Chapter Two: The Peerless Beauty in the Coffin

In his more than thirty years of tomb raiding, Master Ya had never encountered anything like this. Yet, despite the strangeness, curiosity surged within him, and there was not a trace of fear in his eyes—only excitement, yes, pure excitement!

He steadied his breathing and studied the cave carefully. Once certain there was no danger, he held his iron sword horizontally before him, prepared for any eventuality, and cautiously moved toward the coffin at the center.

As he drew closer, he stopped about two meters from the coffin, circling it but not advancing a step further, scrutinizing it from this vantage. The coffin was rectangular, about two meters long, a meter wide, and roughly sixty centimeters high. A faint, delicate fragrance wafted from within. Only now did he realize that the coffin was not actually red; rather, it was wrapped in a red cloth.

There was no lid—only a piece of red gauze covered the top, and at this distance, Master Ya still could not see what lay inside.

He took a step forward. Now, he could vaguely make out a figure lying within.

And it seemed to be a woman!

He glanced around and tapped the ground before him with his iron sword, confirming once more that there was no danger, then stepped forward again.

Though the red gauze still veiled the interior, his view was clearer than before. Master Ya hooked the gauze with his sword and, with a flick, swept it aside.

He froze. There she lay, silent and serene, her jet-black hair spilling like clouds around her. Even in sleep, a mist of melancholy lingered between her brows. His gaze traced her butterfly-like eyelashes at rest, lips as rosy as crabapple blossoms, and finally fell upon her exposed, fragrant shoulder. His breath caught: skin white as cream, silken robes in slight disarray—the very pearls beside her pillow could not outshine that radiant complexion.

She slept with such gentle beauty, her body’s curves so pleasing that a warm current seemed to flow through him. Her features were so dewy and inviting one could hardly resist the impulse to touch her. Her face was perfectly proportioned: delicate, sharp but not harsh. Those long lashes resembled fluttering butterfly wings, and with her eyes tightly shut, her face—like a painting—left one to imagine the eyes yet unseen.

Her lips, though not vividly red, evoked the image of buds about to bloom in spring. Her hands rested on her lower abdomen, like the sleeping beauty in the high tower of a fairy tale, breathtakingly lovely.

She wore a plain dress tinged with faint red, embroidered with crabapple blossoms as brilliant as clouds. A slim sash at her waist accentuated her willowy figure, lending her the frail grace of a swallow in the wind.

In that moment, it was as if half of Master Ya’s soul had been spirited away.

Regaining his composure, he sighed softly and murmured, “Such a beautiful enchantress—she lingers by the river, fragrant orchids and cassia bloom along the bank, but for whom are they gathered? Her bright teeth gleam, her brows curve like moths’ wings. Her cheeks are as fresh as lotus petals, her skin as creamy as curd. Graceful and unique, she carries herself lightly, confident in her unparalleled beauty, certain of her irresistible charm. Before her, even heaven and earth lose their color!”

Master Ya reached out, gently caressing the woman’s cheek. “Such a woman could only exist in the heavens; in this world, how many times could one even hear of such beauty! What a pity! What a pity…”

Suddenly, just as he was about to withdraw his hand, a shock ran through him as if struck by lightning. His body trembled, and slowly, with stiff movements, he turned his head to look at his hand inside the coffin—where a slender, pale hand now grasped his arm!

The woman’s eyes, closed just a moment before, fluttered open. They were bright, moist, and full of life, yet veiled in a mist of sorrow. She pouted stubbornly at Master Ya, as if she had suffered a great injustice and was fighting back tears.

Without warning, she pulled him into the coffin and kissed him desperately, her arms wrapped tightly around him.

In an instant, Master Ya’s mind went blank. The wind ceased, lanterns stopped swaying, firelight no longer flickered—time itself seemed to freeze at that moment!

Though his consciousness remained clear, he realized he couldn’t move, as if paralyzed.

At length, their lips parted.

Time, forgotten, resumed its flow. The gentle breeze returned, lanterns swayed once more, and flames continued to burn.

Master Ya could feel the woman’s breath and that lingering, delicate scent.

“My lord,” she murmured softly in his ear.

“My lord, it has been tens of thousands of years—are you still well?” With a wave of her slender hand, Master Ya floated helplessly above her. Their eyes met, and her long fingers pressed against his brow. A powerful surge of consciousness poured into his mind. His head throbbed as if it would split apart, his whole body on the verge of bursting, but unable to move, he could only endure the pain.

“Alas, there isn’t much time. Otherwise, we would be too late! If only you had come sooner, I have so much to say to you!” she continued.

A thunderous boom resounded in his mind, as if something had exploded. Countless ancient characters, blood-red streaked with gold, began to spin rapidly around him, slowly forming a blood-and-gold sphere that enclosed him completely…

The pain was excruciating—this was the last thought in Master Ya’s mind!

His consciousness plunged into endless darkness. It felt as though years had passed, and he dreamed a long, long dream…

Slowly, he opened his eyes, his mind hazy and confused. Suddenly recalling something, he looked around in terror. The woman had vanished without a trace, leaving only Master Ya sitting alone inside the empty coffin in the vast subterranean chamber.

Gripping the edge of the coffin, he stood up, only to realize something was off about his body. He stared at his hands in shock: his own hands had…

He touched his face, and as if seeing a ghost, fled in a wild panic…