Chapter Eleven: The Music Box

"She is the personal maid of Princess Changle, raised alongside the Princess, and has even been granted the title of Lady Official," Qin Shouzhong explained.

"Princess Changle?" He Zhong'an felt a lingering sense of doubt.

Qin Shouzhong’s expression turned grave. "You may offend anyone in the palace, but she is the one person you must never cross."

He Ziqi was also suddenly startled. Recalling something, he urged, "Third Young Master, you must put your heart into this matter. Otherwise, if Princess Changle becomes enraged, our family will be unable to protect you."

He Zhong'an could not help but ask, "Why is Princess Changle so favored?"

"Cough, cough, cough." He Ziqi coughed violently and said, "Hurry up and fix the music box."

He Zhong'an understood immediately. This was the Imperial Palace; some things were better left unsaid. He Zhong'an dropped the subject and brought over the music box.

Unlike the music boxes of later generations, the one from this era was a massive wooden box, roughly the size of a wooden pillow. He Zhong'an skillfully dismantled it. The internal structure was nearly identical to a pocket watch, using a mainspring to provide power, driving gears to rotate at a uniform speed. The only difference was that instead of driving a clock face, it drove a sound-producing mechanism.

The sound-producing mechanism consisted of a "comb" and a "cylinder." The comb, as the name implies, had fine steel teeth like a hairbrush, aligned with the cylinder. The cylinder was a small metal drum covered with protrusions of varying sizes. As the drum rotated, the teeth on the comb struck these protrusions in sequence, producing notes of different pitches. When combined, they played a melody.

After a thorough inspection, He Zhong'an identified the problem: the cylinder had been dropped and was slightly dented, and the protrusions themselves were damaged. Having found the root cause, He Zhong'an felt confident. "I know how to repair it, but I need a highly skilled craftsman to assist me."

"Consider it done," Eunuch Qin said, immediately sending for someone.

A man in his sixties or seventies arrived. His hair was streaked with gray, his hands were covered in calluses, and his eyes were clear and sharp. He stood in silence, steady and composed, exuding an air of reliability. This sense of competence felt familiar to He Zhong'an, reminding him of certain professors back at his university. He suddenly realized what that feeling was: confidence. Anyone who has achieved a level of mastery in their field possesses this kind of air—it is something most people cannot fake.

Eunuch Qin introduced him: "This is the best gold and silversmith in the palace. His surname is Lei."

"Your humble servant, Lei Qianjun, pays his respects to Master He," the old man said.

He Zhong'an asked, "Lei Qianjun, how do you think we should repair this?"

"In reply to your words, sir," Lei replied, "to fix this cylinder, it must be perfectly round when it rotates, or it will miss the timing, causing the music to stutter. The best way is to mount it on a solid iron rod and hammer it out, but the protrusions are the keys to the sound. If I hammer them flat, they will be ruined. Thus, I have been at a loss as to how to proceed. Furthermore, these protrusions themselves seem to be damaged, though I cannot discern the exact nature of the problem."

He Zhong'an nodded. He drew several sketches on paper, explained the mechanics to Lei Qianjun, and asked, "Can you build this?"

"Master He’s designs are truly ingenious. Yes, I can build it."

"Good." He Zhong'an felt satisfied with the skill level of the palace craftsmen. Given the technical similarities between the music box and a pocket watch, if Lei could grasp the mechanics of the music box, the barrier to creating a pocket watch would be paper-thin.

The issues with the music box were not purely technical; they were rooted in music theory. He Zhong'an had recognized the principle immediately because he had taken music classes and played several instruments. Most palace craftsmen were illiterate, and even those who could read lacked musical training. Even if they understood some traditional phonology, it differed greatly from Western music, which was why Lei Qianjun had been unable to fathom the device.

"This cylinder is too damaged to be repaired," He Zhong'an said. "I will design a new one; you build it, and we will replace it."

He Zhong'an drafted the blueprints, and the craftsmen set to work. The first two attempts lacked precision, but by the third, the fit was perfect. He Zhong'an placed the cylinder into the music box, engaged the catch, and wound the spring. Once it was tight, he flipped the switch. With a click, the gears began to turn. The precisely arranged protrusions on the cylinder struck the steel teeth of the comb, producing a crisp, clear melody.

It was a tune He Zhong'an knew all too well: "Two Tigers, two tigers, running fast, running fast; one has no ears, one has no tail, how strange, how strange."

He Zhong'an felt a touch of nostalgia. In his previous life, music was available anytime and anywhere, but here, even hearing a simple melody was a luxury.

Qin Shouzhong wasted no time and took the music box to Wuyou Palace.

Inside Wuyou Palace, the sixteen-year-old Princess Wuyou sat with her chin in her hands, gazing at the stained glass window. Glass from this era could not be made into large, transparent panes, so a window would be divided into small sections filled with colored glass. As light caught them, the vibrant colors reflected onto the Princess’s jade-like face, creating a dreamlike, ethereal effect.

Princess Wuyou exhaled softly, misting the glass. She traced a question with her finger: "To whom shall I return?"

As the most favored princess in the palace, everyone around her was full of flattery and hidden agendas. They assumed she was oblivious, but having grown up in the palace, how could she not know the treacherous and fickle nature of the human heart? She preferred not to interact with those harboring ulterior motives. Her only solace was listening to the world—the wind, the rain, the sound of snow cracking on the roof—finding a quiet power in these natural sounds.

Beyond these "heavenly sounds," she loved musical instruments, though she preferred listening over practicing. Once, she had been fond of a musician whose playing was like flowing water and mountain waterfalls. But then, some gossiper had claimed she held romantic feelings for him, and the Emperor had ordered the man castrated to serve in the palace. Since then, she had lost her taste for live performances and instead found comfort in the quiet, mechanical sounds of the Western music box.

"Reporting to Your Highness, Eunuch Qin from the Imperial Workshop has brought the music box; he says it has been repaired."

Princess Wuyou reflexively wiped the writing from the glass. "Bring it here. Reward him with ten taels of silver."

"Yes."

A moment later, Xueqing entered carrying the music box. "Your Highness, you haven't even checked if it's fixed yet, and you've already given a reward."