Chapter 365: Wang Lü of the Ming Dynasty, Painting of Mount Hua

The four orders of the Great Ming: Edict, Command, Proclamation, and Patent.

"The Emperor says" is an Edict, personally decided by imperial power, a proclamation of Heaven's mandate, the imperial word from the golden mouth.

Why then is there a Patent?

A Patent is a decree of conferment, extending grace to ancestors.

Though both are Imperial Edicts, the difference between them is not just a few levels, but a distance of a hundred thousand miles.

When Sun Qichen said the format was wrong, this is what he meant: since it is a Patent of conferment, it should use "The Command says," rather than "The Emperor says," which can only be used in Edicts that "proclaim to the world" or "announce to the hundred officials."

But nothing is absolute.

During the Yongle era, when Zhu Di conferred titles upon Zheng He's father and grandfather, he used an Edict. During the Wanli era, when conferring titles upon Zhang Juzheng's father and grandfather, he also used an Edict. These two Patents are now preserved in the Forbidden City, and the Imperial Edicts begin with "The Emperor says."

Even more so, during the Chenghua era, Xianzong conferred titles upon Wan Guifei's father and grandfather, directly using "The Edict says."

These two characters are only used when an emperor ascends the throne, performs sacrifices to Heaven and ancestors, receives envoys from all nations, or even declares war on foreign powers.

Furthermore, these three Patents not only bear the Treasure of Vast Fortune and the Seal of the Secretariat seen on the one before us, but also the "Treasure of the Emperor's Affection for Kin," used only for enfeoffing vassal kings,

heirs, and other members of the imperial clan.

From this, one can see: even the strictest rules are set by people; which document, which carrier, or which seal is used depends entirely on the emperor's authority, the minister's merits, and the degree of imperial favor.

That is why Sheng Guoan said: It is better to have no books than to believe everything in books.

As for this five-colored silk, it has indeed never appeared before. Including this Patent, it has truly never been recorded in any historical materials—

After trying hard to recall and finding he truly could not remember, Sheng Guoan looked at Lin Sicheng: "Sicheng, is there a source?"

It was just a casual question, but he did not expect Lin Sicheng to actually hesitate.

Sheng Guoan was stunned for a moment: "There really is one?"

"There should be, though not many!" Lin Sicheng nodded, "The *Veritable Records of the Filial Emperor* and the *Inner Daily Records* both contain records: 'For those of special grace, the usual rules are not followed; (Hongzhi Di), mindful of his (Wang Shu's) past labor, ordered the previous and subsequent Patents to be taken and mounted together in different colors as a gift—'"

"The 'previous and subsequent Patents' here refers to Wang Shu's five previous meritorious deeds. Since they were 'mounted together in different colors,' it naturally means five colors."

"Red: fifth year of Chenghua, pacifying Yunnan and settling border unrest. Blue: eleventh year of Chenghua, reforming the salt administration of the two Huai regions, increasing annual revenue by three million. Yellow: eighteenth year of Chenghua, reforming the Nanjing grain transport. White: first year of Hongzhi, dismissing the 'transmitted' officials. Black: third year of Hongzhi, compiling the *Ministry of Personnel Regulations*—"

At first listen, the first three items were passable, but what the hell were the last two?

But only those who understand history or are officials themselves understand how great the influence of these two reforms was on the Ming Dynasty: the so-called dismissal of 'transmitted' officials was not just firing all the well-connected people, but abolishing the hereditary system of official posts, equivalent to today's "must pass an exam to enter."

The *Ministry of Personnel Regulations* was even more significant: avoidance of native place, avoidance of kin, and avoidance of corruption.

To translate: a County Magistrate cannot serve in their home province, relatives cannot serve in the same prefecture (above the rank of county magistrate), and the descendants of corrupt ancestors are banned from exams for three generations.

Does it look familiar? It should, because the system the government uses today originates from Wang Shu's *Ministry of Personnel Regulations*.

The point is: by the twelfth year of Hongzhi, the proportion of commoners among the successful candidates reached sixty-one percent. At its highest during the Chenghua era, it was only twenty-eight percent.

For this point alone, let alone giving Wang Shu a five-colored Patent, erecting a monument for him would not be excessive—

Sheng Guoan certainly knew of these merits of Wang Shu, but he could not for the life of him remember the *Veritable Records of the Filial Emperor* or the *Inner Daily Records* recording this line: "For those of special grace, the usual rules are not followed; (the Emperor), mindful of his past labor, ordered the previous and subsequent Patents to be taken and mounted together in different colors as a gift—"

In suspicion, he looked at Liu Yiling.

Liu Yiling looked blank.

It wasn't that she couldn't remember; she had absolutely no impression of Wang Shu's conferment.

The reason was simple: she specialized in appraisal, and history was just a side interest; although she had read the *Veritable Records of the Ming*, she only looked at the major events.

Sheng Guoan and Lin Sicheng were the exact opposite: they focused on researching history, and appraisal was the side interest.

Looking at Sun Qichen again, he was even worse than Liu Yiling: his face was twisted, looking distressed, half-believing and half-doubting.

He only specialized in appraisal; in terms of history, he would at most study the materials and textures, not some Veritable Records or biographies.

Lin Sicheng did not keep them in suspense and gave the answer directly: "During the Qing Dynasty, because of the literary inquisitions, Ming history was heavily censored. The copies remaining in the country are at best incomplete fragments; the ones preserved in the National Library, the History and Records Committee, and even the Forbidden City are all of this type. But Japan has complete copies, and Joseon has even more—"

Sheng Guoan suddenly realized: No wonder he had no impression of it.

"The clear wind does not recognize characters, why do you carelessly flip through books." Starting from Kangxi and ending with Jiaqing, the Qing Dynasty's literary inquisitions lasted for over 150 years, more than half the duration of the Qing Dynasty's rule.

History books were removed and burned by the cartload, and heads were chopped off like watermelons; what kind of history couldn't they tamper with?

But that's not right.

The two books Lin Sicheng mentioned certainly hadn't been introduced in their entirety, otherwise he couldn't have had no impression of them.

Then how did he know?

"I haven't seen the originals, I just happened to read some related journals: Park Ji-man of Seoul University, *Court Politics and Institutional Comparison*: 'The Shadow of the Ming: The Joseon Succession Crisis Under Ming Intervention'—and Suzuki Keisuke of Tokyo University in Japan, *Ryukyu Tribute: The Proxy Diplomacy of the Ming Dynasty*; both of these papers wrote a little about it—"

Sheng Guoan was stunned again.

Park Ji-man of Seoul University and Suzuki Keisuke of Tokyo University were both internationally renowned scholars of Ming history.

But the problem was: these two were foreigners, and the papers they published were all in foreign journals. Unless one was a professional researcher of Ming history, or even a professional researcher of mid-Ming history, who would dig through international academic websites to read this?

Lin Sicheng said nothing more: in fact, these were all things that the Shaanxi History Museum and the Provincial Culture Department had commissioned the Forbidden City, the Peking University History Department, and the Nankai University Ming History Research Office to look up in his previous life. Even though these three were the top and most comprehensive Ming history research institutions in the country, it still took them nearly half a year from start to finish.

So let alone Sheng Guoan, even if it were himself, he wouldn't believe it.

The more one says, the more one errs, so he simply shut his mouth—

Seeing this expression, Sheng Guoan did not pursue the matter further, nor was there any need to; the point now was verification.

But Lin Sicheng had explained it so clearly, and it wasn't that hard to check, was it?

Through official channels, such as the Forbidden City, or by contacting Xida and these two universities, borrowing the relevant historical materials would be effortless.

One could even check the journals to see if the two papers Lin Sicheng mentioned mentioned the content of Wang Shu's conferment in the third year of Hongzhi.

As long as they did, it would show that the origin and source were not a problem. As for the material and the era, Sheng Guoan did not believe he could be wrong.

If all else failed, the Forbidden City had so many high-precision instruments, and even more vast databases for comparison; it would be a simple task.

In this way, all the doubts would be resolved?

As he thought about it, Sheng Guoan let out an "Eh": it still didn't seem quite right?

Lin Sicheng had only acquired the item this morning, no more than three or four hours ago; where would Lin Sicheng have found the time to check the materials and make comparisons?

But this was an Imperial Edict; Lin Sicheng had nowhere to compare it. Even he himself didn't know how to check the materials, so where could he have checked?

This meant that everything he had just said was something he had already understood and studied beforehand, rather than something he had deliberately looked up only after buying the item.

It meant even more: from the very first glance at this object, Lin Sicheng knew what it was, and was even more firmly convinced that it was an authentic piece.

For a moment, Sheng Guoan actually did not know what to say: having been in the industry for over forty years, spending a lifetime researching Cultural Relics and history, could his accumulated knowledge and reserves really be inferior to that of a mere kid?

Knowing what he was thinking, Lin Sicheng hurriedly smiled: "Director Sheng, it was just a coincidence!"

It was indeed a coincidence; if Lin Sicheng had been unlucky, he would not have encountered this item.

But then again: what about those collectors who had been to auctions and seen this Imperial Edict, or even those nationally and globally renowned major auction houses—could it be that their luck was bad?

Let's count again: how many times has this item been up for auction, how many people have handled it, and even more have seen it—could they all be laymen?

Nonsense.

Therefore, having luck alone is useless; one must understand, one must be capable, one must have a sharp eye, and even more, one must have an extremely profound reserve of knowledge.

Without even comparing him to those further away, just look at his two fellow disciples of the same generation: Liu Yiling had studied under him for over twenty years, and her learning could not be called anything but comprehensive, solid, and her eye for appraisal could not be called anything but sharp.

Sun Qichen was even more so; ten years ago, he was like a carbon copy of the current Lin Sicheng: a young talent, surpassing his master.

But how does that saying go? One doesn't fear not knowing the goods, one fears comparing the goods—

After a long while, Sheng Guoan sighed: "We had already agreed last time that you would bring that seal and painting from before, and I would accompany you to visit a few teachers, but then you suddenly had an incident—"

"If you aren't busy these next few days, give me a call and bring this Imperial Edict along too, so the teachers can take a look. Furthermore, the institute (Palace Museum) has more complete equipment and the support of a Database, making it easier to compare. If you need to check any materials or liaise with outside units, it can also be faster using the institute's name—"

Lin Sicheng was stunned for a moment: originally, he had thought about having his teacher or the teacher's wife step in; he had not expected Sheng Guoan to bring it up himself.

He hurriedly smiled: "Thank you, Director Sheng!"

"Lin Sicheng, don't be so polite in the future: it's not that I want to open a Backdoor for you, but your teacher's mouth is so good at bragging that the old Experts are always nagging about it—"

After making a joke, Sheng Guoan looked emotional again, "Bring your Identity Card when you come, I'll get you a pass; feel free to come by often when you're free!"

Lin Sicheng nodded.

Beside them, Liu Yiling looked envious: she was a student of Sheng Guoan and worked at Shoubo, and the two institutions often had business dealings, so she went to the Forbidden City every few days.

But even so, Sheng Guoan had never gotten her a pass, let alone introduced her to the various old Experts.

Sun Qichen was even worse off; his eyes were red with envy.

He had only been in Beijing for three or four days in total this time, and he was too busy with official business to handle everything, so why did he still make time to visit Sheng Guoan?

Respecting his teacher and the Dao was fake; wanting to build a relationship with Sheng Guoan and the Forbidden City was the truth. His ultimate goal was actually to use his teacher Liu Yan, or perhaps Sheng Guoan, to meet those legendary, surviving top-tier Experts and national treasure-level scholars who had long since retired from the Forbidden City.

He didn't ask for guidance or to be taught any secret skills; even just receiving a casual word of praise would be a credential to brag about.

But having been Liu Yan's student for over ten years and having known Sheng Guoan for eight or nine years, he had always sought it in vain.

Lin Sicheng, on the other hand, had it the other way around: Sheng Guoan not only invited him proactively, but he could even go whenever he wanted in the future?

Get this straight, that is the Forbidden City, not a vegetable market.

But in all honesty, compared to that, what made Sun Qichen feel even worse was the Imperial Edict on the coffee table. No matter how slow he was, he understood Sheng Guoan's purpose in having Lin Sicheng bring this Imperial Edict to the Forbidden City:

To nip problems in the bud and prevent any mishaps.

He could also figure out why Sheng Guoan's attitude had changed so quickly.

At the beginning, Sheng Guoan must have been more skeptical than trusting: because the most important basis for determining whether a piece of art is a Cultural Relic or a replica is not how old it looks or how similar it is, but whether there are historical records and historical precedents.

Therefore, even if the material was correct and the era was even more correct, if it did not conform to the rites of the Great Ming and lacked any relevant literature regarding its origin or provenance, the item could only be a replica. That was why Sheng Guoan had said it was "not quite right" and to "take another look."

It was also for this reason that so many auction houses and so many appraisers had concluded that this item was a replica.

There was no lack of major collectors and industry Experts who came upon hearing the news; did they not know what materials were used for Ming Dynasty Imperial Edicts?

Of course they knew, but Sun Qichen could guarantee that over ninety percent of the Appraisers and Experts absolutely did not know about "Three-Color Set," "Tin Salt Reduction," or "Aluminum Mordant."

And they certainly would never have guessed: that the dyeing and weaving techniques, which were quite mature in the mid-to-late Ming Dynasty, had actually been lost in the Qing Dynasty due to the literary inquisition?

Therefore, everyone who had seen it concluded: this was just a replica. That was why this item had been auctioned so many times, and the price had even dropped from over ten million to just over one million, yet no one had ever raised a paddle.

But no one had ever thought: that a Ming Dynasty Imperial Edict could be kept for over five hundred years without fading. And no one had thought: that the reason why relevant literature could not be found domestically was still because the Qing Dynasty literary inquisition had caused a gap in the Records of the Grand Historian.

And no one could have imagined that someone would not only know the source, the history, and the allusions, but even the specific literary records? Or even that it was a journal Thesis published by an international authority?

What was even more critical: as long as this item entered the Forbidden City and the information Lin Sicheng mentioned could be found, it would be enough to be one hundred percent confirmed as an authentic piece. It would be equivalent to the country's top appraisal institutions and appraisal Experts endorsing it.

But get this straight, this was not an ordinary Cultural Relic, but an Imperial Edict conferring titles on a famous official, a decree of the Great Ming. Once it left the Forbidden City, it would be worth at least five or six million. If any Expert, like Sheng Guoan, were to nod in a public setting and say this item was authentic, then that was it—it would at least double again: over ten million.

And Lin Sicheng had only spent five hundred thousand; how was that any different from picking it up for free?

What made Sun Qichen feel even worse was: in Shanghai, he had seen this Imperial Edict more than once, and more than one collector had asked him to appraise it; even his teacher Liu Yan had appraised it.

So, an item worth over ten million, a national treasure-level Cultural Relic, had just flown away from right under the noses of the master and his student?

And it had flown away while they were both watching—

For a moment, Sun Qichen stared at Lin Sicheng, completely unable to fathom it: because he knew more and studied more, did he deserve to pick up a bargain?

But even if one started learning from the womb, it was impossible to be more professional and profound than his teacher or Sheng Guoan, right?

Everyone knew what Sun Qichen was thinking and why his expression was so ugly. In the past, Wang Qi Zhi would have insisted on kicking a man when he was down, but how could he spare the energy now?

He tried hard to keep a straight face, but the corners of his mouth couldn't stop curling upward, his face full of irrepressible joy.

Sheng Guoan looked strange: "No—even if a bargain was picked up, it was your student who picked it up, what are you so happy about?"

Wang Qi Zhi tried hard to remain reserved: "The ancestors were surnamed Wang!"

What on earth?

Wait, hold on: Wang Shu was from Shaanxi, and the old man of the Wang Clan was also from Shaanxi. Sanyuan is only two hundred kilometers from Yan'an—

Staring at the Imperial Edict, Sheng Guoan looked odd: "Are you planning to frame it and hang it on the wall of the ancestral home?"

"Except for me, the whole family is in Beijing, so where would there be an ancestral home? Besides, for eight generations we were poor peasants, and the old man fought his way out of a sea of blood and corpses, so how would he care about such things?"

Wang Qi Zhi pointed at Lin Sicheng, "Find a suitable opportunity to sell it and buy him a house and a wife!"

No—you aren't his father, are you?

The words were on the tip of his tongue, but Sheng Guoan sighed again: then again, for a family like Wang Qi Zhi's to be able to cultivate such a student, isn't that more promising and face-saving than a biological son?

Although he hadn't cultivated him for even a minute, and instead had been reverse-cultivated quite a bit by Lin Sicheng—

Thinking secretly to himself, Sheng Guoan nodded: "Don't worry, no need to look for an opportunity; as long as Lin Sicheng is willing to sell, there will be plenty of people scrambling for it—"

Although he didn't say it explicitly, it was basically as good as a guarantee.

Wang Qi Zhi was beaming with joy.

Immediately, he pointed to the last ancient book: "One task shouldn't trouble two masters; since it's convenient, Senior Brother Sheng, take this book in as well, compare it, and run it through the machine!"

"You really know how to climb up the pole as soon as the snake strikes?" Sheng Guoan said, not knowing whether to laugh or cry, "Fine, it's just a side task—"

Wang Qi Zhi rolled his eyes again: "Do you want to take a look first?"

He had already looked at the painting and the imperial appointment, so one more item wouldn't make a difference.

It was just a matter of convenience, so Sheng Guoan nodded.

He didn't pay much attention to it, thinking that Lin Sicheng's true intention lay elsewhere: he had only bought this ancient book and the previous painting for the sake of buying that imperial appointment.

Pondering this, Sheng Guoan took it into his hands and first looked at the cover: *Hundred Diseases Hooked Mystery*?

He recalled it for a moment, but had no impression, so he flipped it open.

But just after turning the cover and seeing the pages, Sheng Guoan paused abruptly: Huh, this paper isn't quite right?

The paper color was grayish, the screen lines were like ice crackle, and the surface was extremely flat, clearly having been repeatedly burnished. Yet it didn't reflect light; instead, it presented a matte, satin-like texture.

It was also extremely thin, thin as a cicada's wing; one could actually see clear palm prints through the paper?

The key was the embossed mark on the four corners: at first glance, it looked like a ruyi cloud pattern, and also like a bird. Ninety-nine percent of people would think this was the Flower Monogram Seal of a papermaking workshop.

But Sheng Guoan knew this was the "Yi" in Worm Seal, which indicated that this was Grade B paper.

If it were just for civilian use, who would bother with grades?

In his surprise, Sheng Guoan picked up the flashlight. As the light shone on it, he narrowed his eyes: when shone directly, the paper surface looked like snow covering blue rock, with a pale ocher tint showing through the gray base.

When shone at an angle, the small corners were silver-gray, the middle corners turned greenish-yellow, and the large corners turned warm gold.

When shone through the back of the paper, the green jade base color showed through the crabapple-brown veins, and the screen lines floated like silver threads in ripples.

Sheng Guoan looked stunned: this was early Ming Dynasty Changshan small stationery, exclusively for ministry use; it was undoubtedly tribute paper.

He turned the frontispiece to look at the content: the double borders were thick and black, the strokes were like a single-edged blade striking straight in, and the turns were stiff.

The spacing density was extremely poor, sometimes tight, sometimes loose. Furthermore, the engraving depth was uneven, the strokes were intermittent, and missing or added strokes could be seen everywhere.

The ink color was uneven and bled at the edges; if not for the radicals on the side, one wouldn't be able to tell if it was a "mouth," a "sun," or perhaps an "eye."

Precisely because it was poorly printed, ninety-nine out of a hundred people who saw this book would think it was an engraved edition from a rural workshop.

But Sheng Guoan was ninety percent certain: this should be an Imperial Household Department engraved edition from the early Great Ming.

He looked at the content again—

Sheng Guoan didn't understand traditional Chinese medicine and didn't know who Fen Weng was, nor did he know who Dai Sigong, Jiang Yongwen, or Liu Chun were; he couldn't recall them for the moment.

But it wasn't strange: imperial physicians were miscellaneous officials. Unless one specifically studied traditional Chinese medicine, or was like Lin Sicheng who didn't attend to his proper duties, anyone interested would want to understand a bit. Otherwise, no one studying history and Cultural Relics would memorize the resumes of a few miscellaneous officials.

But Sheng Guoan at least knew what the "Hospital Judge" and "Hospital Director" mentioned in the three prefaces meant: they were the Hospital Directors of the Ming Dynasty Imperial Hospital.

Therefore, this was an Imperial Household Department engraved edition specifically for central government offices in the early Ming Dynasty.

Although it was just a Medical Book, based solely on the Changshan small stationery Grade B paper and the Imperial Household Department engraved edition, this book was worth 500,000.

It meant that the Imperial Edict was completely free.

Sheng Guoan kept flipping through: no interleaved pages, no broken chapters, identical paper, identical Engraving.

And the original paper-twist binding, with wormholes everywhere.

But it was precisely because of these characteristics that it proved to be an original binding, not a later imitation.

Certain beyond doubt, Sheng Guoan looked astonished: "Broke even?"

"Broke even!" Lin Sicheng smiled, "Might even make a little profit."

Was it really so?

Lin Sicheng knew very well what this was.

But where else could he make a profit?

Suspicious, Sheng Guoan flipped to the preface: "Who wrote these?"

"The second Hospital Director of the Ming Dynasty Imperial Hospital, Dai Sigong, the third Hospital Director, Jiang Yongwen, and the famous Shaanxi-Gansu physician from the Hongwu to Zhengtong periods—"

From Hongwu to Zhengtong, didn't that mean this Liu Chun lived to be over a hundred years old?

Sheng Guoan was startled, then pointed to "Fen Weng" on the frontispiece: "And this one?"

"The first Hospital Director of the Great Ming Imperial Hospital, Wang Lü!"

Although the Hospital Director was a miscellaneous official, since the author was the first one of the founding era and had the second and third ones write prefaces, it could indeed make a little profit, at least more than 500,000.

Huh, wait—Wang Lü?

"Which Wang Lü?"

"The one who was a poet, a painter, and a medical scientist?"

Sheng Guoan was suddenly stunned: he didn't know the imperial physician Wang Lü, but he knew the painter Wang Lü.

He was demoted to Chang'an, served as the Chief Medical Officer of the Qin Prince Mansion, and stayed until his retirement, a period of eight years, during which he created seventy-two scrolls of Huashan paintings, five records, and over one hundred and fifty poems.

Twenty-nine of those paintings, two records, and forty-three pages of postscripts and poems were all collected in the Forbidden City—

His neck felt as if it had rusted; Sheng Guoan turned his head bit by bit, staring at the painting that had been moved to the side.

The sea of clouds at sunrise, the Wei River like a ribbon, the dragon spine of the Qinling—wasn't this the Three Wonders of Huashan?

In his mind, like a Zoumaling, the previous scene flashed: Wang Qi Zhi, with a playful look, pointed to that colored Landscape Pattern: Do you know who painted it, and which mountain it depicts?

Heh, Old Third Wang, you're something—

Sheng Guoan finally knew who had painted that picture: the early Ming Wang Lü, *Huashan Painting*.

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