"The legendary shime Mahjong?"

In an instant, everyone snapped back to attention, and from Director Wang's expression, one could surmise that this particular set was far from ordinary. Thinking it over, the conclusion became inevitable: if it were just a common set of tiles, there would have been absolutely no need to pay for safekeeping in a bank vault. bijingruguo it was just about showing off wealth, this wasn't the way to do it.

Once they realized this, Wang Guan, following Director Wang's lead, immediately picked up a tile to examine it closely. As soon as he handled it, he knew the tiles were exceptional. First, they possessed a noticeable weight, feeling substantial in the hand. Second was the matter of the material.

Wang Guan observed carefully: the tiles were as white as snow, the surface incredibly fine and smooth, retaining a faint warmth even after prolonged touching. Yet, these very characteristics left him puzzled; he couldn't fathom what material had been used to craft these tiles.

Yaozhidào in the Republic of China era, gambling was rampant; the sound of shuffling tiles could be heard in every city. No one, truly, would have the leisure time to lock away an ordinary Mahjong set in a bank just to flaunt their wealth.

However, Wang Guan could be certain that these tiles were definitely not made of gold, silver, jade, or stone, nor were they bone, wood, or bamboo.

Of course, it wasn't just the material that was unusual. As Wang Guan continued his inspection, he was astonished to find the etchings on the face of the tiles were also exquisitely detailed, with clear, vibrant colors, further accentuated by painted figures in five colors.

Wang Guan peered closely and realized the depicted figures were none other than the heroes of the Water Margin—the Liangshan outlaws. Amidst his shock, a sudden clarity dawned on him. Bijing it was rumored that the invention of Mahjong was linked to the one hundred and eight heroes of Liangshan.

According to ancient texts like Dai Mingshi’s You’an Ji from the Qing Dynasty, during the Ming Dynasty, a man named Wan Bing Tiao (Wan Bingzhang), deeply impressed by the one hundred and eight heroes in Shi Nai'an's Water Margin, wished to create an instrument for recreation to commemorate them. Thus, after several days of meticulous design, he finally developed the Mahjong set.

The tiles were divided into three suits: Suo (Sticks/Ropes), Tong (Circles/Dots), and Wan (Ten Thousands). Each suit had nine numbers, with four tiles for each number, totaling exactly one hundred and eight tiles—symbolizing the one hundred and eight heroes of Liangshan.

Furthermore, considering that the one hundred and eight heroes hailed from the five directions—East, West, South, North, and Center—and came from varied backgrounds, from wealthy households to commoners, they added honorific tiles: East, South, West, North, Center, White, Green, and Red.

This constituted the full set of one hundred and thirty-six tiles, a game that captivated the entire nation. For this reason, Wang Guan didn't find it strange that the figures of the Water Margin heroes appeared on the tiles.

However, some things, even if they don't immediately seem strange, cannot simply be ignored. Wang Guan certainly couldn't—or dared not—overlook the designs on these tiles now.

"This is..."

At the same time, it wasn't just Wang Guan examining the tiles. Nearly everyone present was holding one, some comparing four or five at once. Bijing they were experts; those who could spot the issue were spotting it, differing only in how soon they noticed.

The experts exchanged glances, most having an inkling of what they were seeing, their expressions naturally rich with realization. The problem was, because they were experts, they could discern the nuances. Bei Ye and Qiao Yu, however, were not in the loop, left only staring blankly from the sidelines.

After a while, Qiao Yu finally couldn't stand it anymore and exclaimed, "Hey! Stop speaking in riddles. What exactly are these Mahjong tiles? Tell us what makes them so special."

"They aren't just special," Old Meng sighed softly, "they are priceless treasures." The others heartily agreed, their faces reflecting awe.

"Good heavens, Cítao Huà Fàláng craftsmanship!"

At this point, Pi Qiu Shi gasped in amazement, "A single Mahjong tile is equivalent to a piece of exquisite art. With at least one hundred and thirty-six tiles here, the total value is simply incalculable."

"Tell me about it..."

Mr. Feng and the others nodded in agreement, finally understanding why that person back then had stored these items in a bank vault. Bijing in those turbulent and unstable years, possessing such heavy treasures was tantamount to inviting disaster; they naturally needed to be hidden away.

Initially, everyone was curious about the material of the tiles, but after handling them for a moment, they immediately realized: the white-as-snow, fine, and smooth texture of the tiles clearly indicated porcelain.

Perhaps some found it odd—could ceramics really be made into Mahjong tiles?

It was certainly possible. High-quality ceramic Mahjong sets were not only durable but also produced a crisp clacking sound when shuffled, like jade striking jade, which was incredibly pleasing to the ear.

Yuan Shikai, the President of the Republic of China at the time, famously owned a ceramic set, which was said to be one of his most treasured curios. When in the mood, he would invite high-ranking officials of the Beiyang Clique, military leaders, or foreign envoys to play a round. Thus, ceramic Mahjong sets were not rare; what shocked Wang Guan and the others was the craftsmanship of this particular ceramic set.

Each tile was rectangular, about the thickness of a thumb, possessing a pure white, waxy luster that made the pieces look exquisitely delicate and elegant—a clear sign of careful construction.

However, the superior quality of the porcelain body was just the baseline; what truly moved everyone was the artwork engraved upon the tiles. These were not the common Tong, Suo, or Wan markings, but finely depicted portraits of the Liangshan heroes from the Water Margin. Each portrait was meticulously rendered, the figures vivid, the colors brilliant, appearing lifelike.

Of course, that wasn't the main point. The key was that the figures and the tile designs were rendered in Fàláng enamel.

As is widely known, Fàláng enamel was a craft monopolized by the imperial court. The required white porcelain body was specially produced by the Imperial Kiln Factory in the porcelain capital, then shipped to Beijing, where it was painted and fired in the Imperial Workshops.

During the firing process for the Fàláng enamel, not only did the Emperor himself oversee matters, but he also dispatched trusted ministers and members of the Imperial Clan to supervise. Only when the batch of treasures was fired and approved by the Emperor was the task considered complete. Any mistake during this process often resulted in the entire batch being destroyed.

This meticulous attitude ensured that Fàláng enamel remained astronomically priced on the market, becoming an object of desire and one of the most highly sought-after relics. On auction floors over the years, items featuring this technique sold the best, and their prices escalated annually, growing faster than any GDP.

Given this context, one could grasp the profound value of this set of Fàláng enamel-painted Liangshan Hero Mahjong tiles.

Simultaneously, Wang Guan was quite curious. "Director Wang, you mentioned earlier that this Mahjong set was something legendary—do you know its provenance?"

"Indeed," the others echoed, turning to Director Wang.

By now, everyone had a partial understanding that this set must have some connection to the Imperial Court. Bijing Fàláng enamel was a court monopoly. Although it had trickled down to commoners in the mid-to-late Qing Dynasty, folk craftsmanship could never compare to imperial work.

The work on these tiles was exceptionally fine, and the depiction of the figures was elegantly meticulous—it was immediately apparent that these were the hands of painters serving the court. Judging by all these factors, they knew the items were extraordinary, decidedly not civilian pieces.

"I do know a little about its origin," Director Wang admitted.

At this, Director Wang sighed with envy before slowly explaining, "Over twenty years ago, when I first began my post at the Palace Museum, I was assigned to organizing archival materials..."

The others nodded in understanding. With so many artifacts in the Palace Museum, one certainly had to start with the inventory lists to gain a general overview before the practical work became easier.

"You all must know that many archives in the Palace Museum, while not necessarily classified as top secret, are not intentionally made public either."

As he spoke, Director Wang lapsed into memory. "It was then, while reviewing the archives, that I found a record concerning this very Mahjong set. I was quite surprised at the time—why would the Palace have such an item? Later, I understood: palace life was far lonelier than we imagine. It was not uncommon for emperors and consorts to play Mahjong to pass the time. I was simply ignorant."

"Even so, I retained a deep impression of that set. Bijing the Emperor who ordered its creation was rather unexpected, and the fact that the tiles were fired using the Fàláng enamel technique made it hard to forget." Director Wang chuckled softly. "So, the moment I saw these tiles, I remembered it, and now I am even more certain."

"How so?" Wang Guan eagerly asked.

However, some were curious about a different aspect. "Which Emperor ordered the tiles made? Kangxi? Qianlong? Could it possibly be Emperor Yongzheng?"

"That’s right, it was Yongzheng."

Feeling this question was particularly interesting, Director Wang answered first, then chuckled, "Isn't that quite unexpected? You must know that Yongzheng's notoriously aloof personality is famous in history. Few would have guessed he enjoyed playing Mahjong. Of course, he only enjoyed it; he wasn't addicted, and he was extremely self-disciplined..."

Wang Guan could attest to that. Emperor Yongzheng was known for his incredible self-control; otherwise, he wouldn't have emerged victorious from the struggle of the Nine Sons' Succession to ascend the throne.

"So, this is a relic from Yongzheng?"

At this moment, Old Meng's eyes lit up. That single detail alone was enough to generate immense hype.

"In a way, yes, and in a way, no."

Director Wang shook his head gently and continued his explanation, "According to the archives, one day Emperor Yongzheng, for reasons unknown—perhaps he heard about the link between Mahjong and the Liangshan heroes—suddenly conceived the idea and immediately commanded the Imperial Workshops to create a set of Mahjong tiles depicting the Water Margin heroes..." (To be continued.)