Chapter 360

Lin Sicheng was exceptionally focused, and the living room was very quiet.

As time ticked by, the two veteran masters grew somewhat impatient: was it really necessary to look so closely at a fake that was obviously a counterfeit at a glance?

To tell the truth, if it weren't for the presence of Yan Wenjing, the high-ranking leader of the supervisory department, they would have started mocking him long ago.

Just as they were secretly grumbling, Lin Sicheng put down the Magnifying Glass.

Jing Zeyang immediately perked up, his lips twitching as if he were about to say something, but he suddenly paused, swallowing the words that had reached his lips.

Then, his two eyeballs darted around, looking at Lin Sicheng, then at the imperial edict on the coffee table, then back at Lin Sicheng, and then at the edict again—

Tang Nanjin wore an amused expression: he didn't understand Cultural Relics, but he understood Jing San'er. Having practically watched this kid grow up, he knew exactly what kind of character Jing Zeyang had.

He was just a chatterbox with ADHD, his mouth faster than his brain. Just like before, he had been babbling incessantly, asking about this and that.

But when it came down to it, at the very moment he should have been most curious, he suddenly went quiet?

As if knowing what he was thinking, Jing Zeyang twitched the corner of his mouth: "Brother Jin, how many days have you known Lin Sicheng?"

Of course, he hadn't known him long either, but they couldn't help but hang out every few days.

They had visited Panjiayuan more than once, and whether watching Lin Sicheng pick up a bargain or authenticate an item, it wasn't the first or second time; when had he ever seen Cousin Lin so serious and looking for so long?

Thinking about it, this thing must certainly have some story behind it. If he asked, would Lin Sicheng answer or not?

Xu Qin knew her boundaries and wouldn't ask no matter how curious she was. Tang Nanyan was busy acting obedient and wouldn't be a busybody either.

Only Yan Wenjing's curiosity was about to burst. After finally waiting for Lin Sicheng to finish looking, he couldn't wait: "Teacher Lin, how is it?"

Lin Sicheng took off his gloves and said bluntly: "It looks quite real!"

Quite real?

In an instant, everyone's spirits lifted.

The young man's mouth split open, revealing his dark back molars, and just as he was about to laugh out loud, Lin Sicheng waved his hand: "Big brother, don't be in such a hurry, I have a few questions to ask?"

"Ask whatever you want!"

"Good!" Lin Sicheng nodded, "Where did this item come from?"

"I'm not lying to you!" The young man patted his chest, "It's an heirloom!"

Lin Sicheng was noncommittal and smiled again: "What is your surname?"

The word "Ma" was already on the tip of his tongue, but the young man suddenly stopped, glanced at the smiling Lin Sicheng, and then looked at the two characters on the imperial edict: Wang Shu.

Of course, there was no rule saying someone surnamed Wang couldn't have a relative surnamed Ma, but if the other party asked: which generation was it, how did it pass from the hands of the Wangs to the Mas, how was it passed, why was it passed, and what was the relationship between the two families, how would he answer?

One lie is easy to tell, but the key is to be able to make all the lies consistent, right?

While secretly pondering, he gave a sheepish smile: "Alright, I'll tell the truth: I bought it from a relative!"

"I have to ask: where does your relative live?"

"Abroad, you wouldn't know even if I told you!"

Who says so?

Abroad is exactly right—

As these thoughts turned, Lin Sicheng looked him up and down: "Big brother is Hui, right?"

The young man was stunned, and the woman beside him also had a strange expression: since they came in, they hadn't mentioned what ethnic group they were at all; the Guanzhong Hui people were essentially Han people who had adopted Islam, and their facial features were no different from the Han people at all.

So, how did he know?

The young man looked suspicious, "Fellow villager, do you know us?"

They had never met before, so how could he know them?

Lin Sicheng shook his head and pointed at the imperial edict: "Has this item been sent for auction before?"

The young man was suddenly stunned: he finally understood why this young man knew they were Hui.

In order to sell this item, they had been to Shanghai, Guangzhou, and even Beijing; this was their third time coming.

They had been to every auction house in the country that handled consignment auctions, and without exception, every single one had failed to sell.

Thinking about it, this young man must have friends in the auction business who had heard about it. That's why, as soon as he saw this item, he guessed their background—

Guessing wildly, the young man's face fell: it looked like this deal today was going to fall through again.

"Fellow villager, you've asked so much, are you buying it or not?"

"If I don't ask clearly, how can I buy it? What if it was just dug out of a grave?" Lin Sicheng smiled, "Unless there is proof!"

Looking at the quality and the degree of aging, he knew this item couldn't have been dug out of a grave. Lin Sicheng asked so much just to verify it.

He remembered that before the exhibition, in addition to sending the item to Beijing for authentication, the Provincial Cultural Relics Bureau had specifically traced the origin of the item. After a lot of effort, they had managed to clarify the history:

After Wang Shu died, the imperial edict was passed to his eldest son, Wang Chengyu, a famous official of the Jiajing era and Minister of the Nanjing Ministry of Revenue, Wang Tianyu.

Because the official careers of the descendants in the clan were not very smooth after him, and no high-ranking officials above the fourth rank ever appeared again, Wang Chengyu instructed his descendants on his deathbed to bury his and Wang Shu's imperial edicts and imperial decrees (posthumous conferrals) together in the ancestral grave, hoping to change the Feng Shui.

Whether it changed or not, he didn't know; there wasn't much recorded in the History Books. It wasn't until more than three hundred years later, during the Tongzhi reign of the Qing Dynasty, that the Dungan Revolt occurred in Gansu and Shaanxi; Sanyuan City was broken, nine out of ten houses were empty, and not one in a hundred survived.

History records: Erected stones to mark them, three gates and six constructions.

The so-called three gates and six constructions referred to the mass graves where the innocent people who died in the rebellion were buried: a total of six were built outside the three city gates.

In addition to burning, killing, and looting, the rebel soldiers also robbed graves and dug up tombs; noble families like the Wangs bore the brunt of it.

Gold, silver, and jewelry were used as military pay, and things that were not easy to sell were all divided up, including the imperial edicts and decrees of the father and son, Wang Shu and Wang Chengyu.

Later, four were recovered one after another, but the whereabouts of the others were unknown. It wasn't until around 2005 that an imperial edict of Wang Shu suddenly appeared in a domestic auction house.

It was this one right in front of him.

The material was correct, the era was correct, and the signs of aging were also correct. Although there were flaws in the format and wording, it wasn't a big problem for an auction house.

The problem was that the timeline didn't match, and more importantly, not a single word could be found in the History Books.

When asked about the seller, the seller didn't hide it: the item was bought from a relative in Kazakhstan.

The relative was a descendant of a Banner Master (a high-ranking officer) under Bai Yanhu (a leader of the Dungan Revolt) who had fled to Central Asia during the Tongzhi Dungan Revolt; his ancestor had dug it out of the Wang family's ancestral grave when leading rebel troops to attack Sanyuan.

Of course, this was just an oral account with no proof. More importantly, the two gaps in the middle could not be traced: the first, from the Hongzhi reign to the Tongzhi reign, and the second, from the Tongzhi reign to the present.

But it's fine; for an auction house, avoiding the heavy and choosing the light, and passing off the inferior as the superior is just standard operating procedure. The key is whether you know how to tell a story.

Afterward, the auction house meticulously fabricated a provenance: it had never been in a tomb, and there was nothing about the Hui rebellion; it was just four words: Ancestral Heirloom of the Wang Family.

Then it went to auction, and after that, the familiar and delightful sequence of events occurred: Sotheby's auctioned it, Christie's auctioned it, China Guardian auctioned it, Hanhai auctioned it, and Xiling and Duoyunxuan also auctioned it.

But the wealthy are not fools; they asked plenty of questions, but not a single one raised a paddle.

Every famous auction house had basically auctioned it; it had been put up for auction more than ten times. But without exception, it failed to sell every single time.

Every time it failed to sell, the price would drop awkwardly: the starting bid dropped from the initial ten million to nine million, then to seven million, then five million, then down to three million, and then down to two million.

During this time, the seller also went around to various antique companies, such as Rongbaozhai, or Jiahe, and even more so, the current Daiyuexuan.

Compared to auction houses, antique companies still have some professional ethics, so let alone buying it, not even a single one was willing to take it on consignment.

Then the price started to drop again: 1.8 million, 1.5 million, 1 million, 800,000—

Lin Sicheng no longer remembers which specific company had which price, but he remembers the last time: the 2009 Poly Autumn Auction, this thing was put up for auction again, and the starting bid had already dropped to a pathetic 280,000.

Get this straight, this is an Imperial Edict?

But it was all for nothing; in the end, it still failed to sell.

So how did it end up in the Tongchuan Museum?

Later, a coal boss wanted to open a mine in Tongchuan, so he spent 200,000 to buy this thing back and gave it to a local Supervisor. When he gave it, he also said it clearly: it's a high imitation, not worth much money.

The recipient didn't pay much attention to it either; after receiving it, he just tossed it at home.

After that, the official fell from power, the illicit goods were confiscated, and this thing naturally ended up in the Tongchuan Museum.

In fact, the Tongchuan Museum at the time didn't take it seriously either, thinking it was just an old imitation. It just so happened that the province was holding a touring exhibition, and since they really had nothing else to send, they sent this thing to the Provincial Museum.

As a result, it had failed to sell more than ten times, and everyone was convinced it was a high imitation fake, yet it actually turned out to be real?

If one were to estimate the price: ten million would be an exaggeration, but three to five million would be easy. Of course, the premise is to find the right place for authentication, such as the Forbidden City.

It would be even better to be like the Shaanxi History Museum in his previous life and find the provenance of this item: for example, how it flowed from the country to abroad, and how it flowed back.

At the very least, one must find the documents from when it passed through Customs—

Seeing Lin Sicheng asking about this and that, the young man was a bit impatient, thinking he was just another person purely driven by curiosity.

But the woman's experience was richer: the more one asks, the stronger the intention to purchase—

She stood up and walked over, sitting down next to the young man. She looked at Lin Sicheng: "Young man, what kind of evidence do you want?"

"Anything will do, for example, an invoice, or a list from when it passed through Customs; photos would be best, and the older the date, the better—"

The woman smiled: "Bought from a private individual, so there is definitely no invoice, but there is a list from when we took the plane. There are also photos, but they are in Kazakhstan. If you want them, I can have my relative mail them back!"

Sure enough, Kazakhstan—

"That works!" Lin Sicheng nodded, "What about the price?"

"We bought the item five years ago and spent 50,000 USD, which comes out to about 350,000—during this time we've been running around, eating, staying in hotels, and spent quite a bit more—500,000, which is basically the cost price!"

The woman sighed and pointed to the two items next to her: "These two were gifts from a relative; I'll throw them in for you as a bonus, but the price cannot go any lower—"

Lin Sicheng looked at the painting, then looked at the Medical Book inside the acrylic box: "Are these also brought back from Kazakhstan?"

""

"Yes, all three of these were passed down by the relative's ancestors. The list from when they entered Customs is in my bag, and there are photos too, but they are abroad. If you want them, I can have the relative mail them all back together!"

Lin Sicheng's heart stirred: if the Shaanxi History Museum hadn't checked wrong, and he hadn't remembered wrong, when Sanyuan was breached and the spoils were divided, Bai Yanhu had distributed this Imperial Edict and several antiques dug out from the ancestral tombs of the Guanzhong noble families to the Red Flag Banner Master Ma Shengyan.

Ma Shengyan commanded three thousand cavalry and could be called the most trusted of Bai Yanhu's trusted aides. Could something that could be bestowed upon him along with an Imperial Edict have some history?

Lin Sicheng glanced at the rolled-up painting scroll, then looked at the ancient book he hadn't had time to look at yet.

He had already looked at the first two, so he might as well look at this one too, to avoid making the other party suspicious.

After a moment of thought, he opened the box.

Inside the box was another box, wrapped in a layer of corrugated paper on the outside, and inside was an acid-free paper sleeve.

It was actually just a large kraft paper envelope.

He untied the string, opened the envelope, and took the book out.

The cover was yellowed, the ink marks were faded, and there were four vigorous and powerful regular script characters: *Bai Bing Gou Xuan*!

You can tell from the name: Medical Book. *Bai Bing* refers to illnesses, *Gou* means to explore, and *Xuan* means subtle, essence, or key meaning.

There was also a signature in the bottom right, which should be the author: Fen Weng—

Fen Weng, he didn't have much of an impression of this name. But *Bai Bing Gou Xuan*, where had he seen it before?

He tried hard to recall, but couldn't think of it for the life of him. Lin Sicheng gave up and flipped open the cover.

As soon as he flipped open the page, Lin Sicheng was stunned for a moment: this paper is quite good?

The paper color was deep yellow, the fibers were cloud-like, blue spots could be seen when held up to the light, and pine soot smoke marks could be seen under side lighting.

There were fourteen chain lines at a forty-five-degree angle, and the corner of the paper was stamped with a hidden mark: "Yi"!

Zhejiang Changshan Small Stationery?

This is tribute paper from the early Ming Dynasty. As for where it was sent, it depends on which grade the hidden mark is: Grade Jia for the Ministry of Communications to memorialize the throne, Grade Yi for daily documents of the Six Ministries, and Grade Bing for prefecture and county registers.

This kind is paper for the Ministries.

Looking at the signs of aging again: it feels even older than the previous painting?

Which dynasty was before Xuande? Yongle, Hongwu?

The key is that this is a Medical Book printed on Ministry paper.

He flipped it open to look: Zhao-style soft characters, each as large as a coin. The layout had thick black borders, double fish tails, and double side columns—

*Hiss*, why does this feel a bit like an Internal Engraved Edition from the early Great Ming Directorate of Ceremonial?

But that makes no sense; could two master craftsmen from Daiyuexuan not see such obvious features?

In his suspicion, he looked carefully again, scanning two or three lines, and Lin Sicheng suddenly realized: the font was too rough, carrying a clear Yuan Dynasty legacy, and the key was that there were too many missing characters, and too many places where the borders had been traced and touched up.

In plain language: the woodblock carving was too crude, the printing was also too crude; many characters and borders were blurry, and after printing, they had been touched up by hand.

The crucial point was that very few Internal Engraved Editions from the Hongwu and Yongle eras had flowed into the hands of the public, and since the two grand masters had rarely seen them, they had mistaken this book for an ordinary civilian-engraved edition.

But on the contrary, it was precisely because it was crude that the book was early enough.

One could imagine: the dynasty had just been established during the Hongwu era, and there were years of war during the Jianwen era, which was equivalent to Emperor Yongle founding the nation all over again; how good could the printing craftsmanship have been at that time?

To be honest, this copy was already considered quite good: there were only three or five strokes patched on a single page.

In the Forbidden City, Lin Sicheng had even seen pages with a dozen or several dozen strokes patched—

After sighing with emotion, he looked at the content again.

First was the preface: The Dao of Heaven and Earth is called yin and yang; the two Qi harmonize, and all things develop from this. Man is inherently one, born by receiving Qi, endowed to form a shape, and cannot be without flaws—

Then the next preface: The human body is a heaven and earth; when yin and yang are in harmony, the covering and supporting forces attain their clarity and tranquility, the deep abysses and high mountains attain their stability, and even plants, trees, birds, and beasts are all in accord. In a person's body, the five viscera and six bowels, the four limbs and hundred bones, cannot live without Qi and cannot function without blood—

A full three pages, over a thousand words written in a sprawling style, with content that was more or less the same.

But the more Lin Sicheng read, the stranger he felt: Dai Sigong, Jiang Yongwen, Liu Chun?

The first two were both heads of the Imperial Academy of Medicine in the early Ming Dynasty—

Lin Sicheng was stunned for a moment, then suddenly turned his head back, staring at the rolled-up scroll.

He finally knew who had painted that Ancient Painting—