"Bai Wu," seeing Big Gold Tooth preparing to converse, though inwardly unimpressed, had no choice but to listen intently. He heard Big Gold Tooth, while sipping beer, launch into an elaborate, cloud-shrouded treatise. Back in the Shang and Zhou dynasties, the common folk were strictly forbidden from trading jade; jade artifacts were the exclusive property of the privileged class, symbolizing status and rank. Consequently, grave robbers of that era, those who delved into tombs, often bypassed the jade burial objects, snatching only genuine gold and silver. Some archaeological scholars, upon reaching ancient tombs, found that even the gold-threaded jade suits on the deceased had been dismantled, the priceless jade pieces scattered everywhere, while the tomb robbers had stripped away the fine gold threads, taking them instead. This was because the general social climate of that time forbade the circulation of jade; daring to sell jade on the street was tantamount to turning oneself in to the authorities.

But the era we live in is different. Antique jade pieces are frequently seen in Panjiayuan. Most of these ancient jades originated from burial objects within tombs. The environment inside a tomb differs from the mortal world, resulting in these ancient jades often acquiring "qin"—a patina or staining. Tombs contain all sorts of bizarre things: some are filled with quicklime that accumulates into fine sand, others are flooded with mercury. The accumulated stone was for reinforcement, the accumulated sand for thwarting thieves. Because of these miscellaneous elements, coupled with the corrosive underground environment where the tombs are located, most of these burial objects bear a "qin," sometimes called "jin," which essentially means the same thing.

The colors of this jade qin are myriad, generally classified by hue. Yellowish ones are more common in Shaanxi and Inner Mongolia, indicating soil intrusion (tu qin). Gray ones result from lime intrusion (shi hui qin); white ones signify water intrusion, deep and untraceable (shui qin shen wu ji). Black ones are most prevalent among burial artifacts, caused by mercury stains, also known as "cinnabar qin" (zhu sha qin) or "Chenzhou qin" (Chen zhou qin). Purple hues stem from the decaying decomposition of the deceased, creating blood-seepage qin (shi xue qin). Green ones result from proximity to bronze objects, causing copper intrusion (tong qin). Furthermore, jade that retains its original color can still exhibit black, dark green, azure, yellow, and white tones; among these, the white is particularly prized.

The ancients equated jade with virtue, suggesting a profound connection between the sagely and human nature. However, jade bearing putrefaction-related qin is not suitable for close human contact. These deep-sea "qing tou" (green heads) are indeed valuable ancient jades, yet they are entirely permeated and enveloped by the salty, fishy brine of the sea, which has seeped into the jade marrow. To the eye, they look like common stones; those in the know lament the loss, while the uninformed dismiss them as fakes. The only remedy is to find someone to condition (pan) the jade. If we wish to revitalize these ancient jades, making their inherent nature harmonize exquisitely with their patina, what immense cost must we incur? To deeply condition such ancient jade, one absolutely requires a virgin, preferably a girl of eighteen or nineteen. If she isn't attractive, it won't do; if she isn't from a reputable family, that won't do either. The jade must be kept pressed against her skin, inseparable from her day and night, for two to three years before one might successfully condition a single piece. But where are we to find so many young women? If we truly had the wealth to hire so many blossoming young ladies to condition jade, would our men still need to travel thousands of miles to procure so many useless stones? Moreover, if we employ too many young women, our personal conduct will become impossible to explain. The wives at home would surely object. Therefore, this batch of "qing tou" is a hot potato; bringing them back to Beijing might not guarantee an immediate sale, and we don't know how long they’ll sit heavy in our hands.

Ancient jade from the sea is difficult to condition—that is only the first problem; there is something even more fatal. Collectors who indulge in antiques might not care much about the qin color itself; they acquire them to find others to condition them. Once the jade’s patina is deep and darkens with age, the slightest conditioning will reveal all its manifold splendor. The subtle charms are endless, showcasing an ancient, singular brilliance, truly marvelous.

But since jade can be compared to people, and people are divided into high, middle, and low classes, ancient jade naturally has its distinctions of value. For ancient jade from the Yin-Shang and Spring and Autumn periods, the material itself is secondary; connoisseurs primarily judge them by their form and design to determine status. Among ancient jades, gui, zhang, bi, hu, huang, and cong rank as superior items. Objects used for sacrificial rites or as ornaments rank next, with scattered individual jade pieces ranking last. Yet, look at these "qing tou" wares—they don't even fit into the upper, middle, or lower three grades of ancient jade. Their forms are bizarre and strange, lacking aesthetic and collectible value. Connoisseurs might not be willing to spend their money and effort on them.

The most important thing for these Mingqi "qing tou" is finding someone who recognizes their worth. No one can definitively trace their provenance or history; at best, they retain some research value, though whether any significant findings can emerge is debatable. Moreover, their broken and incomplete state is a fatal flaw...

Big Gold Tooth, ceaselessly rambling on, was about to continue his oration, but "Bai Wu," who had been listening, could no longer sit still. He had never imagined that jade held so many intricacies. Hearing it all, he was completely convinced and deeply astonished, repeatedly expressing his admiration. He was willing to accept a loss on this batch of "qing tou," viewing it as tuition paid. He told Big Gold Tooth, "Doing business here is like looking at the sky from the bottom of a well. If I get the chance, I must go to Panjiayuan to broaden my education."

Big Gold Tooth, a rogue masquerading as a righteous man, immediately slapped his chest and promised that if "Bai Wu" ever came to Beijing, he, Big Gold Tooth, would cover all his food, lodging, and entertainment. Brothers are found everywhere, and the four seas are one family. What do men who wander the world seek? Wealth? Money is filth! What difference does a little or a lot of money make? Mentioning money feels tiresome and vulgar. What men seek in this life is camaraderie and honor!

"Bai Wu," dumbfounded, knew this deal had been clinched by Big Gold Tooth. Although our departure from Beijing hadn't gone smoothly, this journey south netted us a modest unexpected windfall on the very first day at Coral Temple. After the transaction, I remembered that a most crucial matter remained unsettled, so I inquired of "Bai Wu" about finding a seaworthy vessel. It didn't need to be large, but it absolutely had to be sturdy and reliable enough to withstand the great storms and monstrous waves of the vast sea that lay ahead. As long as it met our requirements, the price was no object.

"Bai Wu" replied that it was simple enough. "Follow me, sirs." He led us from the fishing village toward the rear cliffs. Coral Temple Island was characterized by prominent protrusions and a sunken center, resembling a lotus blossoming upon the azure sea. The entire island had only two small indentations, southeast and southwest, suitable for mooring vessels. Additionally, there was an old water cave beneath the cliff, where one could wait for the tide to rise before setting out. While traversing the Yun Gu Cliff toward the deep-water cave, I surveyed the surroundings: the sea merged with the sky, and the sky with the sea—azure waters and clear blue heavens, calm and placid. I prayed silently, hoping that the weather for our departure would be just as fair.

Descending the cliff into the large water cave, we discovered quite a few boats anchored there—all sorts, and from every era: fishing boats, small freighters, sailing vessels mixed with motorboats, a complete assortment. Besides those privately owned by the island's fishermen, there were also some abandoned here for repairs after accidents at sea, and others left behind by treasure-hunting salvage teams. The cave also held old naval cannons. Legend held that this water cave was once occupied by sea bandits, and those old wooden boats and cannons were decades or even centuries old.

"Bai Wu" guided us to inspect several boats. I don't know much about the art of seafaring, so the selection of a vessel was entirely up to Uncle Ming. Uncle Ming was extremely demanding regarding boats. After several inspections, he still hadn't found one to satisfy him; every single vessel lacked the specific facilities we most needed.