Chapter 235: Main Text Chapter 238: General Route, General Task

Main Text Chapter 238: General Route, General Task

I held the tea cup and admired it over and over; if I put it at home to drink water, wouldn't it feel just like what a leader uses? Although this isn't really a genuine antique, it is not only exquisitely made, its style is unique, and its quantity is extremely scarce.

What's more rare is that it has witnessed the historic ups and downs, carrying a deep special meaning; it matches two of the five characters used to judge antique value—'old, young, exquisite, beautiful, good'—namely 'exquisite' and 'rare'. If it could be made into a set, its value might even exceed that of ordinary burial objects.

It seems Ming Shu's collection still has a few good items; although not as big a haul as we expected, it's still somewhat of an unexpected gain.

Most of the objects displayed in Ming Shu's room were bought in bulk from antique dealers as a 'one-shot deal' just for show. A 'one-shot deal' means a large batch of objects is sold all at once, most of which are high-quality fakes from around the Republican era.

Although they aren't worth much money, they aren't completely worthless like ordinary trinkets, and among them there are still a few genuine, valuable items. So the three of us energized ourselves, sorted the items into categories, and piled those that Da Jin Ya judged worthless in a corner of the room.

As the cleanup progressed, the items on the sandalwood rack dwindled, and Ming Shu's expression grew worse. At that moment, Pangzi spotted an unremarkable purple clay pot, dull and earthy-looking, and casually tossed it into the corner where defective goods were piled.

At that moment, Da Jin Ya was sniffing a small bronze Buddha statue with his nose when he suddenly saw Pangzi's purple clay pot still flying out; his mouth fell open, his eyes fixed on the pot's parabolic arc as it fell through the air, and he didn't even care about the bronze Buddha in his hand.

I don't know how he managed such dexterity at that moment, but he actually caught the purple clay pot before it hit the ground and shattered. Sweat beaded on Da Jin Ya's forehead: 'Pang Ye, you're truly an ancestor; if I hadn't glanced just now, you would have smashed that pot with a careless toss.'

Pangzi said: 'What's the big fuss? This broken pot is so crude it's falling apart, it has no purple clay sheen at all—I don't know which gutter it was fished out of; who would even spend money to buy it?'

I also thought the pot was unattractive in appearance, though its shape was passable; but the body was too dull, lacking the smooth patina from generations of handling—what we call the 'package' on an old pot's surface—so I couldn't see any merit. However, Da Jin Ya rarely misses the mark; could this actually be a valuable piece?

Da Jin Ya carefully touched the pot's body and gave it a couple of sniffs with his nose: 'Don't judge this purple clay pot by its plain look; it is a genuine Ming dynasty artifact, this shape is called jin nang. The Ming purple clay we see today lacks a smooth, lustrous patina because ninety percent of them are burial objects dug out of tombs. The body, buried in soil for many years, loses any original smoothness to the earth, and moreover the craftsmanship of that period hadn't been refined—just the clay was slightly purified, leaving more impurities, so the initial impression is not as good as Qing dynasty pots, but this is indeed a bona fide Ming burial object.'

I, Pangzi, and Da Jin Ya happily wrapped up the purple clay pot, and in the end we selected over twenty items altogether. Without noticing, the sky grew dim; checking the time, it was past nine at night. Everyone was busy tallying the goods, so naturally we hadn't had time to eat.

Pangzi said that when he came, he saw a restaurant at the alley entrance and suggested we eat first before heading home. So we picked up our things and set off; we hadn't originally planned to bring Ming Shu along, but he seemed reluctant to leave those few items behind, thick-skinnedly insisting on coming with us.

As we walked, I said to Ming Shu: 'I never expected you, old sir, to have been playing tricks with us from the start; there aren't many decent items in your home. Even if we count ourselves unlucky this time, only taking these unsellable goods and giving you a big discount, we can consider ourselves even. After we eat, we really should go our separate ways. Entrusting Ah Xiang's matter to Shirley Yang will surely be no problem; as the saying goes, an unmarried woman past marrying age shouldn't be kept, and I don't think she plans to return home with you, so from now on you won't need to worry about her.'

Ming Shu said: 'Lao Hu, you're being distant again. Although our marriage plans fell through, having shared life and death for so many days, isn't that more than ordinary friendship? I no longer want to go to Tibet to become a lama, so naturally I'll still want to keep in touch. This meal is on me; we can eat while discussing future business.'

My mood was off, Gang Ning seemed determined to have me; by now we had reached the intersection where Pangzi's restaurant was. I saw it was a place selling fried sauce noodles, so I interrupted Ming Shu's words and told everyone: 'Ming Shu, your generous offer to treat the brothers to a meal is kind, but it's too late; we shouldn't press him hard—let's just have some fried sauce noodles to get by. Ming Shu, you've been in Beijing a while, right? Are you used to the food here?'

Whenever food is mentioned, Pangzi gets energized; without waiting for Ming Shu to speak, he interjected: 'Beijing has ninety-nine snacks and three hundred three main dishes—you could eat your fill of everything, and I'm not being modest when I say I've basically tried them all. Still, I'm especially fond of lamb: Dong Lai Shun's boiled lamb, Barbecue Season's roasted lamb, White Kui's roasted lamb, Month Prosperity Zhai's soy sauce lamb—these four establishments' boiled, roasted, baked, and sauced lamb dishes truly bring out the flavor to perfection. Since Ming Shu wants to treat us, we can't refuse his kindness; how about we go to Barbecue Season? Eating fried sauce noodles would be really boring.'

Ming Shu might actually be penniless now; hearing Pangzi want to go to Barbecue Season, he quickly said: 'We're sick of eating boiled meat all the time. Stir-fried dough bits, fried sauce noodles, and my specialty water chestnut slices—these are Beijing's three great flavors. I've long been famous in the South Seas for them, but never had the chance to try them; let's all eat them together now.'

While talking, the four of us walked into the restaurant. The hall wasn't large, just an ordinary fried sauce noodle shop you can find anywhere in Beijing, and the environment wasn't very clean. At that time there were a few scattered customers; we picked a clean table and sat around it, first ordering a few bottles of beer and two pots of head liquor. Soon the waiter brought each of us a big bowl of noodles. Pangzi wasn't satisfied, complaining that Ming Shu was unwilling to spend money.

Da Jin Ya was in high spirits today, eating the fried sauce noodles and expounding to everyone: 'Actually, stir-fried dough bits and water chestnut slices are food eaten by poor old Beijingers, but fried sauce noodles have a poor-person's way and a rich-person's way; if you eat them with refinement, following the top-notch method, it's also quite delicate. Whether it's refined or not mainly depends on the toppings: they must be complete and fresh. Shelled soy beans, Chinese sprout shoots, blanched chives cut into sections; celery ends, lettuce slices, garlic cloves split in two; bean sprouts with roots removed, cucumber with blossom end and spines cut into fine strips; hearty radish, cut into several batches, blanched soy beans diced; small water radish with green tip; chili sesame oil drizzled a bit, mustard splashed to sting the nose. Although fried sauce noodles are just a small bowl, the seven plates and eight bowls are the toppings.'

Ming Shu listened and repeatedly praised, giving Da Jin Ya a thumbs-up: 'As it turns out, Xiao Ya not only has good eyesight but also knows the way of gourmet food; whatever he says casually has logic, truly a talent all-round.' After hearing you say that, even the emperor would have eaten to this level; this fried sauce noodle is really good.' Ming Shu then seized the moment to say to me: 'I have a great idea: with my business mind, Xiao Ya's shrewd expertise, Pangzi's daring courage, and your secret art of dividing gold and locating apertures, Lao Hu, almost everyone has a talent that can stand on its own. If our group could jointly pursue development, we'd be a golden combination; as long as we're willing to act, opportunities abound—we could have mountains of gold and silver, and it wouldn't be hard to make money. In one lifetime, plants have one autumn; who doesn't want to be rich and honored for life? If we don't gamble now, when will we?'

Da Jin Ya, moved by Ming Shu's stirring words, also asked me: 'Lord Hu, brother feels the same way; nowadays doing business at Panjiayuan is impossible—counterfeits are increasing, genuine items dwindling; relying on flipping them for a living will surely lead to starvation sooner or later. Although I have an eye for quality, how many genuine items could I dig up by turning over soil? I've heard there are many ancient tombs in the mountains of the Two Lakes region; why not seize the chance to pull off a few big scores, so we won't have to worry about food and drink for the rest of our lives?'

I had already made up my mind, but I still wanted to hear Pangzi's thoughts, so I asked him: 'You've heard what Ming Shu and Da Jin Ya said; those are heartfelt words. Little Pang, what do you think for the future? Feel free to speak.'

Pangzi lifted his beer bottle and took two gulps, then said bluntly: 'They say I willingly serve as an ox for the children, born to serve the people; wherever I go I'm just a grandson, all my life I've been used as others' spear. But since we've come this far in our talk, I'll speak a few heartfelt words. I say Old Jin and Ming Shu—not that I'm criticizing you two, you two are quite the grandsons, you're not stupid, but the problem is you also shouldn't treat others as fools. If we partnered to raid tombs, with your dispositions—one suffers from old asthma, the other is old and full of dirty tricks—then damn it, digging pits and hauling earth, climbing in and out, that hard labor… and those dangerous errands aren't all just mine and Lao Hu's? I tell you: if you two want to raid tombs, team up and go yourselves, nobody's stopping you, but tomb-raiding is a field we've grown tired of; from now on, I, Pang Ye, will go to America to make foreign money.'

Pangzi's words were blunt, leaving Ming Shu and Da Jin Ya speechless. Da Jin Ya stared blankly for a moment before asking me: 'Lord Hu, is this… really true? Have you really decided to go to America with Miss Yang? Well… well… what's good about America? America may be materially advanced, but it doesn't have everything; we won't talk about other places, just speaking of Beijing: the bright moon over the Temple of Heaven, the wind along the Great Wall, the lions of Lugou Bridge, the pines of Tan Zhe Temple, the drum towers east and west of Dongdan and Xidan, the Five Altars and Eight Temples, the Summer Palace, the grand archway before the Wangfu Jing, the glazed tile workshop of Panjiayuan—even if America is as vast as it gets, could it have these? It never will; besides, how could you bear to leave these relatives, old friends, and companions?'