Chapter 492
Chapter 492 The Master of Artillery
Gao Qiu nodded, "Do I even need you to tell me? I've searched every nook and cranny of this place—the small bridges, flowing streams, pavilions, and towers. I've even sent dozens of skilled men to explore beneath the lake. Unfortunately, despite the vast waters, we found nothing. As for other areas within the estate, there's not much left to do except dig up the ground three feet deep."
Upon hearing this, Lin Wanrong let out a sigh and felt a great sense of disappointment. Had he guessed wrong? Was Prince Cheng not hiding here at all? But what about the two royal guards who had mysteriously vanished?
Before him, the lake shimmered in the sunlight, and a few agile water birds skimmed the surface as they flew swiftly. It was a picturesque scene, but Lin Wanrong couldn't shake off his gloom. They walked along the pavilion and soon arrived at a tower not far from the lake's edge. Standing in shallow water, the tower was exquisitely designed, with carved railings, flying eaves, and golden bricks and tiles. The walls were adorned with various engravings of golden dragons, creating a spectacle of opulence.
"A mountain is not high if it houses a fairy; a body of water is not deep if it contains a dragon—what arrogance," Gao Qiu grumbled, halting his wheelchair in the middle of the pavilion. He looked around discontentedly.
"What were you just saying?" Lin Wanrong asked, intrigued.
"Look, Brother Lin, over there." Gao Qiu pointed at the pillars on either side, where large golden characters were engraved in a majestic, flamboyant style—exactly the lines of the poem Gao Qiu had just muttered.
"Who wrote this poem, Brother Gao?" Lin Wanrong was curious. "It seems like beautiful things transcend worlds. When I was in Hangzhou, I encountered a verse from Su Dongpo, and today I see this timeless line. Could it be true that beauty is universal?" He felt an overwhelming sense of familiarity.
Gao Qiu chuckled, "Some guy with the last name Liu from a few dynasties ago wrote it. Something about praising a lousy house. Poetry is not my forte, Brother Lin. If you want to know more, I can find a scholar to explain it to you."