Chapter Fifty-Two: Passing the Ball with the Beat of the Drum

Li Xueyan could no longer endure the stifling atmosphere. Just then, she spotted Bingyu approaching, so she quickly tugged Changle, Li Zixuan, Yuzhang, and Yiyi along, letting Bingyu lead them straight to Li Yi’s small courtyard.

Only after the women left did Li Ke finally relax. “Yi, my brother, I truly admire you! To act so boldly in front of everyone—what a talent for mischief!”

“Haha, you exaggerate, De. It’s nothing—just a trivial matter!”

“This must be Li Yi—Li Wenyong, right? Wenyong, should I call you Brother Yi, or perhaps Brother-in-law?”

Looking at the youth before him, sixteen or seventeen years old, he remembered that Sanzi had mentioned the eldest son of the Prince of Rencheng’s household, Li Xuan, who was Li Xueyan’s older brother, had also arrived. This must be him—the future brother-in-law. “Ah, little brother Wenyong greets you, Brother. Let’s stick with Yi, shall we?”

“Alright! Haha, sooner or later, anyway—there’s no rush!”

“You all are so long-winded! Let’s get to Wenyong’s courtyard already. I can barely restrain myself from wreaking havoc! Wenyong, is the pork stew ready?”

Li Yi recognized the voice—it could only be Cheng Chumo. No one else was so shameless, not even his two brothers, who were just a bit better than him. “Don’t worry, Brother Chumo, everything’s prepared! Follow me, brothers!”

Everyone made their way to Li Yi’s courtyard hall, where Li Xueyan, Changle, and the others were already waiting. The hall was furnished with over a dozen chairs, but not a single table.

“Huh? Yi, where’s the table? How are we supposed to play cards?” As soon as Cheng Chumo entered, he shouted rambunctiously, paying no heed to anyone. If thick-skinned were a competition, he’d best even Li Yi.

“Hehe! Since there are ladies today, we won’t play cards. We’ll try something new!”

Li Ke perked up instantly. “Oh? Yi, you have a new game?”

Last time, he’d lost a fair bit playing cards, though he’d won some back since; that first loss still stung him deeply.

“Yes! Sanzi, bring it in!”

Sanzi carried in a drum and a ball from outside.

Li Yi picked up the drumstick and struck the drum with a resounding thud. “Today, we’ll play ‘Pass the Ball with the Drum—Truth or Dare!’ The rules are simple: Sanzi stands with his back to us and beats the drum. We pass this hollow, lightweight ball in turn. When the drum stops, whoever holds the ball must accept a penalty. There are two choices: either draw a card from my pile and answer the question honestly, or perform a talent—sing a song or compose a poem!”

Li Yi had prepared the drum, ball, and cards the day before, intending to amuse this crowd of idle nobles. He hadn’t expected the ladies to join, but it only made things more interesting.

Everyone was intrigued by the novel game. Judging from Li Yi’s mischievous grin, they knew the cards wouldn’t contain easy questions, but curiosity and masculine pride left no one backing down. As for the women, none shrank from the challenge either.

“Very well, since everyone agrees, let’s begin!”

Sanzi started beating the drum; the group took their seats, and the ball began its journey from Li Yi. Before long, the drum fell silent, the ball stopped, and Cheng Chumo was left dumbstruck.

“Haha! Congratulations, Brother Chumo, you’re the first! Please make your choice.”

Cheng Chumo’s face flushed crimson. Singing? He could sing, but no one would want to hear it; poetry was even worse for him. After much hesitation, he eyed the cards in Li Yi’s hand, gritted his teeth, and drew one. He pressed it to his leg, stalling a long while before peeking at a corner, looking anything but a bold hero. Only after much delay did he read the whole message—and promptly fainted.

Li Yi, full of wicked delight, picked it up. “Hahaha, Brother Chumo, playing dead won’t help! Come, tell us about your most embarrassing moment!”

At once, laughter erupted. “Brother Chumo, we’re all brothers here—don’t be shy!”

“That’s right, don’t worry, we won’t spread it!”

“Brother Chumo, a real man keeps his word!”

Cheng Chumo’s face was as purple as an eggplant; he wished he could vanish into the floor. Unable to withstand their raucous encouragement, he finally relented.

“Alright! It’s just an embarrassing story, isn’t it? Listen up! The first time I stole wine from my father, I drank too much by accident, then barged into my father’s room and, in front of my mother, started calling him brother and bragging about his secrets! My mother beat my father senseless, and then my father beat me senseless!”

Everyone was stunned for a moment, then laughter thundered so loud it could not be contained, especially the two Yuchi brothers, who rolled on the floor.

Cheng Chumo snorted coldly. “Hmph! Don’t laugh too soon—your turn will come. Yi, shall we proceed?”

At his words, all laughter ceased abruptly.

...

Unbeknownst to anyone, an hour had passed. Some had made fools of themselves, others had shone, some were unfazed—everyone enjoyed themselves immensely. Amid the tense and exhilarating atmosphere, Sanzi began a new round, the wooden ball rolled again, and suddenly the drum stopped, the ball halted. This time, the lucky winner was Changsun Little Fox—Changsun Chong, thirteen, a refined young man.

Among those seated, aside from Changsun Chong, there were a few new faces: Fang Yiai, twelve, famous throughout the Tang for his reputation as the “King of Cuckolds,” tall and robust, born in a family of scholars but enamored with martial arts, earning him many beatings from his father. Wei Shuyu, fourteen, a textbook gentleman, rigid and stubborn, with a temperament much like his father Wei Zheng, though with a bit more spark. Duan Gui, twelve, younger brother of Duan Zan, son of a soldier, lively and not dull, clearly trained. Li Chongyi, fourteen, son of Li Xiaogong, Prince of Jiangxia, exuded noble elegance, his manners gentle and his face warm, clearly well-educated. Li Yi had gathered all this information in recent days, simply to better understand them.

“Hahaha, you must be Changsun Chong from Uncle Changsun’s family! I’ve heard much of you, but now isn’t the time for reminiscing. Please, wise brother, make your choice!” Li Yi smiled warmly at Changsun Chong. Like his father, this youth was clever and full of schemes, but reputedly kind and not as ruthless as his old man.

“Damn! Why does he keep glancing at Princess Yuzhang? She’s quite lovely, and dearly loved by Emperor Taizong, but the position of imperial son-in-law isn’t all that enviable!” Li Yi grinned, observing closely. This game was perfect, revealing all sorts of little secrets!

Changsun Chong glanced at Li Yi’s ominous slip of paper, then at Cheng Chumo, and decisively chose poetry. As the son of the old fox Changsun, and belonging to the literary faction, he surely possessed some talent.

Changsun Chong walked to the window and gazed at the tiny new buds sprouting on distant trees. Inspiration surged within him. “Ah!”

With a loud cry, Changsun Chong startled Li Yi. “What strange habits!”