Chapter 106: Traditional Culture Week

After the laughter subsided, the great hall fell back into a heavy silence.

The images on the Sky Screen began to accelerate and swirl.

The officials watched Lin Xuan hold a spray bottle, misting the scroll bit by bit with sour rice water, then watched him hold his breath and use tweezers to slowly peel away the waste paper stuck to it.

They watched Xiao Sizi grind the azurite ore, a tribute from the Western Regions, bit by bit in a Duan Inkstone.

Then she picked up a brush and reconnected the broken veins and patterns on that thousand-year-old ruined painting.

For a full seven days, everyone stayed up until their eyes were bloodshot.

In the end, the check bearing the number five hundred thousand was slapped directly onto the tea table.

This figure was enormous; converted into the copper coins commonly used in Great Tang.

It was enough to buy a luxurious three-courtyard mansion beside Zhuque Avenue.

But what shocked the ministers was no longer this sum of money.

Standing at the very front of the civil officials, Wei Zheng spoke in a heavy tone, full of deep thought:

"Your Majesty, people of the future have iron birds that can fly to the sky, and one day they will build machine arms capable of making a hundred thousand items; they are a hundred times more powerful than our Great Tang."

Wei Zheng turned around, facing the crowd of officials below.

"But they have never shown the slightest disrespect toward a piece of broken paper from a thousand years ago."

"They are willing to spend a huge price, and they are also willing to devote their heart and blood."

"They use glazed ware tubes capable of seeing details down to the finest hair to carefully inspect, and use white light capable of eliminating shadows to carefully examine."

"Step by step, they proceed steadily and firmly, all just to preserve that tiny bit of ink and brushwork left by their predecessors."

Wei Zheng let out a heavy sigh.

Fang Xuanling nodded and took over the conversation to continue speaking.

"This is reverence, a complete and utter reverence for the bones and blood of our ancestors."

"In the eyes of these descendants, that tattered painting is no longer just an ordinary object, but the very root and vein of all Huaxia."

Fang Xuanling clasped his hands and bowed toward the direction of the dragon throne.

"With descendants who do not forget their roots and revere ancient methods, how could Huaxia civilization ever be cut off! And how could it not endure forever!"

All the civil and military officials in the hall wore solemn expressions, even their breathing grew lighter and slower.

A resonance of craftsmanship that crossed the long river of time met and resonated at this very moment.

The ancients crafted objects with their hearts; the descendants desperately guarded the treasures.

The bloodlines were tightly connected, and the spark was passed down from generation to generation.

This is the fundamental foundation of Huaxia's five thousand years of civilization, which rose and fell yet never had its lineage broken.

Li Shimin reined in the smile at the corners of his mouth.

He rose from his seat, his gaze slowly sweeping across the entire hall.

"If the descendants of the future value a piece of waste paper left by our Great Tang so highly, how can the craftsmen of our Great Tang still have even a shred of perfunctory negligence!"

Li Shimin stepped down from the Danbi and stopped in front of the two brothers, Yan Lide and Yan Liben.

"Convey my imperial decree!"

"The Department of State must immediately draft relevant regulations and establish a separate official bureau above the Ministry of Works and the Directorate of Palace Buildings, to be named the Cultural Relics Supervision Bureau!"

The entire court stood straight, listening quietly to the decree.

"From today on, every scroll of calligraphy and painting produced by the Great Tang court, every piece of porcelain fired by the official kilns, every Mo blade, and every suit of Iron Armor!"

"The master craftsmen who handle the creation must leave a unique anti-counterfeiting mark and their own name in the most hidden place of the object!"

"The ratios of materials used, such as adhesives, lacquer, and mineral pigments, and the time and heat of iron smelting and quenching, must be registered in detail, item by item, in the ledgers."

"Two copies must be made in total: one kept in the vaults of the Inner Palace Treasury for preservation, and the other sealed in a copper tube to be stored permanently along with the object!"

Yan Liben raised his head, his lips parting slightly as he wanted to speak.

Li Shimin gave him not a single chance, continuing to issue the order:

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"If descendants in the future wish to repair objects left by our Great Tang, I cannot let them rely on luck to guess blindly, nor let them have to endure sour vinegar rice water to explore and make mistakes bit by bit!"

"Great Tang must leave a clear and explicit key for the Huaxia descendants a thousand years from now!"

The imperial decree was issued, and matters were handled with swift and decisive action.

In all the workshops of Great Tang, those old, outdated rules were completely overturned.

Blacksmiths began to chisel the exact number of folds and hammerings into the grooves inside the knife handles.

Painters would stuff strips of cloth filled with the origins of pigments and formulas for the base glue into the wooden scroll core at the very bottom of the painting scroll.

Kiln workers in the porcelain kilns left marks of the firing temperature and the source of the clay beneath the glaze on the bottom of the bowls.

Originally, the craftsmanship spirit of Great Tang only pursued making things that looked good and were sturdy at the moment.

This time, because Lin Xuan restored the painting, it ironically pushed this forward across a vast span of time.

The entire creation system of Great Tang welcomed a fundamental improvement never seen before in the past.

Recently, cold air began to pass through.

At Di Yi Shiyan Xiaoxue in the city, the leaves on the plane trees planted beside the playground had all fallen off.

On Friday afternoon, inside the classroom of Year One Class Three.

Six large characters written in colored chalk on the blackboard read: Traditional Culture Class Meeting.

The homeroom teacher, Teacher Li, stood to one side of the podium and clapped his hands.

"In the first half of the class, we discussed paper cutting and sugar figures; in the second half, we will display the old objects everyone brought. Who will go first?"

A boy in the front row raised his hand, pushed back his chair, and ran up to the podium.

He pulled a rusted, greenish copper coin from his pocket and held it above his head.

"This was given to me by my grandfather; it's called Qianlong Tongbao."

The boy's voice was very loud.

A sparse round of applause rose from below, followed by several students coming up to the stage one after another.

The items they brought were either old abacuses or brass thimbles used by elders at home.

In the third row, near the middle.

Wang Zitao pushed his chair back and stood up.

Today he wore a thickened hoodie bearing the logo of some luxury brand.

He lifted a dark red rectangular wooden box sitting on his desk.

This wooden box was exceptionally heavy.

He tensed the muscles in both arms, gritted his teeth, and walked heavily toward the podium step by step.

Boom!

The wooden box slammed down onto the teacher's desk, shaking up a layer of white chalk dust.

It was an ornate box made of very precious purple sandalwood.

The surface of the box was carved with many complex Cloud-Thunder Patterns.

The classroom fell silent at once; several students seated in the front row stretched their necks, staring at that wooden box.

Wang Zitao panted two heavy breaths, extended his chubby fingers, and hooked onto the brass latch facing forward on the box.

He flicked the latch upward, then lifted the lid.

A thick inkstone was revealed.

The whole thing was purple-red, with a few pale green stone veins along the edges, its shape resembling a dragon pattern.

Wang Zitao raised his chin, swept his gaze across the entire class, and proudly explained, "This thing is called the Zipao Yudai Inkstone."

"My mother had me bring it; she spent one million to buy it back."

"This is something used by the Great Tang Emperor."

As he spoke, he took out a stiff paper card from the box and waved it around showily.

"This bears the seal of a great expert from Jingcheng; it is a certificate that has been signed and stamped."

Rather, it was elevated to the height of the inheritance of civilization.

The entire system of creation in the Great Tang witnessed an essential improvement never seen before in the past.

Recently, cold air began to pass through.

At Di Yi Shiyan Xiaoxue in the city, the leaves on the plane trees planted beside the playground had all fallen off.

On Friday afternoon, right inside the classroom of Year One Class Three.

Six large characters written in colored chalk on the blackboard read: Traditional Culture Class Meeting.

The homeroom teacher, Teacher Li, stood at one side of the podium and clapped his hands.

"In the first half of the class we discussed paper-cutting and sugar figures; in the second half, we will display the old objects everyone brought. Who will go first?"

A boy in the front row raised his hand, pushed his chair back, and ran up to the podium.

He pulled a rusted, greenish copper coin from his pocket and held it above his head.

"This was given to me by my grandfather; it's called Qianlong Tongbao."

The boy's voice was very loud.

A sparse round of applause rose from below, followed by several students coming up to the stage one after another.

The items they brought were either old abacuses or brass thimbles used by elders at home.

In the third row, near the middle.

Wang Zitao pushed his chair back and stood up.

Today he wore a thickened hoodie bearing the logo of some luxury brand.

He lifted a dark red rectangular wooden box sitting on his desk.

This wooden box was exceptionally heavy.

He tensed the muscles in both arms, gritted his teeth, and walked heavily toward the podium step by step.

Boom!

The wooden box slammed down onto the teacher's desk, shaking up a layer of white chalk dust.

It was an ornate box made of very precious purple sandalwood.

The surface of the box was carved with many complex Cloud-Thunder Patterns.

The classroom fell silent at once; several students seated in the front row stretched their necks, staring at that wooden box.

Wang Zitao panted two heavy breaths, extended his chubby fingers, and hooked onto the brass latch facing forward on the box.

He flicked the latch upward, then lifted the lid.

A thick inkstone was revealed.

The whole thing was purple-red, with a few pale green stone veins along the edges, its shape resembling a dragon pattern.

Wang Zitao raised his chin, swept his gaze across the entire class, and proudly explained, "This thing is called the Zipao Yudai Inkstone."

"My mother had me bring it; she spent one million to buy it back."

"This is something used by the Great Tang Emperor."

As he spoke, he took out a stiff paper card from the box and waved it around showily.

"This bears the seal of a great expert from Jingcheng; it is a certificate that has been signed and stamped."