bookbashuk Chapter 29 Li Chengqian's Heartbeat
Chapter 29 Li Chengqian's Heartbeat
A few days later, one afternoon, Xiao Qingyi woke up from her nap, climbed out of bed, and ran barefoot into her brother's room.
Li Qingge was staring blankly at a physics problem set when she heard a noise and turned around.
"Brother," Xiao Qingyi whispered, clinging to the doorframe, "I want to... go find the Ancestor."
Li Qingge's heart skipped a beat. He put down his pen and took out the prepared document bag from the drawer—he had stuffed two spare batteries into it in the past few days, along with a hand-drawn, simple instruction manual, using the simplest line drawings to indicate the switches for the desk lamp and the massager.
"Have you memorized everything?" He handed the bag over.
Xiao Qingyi nodded vigorously, reciting as if she were reciting a poem: "It can only relieve the pain of the ancestors or Lizhi... Press here to turn on the lamp, press here to press the massager around your neck..."
"Where's the letter?" Li Qingge reminded her.
"The letter must be delivered to the ancestors personally!" Xiao Qingyi patted the document bag. "I remember!"
Li Qingge squatted down and tidied his younger sister's slightly messy hair. He wanted to say something to remind her of something, but in the end, he just patted her head and said, "Go on. Be careful."
Xiao Qingyi, clutching the file folder that was a bit too big for her, turned and walked towards the door. Reaching the door, she turned back and grinned at her brother, "I'll tell Grandma that Guoguo misses him too!"
Li Qingge was stunned for a moment, and before she could answer, the small figure had already run far away.
He walked to the window and watched his younger sister, carrying a bag, run across the courtyard toward the ancestral hall in the backyard. The afternoon sun was bright and dazzling, turning the stone path white.
……
The ancestral hall still had that familiar smell of old wood mixed with a faint scent of incense.
Little Qingyi ran to the portrait as if she knew it well, looked up at the person in the painting—hmm, he looked exactly like the real ancestor, but he couldn't move or talk.
She carefully placed the file bag on the altar, and then, as she had done before, reached out her small hand to push open the heavy wooden door next to the portrait.
The door was lighter than I had imagined.
Or rather, the moment her hand touched the door, that familiar dizziness returned. It was like standing high up looking down, with nothing beneath your feet.
She instinctively hugged the bag in her arms tighter.
"Ouch--"
This fall was rather embarrassing. The file folder flew out of her hand, and she landed hard on her bottom, thankfully on a soft carpet.
She blinked and took in her surroundings. The familiar, spacious hall, the high beams, and the pleasant, faint scent of incense.
came back.
She quickly got up and looked around for her bag. It was lying not far away, thankfully not broken apart. She ran over, picked it up, and patted off any non-existent dust.
"here we go again?"
A voice came from behind, calm but tinged with helplessness.
Xiao Qingyi turned around and saw Li Chengqian standing behind his desk, holding a pen in his hand, seemingly writing. He was wearing a dark blue casual robe today, which made him look even more upright.
"Grandma!" Xiao Qingyi's eyes lit up, and she ran over with the bag in her arms. "Yiyi brought you something!"
Li Chengqian put down his pen, his gaze falling on the bulging, oddly made bag. It was something he'd never seen before.
"What is it?" he asked.
"My boyfriend asked me to bring this to you!" Xiao Qingyi stood on tiptoe, trying to lift the bag onto the desk. "There's a letter! And a gift!"
Li Chengqian reached out and took it. The bag was light and airy, made of a smooth and tough material, definitely not silk or leather. He untied the strange button on top—it had a peculiar feel, opening with a simple press and pull.
"Guoguo said it can only be shown to the ancestor." Xiao Qingyi lay on the edge of the desk, her little head just peeking out from the tabletop, her big eyes looking at him intently.
Li Chengqian glanced at her and took the letter out of the bag first.
The paper was exceptionally smooth and white, and the ink was excessively clear. The quality of this paper was far superior to even the paper used in the imperial palace.
He unfolded the letter and glanced at the neat but somewhat unfamiliar handwriting—he could recognize the general shapes, but some were so simplified that he had to guess.
"A descendant of the Li family, Qingge, respectfully presents this to Lord Chengqian..."
He read on slowly.
The hall quieted down, with only the faint chirping of cicadas outside the window. Little Qingyi obediently lay down by the side, waiting, her little hands idly picking at the carvings on the edge of the desk.
Li Chengqian read very slowly. When he read the line "Our family has passed down this line orally for generations, and it is your bloodline," his fingers tightened almost imperceptibly.
Bloodline.
These two words carry too much weight. He is the Crown Prince of the Tang Dynasty; his bloodline is tied to the foundation of the nation and to the scrutiny of countless eyes in the court.
And now this letter tells him that more than a thousand years later, his bloodline still continues.
Not a cold name in history books, not a brief record in a family genealogy. It was a boy who could write letters, and a little girl who would lean over his desk and look up at him.
He looked up at Xiao Qingyi. She was tilting her head to look at him, and when she saw the old ancestor looking over, she immediately gave him a sweet smile.
That smile was so pure and without a trace of impurity. Unlike the children in the palace, who learned to read people's expressions at a young age, their smiles always carrying a sense of calculation.
"Grandpa, Guoguo brought you a gift!" she whispered, as if afraid of disturbing him while he was reading the letter.
Li Chengqian suppressed the turmoil in his heart and continued to take out those "gifts" from the bag.
First, there was the lamp. Its design was simple and streamlined, its entire body milky white, and it felt warm to the touch. He held it in his hand and examined it, but he couldn't find a candlestick or any lamp oil.
"This is a table lamp," Xiao Qingyi quickly explained, pointing with her little finger to a round button on the base. "Press here and it will light up!"
Li Chengqian hesitated for a moment, then pressed the button as she instructed.
A soft "click" sounded.
A soft light instantly spilled from the lamp, warm, bright, and incredibly stable. There were no flickering flames, no smoke, and no heat—the light was simply light, as clean as if a piece of moonlight had been cut and sealed inside.
He froze, instinctively moving the lamp closer. The light shone on the letter, making the words clearer. He pressed the button again; the light brightened. He pressed it again; the light dimmed. He pressed it again; the light went out.
Candlelight flickers, oil lamps emit smoke, and palace lanterns need constant attention. But this lamp... just obediently lights up and goes out, like a tamed little beast.
"It can even be brightened!" Xiao Qingyi said proudly, as if she had made the lamp herself.
Li Chengqian placed the lamp on the table and stared at it for a long time. The light was so steady, so unsettling. Had craftsmanship, over a thousand years later, reached such a level?
He reached out to take something.
It was a strange, U-shaped object, soft, wrapped in light gray fabric. He turned it over and over, but couldn't understand it.
"This is a massage device," Xiao Qingyi continued, acting as the explainer. "You wear it around your neck, and pressing here will give you a massage, and it will also feel warm!"
She gestured as she tried to put the object around her neck, but because it was so small, it almost slipped over her entire head.
Li Chengqian: "..."
He tried putting the "massage device" on the back of his neck. The size was surprisingly good; the soft padding felt comfortable against his skin. He found the round button and pressed it.
"Buzz—"
A slight vibration came from the back of my neck, carrying just the right amount of warmth, kneading my stiff muscles again and again.
Li Chengqian stiffened, almost pulling it off. But the warmth and kneading sensation were too comforting—he still remembered the soreness in his neck after reviewing memorials late into the night. The massage techniques of the Imperial Medical Academy were certainly excellent, but they couldn't be used like this anytime, anywhere…
He froze for a few seconds, then slowly relaxed.
He turned off the massager, took it off, and placed it next to the desk lamp. The two items lay quietly on the large desk, looking particularly out of place and out of place among the bamboo slips, memorials, and writing implements.
Just like this little girl who suddenly appeared in his life.
Li Chengqian picked up the letter again. His fingertips traced the words "bloodline," the ink already dry, slightly raised to the touch.
What is bloodline?
It is the names recited during sacrifices, the thick genealogies in the Imperial Clan Court, and the complex calculations in the eyes of the ministers who call him "Your Highness" in the court.
But now, someone has traveled through more than a thousand years, using a lamp that obeys and emits light, a strange pillow that heats and massages, and a letter, to tell him: the bloodline is also this.
It was this little girl who was leaning over the desk, waiting for him to finish reading the letter.
It was the young man who, more than a thousand years later, worried that he would hurt his eyes and neck from reading memorials, so he prepared these things.
Li Chengqian suddenly felt a tightness in his throat. He rarely felt this way—he was the Crown Prince, and his emotions were not supposed to be outwardly expressed. But at this moment, somewhere in his chest, it felt as if something had gently bumped into him.
"Grandma," Xiao Qingyi asked softly, "Do you like the gift from your husband?"
Li Chengqian looked at her. The little girl was lying on the desk, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.
He was silent for a moment, then reached out and touched her head. The child's hair was soft and smooth, like the finest silk.
"Yes, I like it very much." He said softly, his voice deeper than usual. "Please thank you for me, brother."
He spoke slowly, each word carefully chosen. What was he thanking? The wondrous objects? The letter? Or perhaps... that, more than a thousand years later, someone still remembered him and cared about him?
Xiao Qingyi immediately smiled, her eyes curving into crescents: "I knew Grandma would like it! Brother said the table lamp won't hurt my eyes when reading at night, and the massager can be used when my neck is sore. My brother is so thoughtful!"
Li Chengqian remained silent. He picked up the letter again and read it once more. This time, he read it even more slowly, carefully considering each word.
"I offer this song from afar, wishing you peace and good health."
The letter ended with these words.
He put down the letter and looked out the window.
The boy named Qingge wrote this letter and prepared these gifts in the summer more than a thousand years later, and then had this four-year-old little sister travel through the long passage of time to deliver them to him.
This is absurd.
The desk lamp stood silently, and the massager still carried the warmth of his neck. Little Qingyi lay there, breathing softly, a living, breathing presence.
Bloodline... so that's how it can be.
It's not a cold record in history books, nor a bargaining chip in court politics. It's something that can cross a thousand years to send a lamp, a pillow, and a wish for your well-being.