Chapter 297: Original Manual of Xingyi Quan

The old and young men of Beijing have heard plenty of stories about picking up treasures and getting rich overnight, but how many have seen it with their own eyes, or even experienced it?

Jing Zeyang is in a song and dance troupe, his monthly intern salary is less than one thousand, so one hundred thousand is equivalent to ten years of his wages.

Does this count as picking up a treasure, does it count as getting rich overnight?

He followed behind Lin Sicheng in a daze, a long string of zeros floating in his mind.

One hundred thousand, yet Lin Sicheng only treats this as meal money; just how arrogant is that?

Guessing and speculating wildly, the three of them exited Tian Hui Zhai, and Lin Sicheng pointed to a stall in the corridor: "If you're interested, Brother Jing, you pick one out too. If you're not sure, I'll help you take a look. Senior Brother Fang, you pick one too..."

Jing Zeyang had little interest.

First, he doesn't have a fondness for this; he only comes to stroll around occasionally as a pastime during his leisure time.

Second, he has heard too much: coming to this place, having a sharp eye is of no use at all. If your luck is bad, you might not encounter a good item even if you stroll for a year.

If you really want to buy good items, you have to go to the shops, but every shop has a master craftsman who guards the establishment. Just like that old man at Tian Hui Zhai earlier, whether an item is authentic or not, and how much it is worth, he can judge it seven or eight tenths correctly as soon as he touches it; the asking price can be imagined.

Don't even think about picking up a treasure; as for the legends of who picked up a treasure here or who struck it rich here, nine out of ten cases are stories made up by the merchants here. Some shops even specifically go to film studios to hire extras to act according to a script, in order to lure tourists into the shop.

Someone like Lin Sicheng might not even appear once a year.

Jing Zeyang shook his head, but light erupted in Fang Jin's eyes.

It is true that one must rely on luck, but what if?

With Lin Sicheng keeping watch, it would be hard to get swindled...

He was eager to try: "Teacher Lin, I'll pick one, you help me take a look!"

"Sure!"

Teacher Lin turned his head back, "Does Squad Leader He want to look at one?"

The tower-like sturdy man revealed a naive smile: "Thank you, Teacher Lin, we have discipline!"

Lin Sicheng did not force him.

Several people accompanied Fang Jin as he strolled, and Lin Sicheng would also look at a couple of items along the way. But to be honest, the two of them had about the same level of luck.

Every item that caught Fang Jin's eye was a low imitation, and each one was faker than the last. Many were even obviously fake at a glance; as soon as Fang Jin picked them up, Jing Zeyang would start curling his lip.

From this, it is evident that Fang Jin truly has no talent in the area of appraisal. Otherwise, given his background as a graduate student in the Archaeology Department at Xida, he shouldn't be worse than Jing Zeyang, a layman.

Lin Sicheng was slightly better; he could occasionally see one or two old objects, but most were folk daily necessities, with average materials and even more average workmanship.

Just like that, Fang Jin would pick one up, and Lin Sicheng would shake his head. He would pick up another, and Lin Sicheng would shake his head again.

After strolling through more than a dozen stalls, Fang Jin felt less and less confident the more he looked.

Just as he was preparing to give up, a golden light entered his vision, and Fang Jin subconsciously squinted his eyes.

"Wood-carved flower panel... Teacher Lin, is this paint added later?"

Lin Sicheng took a look: the pattern was not large, roughly the size of two A4 sheets of paper, with a wooden frame around the outer edge.

The material was camphor wood, the outer frame was relatively thick, and combined with the dimensions, it should be a baffle for furniture like a bed head or a tea table. Looking at the figures and content, it should be from the play "White Robe Record," also known as "Xue Rengui Conquers the East Across the Sea."

The gold paint was extremely new, but looking at the degree of aging of the frame, the carving style, and even the theatrical content, it looked a bit like something from the Ming Dynasty?

"It is indeed paint added later!" Lin Sicheng paused: "Senior Brother Fang, bring it over for a look!"

Fang Jin lowered his body and hugged the flower panel up.

Lin Sicheng received it into his hands and was startled again: not only was the paint added, but it was also a restored piece?

Most of the window lattices were added later, and the command flags in the hands of the figures on both sides, as well as the robes and wall bricks, had all suffered knocks. The outer frame had come apart, and the entire flower panel had even broken into two halves from the edge of the central pillar.

The strange thing was that he hadn't discovered it before; he only saw that something was wrong after holding it in his hands.

There were so many places that had been repaired, yet the traces were minimal; does this show the high level of craftsmanship?

Looking carefully again: the glue used was sturgeon bladder glue, the fracture lines were filled with raw lacquer—that is, raw lacquer mixed with tile ash to fill the gaps, then polished after drying. The cracks were filled with beeswax, which was melted and poured into the cracks, and after cooling, the wood grain was painted back on; the decayed joints were replaced with boxwood tongues.

Was it all ancient technique?

Even stranger, no matter how Lin Sicheng looked at it, it looked like the restoration techniques of the Forbidden City's furniture group?

It couldn't be that this flower panel flowed out of the Forbidden City, could it?

Don't say that; if you look at the material and the carving, there is truly a possibility.

In ancient times, camphor wood was also a high-grade material. Excluding gold-thread Nanmu Wood Wood, yellow rosewood, red sandalwood, and chicken-wing wood, camphor ranked fifth.

The disadvantage is that the wood is relatively soft, making it unsuitable for small items like brush pots or ornaments. The advantage is that it carries its own fragrance, is naturally insect-proof, and is extremely easy to preserve. It is the preferred wood for large-scale Buddhist carvings and furniture.

Inside the Forbidden City, many of the beds, chairs, tables, and desks of the concubines were made of camphor wood.

Looking again at the carving and styling, it was the typical style of the Dongyang School (Zhejiang):

The framework was like a painting, the outer contour imitated the broken-branch composition of Song paintings, the clothing and ornaments were like blooming crabapple flowers, and the figures were like the upright joints of ink bamboo.

Combining emptiness and substance, the openwork between the cloud patterns held the scenery, and the knife technique was like an axe splitting Huashan. Curves and straights complemented each other; the straight beams were like the hanging needles of seal script, and the curved beams were like floating clouds and flowing water.

From bottom to top, there were seven layers of depth, with flat relief carving as the main focus; thin, shallow, deep, high, overlapping, inlaid, rounded, and hollowed—nine types of carving techniques were intertwined. The layers were rich, the texture was natural, transitioning from rough to exquisite, with every detail revealed.

The design was good, and the carving was good; the figures were full, and the style was elegant.

Lin Sicheng suddenly had a judgment: this flower panel was definitely the work of a master from the Dongyang School; even if it didn't come from the imperial palace, it came from the home of a prince or noble.

The original carving was white wood carving, meaning it was carved according to the texture of the material without applying paint or color.

Including after the restoration, it followed the principles of "repairing the old as the old" and "the form does not overpower the momentum": it was restored to its original state without affecting the aesthetics, yet the traces of restoration could still be seen.

Looking at this layer of gold paint again, it was one hundred percent applied in recent years; it was truly a waste of the item.

But if this layer of paint hadn't been applied, it would have been bought by someone long ago and wouldn't have remained until now.

One has to say, Fang Jin's luck is not bad.

Thinking secretly, Lin Sicheng nodded, meaning the item was good, and let Fang Jin ask for the price.

The flower panel was handed out, and Fang Jin had already received it in his hands; Lin Sicheng suddenly paused and pulled the flower panel back.

Behind the hat beam of the only figure in the painting wearing a gauze hat, there seemed to be two concave dots?

This was an official hat; the original painting could not have carvings on the official beam. And since it was camphor wood, it couldn't be insect-eaten holes either.

If it had been knocked or bumped, since the original painting was damaged in so many places and all of them were repaired, it would be impossible to have specifically left two flaws.

Lin Sicheng lifted the carved panel to examine it carefully; the more he looked, the more they resembled two small characters.

They were about the size of a grain of yellow millet, not carved deeply, and had been touched up with lacquer, so only two small pits remained.

After taking a few looks, Lin Sicheng asked the price directly: "Boss, how much?"

The stall owner had been standing on the side; upon hearing this, he stretched out his hand and gestured: "An old item from the Republic of China, eight hundred!"

"You know it's an old item, yet you painted over it? Five hundred!"

"You can't blame me for that, it was like this when I acquired it!" The stall owner shook his head. "Besides, if it hadn't been painted, I would have asked for at least two thousand!"

It was just that he was afraid of any trouble, so Lin Sicheng deliberately bargained. For an item like this, three hundred more or less made absolutely no difference.

He nodded: "Senior Brother Fang, pay him!"

Fang Jin had long been impatient: Lin Sicheng had looked at this piece even longer than that Snuff Bottle, and he had looked at it twice.

Thinking about it, it might not sell for one hundred thousand, but it wouldn't be far off.

He didn't hesitate at all and immediately counted out eight bills.

Taking a tote bag offered by the boss, Lin Sicheng tucked the carved panel under his arm and found a corner.

After stopping, he reached out a hand: "Senior Brother Fang, the Needle!"

Fang Jin was stunned for a moment, then hurriedly took out his tool kit.

Lin Sicheng took out the needle and carefully picked at it; as pieces of lacquer skin were pried away, two small characters were revealed on the back of the cap beam: Chang'an.

After recalling carefully, Lin Sicheng was suddenly startled, then stared strangely at his Assistant.

Fang Jin was baffled: "Teacher Lin, what's wrong?"

It wasn't anything, really, it was just that Senior Brother Fang's luck had exploded.

Jing Zeyang also stretched his head over to look: "Looks like it was carved recently?"

It wasn't that new; the history of these two small characters was at least thirty years old. Of course, compared to the history of the carved panel, it was as new as could be.

To be precise: this was a mark left by an Artifact Restoration expert.

Lin Sicheng pointed to the two small characters: "Chang'an. 'Chang' as in smooth, meaning 'smooth and peaceful.' This is the pseudonym of Mr. Wang Shixiang..."

Wang Shixiang?

Fang Jin felt the name was somewhat familiar and was still trying to recall it, but Jing Zeyang's eyes widened first.

Among those working at the Ministry of Culture, few didn't know who this was: at the 54th anniversary (1954) celebration of the Ministry of Culture held last month, this 94-year-old gentleman sat on the podium as a representative of the Jiusan Society.

He graduated from Yan University (Peking University), served as a teaching assistant at Yan University, and was later introduced by Liang Sicheng to study and work at the China Construction Society. Due to his family background, in 1945 he served as an "Assistant Representative of the Wartime Cultural Relics Loss Committee" for the Nationalist Government, responsible for traveling to Japan to recover Cultural Relics and ancient books for the country.

In 1947, he served as a Section Chief at the Palace Museum's Antiquities Gallery, and after the founding of the country, he served as the Director of the Display Department at the Forbidden City, also being its first Director of Display. After retirement, he was hired as a Researcher at the National Cultural Heritage Administration's Museum (the predecessor of the National Museum of China), a Researcher at the Chinese Academy of Cultural Heritage, and a member of the Central Research Institute of Culture and History.

In addition to being a Cultural Relics Expert, scholar, Cultural Relics Appraisal expert, and restoration expert, he was also a famous contemporary collector.

Besides the ancient porcelain, Calligraphy and Painting, and ancient books collected by his family for generations, Wang Shixiang loved Ming Dynasty furniture the most. He collected over a hundred pieces of Ming Dynasty imperial-style furniture alone.

It must have been in 2004 that Wang Shixiang sold them to the Shanghai Museum at a low price through a directed resale and donation method.

Besides collecting, he also restored and researched. He compiled five books on the research and restoration of Ming Dynasty furniture and lacquerware alone. He wrote over two hundred theses and miscellaneous essays.

Since his pseudonym is carved on this carved panel, whether it was in his collection is unknown, but it can at least be confirmed: this item was restored by him.

And it is one hundred percent a certain part of a piece of Ming Dynasty furniture, and it might even have come from the imperial palace...

Lin Sicheng gave a rough explanation, and Fang Jin was stunned: he had seen many antiques, and Lin Sicheng would often bring one back, with items worth millions being commonplace.

There were even imperial seals.

But this was the first time he had picked one out himself; before this, let alone imperial items, he hadn't even bought a single real copper coin...

He couldn't help but panic, and his hands began to shake: "Lin... Teacher Lin, this... this item... I... what should I do?"

No... Senior Brother Fang, are you silly with joy?

Of course, you sell it!

With a stir in his heart, Lin Sicheng knew what he was worried about and couldn't help but laugh: "Wasn't the item picked by you?"

Fang Jin didn't know how to say it: he had just been dazzled for a moment and asked about it out of curiosity. If Lin Sicheng hadn't told him, he would have just thought it was an item from the Republic of China period.

And an item that had been repainted, nearly a modern product.

"Wasn't the money paid by you?"

Fang Jin hesitated for a moment and nodded.

"Isn't that it then?" Lin Sicheng smiled. "If you want to keep it, keep it; if you don't want to keep it, find a shop. Don't look at it as just a carved panel; by virtue of the two characters 'Chang'an,' its value won't be lower than that Snuff Bottle from just now."

One hundred thousand yuan?

Enough for him to pay the down payment for a house in the center of Xijing City.

Fang Jin pursed his lips and nodded.

In an instant, Jing Zeyang's eyes turned red.

Not out of jealousy, but out of shock: this wasn't one thousand, nor ten thousand, but one hundred thousand?

Thinking back to before, when Lin Sicheng had just sold the Snuff Bottle: Brother Jing, do you like it? If you like it, pick one.

And just now: Brother Jing, you pick one too.

Did Jing Zeyang not like money?

He just didn't believe his luck was as good as Lin Sicheng's. Of course, he also had some doubts: Lin Sicheng's eye for appraisal was beyond doubt, but since there is a specialty in every trade, since his appraisal ability for porcelain was so high, the others were probably just average.

And in Panjiayuan, porcelain was the most common. If there weren't ten million pieces, there had to be seven or eight million. With nearly ninety percent being fakes, one's luck would have to be incredibly good to stumble upon a real one, and it wouldn't necessarily be valuable.

As for the rest, looking at them was a waste of time, and he might even lose money.

So when Lin Sicheng asked him, he shook his head without even thinking.

But now, looking at the carved panel in Fang Jin's hand, Jing Zeyang felt as sour as if he had fallen into a vinegar jar: along the way, Fang Jin had looked at thirty or forty items, many of which even he could see had problems, yet he still held them for Lin Sicheng to look at; one could see the difference in their eye for appraisal.

This carved panel was just him having a stroke of good luck, asking a question out of curiosity. If it weren't for Lin Sicheng, let alone eight hundred, Fang Jin wouldn't have wanted it for eighty.

To put it bluntly: this means the one hundred thousand was a free gift from Lin Sicheng to Fang Jin.

No... Cousin Lin, what kind of family are you from?

Seeing his eyes fixed straight ahead, as if glued to the ceiling, Lin Sicheng smiled: "Brother Jing, do you want to pick one out?"

"Pick!" Jing Zeyang dared not refuse again. "Cousin Lin, I don't need one hundred thousand, just a few thousand will do. It'll be something to brag about when I go out for drinks later."

"Brother Jing, be more confident. What if you happen to find an Imperial Seal?"

An Imperial Seal?

Jing Zeyang shook his head vigorously: "My ancestral grave smoking wouldn't be enough; it would probably need to smoke for eight lifetimes..."

"Hahahaha~" Lin Sicheng laughed. "Look around first, what if?"

Jing Zeyang rubbed his hands together: "Right, look around!"

As for some Imperial Seal, that was out of the question. But what if he got lucky and stumbled upon some item worth two or three thousand?

A few thousand yuan to him was just a meal at a slightly better restaurant. But at the dinner table, he would dare to pat his chest and brag: I am also someone who has picked up a bargain at Panjiayuan...

Thinking to himself, Jing Zeyang was full of confidence: There's no reason my luck would be worse than Lin Sicheng's Assistant, right?

But it was all in vain; the ideal was plump, but the reality was skinny.

They walked around dozens of stalls, looked at seventy or eighty items, and Lin Sicheng kept shaking his head.

He was slightly better than Fang Jin, having picked out a few High Imitations, and even looked at a Fine Imitation half-pieced-together brush rest. But a fake is a fake after all; no matter how real it looks, it is still a fake.

Just like that, until the sun dropped below the roof, it was already five o'clock in the afternoon without them realizing it.

Jing Zeyang was quite easygoing; it would be best if he could pick up a bargain, but if not, it didn't matter. He clamored to treat Lin Sicheng to roast duck at Quanjude.

Having accompanied him for a day, there was no reason to let Jing Zeyang pay.

"Forget the roast duck, Brother Jing, I'll treat you to Hongfuliang."

"Eh, Cousin Lin, you're quite familiar with Beijing?"

This wasn't some big restaurant, but a hole-in-the-wall eatery hidden in the Eight Great Hutongs; if you weren't an old Beijing local, you wouldn't even be able to find it.

Lin Sicheng smiled: "I heard it from Sister Ye Anning too!"

Jing Zeyang nodded vigorously: "Oh, oh... right!"

He had forgotten that Ye Anning was a big foodie.

Laughing and chatting, the group walked out of the market. There were far fewer tourists, and many stalls had already started packing up.

Just as they reached the market entrance, a commotion came from ahead, and the group stopped in their tracks.

Five or six people were gathered around, likely just onlookers, and in the middle was a stall selling ancient books.

The stall owner stood with his arms crossed and a cold face, while opposite him were a man and a woman in their thirties, leading a five or six-year-old girl; they looked like tourists from out of town.

The man was squatting on the ground picking up paper page by page, while the woman, speaking with a slight Shanghai accent, was scolding the child.

It seemed the little girl had accidentally pulled the thread of an ancient book apart.

The stall owner was somewhat impatient: "If you want to scold, go home and scold, pay up first!"

The woman was somewhat reluctant: "You can't blame our Nannan, okay? This book was already old, and the thread wasn't stitched tightly; it fell apart at a touch!"

"Big sister, you know this is an old book and the thread isn't stitched tightly? Your daughter, on the other hand, was pulling at it with all her might?"

"The pages were stuck together, how was she supposed to see the pictures inside if she didn't pull them?"

"Fine, then you pull them!" The stall owner pointed at the pages on the ground. "Torn like this, who am I supposed to sell it to?"

"Can't you just replace the thread?"

"Big sister, get this straight, this is an antique: old paper with new thread, is that still called an antique?" The stall owner reached out a hand. "I won't ask for much, give me five thousand and you can take it!"

The woman was speechless.

At first glance, it looked like a brat had broken something. But don't doubt it, this stall owner was definitely running a scam.

Never mind a seven or eight-year-old, even a newborn baby pulling on it could have ripped his book thread open.

However, ancient books are different from porcelain, jade, or Calligraphy and Painting, so most tourists wouldn't pay much attention.

It was likely that even now, the two adults still thought the item had indeed been broken by their own child.

Jing Zeyang let out a "Ha": "Let's go, there's a show to watch!"

Lin Sicheng took a look and followed along.

Walking closer, Lin Sicheng bent down and picked up the few pages scattered at his feet.

Ha, it was a manual of boxing techniques; no wonder the child was curious?

It was indeed quite old, the paper already gray. It was preserved decently; the handwriting was basically clear, and except for some frayed edges, the content was mostly complete. The writing was decent, the drawings were a bit abstract, but understandable.

Roughly guessing, it should be a hand-copied book from the mid-Qing Dynasty or earlier. This kind basically belongs to the category of "the item is real and old, but doesn't have much value."

Using such an item to run a scam showed that the stall owner had put some thought into it.

With this thought, Lin Sicheng took two steps forward and handed the two pages in his hand forward.

"Thank you!"

The man reached out to take them, likely debating whether to pay to resolve the trouble or considering whether to haggle further, and was distracted, forgetting he was still holding a stack.

As soon as his fingers loosened, with a "swish" sound, the ones he had just picked up from the ground scattered again.

Fortunately, there was no Wind, so they didn't go far.

Lin Sicheng pointed and let Fang Jin help pick them up, while he looked at the little girl hiding in the woman's arms, her eyes filled with tears.

If the ones being scammed were just this couple, he didn't know if he would meddle. But this scumbag stall owner was even scamming a child, and asking for five thousand at that?

His conscience had long been eaten by dogs.

Looking at the attire of this family of three, they should belong to the middle class. But even for the middle class, five thousand was equivalent to a month's salary for the couple.

Looking at the way the woman was scolding the child earlier, she wouldn't wait until they got home; once they returned to the hotel, this little girl would get a beating. And it definitely wouldn't be light.

"Don't be afraid, Uncle will help you!"

Lin Sicheng bent down, wiped the teardrops from the child's cheeks, and then turned around.

"Boss, the hemp rope in the middle was soaked in lye, wasn't it..."

Before Lin Sicheng could finish his sentence, Jing Zeyang reacted abruptly, squinting his eyes as he stared at the stall owner: "Are you a son of a bitch trying to pull a scam?"

As he spoke, he lowered his head again, looking at the timid little girl with tears hanging from the corners of her eyes, his expression one of disbelief: "Do you have any shame, you motherfucker, scamming even a child this small?"

The stall owner's expression changed, and he glared: "Get lost, go on your own way!"

"I'll get lost in your father!" Jing Zeyang pointed a finger, "Make it snappy, let them go!"

"They can go!" The stall owner held out a hand, "Five thousand!"

Just as Lin Sicheng was about to say something, Jing Zeyang grabbed him and pulled him back: "Cousin Lin, you're an educated man; it's not worth wasting breath on a grandson like this, leave it to me..."

As he spoke, he began rolling up his sleeves: "If I don't make you bleed today, I'm not surnamed Jing!"

Don't let Jing Zeyang's carefree and devil-may-care attitude fool you; he had his own set of principles: like the stall owner who sold the Snuff Bottle earlier, who was at most foul-mouthed, his way of retaliation was to go tell on him to his old man.

But someone like the stall owner before them was purely bottom-of-the-barrel, low-life scum. Meddling in business was one thing, but Jing Zeyang dared to smash his stall to pieces.

Lin Sicheng paused and looked to the side.

Squad Leader He nodded imperceptibly, meaning a fight wouldn't break out.

As the two were exchanging glances, Fang Jin handed the collected book pages to the man. Lin Sicheng just took a casual glance, then suddenly paused.

The last sheet in Fang Jin's hand had no illustrations, only text; it looked like the concluding remarks of a boxing manual...

This wasn't strange, but the content was. Looking closer: One punch with a hundred variations, seven punches linked tightly together, like shooting a bird in the forest, the bird falls as the string sounds. Or like striking a snake in the grass, the snake dies as the spear rings. Wherever one guards, there one seals...

Could this be the essence of the Fourteen Strikes of Xingyi Quan?

If it were just that, it wouldn't be very strange, but what was strange was the signature at the bottom of the conclusion: Longfeng of Puzhou.

Puzhou is modern-day Yongji, Shanxi; Xingyi Quan originated in Shanxi, so that doesn't seem strange, right?

But a Xingyi Quan manual, plus Shanxi Puzhou, plus the two characters "Longfeng," could be called strange among the strange.

Xingyi Quan was created by Ji Jike of Puzhou, Shanxi, during the late Ming and early Qing dynasties; Ji Jike, courtesy name Longfeng.

So, is this the original manual of Xingyi Quan?

Haha...

(End of chapter)