Chapter Three: The Awakening of the Tattoo

Over the following half month, Liu Yao spent his days learning characters under Cai Yong’s tutelage. Yes, that’s right—he was learning to read and write. For someone like Liu Yao, whose background was in archaeology, he was already well-versed in the clerical and regular scripts widely used during the Han dynasty. Yet, so as not to arouse Cai Yong’s suspicion, he feigned ignorance, slowly recognizing, reading, and writing each character, which left him feeling rather stifled.

On this particular day, as usual, Liu Yao was with Cai Yong, practicing his characters.

“Excellent! Excellent! Excellent!” Cai Yong beamed, stroking his goatee, unable to hide his delight. “I never would have thought, Yao’er, that you could recognize more than five thousand of the Han’s most common characters in just ten days, and you can even write quite a few of them already! You are truly my outstanding disciple!”

Liu Yao pursed his lips, somewhat disheartened. “If I didn’t have to keep up this act, I wouldn’t need even a second,” he thought.

With a sycophantic smile, Liu Yao replied, “It’s all thanks to your teaching, Master.”

“Good, good! Haha! But from now on, you should focus on practicing calligraphy. Here is a copybook of mine; you may use it as a model to carefully imitate. I shall return after the time it takes a stick of incense to burn to inspect your work.” With that, Cai Yong swept his robe and left, inwardly marveling, “It is truly a relief to teach a genius disciple!”

Liu Yao looked helplessly at the irresponsible old man. Nevertheless, out of respect for his teacher, he obediently began to copy the calligraphy as instructed.

Examining the copybook, Liu Yao saw that the script was clerical, not the famed feibai style for which Cai Yong was most renowned. He felt a pang of disappointment—he’d never had the chance to see a true specimen of feibai in his past life, and now, even here, it eluded him.

Leisurely, Liu Yao took out a piece of silk and began to write freely. In his previous life, Liu Yao had been an amateur calligrapher, especially fond of Emperor Huizong of Song’s slender gold script. Though his own attempt bore only a passing resemblance, he was quite satisfied.

Letting inspiration guide him, Liu Yao quickly filled the silk with flowing characters. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he nodded in self-approval at his “masterpiece.”

Just then, Cai Yong returned, having no idea where he had wandered off to. Seeing Liu Yao had finished, he said, “Yao’er, how did your copying go? Let me have a look.” Without waiting, he took the silk from Liu Yao’s hands.

“Oh no!” Liu Yao cursed inwardly, but it was too late to intervene.

“Hmm? Yao’er, did you write this?” Cai Yong’s expression shifted—one moment frowning, the next delighted, then puzzled, his mood changing rapidly.

“That… that… I was just absentmindedly doodling,” Liu Yao stammered, managing a clumsy lie.

But Cai Yong paid no heed to his excuse, gazing at Liu Yao with an odd expression. “Destiny! Destiny indeed! The Han is saved! Though your style is still immature, every stroke reveals imperial grandeur—such is the writing of a true sovereign. Born for the throne, born for the throne!”

Feeling uncomfortable under Cai Yong’s strange gaze, Liu Yao had no choice but to retrieve a box from the study. Inside was a wooden board, marked with black lines both horizontal and vertical, and inscribed with the words “Chu River” and “Han Boundary.”

“Yao’er, what is this?” Cai Yong asked, curiosity piqued by the object in Liu Yao’s hands.

“Master, this is called chess—taught to me by an old man in a dream,” Liu Yao replied, relieved at the diversion, fabricating a story on the spot. This chess set had taken considerable effort to obtain; only after much pleading with Dowager Empress Dong had she ordered an artisan to craft it.

“Chess? What is chess?” Cai Yong asked, utterly perplexed.

Liu Yao patiently explained the rules.

“Ah, your chess set is somewhat like ‘elephant game’ passed down from the Warring States period—just with fewer pieces,” Cai Yong observed. But his curiosity soon got the better of him, and he challenged Liu Yao to a match on the spot.

As the game entered the middle phase, Cai Yong became increasingly astonished. “Every move contains the art of war—what a marvelous invention! ‘Chu River, Han Boundary’? Could it be that Yao’er is truly sent by the founding emperor to save the Han? Indeed, born to rule!”

If Liu Yao had known that this little trinket, intended only to distract Cai Yong, would spark such wild imagination, he wouldn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

In the end, since it was Cai Yong’s first time playing, Liu Yao defeated him soundly. The old man howled in frustration. After losing three games in a row, he snatched up the chess set and stormed off, vowing to study it and return for revenge.

Watching Cai Yong’s antics, Liu Yao was both exasperated and amused. “Fine, let him take it. I can always have another made.”

The morning’s lessons passed quickly. With Cai Yong gone, the day’s curriculum was naturally over. Liu Yao stretched lazily in his chair, then rubbed his now-flattened stomach. “Ah, I really am getting hungry.”

He dashed out of the study, calling, “Grandma Empress, Grandma Empress!” Looking around, he realized Dowager Empress Dong was nowhere to be seen—she must have gone out. “Huh, where could she be?”

Just then, a palace maid approached, carrying a plate of pastries. “Your Highness, the Empress Dowager asked me to inform you she has gone to the imperial gardens to admire the flowers. However, she has already prepared your favorite pastries for you.”

“Ah, Grandma Empress always thinks of me—she knew I’d be hungry.” With that, Liu Yao grabbed the pastries and returned to his room, eating the delicious treats while reading a book.

As he became absorbed in his reading, a sudden tightness seized his chest. “Ugh!” He clutched his chest with a muffled groan; his vision blurred. “Damn it, what’s happening? Poison? No—it can’t be! It must have been the pastries just now. No, I, Liu Yao, haven’t yet accomplished anything great. How can I die like this?” His words brimmed with unwillingness.

The next moment, black blood gushed from his mouth, spattering onto his arm, and he lost consciousness. As he slipped into the void, the book-shaped tattoo on his arm began to absorb the toxic blood, bit by bit, until no trace remained. Soon, the tattoo emitted a blue-green glow that enveloped Liu Yao’s entire body, lingering for the duration of half a stick of incense before fading without a trace.

He did not know how long had passed before he slowly opened his eyes to find himself lying in his own bed, surrounded by a crowd.

“Thank heavens, my grandson, you’re finally awake!” Dowager Empress Dong could not hold back her tears.

“Huh? I’m not dead?” Liu Yao looked at the weeping Dowager Empress and struggled to sit up, gently wiping away her tears. “Grandma Empress, don’t cry. I’m all right.”

“Mother, don’t cry—our son has woken up. Imperial physicians! Come, examine the prince at once!” Emperor Ling of Han, Liu Hong, first spoke softly to comfort his mother, then barked at the physicians standing by.

“Yes, Your Majesty!” The imperial physician hurried over, placing his fingers on Liu Yao’s pulse.

Dowager Empress Dong and Emperor Ling watched anxiously, awaiting his diagnosis. Liu Yao, however, felt no concern—if anything, he had never felt better. Though he did not know how the poison had vanished, he considered it a blessing.

“Your Majesty, the Crown Prince’s pulse is steady and his body unharmed. In fact, he appears stronger than most children his age,” the physician reported respectfully.

At these words, both the Dowager Empress and the Emperor breathed a visible sigh of relief. “Grandson, what made you faint so suddenly? Do you feel any discomfort?” The Dowager Empress fussed over Liu Yao, searching for any sign of lingering illness.

“Father, Grandma Empress, I don’t know why I fainted, but I feel especially strong now.” Liu Yao flexed his little arms for their benefit.

The Dowager Empress let out a relieved laugh, tapping Liu Yao’s forehead with her finger. “You cheeky child.”

“Father, I feel a bit tired—I’d like to rest for a while,” Liu Yao said, having noticed the tattoo on his arm was growing warm and wishing to send everyone away.

“Very well. Rest, my son.” Emperor Ling’s face was full of parental affection as he led the Dowager Empress and the others away. At this moment, Liu Yao felt his father’s genuine concern for him, so unlike the historical Liu Hong, who was known only for self-indulgence.

Once everyone had left, Liu Yao couldn’t wait any longer. He rolled up his sleeve to find the book-shaped mark faintly glowing green. He reached out to touch it. In an instant, the green light flashed, and the tattoo slid off his arm onto the floor, transforming into an ancient, unadorned book.

On its cover were five large characters...