Opening the Tube

As Yi Chang made his entrance, the silk fabric of his deep purple robe rippled with each measured step he took. His eyes, as tranquil and unyielding as ancient stone, fell upon Yi Tian and his wife, radiating an austere aura that was eerily reminiscent of their previous encounter at the grandiose Yi Harmony Conclave Hall.

Observing his father's profound silence, Yi Tian rose from his seat. His understanding of the intricacies of ancient Chinese culture was rather limited, so he settled for an earnest greeting he deemed suitable. He clasped his hands and bowed deeply, saying in a respectful tone, "My respects, Father. I seek an audience."

This gesture of filial deference, though not outwardly acknowledged, took Yi Chang by surprise. The encounter was unlike their casual interactions in informal settings, where Yi Tian usually offered a modest bow. This shift in Yi Tian's demeanor, especially after the news of his impending departure to war, was unexpected. Yi Chang had anticipated anger, not respect.

Rising from her seat as well, Yi Chang's wife, Yi Xue — also known as Lady Xue — positioned herself in front of her husband. The sole consort of Yi Chang and the mother of all his children, her presence seemed to soften his stern demeanor. "My dear," she implored earnestly, "please lend an ear to Tian's words."

Lady Xue knew of her husband's peculiar approach to handling their sons, particularly his stringent attitude towards Yi Tian. The rationale behind this hardened demeanor was unknown to her, but she remained determined to smooth his disposition, hoping he would truly hear their son's words.

Yi Chang sighed lightly, responding, "Of course." He then redirected his piercing gaze to Yi Tian, declaring, "Let us converse. Follow me, Yi Tian." With that, he strode towards a hallway, the embroidered dragons adorning his robe seeming to awaken, their sinuous bodies dancing as his robe trailed behind him. Acknowledging his mother with a departing nod, Yi Tian followed his father, stepping into the shadows of the hallway.

With a wistful gaze, Yi Xue watched their retreating figures until they disappeared into the depths of the building. She then turned her attention to the tea and food adorning the table. With a single, resounding clap of her hands, her silent summons echoed in the opulent hall, drawing servants into the room in an instant. As if moved by an invisible force, they swiftly collected the untouched delicacies, whisking them away with practiced precision.

The grand hall now devoid of its previous activity, Lady Xue began her solitary journey down one of the numerous, lantern-lit corridors.

...

As Yi Tian trailed behind his father, the synchronized rhythm of their footfalls reverberated against the lustrous wooden flooring. With each stride, he studied the stern, unyielding silhouette of Yi Chang, who carried himself with an aura of unparalleled authority. Reaching an intricately carved wooden door, Yi Chang gently pushed it open, revealing a picturesque patio. Enclosed by a meticulously crafted wooden railing, the patio offered a breathtaking view of a sprawling, near-mystical garden, adorned with towering ancient trees and labyrinthine paths that seemed to stretch into infinity.

A tranquil pond and meandering streams twinkled in the moonlight, their endpoints lost in the meandering landscape. Nestled amidst this ethereal setting was a low table, surrounded by cushioned chairs strategically arranged to face the breathtaking scenery. Yi Chang settled into a chair with an air of accustomed elegance, turning to Yi Tian with a curt command, "Sit. We'll converse here."

Obediently, Yi Tian joined his father, sinking into the chair beside him. The cool evening breeze whispered tales of the palace's ancient glory, gently rustling the suspended lanterns. The ethereal glow flickered sporadically, accentuating Yi Chang's formidable features, imparting an air of daunting severity and a weathered wisdom borne from years of rule.

Once comfortably seated, Yi Tian produced the unassuming wooden tube, placing it gently on the table. Yi Chang's penetrating gaze shifted from the serene garden to the seemingly ordinary object. It was a plain, unadorned tube, bereft of any decoration that might signify it as a gift of any consequence.

"This was handed to me by Li Wei's father," Yi Tian began, his tone neutral. As he spoke, Yi Chang reached out to inspect the item, his experienced fingers tracing the exterior, searching for any hidden mechanism. "He instructed me to deliver this to Bai Lu tonight," Yi Tian continued, watching his father's movements.

Lost in thought, Yi Chang managed a distracted reply, "Why to a servant?" He had noticed a tiny hole at one end of the tube, no bigger than a common ant. This small detail puzzled him further.

Yi Tian shrugged in uncertainty, matching his father's confusion. "I truly don't know," he admitted, keeping his response succinct to avoid any possible misinterpretation. He had been wary of the conversation between him and Li Wei's father, the veiled implications hinting at a potential betrayal.

Yi Chang, deducing that the small hole held the key to unveiling the tube's contents, was momentarily at a loss. His initial impulse to force the tube open was quickly dismissed for fear of damaging the concealed item within. Returning the tube to the table, his eyes began to scan the vicinity.

"What are you searching for, Father?" Yi Tian asked, observing his father's actions.

"Something minute, akin to a pin," Yi Chang replied. Standing up, he moved towards the entrance of the patio, disappearing through the wooden doorway. In his absence, Yi Tian picked up the tube, examining the minuscule hole before placing it back onto the table.

Yi Chang soon reappeared, his robes whispering against the wooden floor as he resumed his seat. In his hand, he held a tiny metal pin, which he promptly inserted into the small hole on the tube. A soft click resonated, and a petite piece of parchment tumbled out.

Yi Chang unfurled the tiny note with deft fingers, leaving Yi Tian in a state of befuddlement. According to Li Wei's father, this was merely a "refill". But what exactly could a slip of paper refill?