Chapter 3: The Iron Certificate of Immunity from Death

Not wanting to trouble the boss, Lin Sicheng turned to the inside of the stall and flipped over a few pieces of Iron Tile.

They were simply cylindrical tiles cast from pig iron, originating in the Tang Dynasty, flourishing in the Song Dynasty, and becoming widespread during the Ming and Qing Dynasties.

However, they were rarely used in official palaces or by the common people; they were used most frequently in Daoist temples and Buddhist monasteries, and almost every province had similar ruins.

Many are still famous tourist attractions, such as the Daci'en Temple and Xiangji Temple in Xijing, both of which have an Iron Tile Hall.

Furthermore, they are relatively easy to preserve, so a great many of them have survived to this day.

As the saying goes, things are valued for their scarcity; if they do not come from a famous temple or ancient monastery, the price is naturally not high, even if they are fine specimens.

Just like these few pieces on the stall: the edges are decorated with scrolling lotus patterns, and the tile surfaces are inscribed with scriptures such as the Diamond Sutra and the Heart Sutra. The calligraphy is neat, the depth is uniform, and although there are rust stains, there is very little blurring.

Lin Sicheng first picked out the one in the best condition: "Boss, how much?"

"Two thousand!"

Lin Sicheng raised an eyebrow: "Dismantled from the Dayan Pagoda?"

"Bullshit."

"Then you dare ask for two thousand?"

The stall owner choked for a moment: "Take a look for yourself, how many characters are printed on it? I'll charge you two hundred, and that's as low as it goes!"

Lin Sicheng nodded, placed it by his feet first, and then picked up another piece nearby.

This piece was much larger, and its shape was also quite peculiar. The other Iron Tiles were like bamboo tubes, long and thin. But this piece was the opposite, short and thick.

However, its condition was very poor, the rust was extremely thick, and most of the characters were already blurred and illegible; less than one-tenth could be recognized.

He peered and peered, looked and looked, his eyes slowly narrowing: On the first day of his rebirth, he could run into an object like this?

His luck was explosive.

Confirming he hadn't seen wrong, he held it up: "How about this one?"

The stall owner glanced at it: "Fifty!"

"Two hundred and forty for both, will you sell?"

The stall owner calculated: "You're bargaining over ten yuan?"

"To buy a bowl of pork intestine soup for the kid!"

Remembering how that big black guy had used pork intestine soup to compare prices earlier, Dan Wangshu couldn't help but laugh out loud again.

Gu Ming didn't care; he also acted like a father to Lin Sicheng at the drop of a hat.

The stall owner wrapped up the Iron Tiles, Lin Sicheng took them into his hands, and paid the money.

Just as he turned around, Wang Qi Zhi blocked the middle of the path, his eyes constantly darting toward Gu Ming's pants pocket.

Lin Sicheng understood immediately: "Hello, is something the matter?"

Wang Qi Zhi smiled: "That book you just bought, could you let me take a look at it!"

Picking up a bargain is meant for trading for money, so what is there to "could or couldn't"?

"Of course!"

After replying, Lin Sicheng looked him over casually: Huh, is he an expert?

He reached out and took the book out, handing it over.

Wang Qi Zhi received it and flipped through it page by page.

The paper quality was correct, the font was correct, the layout was also correct, and the issue number was even less of a problem.

It wasn't a supplementary issue, let alone a photocopy, and it was preserved extremely well.

Confirmed beyond doubt, he closed the magazine: "How much money?"

Gu Ming was still surprised: Does someone actually buy this crappy book? Lin Sicheng held up one finger: "Ten thousand!"

Thinking he was asking an exorbitant price, Wang Qi Zhi shook his head: "Too high, five thousand at most!"

"If it were just a book, it would indeed only be worth five thousand!"

Lin Sicheng took the magazine, flipped to the last page, and pointed with his finger.

Wang Qi Zhi leaned in a little closer: Behind the cover, there was a round seal the size of a fingernail stamped on it.

The pattern was a bit abstract, crooked and winding, like a pile of worms tangled together. But Wang Qi Zhi specialized in researching this, so how could he not recognize it?

This was Worm Seal, so this was a Collection Seal.

He identified it carefully: This is 'Shi', this is 'Lian'... Shilian?

He suddenly raised his head: No wonder he dared to ask for ten thousand?

With this seal added, it was truly worth it.

The owner of this seal had held a leadership position in this province, retired in the nineties, and served as a Consultant for a certain committee. That is, the founding organization of *Annals of the Yellow Emperor*. So, it's hard to say if this might even be the inaugural issue of that period.

But when he was serving in this province, it was already the sixties or seventies; how could this kid know that?

The more critical point is: if one doesn't study archaeology or research ancient scripts, how would one recognize Worm Seal?

Wang Qi Zhi raised his head and looked him over again: It stands to reason that this kid studies something related to archaeology; judging by his appearance, he likely hasn't graduated yet.

But that is far from enough; no matter how well one learns archaeology, it is impossible to know that this book is an internal reference.

He looked suspicious: "What does your family do?"

Lin Sicheng smiled: "Just an ordinary family!"

Impossible.

Could an ordinary family raise someone without such insight and a sharp eye?

Since the other party didn't want to say, he couldn't keep pestering him with questions. Wang Qi Zhi handed the book back: "There is a bank right ahead, let's go and transfer the money for you!"

Gu Ming's eyeballs almost popped out: This person is actually buying it?

He intuited that this person was joking, until they arrived at the Bank of China under the city wall together and watched with his own eyes as that person took Lin Sicheng's card and transferred the money at the counter.

Then, a text message arrived on Lin Sicheng's phone: 10,000 yuan.

Standing in the bank lobby, Gu Ming was dumbfounded: this was ten thousand yuan; his intern salary was four hundred a month, so he would have to work for two years without eating or drinking.

Lin Sicheng spent thirty?

Then what about this box of rotten tiles, and the two pieces of scrap iron in his hand?

Gu Ming hurriedly snatched the two Iron Tiles into his hands.

Lin Sicheng was caught off guard: "What are you doing?"

"I'll help you hold them."

"No need..."

Before the words had faded, "Clang~"

Perhaps it was because he was too excited and didn't catch them steadily, or perhaps the boss hadn't wrapped them tightly, but the two Iron Tiles slid out of the newspaper and fell to the ground.

These were cast from raw iron; how could they withstand such a drop?

Lin Sicheng's eyelids twitched; he took a look and then breathed a sigh of relief: fortunately, only a bit of rust had been shaken off.

Gu Ming went to pick them up, but Lin Sicheng patted him: "Don't move, I'll do it!"

Picking up the tiles, Lin Sicheng had just straightened his back when a head appeared before his eyes.

Wang Qi Zhi widened his eyes, looking at the Iron Tiles, then at Lin Sicheng, then at the Iron Tiles again, and then at Lin Sicheng again.

Lin Sicheng was baffled by the staring; he looked down and shouted in his heart: Fuck.

Was it exposed because of that drop by Gu Ming?

Lin Sicheng covered them with the newspaper: "Goodbye!"

"Goodbye what?" Wang Qi Zhi grabbed his sleeve, "Let me take a look!"

Lin Sicheng smiled: "Just two temple tiles, nothing to look at!"

"Do you take me for illiterate?" Wang Qi Zhi grew anxious, "I'll buy them!"

This would cost a lot of money...

The words reached his lips, but Lin Sicheng swallowed them back: don't say that, this person really could afford to buy them.

He thought for a moment: "They aren't easy to sell right now, they need to be cleaned and verified, leave a phone number!"

"Good, good, good..." Wang Qi Zhi was impatient, "Let me take a look first!"

Lin Sicheng was very helpless and handed them over.

This person was a true Expert, and also someone who truly collected, not an antique dealer. Therefore, he understood the other party's current mood: delight at seeing a prize, treating treasures like life itself.

The key was that his background was significant enough, and he was likely wealthy enough as well. So as long as the price was right, this person would really buy them.

Sure enough, as soon as Lin Sicheng handed them over, he first glared: "Be careful!"

And then, as if holding his own life, he placed them on the sofa, and then, bit by bit, peeled back the newspaper.

The good one didn't need to be looked at; it was indeed a temple tile.

But the rusted one... if this wasn't a Death Exemption Iron Certificate, he would chew it up and eat it on the spot.

First, look at the last line: Respectfully decreed in the first year of Yongchang... what is a decree?

An Imperial Edict.

Who was Yongchang?

Several emperors in history had used this reign title, but the most famous one was Li Zicheng.