Chapter 81: The Fourth Prince

With the aid of the crystal ball, Li Pingyang saw through Li Goudan’s eyes and finally learned the truth about his origins. It turned out that Li Shenfang and A Jiao were not his birth parents, but had adopted him. Judging by the swaddling cloth embroidered with a dragon motif, Li Pingyang surmised that Li Goudan was likely a prince as well.

To escape pursuit, he had followed Li Shenfang, living in Cangzhou under the name Li Goudan, and later moving to Lanzhou, where he remained.

If his guess was correct, then as the former head of the imperial guards, a master at the peak of his craft, the only one who could have ordered Li Shenfang around was the Emperor of Song himself.

In fact, from the very first time the Emperor met him, the look of paternal affection in his eyes had aroused Li Pingyang’s suspicion and seemed strange to him.

At the birthday banquet, when Li Pingyang played chess against the demonic beast, the Netherworld Tiger, the Emperor had gripped his own knee so tightly, appearing even more anxious than Li Pingyang himself.

Looking back, these were all signs of worry, of love!

As for Li Shenfang’s marriage to the courtesan A Jiao, perhaps it was partly out of love, but also possibly to conceal Li Goudan’s true identity by creating a family.

Suddenly discovering that the Emperor of Song, ruler of the nation, was his father—who could accept such a revelation so easily?

Since childhood, Li Goudan had followed Li Shenfang and lived in Lanzhou. He was used to freedom and a carefree, unrestrained life, living at ease and in high spirits.

Even without the Emperor as his father, his own charms had won him a devoted following of admirers in Lanzhou. Though his family was not as wealthy as the imperial treasury, they wanted for nothing.

Now, with the mystery of his birth unraveled, it was as if a heavy burden had been thrust upon him, leaving him breathless.

In Li Goudan’s heart, even if Li Shenfang had not adopted him, it wouldn’t have mattered whose son he was—but he simply could not accept being the son of the Emperor!

From Li Pingyang’s perspective, becoming the son of the Emperor meant becoming the Fourth Prince, elevated above all, destined to govern the entire nation one day. What a toilsome fate that would be.

He would rather be a man who wrote poetry and boasted, and when the time came, marry a suitable woman—not seeking a house full of descendants, but hoping at least for someone to carry on the family line.

He could buy a small plot of land, fence it for a garden, plant vegetables, tend flowers, feed chickens, bask in the sun. When the mood struck, he could enjoy a drink or two—a life of leisure.

When his child started school, he could tutor him, watch him grow, then grow old with his wife, never parting, until they lay buried together in the yellow earth...

But as a prince, he would inevitably be dragged into a struggle for the throne. To say he had no interest would be meaningless—caught in the maelstrom, he would have no choice.

Scheming, intrigue, endless power struggles—just the thought of such days gave him a headache. Better to refuse the role entirely.

He claimed not to be surprised, but in truth, there was a measure of shock mingled with confusion, and Li Pingyang could not quite accept it.

Not knowing how to respond—and since the Emperor had not openly revealed anything—Li Pingyang decided to play dumb. Staring at the crystal ball, he asked where it had come from.

The Emperor did not reply, instead keeping his gaze fixed on Li Pingyang’s face. Perplexed, Li Pingyang reached up to touch his face and asked, “Is there something wrong with my face?”

He thought, “I clearly washed my face before going out this morning, didn’t I? Or did I miss a spot? How embarrassing!”

While his thoughts raced, he saw the Emperor step forward, slowly approaching. Instinctively, Li Pingyang stepped back, a little nervous, not knowing what the Emperor intended.

“So much like her... far too much!”

“She? Who do you mean?” Li Pingyang asked in confusion.

Staring at Li Pingyang’s face, the Emperor continued, “Your mother—Bai Xiaoxiao.”

Li Pingyang had not expected the Emperor to be so direct; he had thought there would be more evasion.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about! Who is Bai Xiaoxiao? My mother is A Jiao, a tofu seller from Cangzhou City.”

Li Pingyang kept up his act. Seeing that he seemed genuinely unaware, the Emperor hurried to explain, “Ah, I just remembered—a prince who died young. If he had lived, he’d be about your age.”

With that, the Emperor’s eyes filled with sorrow as he shifted the blame to his own mistaken memory. He drew a deep breath, then exhaled.

“Come! Accompany me for a game of ball outside!”

The Emperor’s mood changed quickly. Smiling at Li Pingyang, he reached out as if to take his arm, intending to lead him to the rear courtyard.

But, glancing at the red-robed guards outside the door, mindful of his status and dignity, the Emperor withdrew his hand.

Li Pingyang could sense the Emperor’s affection for him, so he did not refuse, instead following behind as they left together.

As they walked, Li Pingyang pondered inwardly.

A game of ball?

Where would the Song Dynasty get a ball from? What sort of ball game was this?

A short while later.

The Emperor led Li Pingyang to a grassy lawn, surrounded by two rows of young eunuchs standing ready to serve. Seeing the Emperor approach, they all bowed in unison, greeting him.

The Emperor told them to rise. At that moment, a steward gave a signal to two guards, who instantly understood and raised a small flag.

Immediately, a muscular man at the edge of the field sounded a great horn. Meanwhile, two other eunuchs appeared; one carried a golden base engraved with a dragon, atop which sat an iron ball, about the size of two eggs, held in place by a wooden block to prevent it from rolling away.

The other eunuch respectfully offered a golden dragon-headed cane. Li Pingyang was completely baffled. Was the Emperor about to make him feign lameness and kick the ball with a cane? That couldn’t be right!

The notion was so absurd that even he found it laughable. Who in their right mind would play a ball game with an iron ball? Did they have a death wish?

While he was lost in wild speculation, the Emperor had already taken the “cane,” but then inverted it, placing the dragon’s head on the ground and gripping the smooth shaft.

The base was set in place, and the eunuch removed the wooden block, allowing the iron ball to move freely. The Emperor then gazed into the distance, positioning the dragon-headed cane behind the iron ball.

At last, Li Pingyang understood, feeling both amused and exasperated. So the Emperor’s so-called game of ball was actually golf? This ancient version of golf was surprising indeed, both astonishing and comical.

The Emperor assumed his stance, flexed his arm, and swung the club with force. Yet, just before striking the iron ball, he softened the blow, tapping it gently.

Li Pingyang stared in astonishment, having expected the Emperor to send the iron ball soaring, but instead it rolled slowly across the ground, heading for a small pit.

Everyone held their breath as the iron ball approached the pit, teetering on the edge before coming to a halt. The eunuchs glanced at one another, not daring to speak.

At that moment, a eunuch hurried over and bowed, announcing, “Your Majesty, Grand Tutor Li Heyan requests an audience!”