Chapter Eighty-Three: The Wager

Why did he come to see Li Er, instead of seeking out Li Jiancheng? Yun Hao pondered this for a long time, yet no answer revealed itself. Perhaps it was the inertia of known history, or perhaps it was a natural conviction that Li Er was more formidable and destined to become the Great Khan of the world. Whatever the reason, Yun Hao, almost by instinct, found himself at Li Er's residence.

The guards did not stop Yun Hao. In theory, all males were forbidden from entering the inner quarters, but Yun Hao seemed to be an exception. The guards treated him as if he were invisible, not even bothering with the customary search. Swaggering through the inner quarters of the Duke of Tang's mansion, Yun Hao cut such an impressive figure that the officials from Jinyang Prefecture, awaiting an audience, gaped in astonishment. They all began asking among themselves whose child this could be, to possess such privilege.

Li Er was in high spirits, at last freed from that detestable sickbed. It truly was a sickbed—he had been confined to it for a whole month, prone the entire time, a torment worse than death. His back injury allowed for nothing else.

A centipede-like scar sprawled across his back, a fearsome sight—angry and raised, it ached and itched with every shift in the weather. It served as a constant reminder that recklessness carries a price.

“How is your health, second master?” Yun Hao’s question came as a timely rescue for Lady Zhangsun, who had been trying to dissuade Li Er from lifting stone locks. Li Er believed himself recovered, eager for rehabilitative training.

“I’ve been lying prone for a month. My bones have nearly turned to mush. I just wanted to lift some stone locks to stretch my muscles, but they won’t allow it. Speak to them for me—surely lifting stone locks is good for the body.” As soon as he saw Yun Hao, Li Er found his advocate, hoping Yun Hao would persuade Lady Zhangsun that such exercise was beneficial and necessary.

“Second master, stone locks are indeed too intense for you now. If your wound splits, the consequences could be dire.”

“There, you see! Even the imperial physician says it’s out of the question! Please, second master, heed my advice,” Lady Zhangsun’s words were gentle yet pleading, her tone as soft as a Buddhist chant.

Seeing Li Er’s face darken, Yun Hao smiled and said, “But I’ve thought of a method of physical training for you that’s every bit as challenging as lifting stone locks. The only question is, do you dare try it?”

“Oh? What sort of training?” Li Er’s eyes widened—he was the athletic type, and being forbidden to exercise was torture. Now, hearing of a new method, how could he not be tempted?

“Watch closely!” Yun Hao dropped to the floor, propped himself up on his forearms, his legs straight, body held rigid so neither belly nor knees touched the ground. This was the plank, the unrivaled exercise for strengthening the abdominal and thigh muscles.

“Is that it?” Li Er sounded annoyed, suspecting Yun Hao was making a fool of him.

“Underestimating it?” Yun Hao grinned mischievously. Here was a chance to make some money.

“Hmph!” Li Er snorted, restraining himself from hitting Yun Hao only because of his youth.

“A hundred strings of cash! A hundred strings says you can’t last the time it takes to burn an incense stick!” Yun Hao raised one finger, smugly. Even Lin Dan, a system-trained muscle man, had only managed five minutes—there was no way Li Er, with that spare tire around his middle, could do better. Yun Hao felt confident.

Li Er’s eyes narrowed—no one had ever beaten Yun Hao in a wager before. Changsun Wuji knew this well and often lectured Li Er about it.

“Oh! The second son of the Duke of Tang doesn’t care for a mere hundred strings of cash. Fine—how about this: the loser must do whatever the winner asks, anything at all. Is that enough?” Seeing Li Er’s hesitation, Yun Hao quickly upped the stakes.

Li Er grew even more suspicious, unsure if he should try. But Lady Zhangsun was eager. She knew her husband’s strength well; how could he not manage the time it took to burn an incense stick in such a simple pose? The Yun family had so many good things—she wanted to seize the opportunity to claim them all. It was in her blood, the fiery ambition of her nomadic ancestry.

In just over a month, Yun Hao had already begun changing the lives of Jinyang’s elite. The technical demands of making soup dumplings were still too high, but fried dough sticks had caught on—easy to make, no skill required. Households without congee and fried dough sticks for breakfast were looked down on; soybean oil had become a kitchen staple, supplanting the odd-flavored rapeseed oil. The oil press workshop that Chai Shao and Yun Hao had opened together was bringing in so much money that "making a fortune" didn't even begin to describe it. Word had it that merchants were about to ship it to Luoyang and Chang’an.

As a capable mistress, contributing to the household’s income was vital. Lady Zhangsun excelled at this and had long coveted the Yun family’s soap. With keen business sense, she saw its potential.

Her slender fingers poked her husband’s side, her eyes flashing meaningfully.

“Afraid?” Yun Hao looked down his nose at Li Er, scornfully.

“Hmph! Taunts won’t work on me.”

“Still afraid!”

“Fine! I accept. If I lose, you mustn’t cry about it. Guanyin Maid has her eye on your soap business and wants to partner with you. I won’t make things hard—how about a fifty-fifty split?”

“No problem! No problem! If you win, I’ll even take forty and give you sixty!” Yun Hao quickly slapped Li Er’s palm, grinning like a fox that just raided the henhouse. Li Er felt uneasy at Yun Hao’s smile—could it be he really wouldn’t last the time of an incense stick?

A thick incense stick was planted in the burner; Lady Zhangsun herself lit it and then smiled at Yun Hao, already plotting how to extract the soap-making secret from the Yun family. Once this product reached Luoyang and Chang’an, the noblewomen would go mad for it. It wasn’t just a secret recipe—it was a hen that laid golden eggs. She could almost hear the coins clinking in her ears.

“The rules are that only your forearms and toes can touch the ground—nothing else. Last the time it takes for this incense to burn, and the soap recipe and a hundred strings of cash are yours!” After Yun Hao stated the rules, Li Er immediately dropped to the floor.

Lady Zhangsun cast a dismissive glance at Yun Hao; she knew her husband’s stamina. In this posture, he could last not one, but three sticks of incense—at least when he was on top of her.

Yet when only half the incense had burned, Lady Zhangsun noticed something was wrong. Li Er’s face was flushed, gone was his earlier ease. The veins in his neck bulged, his eyes wide with strain. Not even lifting a two-hundred-pound stone lock had ever left him like this.

“My lord, are you all right?”