Ya She

Chapter 52 Shadow Green Terracotta Warrior

The midday sun was scorching and scorching. In Dali, a city recently ravaged by war, ruins and rubble were everywhere. The once lush and verdant streets were now stained with blood, and several bloated corpses floated on the shimmering waters of Erhai Lake. In the distance, thick smoke billowed from the verdant Cangshan Mountains, burning the remains of Dali soldiers who had died in battle or refused to surrender.

The city was filled with fully armed Mongol soldiers, all sporting ridiculous, frivolous hairstyles resembling those of children from the Central Plains. Yet, no one dared to mock them to their faces. All the Bai people of Dali who had been driven to the roadside bowed their heads, remained silent, wept, or suppressed their anger, until a prison cart creaked and groaned as it slowly drove in from the south gate.

Standing in the prison cart, Gao Taixiang couldn't help but feel secretly grateful that the Mongol soldiers, in order to show their mercy, had specially sent someone to give him a bath and change him into new clothes in the morning, covering up his body covered in wounds from the torture. At least now, apart from being dressed simply, looking haggard, and standing in the prison cart in a sorry state, he still had some of the dignity of the Prime Minister of Dali.

Seeing the shock and despair in the eyes of his subjects lining the road, Gao Taixiang felt as if his heart was being torn apart. It was because of his and Duan Xingzhi's incompetence that they failed to stand by Dali when it fell, instead abandoning the city with their troops and fleeing, allowing the ancient city of Dali, a gift from heaven, to suffer the ravages of war.

Gao Taixiang always believed that Dali belonged to the Gao family. Although, both in the past and present, the emperors of Dali have always been surnamed Duan.

During the reign of Duan Sicong, the fourth emperor of the Dali Kingdom, the Gao family replaced the Dong family as prime ministers, gaining immense power. Even during the reign of his great-grandfather Gao Shengtai, the Gao family deposed Duan Zhengming and declared themselves emperor. Although they returned the throne to the Dali Duan family two years later, power in Dali remained firmly in the hands of the Gao family, passed down through generations. If any emperor in Dali disobeyed even slightly, they could be forced to abdicate and become a monk at Wuwu Temple, replacing him with a more compliant member of the Duan family. In fact, eight Duan emperors went to Wuwu Temple to become monks.

Therefore, in Dali, almost everyone knows that the emperor is merely a figurehead, and the one who truly holds power is the current Prime Minister Gao.

The Gao family has an ancestral precept: they must never usurp the Duan family's throne. Gao Shengtai violated this precept and is not even qualified to be buried in the Gao family ancestral graves. Therefore, despite his resentment, Gao Taixiang adheres to the precept and does not overstep the bounds. He knows that no royal family can remain loyal to one dynasty forever; if the Gao family usurps the Duan family's throne, one day someone else will replace the Gao family.

But now, it seems that the entire Dali region is about to cease to exist.

Watching the Dali people on both sides of the street kneel down in bewilderment, Gao Taixiang felt even more unbearable being stared at by their eyes than by the scorching sun overhead, his back drenched in sweat.

The once beautiful scene of every household planting flowers and streets flowing with water has now become a scene of devastation. Flowers are withered and broken, and prison vans have crushed camellia petals, mixed with bloodstains remaining on the bluestone bricks, creating a heart-wrenching sense of despair.

From afar, one could see the Wuhua Tower at the end of the road. The magnificent building still displayed exquisite wood carvings. This foreign guesthouse, built during the Nanzhao period, was not ordered to be destroyed even by Kublai Khan. On the contrary, after the fall of Dali, he stationed his army here. What was different from before was that the banners fluttering on the Wuhua Tower were all written in foreign languages. Gao Taixiang's prison cart creaked and groaned as it came to a stop in the square in front of the Wuhua Tower, and he was led by soldiers to a newly built wooden platform in the square.

This was a public execution, intended to give a warning to the Dali subjects who still harbored disloyal intentions.

Gao Taixiang had a blank expression on his handsome face. His hands were tied behind his back, and his back was straight. The midday sun shone on him, forming a golden halo around him, which gave him an unassailable aura of authority. For a moment, no one dared to step forward and force him to kneel.

In reality, Gao Taixiang was standing solely by willpower; a mere gust of wind could knock him over. His entire body ached terribly, yet he stood resolute and righteous. Glancing up at the indistinct crowd standing atop the Wuhua Tower, Gao Taixiang could vaguely make out a burly man beneath the canopy, wearing a helmet with a folded waist and a brocade robe embroidered with gold thread—it was none other than the Mongol prince, the fourth son of the regent Tolui, Borjigin Kublai Khan.

Before long, someone shouted from the Wuhua Tower, offering the same old rhetoric of high-ranking positions and generous rewards to persuade him to surrender—something Gao Taixiang had heard so many times he could practically recite it by heart these past few days. When the soldiers who were delivering the message were tired of shouting, the square fell into a suffocating silence, with thousands of eyes watching Gao Taixiang's choice.

If he had chosen to surrender, he would have done so long ago; if he wanted to end his life prematurely, why would he suffer such humiliation? Kublai Khan, besides giving him a show of force, probably also intended to wipe out all the resistance forces in Dali City. He certainly played his cards right.

A mocking glint flashed across Gao Taixiang's handsome face as he declared in a booming voice, "Duan Yun will not return; it is Heaven's will, and my fate is sealed!" With that, he closed his eyes and remained silent, offering his neck for execution. Regardless, Duan Xingzhi was still alive; hopefully, he would have a chance to return to Dali…

Duan Xingzhi, remember our promise. I'm watching over you from heaven.

The executioner, having received orders from the Five-Flower Tower, raised his giant axe.

The blazing sun was suddenly obscured by thick, dark clouds. In an instant, a fierce wind arose, causing the banners to flutter wildly. Thunder and lightning flashed, sandstorms raged, and a torrential downpour followed, bringing with it a shower of blood...

The heavy, carved door of the Silent Shop creaked open, and Lu Zigang then heard the sound of his cane hitting the floor. Too lazy to even lift his head, he continued to focus intently on carving the jade piece in his hand with his rolling pin.

Without needing to be invited, the curator familiarly placed a brocade box on the counter and carefully picked up a teacup, gently admiring it. What a joke! Look at the glaze, the rough rim, the tear marks, and the unglazed edge—it's clearly a late Song Dynasty Ding ware, and a rare black Ding at that. And look at the clearly visible leaf pattern on the bottom of the bowl in the clear tea soup; no further analysis is needed. The curator has already determined it to be a Song Dynasty Ding ware black-glazed leaf-patterned bowl.

His hands trembled slightly, and the curator quickly placed the teacup back on the counter. What a disgrace! An antique of this quality, even in the National Palace Museum in Taipei, with its countless treasures, would deserve to be displayed in a glass case for all to admire. But here at Ya She, it's just a casual tea-making utensil. Although this teacup was originally meant for drinking tea, no matter how many times the curator saw it, he still couldn't get used to it.

The curator was torn between fearing he might break it and wanting to hold it and caress it. He stared blankly at the black Ding teacup for a while before turning his gaze to Lu Zigang. Upon seeing it, he was even more shocked and adjusted his reading glasses.

Was he seeing things? When did Lu Zigang develop such excellent skills? Could he really be possessed by the spirit of that Lu Zigang from the Ming Dynasty?

Look at the peony carving on this jade piece. The veins and patterns on the petals are carved so clearly that even the dewdrops on them seem to be about to drip. In addition, the jade material used is Hetian jade seed material, which is white like mutton fat, smooth and lustrous. Even the little bit of yellow skin left on the skin falls on the stamen of the peony flower. Lu Zigang is currently carving that area with a rolling pin.

The curator was completely mesmerized, knowing he couldn't disturb him. If he used even a little too much force, this exquisitely crafted jade piece might be ruined. He watched as the stamens of the peony flower appeared one by one before his eyes, while nearby, in a darker area, Lu Zigang skillfully sculpted a bee with wings as thin as cicada wings, as if it were about to take flight at any moment.

During this process, the curator was so careful not to disturb Lu Zigang that he kept his breathing very softly, which caused Lu Zigang to completely forget that there was someone watching him. After he finished carving the bee, he used a rolling pin to carve a poem on the back of the jade piece and casually signed it with his name, Zigang. Only then did he look up, intending to pick up the teacup beside him and take a sip of tea to soothe his throat.

His outstretched hand grasped at empty air, and he realized there was another person in the Silent Shop. Lu Zigang saw the black Ding ware teacup with leaf patterns placed in front of the curator, and knew without a doubt that the curator had thoroughly examined it. He curled his lip in disgust, rummaged through the counter for a teacup of similar size, and brewed himself a new pot of tea.

Even with another Song Dynasty Ding ware black-glazed partridge-spot bowl in front of him, the curator wasn't as excited. His expression was somewhat unfocused. Had he seen it correctly? Such exquisite craftsmanship! Such an authentic Zi Gang mark! If he hadn't witnessed the carving of this jade piece with his own eyes, and considering the series of forgery techniques like vinegar quenching, bleaching, and dyeing, he might have even thought it was a genuine Ming Dynasty Lu Zi Gang piece…

Could it be that this Silent Shop is actually a counterfeit goods store?

The curator immediately dismissed the suspicion. Forgery is a specialized field; it's impossible for every antique to look authentic. Besides, he's acquired so many valuable items from the Silent Shop; surely he couldn't have been fooled by every single one? Moreover, there have been jade pieces imitating Zigang's style throughout history; it's just that this young man's carving is far too convincing.

Lu Zigang didn't care what the curator was thinking; he was just hoping the old man would overthink things and stay as far away from the Silent Shop as possible. These past few days, the old man had been coming every day, never saying what he wanted, always changing the subject. Taking a sip of hot tea, Lu Zigang glanced at the brocade box that had appeared on the counter this time and sighed, "Uncle Curator, I've already told you the boss isn't here. Even if you bring something, it won't do me any good."

After he mentioned it, the curator remembered his intention and quickly said, "Little Lu! I really can't find anyone to help me! Please help me take a look!"

Lu Zigang reluctantly took the black Dingmu bowl from in front of the curator, washed it, poured him another bowl of tea, and adopted a posture of attentive listening. To be honest, Lu Zigang had originally intended to pass the time, but as the curator's slightly hoarse voice grew, his expression became increasingly serious.

Before the Lunar New Year, the curator went to Kunming for recuperation due to leg problems. However, he was a restless soul and soon made connections with his colleagues in Kunming. Shortly after, he heard about the discovery of an ancient tomb in Dali Ancient City and couldn't resist taking the train to Dali. Due to his position, although he didn't directly participate in the excavation of the Dali tomb, he examined all the unearthed artifacts. This ancient tomb had already been discovered by locals before it was reported to the national authorities, and because of its remote location, a large portion of the artifacts had already been stolen by the time the archaeologists sealed off the site. Undeterred, the curator lingered in the area for a long time and actually managed to buy a porcelain figurine that he suspected was unearthed from this tomb.

"It was only a suspicion, because I didn't see a similar porcelain figurine among the unearthed artifacts. I only used devitrification identification and glaze microscopic observation to roughly estimate the age of this porcelain figurine to be close to that of the unearthed tomb. So I handed this porcelain figurine over, but they wouldn't accept it, thinking I was wrong." The curator rubbed his hands, his wrinkled face full of displeasure. "So I had no choice but to bring this porcelain figurine back, originally intending to put it in my own collection room as a addition to my collection, but..."

"What was the result?" Lu Zigang hadn't seen the curator continue speaking for a while, but he became interested in the porcelain figurine in the brocade box. He washed and dried his hands, then picked up the thin gloves from the counter and put them on. He hadn't paid much attention to the antiques in the Silent Shop because those were everyday items. But this porcelain figurine might be an unearthed funerary object, so it deserved different treatment.

A small, palm-sized shadow puppet lay quietly inside the brocade box.

Yingqing is also a type of celadon, with a slightly bluish glaze that is crystal clear and highly transparent. Yingqing typically uses iron as a colorant and is usually applied to the carved unglazed body, resulting in a generally simple and elegant finished product. The Yingqing figurine in front of him was rather rough; although the glaze was smooth, there were areas where the glaze had peeled off, indicating that the firing technique wasn't very skillful. However, the clothing and patterns on the figurine were still discernible. The figurine was kneeling with its head slightly lowered, but unfortunately, the glaze on its eyebrows and facial features was severely damaged and peeled away, making it difficult to discern its original appearance. Upon closer inspection, Lu Zigang understood why the curator was so convinced that this figurine also came from that ancient tomb.

Lu Zigang, an expert in the field, had heard about the excavation of the ancient tomb in Dali. It was the mausoleum of a Dali nobleman, but due to the theft of many important burial objects, coupled with the chaos of war at the end of the Song Dynasty and the beginning of the Yuan Dynasty, and the frequent changes of the Dali throne, the owner of the ancient tomb was difficult to determine. The clothing of this shadow-blue figurine was clearly that of a Dali nobleman, and the patterns all over its body were intricate. However, the blank space at the waist in the middle was meant to imply that there should be no frivolous thoughts. This is a typical Bai nobleman.

Lu Zigang rarely saw such a shadowy blue figurine and was immediately captivated by it. However, he didn't forget the curator's unfinished question and pressed for an answer: "What happened in the end?"

"...As a result, I've been having nightmares lately." The curator wiped his face with his hand. He always thought that Confucius should not talk about strange phenomena and supernatural beings, but a few years ago, after he acquired the Yue King's sword and experienced that terrifying night at the museum, he had become somewhat of a believer. "I keep dreaming about a scene of someone being executed. Looking at the surrounding scenery and flags, it should be when Dali City was occupied by the Mongol army."

"The last person in power in the Gao family?" Lu Zigang thought for a moment, then retrieved the answer from his memory. He couldn't recall the person's name immediately, but the unique ruling system of the Dali Kingdom, so different from that of the Central Plains, was still vivid in his mind. The Duan family of Dali was, in a sense, more like the modern Japanese or British royal family—powerless, merely a mascot, possessing symbolic significance. The Gao family, on the other hand, was the true ruler of Dali, and the one publicly executed made the answer obvious.

"Yes, his name is Gao Taixiang." The curator was very knowledgeable about this history. "When Dali fell, the last emperor of Dali, Duan Xingzhi, and Gao Taixiang fled separately. Gao Taixiang was captured, refused to surrender, and was beheaded at the foot of Wuhua Tower. Not long after, Duan Xingzhi was also captured, but was sent to the Mongol court in the north to see Möngke Khan. Möngke Khan treated him with leniency, bestowed upon him a golden tally, and ordered him to return to Dali as the governor-general, continuing to manage the various tribes that originally belonged to him. In my opinion, Duan Xingzhi was probably quite happy. Now that he was free from the shackles of the Gao family, he was much more at ease."

Lu Zigang raised an eyebrow. Those of them who studied historical artifacts rarely added their own preferences to their commentary on historical events. The curator's obvious dislike for Duan Xingzhi was likely influenced by those dreams. Lu Zigang played with the shadowy figurine in his hands for a while, then put it back in the brocade box, smiling, "Curator, I suspect you're just dreaming about what you've been thinking about all day. There's nothing unusual about this shadowy figurine." He then helplessly spread his hands, saying, "To be honest, even if there were, with my level of expertise, I couldn't tell."

"Nothing unusual?" The curator smacked his lips twice. "I was planning to send this celadon figurine for thermoluminescence analysis, but I'm reluctant to drill holes in it. Fortunately, there are some areas where the glaze has peeled off. I sent it for compositional analysis the day before yesterday, and the evaluation report isn't out yet..."

Lu Zigang felt deeply that the curator's actions were unnecessary, and he knew that the other party was not expecting him to have any suggestions, or even if he did have any suggestions, he would not listen to them, so he obediently kept quiet.

The curator, however, continued to ponder the matter and ultimately decided to follow his intuition. He reasoned that unearthed funerary objects, often possessing an overwhelming amount of yin energy, are typically displayed in museums. Exposure to artificial light and the constant flow of visitors brings yang energy, which helps the yin energy on these objects gradually dissipate.

It's decided! We'll put this celadon figurine in next week's porcelain exhibition!
Gao Taixiang still remembers the day when he chose his own destiny, which at the same time determined the destiny of others, and even the destiny of Dali as a whole.

The Gao family's enduring wealth and immense power created a sprawling, interconnected empire. Unlike the Han Chinese tradition of favoring the eldest son or grandson, the leadership of the Gao family was determined by merit, with each generation taking the helm based on ability. Therefore, Gao Taixiang paid an unimaginable price and endured unimaginable hardship to become a suitable successor in the eyes of his elders.

The throne of the Dali Duan family was actually chosen by the Gao family's leader. After the death of Emperor Xiaoyi, Duan Xiangxing, whom Gao Taixiang had assisted, his primary task was to select a suitable successor from among the Duan family's sons.

No one in power in the Gao family would fail to enjoy this moment. Some might think that becoming emperor is the most honorable thing in the world, but having the power to choose who inherits the throne and to control the person on the dragon throne might just make one's desire for power swell to its extreme.

At least, Gao Taixiang was enjoying himself, though he was still somewhat annoyed. Although he was very young, he had already seen a lot of cunning tricks by standing out from the powerful and cunning Gao family. The Duan family members who would swarm around him from morning till night, like flies buzzing around pastries, were extremely bothersome to him.

Until one day, a handsome young man with refined features stood before him, completely disregarding the murderous aura emanating from him after his recent battle. He didn't utter a single word, simply gazing at him with an air of nonchalance. "Why don't you speak?" Gao Taixiang admitted that this Duan Xingzhi had indeed piqued his interest.

“Even if I don’t say it, Prime Minister Gao knows why I’m here.” A confident smile played on Duan Xingzhi’s lips, and the light in his eyes, illuminated by the sunlight, was almost blinding. He continued slowly, “Moreover, Prime Minister Gao will ultimately choose me.”

"Oh? Then why would I choose you?" Gao Taixiang raised an eyebrow upon hearing this, and chuckled to himself.

“Because I will die before you,” Duan Xingzhi said simply. His voice was soft, but it contained an irresistible charm.

Gao Taixiang's smile faded, and for the first time, he seriously examined the young man standing calmly before him. He didn't say he would devote himself wholeheartedly to Dali, nor did he try to use nepotism to get close, nor did he use any underhanded means to subtly hint at his intentions. Because he knew what he wanted first.

He was promising him that he would be easier to control than the other brothers, and if he was difficult to control, he could be replaced directly.

"Very well, this is the agreement."

“This is an agreement.”

"Very well, this is the agreement."

“This is an agreement.”

Gao Taixiang snapped out of his reverie, reaching out to stroke the carved railing beneath his hand. The Wuhua Tower was the tallest and most magnificent building in Da Mai City, every detail exquisitely crafted beyond belief—perhaps only the imperial palaces of the Han Chinese in the Central Plains could compare. Yet even the mighty Han Chinese could not withstand the Mongol cavalry; their magnificent land was mercilessly trampled under their hooves. And now, the tables had turned in their Da Mai…

Heavy footsteps echoed down the wooden staircase behind him. Gao Taixiang didn't need to turn around to know who was coming up. This was the highest floor of the Wuhua Tower, and in the Dali Kingdom, only two people were qualified to ascend it.

"Prime Minister, lead the troops to break through the encirclement." Duan Xing's slightly tired voice sounded behind Gao Taixiang, and a pair of fair hands, stained with blood, pressed on the railing beside the latter.

Gao Taixiang's sunlight involuntarily fell on the bloodstains between the fingers. After confirming that it was not the other party who was injured, he squinted and asked, "And what about you?" Duan Xingzhi's eyes were empty as he looked at the panicked Dali people below Wuhua Tower. After a long time, he sighed and said, "I will live and die with Dali."

"Are you content with this?" Gao Taixiang sneered. With his assistance, Duan Xingzhi had been on the throne for three years. This young man was not as harmless as he appeared. He was ambitious, though he hid it well, but in Gao Taixiang's eyes, he had nowhere to hide.

Duan Xingzhi's thin lips pressed into a straight line. How could he be willing to accept this? But in this critical moment of life and death, he couldn't possibly be blind to the truth and deceive himself into believing that there was still hope.

“We’ll break out separately,” Gao Taixiang said calmly. “That way, the Mongol soldiers will have to split up to capture us. At the very least, they need one of us to survive.”

"Why?" Duan Xingzhi turned his head and asked. He wasn't asking why the Mongol soldiers spared one of their lives—that was obviously to appease the people of Dali. He was asking why Gao Taixiang had gone to such lengths.

Gao Taixiang answered him with a slight smile. "Anyway, we had an agreement, didn't we?" Duan Xingzhi smiled helplessly, confirming that they had indeed made an agreement. The two of them breaking out separately would definitely have a greater chance of survival than Gao Taixiang breaking out alone. Moreover, even if Gao Taixiang were captured, he could simply surrender and reclaim everything he originally possessed.

He's overthinking things.

The spring rain was drizzling outside the window, bringing with it a chilly feeling.

The doctor stood by the window, feeling a chill creeping through him from the slightly ajar crack. Strange, when did he start to hate rain so much? While he might find rain inconvenient, had it reached the point of disgust or even fear?
Several blurry images flashed through his subconscious. The doctor frowned, trying to bring them back to a clearer view, but to no avail.

"What are you staring out the window for? Aren't you going home after your night shift? Didn't you bring an umbrella?" Chun Ge, who was reading a newspaper nearby, pointed to the umbrella drying on the ground. "Use mine for now, I'm on duty today anyway." "...Thanks." The doctor couldn't explain why he was afraid of going out in the rain and had a natural aversion to borrowing umbrellas. But he was probably overthinking it. Putting his worries about the rain behind him, he walked over to Chun Ge, put away his umbrella, and casually asked, "What gossip are you reading? You look so animated."

"Oh dear, they say the museum has a porcelain exhibition recently, and some people claim that after going, they felt breathless and weak when they got home. I think it's just hype, since so few people go to museums these days." Chun Ge pointed at the newspaper with a mocking look, "See, now that the newspaper has reported it, more people are going to visit. They might even do a series of reports!"

“…Maybe they really weren’t just hyping it up?” The doctor didn’t know why he had such a thought. Shouldn’t a normal person think like Chun Ge? Chun Ge looked at the doctor with the eyes of someone looking at an alien, but then shrugged understandingly and said, “Oh well, I know you have a good relationship with the boss, and he’s made you a bit neurotic. By the way, I heard you say that the boss of that company seems to have connections with the museum curator. You can ask him about it sometime.”

"Boss?" The doctor's brows furrowed even more. Was he the owner of some snack shop? A xiaolongbao (soup dumpling) or jiandan guozi (fried egg roll) shop?
"You're the owner of that antique shop called 'Silent Shop' in the commercial street! Oh, right, I haven't seen you there lately. Has the owner not returned yet? Sigh, it's time to go check on the patients." Chun Ge mentioned it casually, not taking it to heart. He glanced at the clock on the wall, closed the newspaper, put on his white coat, picked up the medical records, and went to check on the patients.

The doctor thought Chun Ge must have confused him with someone else. How could he possibly know the owner of an antique shop? The doctor smiled indifferently, walked out of the hospital building, stared blankly at the gray sky for a while, and then opened his umbrella and walked into the rain.

Raindrops pattered against the umbrella, making a muffled pattering sound. The doctor was momentarily dazed, and with the umbrella obscuring most of his vision, he didn't realize he was already standing on a shopping street.

Oh, right, I should buy some breakfast to take back. I can also bring some for Tangyuan. That kid should be up by now.

The doctor snapped out of his daze and started browsing the shopping street for breakfast. The leek buns next to the apartment complex weren't as good as the ones here, but the fried dough sticks were definitely better over there. Soy milk was too inconvenient to carry, so he decided to buy some downstairs. Oh, but judging by the time, the breakfast stalls downstairs were probably all closed.

Without realizing it, the doctor's steps seemed to have a mind of their own, stopping in front of a shop before he could even react. The ornately carved door caught his eye. The doctor looked up, and the edge of his umbrella slowly rose, revealing two small seal characters.

Tang Yuan, who should be staying at home and waiting for the doctor to feed him a loving breakfast, was instead standing in front of the museum, lost in thought, holding a transparent plastic umbrella.

“Little Lulu, are you sure there’s spiritual energy to absorb here? You can absorb it even through the glass case? By the way, Little Lulu, have you never been to a museum? Those glass cases covering antiques are completely isolated from air!” Tang Yuan muttered to the little white snake clinging to the umbrella ribs, sounding earnest and earnest. “Besides, I checked the almanac today, and it’s actually not a good day to travel!”

The little white snake turned its head and lazily flicked its tongue at him, hissing twice.

Tang Yuan had no choice but to abandon his plan to return home. With a death-defying attitude, he trudged towards the museum's entrance, stepping through puddles with each step. Just as he closed his umbrella and placed it on the umbrella stand by the door, the little white snake darted into Tang Yuan's sleeve with lightning speed.

Shivering from the cold, Tang Yuan resignedly pulled his sleeves tighter, flashed a cute smile at the inquiring staff member, and announced that he had specifically asked his teacher for leave to visit the museum because he needed to write an article about it. Wherever he went, Tang Yuan always encountered well-meaning people asking why he wasn't in school, so he had honed the skill of readily offering various excuses. After all, these people were just asking; they couldn't really interfere in his life. This time was no different; Tang Yuan was allowed into the museum, a place open to the public free of charge.

However, since it wasn't a weekend and it was early morning, the museum was practically empty. The spacious, well-ventilated interior also made one feel a chill as soon as they entered the exhibition hall. Tang Yuan glanced at the somewhat dimly lit hall and involuntarily shrank back.

The small white snake that had been coiled around his wrist slithered up his arm to his neck, peeking out from his collar and urging him forward. Enslaved, Tang Yuan had no choice but to slowly stroll past each display case, the snake tucked between his fingers. He would linger for a few seconds in front of an exhibit before turning away. He looked like a child casually browsing, but in reality, it was the unseen white snake around his neck that was determining whether the exhibits were usable.

The museum curator was completely unaware that a lawless brat had walked into the museum. He was currently slapping a newspaper, making a phone call to the media, arguing with them about the inaccuracies in their reports. "Difficulty breathing? Is this just some sensational story the reporters made up to avoid a bad story? Don't think this old man doesn't know what hype is! Those reporters must be desperate for a story!"
When the assistant knocked on the office door, he saw the curator quoting classical texts and cursing the other party without using any vulgar language. He stood there boredly, waiting for his curator to finish his rant before hanging up the phone.

Enslaved, Tang Yuan had no choice but to slowly stroll past each display case, the little white snake tucked around his neck. He would linger in front of an exhibit for a few seconds before turning away. It looked like a child casually browsing, but in reality, the unseen white snake around his neck was determining whether the exhibits were usable.

The museum curator was completely unaware that a lawless brat had walked into the museum. He was currently slapping a newspaper, making a phone call to the media, arguing with them about the inaccuracies in their reports. "Difficulty breathing? Is this just some sensational story the reporters made up to avoid a bad story? Don't think this old man doesn't know what hype is! Those reporters must be desperate for a story!"
When the assistant knocked on the office door, he saw the curator quoting classical texts and cursing the other party without using any vulgar language. He stood there boredly, waiting for his curator to finish his rant before hanging up the phone.

"What is it?" The curator's tone was not very good. Although he felt that there was something wrong with the celadon figurine in the porcelain exhibition, he was still very angry and embarrassed that the media had exposed it and announced it to the world with a fabricated reason.

"Director, the composition report for that Yingqing terracotta figurine is ready." The assistant composed himself at the right moment and solemnly handed over a stack of bound documents.

The curator quickly took the book and flipped through it, his gaze lingering on a particular line of data. He pushed up his glasses incredulously. "Silicon oxide, aluminum oxide, and calcium oxide..."

“Yes, Curator, the composition of that celadon figurine is indeed problematic. It's not like ordinary porcelain, which is entirely composed of silicates.” The assistant was also surprised. “In nature, calcium oxide is not abundant, so animal bone ash is usually chosen as the source. If the deduction is correct, that celadon figurine should be the world's first true bone china. This discovery completely overturns the definition that bone china is the only type of porcelain invented by Westerners! It predates Western bone china by five hundred years! Curator! This is a groundbreaking discovery!”

The curator ignored his increasingly agitated assistant, took off his glasses, and rubbed his sore nose.

No wonder he always felt something was off about that bronze china figurine; it was because of its weight. Bone china of the same volume is always much lighter than ceramic made from clay, and the texture is also slightly different, with a subtle difference in feel.

Having finally found the problem with the shadowy blue figurine, the curator felt a great weight lifted from his shoulders. He put his glasses back on and sneered at his noisy and excited assistant, saying, "Naive boy, this is a burial object. Do you think its composition is the same as in the West—ox bones?"

The assistant's voice stopped abruptly, his young face filled with horror, and he immediately felt the temperature in the office drop several degrees.

Western bone china uses cow bone, so... does the curator mean... that bronze figurine... was made from human bone?

Just then, not far from the office, Tang Yuan, who had been walking around intermittently, finally stopped under the guidance of the little white snake.

In the display case in front of him, a shadowy green figurine knelt quietly.

Even if the little white snake hadn't slapped him with the tip of its tail, Tang Yuan would have stopped in front of this display case.

It's not because the shadow-blue figurine is so lifelike or has such smooth lines, but because the figurine's neck is tightly bound by two thin silk threads, and the ends of the two threads are firmly fixed to the four corners of the base. At first glance, it looks as if the shadow-blue figurine is being tortured.

"Holy crap... this way of binding the shock-absorbing wires is amazing..." Tang Yuan, afraid of leaving fingerprints on the spotless display case, tried his best to examine it closely through the glass. He wasn't unfamiliar with shock-absorbing wires; museums usually secure bases or attach shock-absorbing wires to antiques with high centers of gravity to prevent them from tipping over during earthquakes and causing unnecessary damage. But binding the shock-absorbing wires like this, as if binding a prisoner, was truly a first. Tang Yuan looked around and complained, "The arrangement of this exhibition hall is interesting, though. Each exhibit is arranged according to the Later Heaven Bagua diagram, with Yang rising and Yin descending, which is actually to suppress this Shadow Green figurine... But it still looks very strange, this way of binding... My little ancestor, even if you didn't say it, I feel that this Shadow Green figurine is filled with evil energy. But how are you going to absorb its spiritual energy like this?"

The little white snake disdainfully poked its head out, but before its bright red tongue could even touch the glass cover of the display case, Tang Yuan pulled it back.

"Ouch! Stop biting, someone's coming." Tang Yuan shoved the furious little white snake back into his arms, calmly taking a few steps back as he watched the people rushing into the exhibition hall.

Soon, several white screens were erected around the display case, and several security guards stood outside the screens, strictly prohibiting outsiders from approaching. In fact, Tang Yuan was the only visitor in the entire exhibition hall. Moreover, peeking through the gaps in the screens, Tang Yuan could see the staff opening the display case. He remembered that one of the people who rushed in was carrying a brocade box, and it seemed that they intended to take the Yingqing figurine out of the display case and no longer display it.

Seeing the tense atmosphere, Tang Yuan shrugged helplessly and whispered to the little darling on his neck, "Little Lulu, it seems there won't be another chance. Shall we choose another antique? Sweetie... Look over there, there's a Yuan blue and white porcelain jar that looks nice... Hmm... Okay, okay, let's look at it for a while longer."

Once again succumbing to the white snake's oppression, Tang Yuan feigned curiosity, peeking out from a safe distance. After all, he was a child, and children's curiosity was permissible; indeed, no one came to ask him to leave. The curator also failed to notice the two, a man and a snake, eyeing the bronze figurine intently a few steps away. He worried that if the media discovered the figurine was made from human ashes, it would likely cause a huge uproar. In his view, however, there was no difference between using human or animal ashes. The custom of burying living people alive still existed in the Ming Dynasty; compared to that, bone china was more subtle. Moreover, proving the figurine was made of bone china greatly increased its research value; it might even truly be a funerary object from an ancient tomb. It was best to suspend the exhibition for further authentication.

However, the curator hesitated slightly. Before organizing the exhibition, unsure of what was wrong with the Yingqing figurine, he had specifically arranged the display case according to the feng shui principles the owner had mentioned. Furthermore, the two shock-absorbing threads binding the figurine weren't ordinary threads; they were special threads wrapped with talismans, obtained from the owner long ago. The owner had also said that once these talismanic threads were used, they shouldn't be touched without his permission, and it was best to wait for him to personally remove them.

Now that we know the reason, is there any need to be so alarmed? Besides, the boss is currently missing, and we can't find him to untie the threads, can we? Although the curator prefers to believe it's true rather than not, he probably still feels he's making a mountain out of a molehill. Seeing that the glass case was already open, he rolled up his sleeves, put on gloves, and personally untied the threads, intending to retrieve the Shadow Green Figurine.

The moment the taut threads slumped, the curator watched in disbelief as the two threads flashed faintly before melting into the air like ice and snow. Before he could react, his vision blurred, and when he regained his senses, he found himself standing in a void. Opposite him, the Shadow Azure Figurine continued to grow, until it reached a size roughly the same as a normal human before stopping.

As the curator stared in disbelief, about to take a closer look, the shadowy blue figurine suddenly burst into a bright white light and vanished before his eyes.

Soon, several white screens were erected around the display case, and several security guards stood outside the screens, strictly prohibiting outsiders from approaching. In fact, Tang Yuan was the only visitor in the entire exhibition hall. Moreover, peeking through the gaps in the screens, Tang Yuan could see the staff opening the display case. He remembered that one of the people who rushed in was carrying a brocade box, and it seemed that they intended to take the Yingqing figurine out of the display case and no longer display it.

Seeing the tense atmosphere, Tang Yuan shrugged helplessly and whispered to the little darling on his neck, "Little Lulu, it seems there won't be another chance. Shall we choose another antique? Sweetie... Look over there, there's a Yuan blue and white porcelain jar that looks nice... Hmm... Okay, okay, let's look at it for a while longer."

Once again succumbing to the little white snake's oppression, Tang Yuan feigned curiosity, standing on tiptoe to peek from a safe distance. After all, he was a child, and children's curiosity was allowed, so no one came to tell him to leave.

The curator didn't notice the two figures, a human and a snake, eyeing the bronze figurine a few steps away. He was worried that if the media found out it was made of human ashes, it would cause a huge uproar. In his view, there was no difference between using human or animal ashes. The custom of burying living people alive still existed in the Ming Dynasty; compared to that, bone china was more subtle. Moreover, proving the figurine was made of bone china greatly increased its research value; it might even be a burial item from an ancient tomb. It was better to suspend the exhibition for further authentication.

However, the curator hesitated slightly. Before organizing the exhibition, unsure of what was wrong with the Yingqing figurine, he had specifically arranged the display case according to the feng shui principles the owner had mentioned. Furthermore, the two shock-absorbing threads binding the figurine weren't ordinary threads; they were special threads wrapped with talismans, obtained from the owner long ago. The owner had also said that once these talismanic threads were used, they shouldn't be touched without his permission, and it was best to wait for him to personally remove them.

Now that we know the reason, is there any need to be so alarmed? Besides, the boss is currently missing, and we can't find him to untie the threads, can we? Although the curator prefers to believe it's true rather than not, he probably still feels he's making a mountain out of a molehill. Seeing that the glass case was already open, he rolled up his sleeves, put on gloves, and personally untied the threads, intending to retrieve the Shadow Green Figurine.

The moment the taut threads slumped, the curator watched in disbelief as the two threads flashed faintly before melting into the air like ice and snow. Before he could react, his vision blurred, and when he regained his senses, he found himself standing in a void. Opposite him, the Shadow Azure Figurine continued to grow, until it reached a size roughly the same as a normal human before stopping.

As the curator stared in disbelief, about to take a closer look, the shadowy blue figurine suddenly burst into a bright white light and vanished before his eyes.

In a flash, the curator found himself still standing in the museum, his assistant cautiously calling out "Curator" to him, while he held the shadowy blue figurine in his hand, as if he had been holding that pose for a long time.

After a moment of stunned silence, the curator placed the celadon figurine into the brocade box. But whether it was just his imagination or not, he felt that the glaze on the figurine had become much duller, as if it had suddenly lost some kind of spirit.

The curator sighed softly. Perhaps, just a moment ago, what dissipated was Gao Taixiang's resentment.

But it's all for the best; everything has vanished.

The shopkeeper looked down at the compass in his hand, the pointer on the compass was shaking uneasily, and the shopkeeper's expression was also uncertain in the flickering candlelight.

"What's wrong? What happened?" Fusu walked in carrying freshly brewed tea and asked with concern. He was dressed in a plain white Hanfu robe, which made him appear even taller and more upright, like a bamboo shoot. His long bangs covered half of the scar on his face, but the exposed part of his face looked incredibly handsome. He deliberately put down the teapot with his left hand and hid his right hand deep in his sleeve.

The boss did not notice Fusu's strange behavior. He lowered his eyes, flicked the pointer on the compass, and watched it spin around a few times before finally settling quietly on one of the hexagrams.

"It seems... something has awakened..." The innkeeper sighed softly, reaching for a cup of hot tea he had poured. "Does the young master know about the terracotta warrior?"

Confucius said, "The one who first made funerary figurines, will he have no descendants?" This is because they were made to resemble people and were used for burial. Confucius praised those who made straw spirits, but said those who made funerary figurines were unkind. Is this not akin to using people for burial? Fusu, however, really missed the atmosphere of discussing things with his boss. After sitting down, he clasped his hands together, rolled up his sleeves, and said with a smile, "Fungary figurines are actually straw spirits, burial objects used to replace living people in funerary sacrifice. Why did you suddenly bring this up?"

“I’m reminded of something that happened before.” The innkeeper took a sip of tea and rubbed the teacup in his hand. They were in a quiet mountain villa, surrounded by rolling mountains. His gaze was fixed on the lush forest outside the window, as if he had returned to hundreds of years ago. “There was a puppet emperor and a powerful prime minister who, when the capital was breached by foreign invaders, each led their troops to break through and escape.”

"Oh? Is that so?" Fusu had been asleep for over two thousand years. Although he had made up for his ignorance of history after waking up, it was impossible for him to know every detail of the historical events. Hearing this, he began to ponder with great interest. "They split their forces to escape, which must have been to disperse the pursuing foreign troops. But if they were forced by the enemy to the point that even the imperial city had been breached, they wouldn't have been able to escape far."

"That's right, they couldn't be captured at the same time, so they escaped separately."

"Oh? They can't be captured at the same time... I guess the alien race actually needs a proxy to govern this country, right? So..."

"Yes, so in the end, only one of the emperor and the prime minister can survive."

"And then what happened? Who survived? Well, actually, the one who was captured first had the best chance of survival because he could surrender first."

"Before ascending the throne, the emperor made a pact with the prime minister who was assisting him, promising that he would die before the other."

"There really is such a spineless emperor? Well, in the end, that emperor will definitely be the one who dies."

"The prime minister was arrested first, but he refused to surrender, so the foreign tribes had no choice but to behead him in front of his subjects."

"...He...is he leaving himself no way out so that the emperor can survive...?" Fusu's thoughts were extremely complicated upon hearing this. In his view, it was simply impossible for a powerful prime minister to sacrifice himself for a puppet emperor. However, after a moment's thought, he could understand the prime minister's intentions. A prime minister with such power would certainly be unyielding and absolutely could not tolerate submitting to a foreign race. Therefore, he would rather die than let the emperor miss the chance, hoping that the emperor could lead his people to continue their country, even if there was only a sliver of hope.

"Yes," the innkeeper sighed wistfully, "but that emperor didn't live much longer. The foreign tribes eventually found him too forceful and difficult to control, so they assassinated him and installed his brother as acting governor..."

Now Fusu didn't know what to say. He stared at the slightly cooled tea and fell silent.

The boss remembered a young man from long ago, who pleaded desperately for redemption.

He turned his ashes into a shadow puppet, which kneels forever in the darkness to guard his dearest friend's grave.

That resentment was probably something the thief couldn't bear...

(End of this chapter)