Under One Person: The Taoist Priest Descends the Mountain

"You can't understand Chen Jinkui using normal human thinking." Cheng Mo leaned back on the plastic chair in the waiting room. "He'll just think—I'm feeding and caring for my two little devils, and I'm just using this opportunity to get to know Master Cheng. You can't say I'm unethical, can you?"

Xia He was speechless: "How could someone like this become one of the Ten Elders? This Ten Elders Association isn't any better."

"A person's character has no necessary connection to their stance," Cheng Mo said. "A person can join the Ten Elders because they are valuable."

Xia He was silent for a moment: "What value does Chen Jinkui have?"

"The Art of Technique"

Xia He frowned and thought for a moment: "So you're not going to the capital to cause him trouble directly, but instead coming to Xiangfan to handle it?"

"That's a consideration." Cheng Mo glanced at the clock on the waiting room wall. "It's almost time."

He pulled Xia He up and walked towards the ticket gate.

Ticket check, enter the station, board the train.

After finding their bunks, the two sat on the lower bunks and chatted.

Xia He asked, "Little Taoist priest, what exactly does the 'Shu' sect do?"

Cheng Mo turned to the side, put his arm around her, and looked out the window.

The train slowly started moving, and the platform outside the window gradually receded, replaced by rolling fields and scattered villages.

Cheng Mo said, "It's the literal meaning, but there's something different in the details. The Technique Sect and All-Knowing Sect have close ties. Some projects handled by the Dark Fortress involve cooperation with the Technique Sect, and..."

He paused for a moment, then continued, "Sorcerers, as everyone knows, some people in higher positions really like to have sorcerers help them with divination, which naturally leads them to curry favor with the powerful and wealthy."

Xia He curled her lip: "All crows are black."

"You can't say that," Cheng Mo said seriously. "Crows can be colorful too."

Xia He ignored his lame joke and took out her phone: "I'll call my mom and tell them to be careful."

Cheng Mo pressed her hand down: "There's no need to remind them. They won't know how to guard against it anyway, and it will only cause them more trouble. Let's just chat about everyday things."

Xia He thought about it and felt it made sense. She found her mother's phone number and called her. The two talked about business at the factory, then about the neighbor's cat, and then about embarrassing things that happened to Xia He when she was a child.

Cheng Mo listened for a while, then took out his phone: "I'll tell Lao Gao that his daughter was almost kidnapped, so he needs to know."

beep - beep - beep -

"Master Cheng?" Gao Lian's voice came through the receiver. "What is it?"

"Old Gao, there's something I need to tell you."

Cheng Mo recounted how Er Zhuang had almost been kidnapped.

There was a few seconds of silence on the other end of the phone, then Gao Lian's voice turned serious: "Who did it?"

"The Art School, Chen Jinkui's men."

Gao Lian sneered: "The Art Sect? Ha."

Cheng Mo calmly told Gao Lian, "I'll handle this. I just wanted to let you know."

"Okay." Gao Lian's tone returned to some calmness. "Just let me know if you need anything."

"it is good."

Meanwhile, Xia He also called Liao Zhong.

Xia He briefly explained the situation and asked Liao Zhong to help contact the person in charge in Xiangfan and keep an eye on her parents' situation.

After listening, Liao Zhong's tone became more serious: "Okay, I'll take care of it."

"Thank you, Uncle Liao."

"Hey, why are you being so polite with me?"

The train sped along the tracks, the scenery outside the window changing from plains to hills, then from hills to mountains, the sky gradually darkening, and the last orange-red sunset on the distant mountain ridge disappearing.

……

Xiangfan.

This is an old town with a story.

The Han River flows through the city, dividing the urban area in two. The ancient city wall along the river still retains its appearance from the Ming and Qing dynasties, with moss growing on the blue bricks; in the old streets and alleys, the bluestone pavement has been polished to a shine by the years.

Places with a rich historical and cultural heritage always have a market for antiques and calligraphy.

Xiangfan's cultural street is located in the old city. It's a narrow alley lined with antique shops, calligraphy and painting shops, and stalls selling cultural artifacts. Genuine and fake items are mixed together, so it all depends on the buyer's discerning eye.

The branch of Xiguge in Xiangfan is located on this street. The storefront is unassuming, with blue bricks and gray tiles, and a black wooden plaque with the three characters "Xiguge" engraved on it.

Unlike the shops next door that are filled with bottles and jars to attract customers, Xiguge's door is always half-closed, as if it doesn't care if you come in or not.

But those in the know understand that most of the real gems on this street are in Xigu Pavilion.

Old Zhou is the manager of this branch.

He was in his early forties, of medium build, wearing a dark gray Chinese-style jacket, and always had a smile on his face. He looked like an ordinary antique shop owner, but in reality, he managed a number of shady businesses in the Xiangfan area.

That afternoon, Old Zhou was sitting in the shop drinking tea when the phone on the table rang. It was the big boss, Na Ruhu, calling.

Old Zhou quickly answered the phone: "Brother Tiger."

"Old Zhou, I need you to do something for me," Na Ruhu instructed. "There's a shoe factory in Xiangfan, and the owner is named Xia Weidong. Arrange for a few people to help look after it."

After listening, Old Zhou clapped his hands and said, "What a coincidence!"

Na Ruhu asked, "What's wrong?"

Old Zhou said, "Brother Hu, I know this Xia Weidong. He came to the store to look at some things a while ago."

That tiger became interested: "Oh? Tell me about it."

……

The story begins many days ago.

Old Xia doesn't have any particular hobbies; he just likes to dabble in antiques and calligraphy.

When I was young, I loved browsing flea markets and buying bottles and jars to take home. Later, I opened a shoe factory and had more money, so I started buying more proper items.

When I was young, I loved browsing flea markets and buying bottles and jars to take home. Later, I opened a shoe factory and had more money, so I started buying more proper items.

However, Lao Xia's judgment, to put it nicely, is "still improving," but to put it bluntly, he "frequently pays tuition fees."

Once, he spent 30,000 yuan to buy a piece of "Ming Dynasty blue and white porcelain" and excitedly invited a knowledgeable friend to his home to appraise it.

My friend picked it up and looked at it for less than ten seconds before saying, "Old Xia, this 'Ming Dynasty blue and white porcelain' of yours is marked 'Made in the Qianlong Reign of the Great Qing Dynasty'."

Old Xia: "..."

My friend added insult to injury: "And the character '隆' in '乾隆' is misspelled."

Old Xia: "..."

The story spread on social media, and people laughed at him for over half a year.

But Lao Xia was not discouraged at all.

"Collecting is just for fun," he always says. "Buying a genuine item is like finding a bargain, buying a fake is like paying tuition. Besides, surely a few of my things are genuine, right?"

Some of them are indeed genuine, but the combined value of the genuine items is only about one-tenth of the money he has spent over the years.

That noon, after finishing a business deal, Lao Xia had nothing else to do, so he strolled around Cultural Street.

Old Xia squatted in front of a stall, picked up a bowl and examined it from all angles.

The stall owner was a thin old man. Seeing that he was looking at the pot carefully, he leaned over and whispered, "Boss, you have a good eye. This is a genuine Ming Dynasty folk kiln piece. I paid a high price for it when I bought it."

Old Xia flipped the bowl over to look at the signature, and his lips twitched—

Microwave oven only.

He put down the bowl, stood up, dusted off his knees, and continued walking.

"Boss Xia?"

A voice came from behind me.

Old Xia turned around and saw a middle-aged man wearing a dark gray cardigan smiling at him.

"You are..." Old Xia felt that this person looked familiar, but he couldn't remember where he had seen him before.

"My surname is Zhou." The middle-aged man smiled and handed over a business card. "Manager of Xigu Pavilion."

Old Xia took the business card and glanced at it—Xigu Pavilion Xiangfan Branch, Zhou Dechang, Manager.

"Oh—Manager Zhou." Old Xia put away the business card, cupped his hands in greeting, and said, "It's an honor to meet you."

Old Zhou asked with a smile, "Boss Xia also likes antiques?"

"Just messing around, just messing around." Old Xia waved his hand.

"Boss Xia is too modest." Old Zhou's tone was sincere. "You look at things very carefully, you really like them, unlike some people who are just pretending to be cultured."

These words struck a chord with Lao Xia, who beamed from ear to ear while still modestly saying, "Manager Zhou, you've gone too far, you've gone too far."

Old Zhou smiled. "There's a teahouse up ahead; their Maojian tea is quite good. If you have time, Mr. Xia, would you like me to treat you to a drink?"

Old Xia checked the time and, having no plans for the afternoon, nodded.

The two entered the teahouse and found a seat by the window.

Old Zhou ordered a pot of Xinyang Maojian tea and two plates of snacks.

"What kind of customers does Boss Xia usually accept?" Old Zhou asked.

"I'll look at a little bit of everything." Old Xia picked up his teacup and blew on it. "Calligraphy, paintings, porcelain, furniture—if I find something I like, I'll buy it."

"Then you must have excellent eyesight."

Old Xia coughed twice: "Still learning, still learning."

Old Zhou smiled, didn't press for details, and instead started talking about his experience getting into the industry.

"When I was a child, my family was poor and I couldn't afford to go to school, so I followed a distant relative to learn how to repair porcelain. Later, I gradually came into contact with the antique business, and more than 20 years have passed in the blink of an eye."

"Twenty years?" Old Xia was somewhat surprised. "Then you must be an expert."

"I wouldn't presume to call myself an expert," Old Zhou shook his head. "Take calligraphy and painting for example. The intricacies of Xuan paper, the layers of ink, the mounting techniques, the brushwork of renowned artists—each of these is a field of study in itself. Sometimes, several experts can argue about a single piece for days."

Old Xia nodded repeatedly as he listened.

The two hit it off as they talked.

They talked about calligraphy and paintings, then about porcelain, and finally about furniture.

"Boss Xia, this Ming Dynasty brush holder of yours..." Old Zhou couldn't help but ask again, carefully choosing his words, "The craftsmanship is correct, and the material is antique, but this inscription..."

"Fake?" Old Xia wasn't embarrassed at all.

"It can't be called fake," Old Zhou said tactfully. "It's probably a mid-Qing dynasty imitation, but it's a good imitation, and it's a fine piece in itself."

Old Xia laughed heartily: "Manager Zhou, you're really funny. In the past, when others looked at my stuff, they would either directly say it was fake, or they would suppress a laugh and say it was fine. But what you said makes me feel comfortable."

Old Zhou laughed too: "I'm telling the truth. There are different grades of imitations. A good imitation is a work of art in itself. Like your brush holder, although it's not a genuine Ming dynasty piece, it's a mid-Qing dynasty imitation of the Ming style, with skillful carving and a natural patina. It's also something worth collecting."

The more Lao Xia listened, the more he felt that Lao Zhou was a trustworthy person.

After finishing his tea, Old Zhou said, "Boss Xia, we recently acquired a few items. If you're interested, you can take a look."

Old Xia readily agreed.