Chapter 322

The harrowing extraction beneath Prince Gong's Mansion drained Li Ping'an's mental energy greatly; upon returning to the West Wing Annex, he barely clung to the last thread of lucidity, checked that his family was safe, then fell into a deep sleep to recover his loss.

Only late the next night, with the north wind still howling outside and the Siheyuan utterly silent—even the hardiest wild cat had retreated to its den—did Li Ping'an's consciousness sink once more into that Spiritual Spring Space that belonged solely to him.

No sooner had he entered than he was again deeply shaken by the sight before him.

In the hasty night before, he had merely sensed the vast amount and mixed aura; now, examining closely, he truly understood what 'rich enough to rival a nation' meant, and what 'when Heshen fell, Jiaqing ate his fill' meant!

In a corner of the space, where the ground had been empty, now stood a miniature 'treasure mountain'. First catching his eye were the almost blinding gold and silver hues!

The gold ingots were not haphazardly piled but neatly stacked in individual antique, heavy rosewood boxes. The gold was not ordinary reddish-yellow; it bore a deep, almost timeless luster, as if condensed with the light of years. Each ingot bore a clear official seal, its weight substantial—far beyond any privately cast folk imitation.

He casually picked up one ingot; its weighty press in his hand silently spoke of its value. Nearby lay several boxes of exquisitely crafted gold articles—wine vessels, Buddha statues, ornaments—all superbly worked, intricate and luxurious.

Silver ingots were piled even higher, packed in ordinary camphor‑wood boxes stacked like winter snowdrifts—except this 'snow' emitted a metallic cold light. Besides, there were large quantities of uncast silver cakes and blocks, casually heaped together, gleaming with a soft, enticing luster.

Just these gold and silver alone already amounted to an astronomical figure, enough to drive anyone who knew of them mad.

But Li Ping'an's gaze did not linger long on those yellow‑white objects. His mind was firmly drawn to the nearby items that embodied deeper cultural heritage and historical spirit.

Porcelain! Vast quantities of porcelain! Song‑era Jun ware, its glaze shifting like evening‑cloud light; Yuan‑era blue‑and‑white, using Su Ma Li Qing pigment that penetrates the body, with rich, vivid hues depicting classic motifs such as dragons among flowers and the descent of Guiguzi; Ming‑era Chenghua doucai, body thin as paper, glaze moist like jade—here the chicken‑cup is no longer so lonely; plus Qing‑dynasty three‑generation enamelled and pink‑colored ware, brilliantly eye‑catching, the epitome of court luxury. Most of these porcelain pieces are well preserved, excellent in condition; each, if placed in modern times, would be a museum‑worthy treasure.

Several huge camphor‑wood chests were filled with painting and calligraphy scrolls. Li Ping'an carefully unfurled a few with his Divine Perception, his heart pounding violently. There was an anonymous Song master's landscape handscroll, brushwork lush and moist, conception lofty; a Yuan‑era Zhao Mengfu running‑script model sheet, structure handsome, spirit vibrant; even a Tang Yin beauty portrait, colors delicate, figures lifelike……These paper‑silk works, having endured centuries of vicissitudes, seemed in his space at this moment to have regained vitality.

Jade objects dazzled the eyes. Hetian white jade carved into ruyi scepters and mountain‑shaped ornaments, smooth and oily; jadeite ornaments, green and lush, almost dripping water; plus numerous jade pendants, bi discs, and cong tubes of various qualities, covering typical forms from the Hongshan culture through the Ming‑Qing period—essentially a condensed chronicle of Chinese jade development.

Even more delightful, in a corner of the treasure he discovered several unassuming rosewood boxes that exuded a rich medicinal aroma and the scent of books. Opening one, he found not gold, silver, or jewels, but stack after stack of perfectly preserved thread‑bound ancient texts!

He casually picked up the top volume, flipped open the yellowed but sturdy pages, and his pupils contracted sharply! This was indeed a rare surviving copy of the long‑lost Yellow Emperor's External Classic! Its exposition was exquisite, its insights unique, far surpassing any medical text he had previously gathered and studied. He then opened a few more volumes—the fragmentary Azure Satchel Classic, the complete Fontanel Classic, the meticulously annotated Thousand Gold Essential Prescriptions—each a renowned name in Chinese medical history, yet mostly lost or fragmentary in transmission.

In Li Ping'an's view, the value of these medical texts even surpassed the nearby pile of gold and silver mountains! Lin Xueqing is a physician, and he himself is well versed in medical principles; these classics would not only elevate Xueqing's medical skill to a higher level, benefiting many more people, but the wisdom they contain is itself a priceless treasure.

In addition, there are large quantities of superb-quality rosewood and huanghuali timber; raw stones and already‑set jewelry of various colored gems (ruby, sapphire, cat's eye); and even some oddly shaped, rust‑streaked yet weighty bronze ritual vessels, clearly relics from the Shang‑Zhou period, whose historical value is incalculable.

Taking inventory, or rather merely skimming this massive collection, took Li Ping'an almost an hour. His mood went from initial shock, to excitement in the middle, and finally settled into an unusual calm.

This is not ordinary wealth. It is a treasury that condenses the artistic, craft, and cultural essence of the Qing dynasty's golden age, a dense slice of history. When He Shen wielded power over the court, greedily amassing countless rarities, in the end he only cheapened it for this soul of his from a later age.

He gazed at the "little mountain" that glittered with multicolored treasure light under the space's soft illumination, feeling little possessive exhilaration, but instead a heavy sense of responsibility. These items are the nation's treasures, witnesses of history. In his hands, the precious gems must never be allowed to gather dust, nor should they bring disaster.

He must be even more cautious! He silently warned himself. In the chaotic years to come, if any trace of these items were to be exposed, it would be a catastrophic disaster. They must remain absolutely safe, sleeping within the space, until the day when clouds part, fog clears, and peace returns to the rivers and seas.

He focused especially on those medical books and scriptures. Carefully separating them from the tangled gold, silver, and jewels, he cleared a spot beside the bamboo house, set up a simple anti‑moisture, anti‑corrosion seal, and properly stored these rare, valuable volumes that carry the ancestors' wisdom. Perhaps, in his leisure, he could study them together with Xueqing, which would be more delightful than any wealth.

When exiting the space, the window outside remained pitch‑black, still far from dawn. Li Ping'an lay on the kang, yet felt no sleepiness. In his mind persisted the glaze shine of the porcelain, the ink rhythm of the paintings, the warm luster of the jade, the fragrance of the scriptures, and the weighty mountains of gold and seas of silver.

This harvest was too great. So great that he needs time to digest it, to re‑plan his future path. These treasures are his trump card, his foundation.

He turned his head, looking at his wife's tranquil sleeping face beside him, listening to his children's even breathing, and his restless heart gradually steadied.

No matter what he possesses, protecting this family is the foundation.

He gently exhaled, closed his eyes. The world outside remained cold, but within Xi Kua Yuan it was warm as spring. And in his unknown Spiritual Spring Space, a treasure that had lain dormant for a hundred years quietly accompanied him, awaiting the future dawn together. This night, due to the silent inventory, felt especially long and unusual.