Eunuch Hong.

Hong was a good man, or so Li Pingyang felt—though a chatterbox. Perhaps years spent by Emperor Song’s side, speaking little, had left him with pent-up words.

At first, Li Pingyang led the conversation, but soon, it became Hong’s solo performance, talking nonstop the entire way. Li Pingyang leaned back in the carriage and fell asleep.

When he awoke, they had entered the city.

Stepping down, Grand Eunuch Hong led the way, and together they walked toward the Imperial Library, following a narrow corridor beneath tall walls, just wide enough for three men abreast.

Li Pingyang walked and memorized the route, surveying the surroundings. Security was tight; every few meters, guards manned the walls of the imperial city.

He sensed powerful true energy nearby—likely archers of the seventh rank or higher lurking with bows.

And let’s not forget, Emperor Song was surrounded by a company of red-robed guards. Even if an assassin managed to evade the archers, they would surely be spotted by the red-robed guardians.

“Sir, His Majesty is inside. Please, go ahead.”

Grand Eunuch Hong escorted him to the door. Two rows of young eunuchs bowed respectfully as Hong approached. Li Pingyang raised his head, glanced at the plaque above the Imperial Library, and entered alone.