On the eastern mid-slope, right beside the bamboo forest, sits the family-run guesthouse, "Yinzhule Lodge." The layout of the guesthouse is modeled after a traditional courtyard home, occupying about two-thirds of the entire compound. A three-story main building faces south. The first floor is a four-meter-high stilted ground level with an entirely open-plan design covering over two hundred square meters, smartly laid out with a modest little bar, a casual tea lounge, and a fitness and sports area. The second and third floors combined house a total of ten guest rooms, comprising eight standard rooms and two suites.
The east and west wing houses each feature four bays, both being single-story flat-roofed structures. The west wing serves as a storage room, while the east wing functions as the kitchen and dining area, complete with a main hall and private dining rooms. The flat roofs of the wings connect with the second-floor terrace of the main building, creating two large terraces of differing styles. They are adorned with a few uniquely shaped potted landscapes, shaded by parasols, and furnished with rattan chairs and tea tables to make it convenient for guests to enjoy the scenery and rest.
Surrounding the guesthouse courtyard are tranquil paths leading all the way to the bamboo forest on the back mountain. Fruit trees such as cherry, plum, kumquat, orange, and pomelo are planted along the roadside, creating a rustic pastoral landscape for the guests. Naturally, there are also various seasonal flowers provided for visitors to admire, their arrangements meticulously designed by Mom.
Half of the remaining space in the yard has been reclaimed as a vegetable garden, planted with various crops to supply the guesthouse with fresh vegetables while offering guests from the metropolis the pastoral pleasure of harvesting produce themselves.
The guesthouse staff, from the chefs to the servers, are all locals from the village. Aside from a few permanent hands, they also hire available villagers to help out temporarily when business is booming.
Although the start of the school term has been postponed, Li Xiangdong and his sister have both been attending online classes since March. Reflecting the relatively prosperous local economy, every household in the village is connected to broadband internet. With the whole family utilizing smartphones and computers alike, their days are remarkably fulfilling.
Because of the epidemic, this Spring Festival saw far fewer visits to relatives and friends, very few people coming by for medical consultations, and not a single guest at the guesthouse. The family spent almost all their time staying at home.
Li Xiangdong is a typical country boy who has romped all over the village and its outskirts since he was little, covered in mud from morning till night. Like every child in the village, he began helping out with farm chores by the age of six or seven. The only thing setting him apart from the other kids was his love for reading, influenced by Grandpa. Before finishing primary school, Li Xiangdong had already read through all several hundred books in his grandpa and father's collection.
Influenced by his elders as well, Li Xiangdong practiced calligraphy every day. By the time he graduated from high school, his Northern Wei, Qin seal, Han clerical, and Tang regular scripts all looked quite accomplished. Every Spring Festival, many of the Spring Festival couplets on the villagers' doors were penned by Li Xiangdong. Because of his excellent academic performance since childhood and a quick mind, he naturally became the leader of five or six boys his own age in the village.
Due to the expansion of university enrollment, several of Li Xiangdong's childhood friends from the village managed to get into various universities despite having only mediocre grades.
During the Spring Festival, even though the village loudspeakers blared every day urging everyone to stay home as much as possible for epidemic prevention, no one was about to stop Li Xiangdong and his close friends from frequently strolling through the mountain forests.
Aside from horsing around with his childhood friends, Li Xiangdong and his sister spent their time outside of studies helping tend to the crops in the contracted fields, growing vegetables in the yard, and often heading up the mountain when they had free time—sometimes to dig for bamboo shoots, sometimes to exercise, or simply out of sheer boredom.
That afternoon, Li Xiangdong shouldered a hoe all by himself and headed to the back mountain, preparing as usual to dig up a few spring bamboo shoots to add a dish to dinner.
Treading on the soft soil and entering the dense bamboo forest, tender shoots could be seen everywhere in twos and threes. Some were already as tall as an adult's knee, while others had just pierced the soil, revealing only the sharp tip of their bamboo husks. Mottled sunlight filtered through the bamboo leaves onto the ground, making the bamboo forest appear exceptionally serene.
Li Xiangdong found a spot where the bamboo shoots grew quite densely, dug out the two largest ones, placed them in a plastic bag, and slowly walked down the mountain.
As he reached the edge of the bamboo forest, he noticed a large patch of soil in the middle of the path pushed upward, where a bamboo shoot had already grown nearly half a foot tall. To prevent it from growing into bamboo and blocking the path, shoots growing right in the middle of the trail were generally not left alone.
Setting down the plastic bag, Li Xiangdong swung his hoe and chopped down forcefully at the base of the bamboo shoot.
"Clang..."
It felt as though he had struck something hard.
Pulling out the hoe to check, he saw that the cutting edge had actually rolled slightly. The iron hoes used for mountain work by rural folk had small blades and thick, long shafts; digging through ordinary mountain rock was a breeze, yet today digging a moso bamboo shoot had somehow rolled the blade. Could he have hit a hard lump of iron?
Li Xiangdong changed spots and dug a bit deeper. After a few strikes, the bamboo shoot was dislodged, and a pile of dirt and gravel was churned up along with it.
Rifling through the dirt pile a few times, he finally found the culprit that had obstructed his hoe—a dark, ring-shaped, band-like little object. Picking it up to weigh it in his hand, he felt it had some heft to it, indicating a high density.
Wiping the mud off the surface with his hand, he saw not a trace of rust. It looked simply like a pitch-black ring, though its exact material was impossible to tell. Although it had been struck by the hoe, it hadn't left a single mark.
He tried slipping the ring onto the middle finger of his right hand, and the size was a perfect fit. Looking closely at the pattern on the ring's face, it appeared to be the seal-script character for "Qin." The script was archaic and exuded an aura of vicissitudes and history.
Digging for bamboo shoots had unexpectedly yielded a cultural artifact, and Li Xiangdong was filled with joy. "It might just be an antique with a long history."
As he turned the ring over in his hand, he inadvertently pressed against the characters on the ring's face. The face of the ring suddenly lit up. "Holy crap—" Li Xiangdong was startled by the sudden illumination, but he quickly calmed down. Looking closely, he saw a light screen about the size of a ten-inch tablet computer hovering just above the ring.
The light screen displayed several lines of bright white Simplified Chinese characters. Though he had no idea why Simplified Chinese would appear, Li Xiangdong pushed his doubts aside and made further exploration his immediate priority.
The screen displayed:
The first line read: "Please enter password."
The second line showed a row of eight empty small boxes.