"Stop the nonsense, hurry up and get inside to see the exhibits..."

If Wang Guan had overheard their conversation, he would have instantly known they were Xiao Duan and Liu Liang. These two couldn't stand the quiet either; hearing about the cultural festival here, they came to join the fun.

Of course, sightseeing was secondary; their real purpose was to scout the market. They figured that whatever items they saw at the exhibition today might appear on the market in a few days.

Upon entering, Liu Liang couldn't help but sigh, "It's much more comfortable in the hall, with air conditioning..."

"I didn't call you here to enjoy yourself. Get to work," Xiao Duan glared, his confidence boosted after earning two hundred thousand, having immediately bought a DSLR camera. As soon as he entered the exhibition hall, he started snapping photos of every item.

Not just him, Liu Liang also held a camera, firing off continuous shots from different angles.

Seeing this, the surrounding people didn't find it strange. Among the hundreds present, quite a few people had cameras slung around their necks, and in the corner, there were even several video cameras and recorders set up. Someone who spotted the logos on the machines immediately recognized them as reporters from the provincial and municipal TV stations.

If this were a decade or two ago, seeing TV reporters would likely have drawn a crowd. But people nowadays are well-traveled and accustomed to such sights. They would glance casually at the machines, then go back to what they were doing. It was more practical to appreciate the exhibits than waste time staring at the reporters.

It must be said that Elder Xing, Elder Ji, and others had put a tremendous amount of effort into this cultural festival. The spacious exhibition hall displayed numerous items, with calligraphy and paintings being the most numerous. A dazzling array of scrolls hung neatly on the surrounding walls, while some were suspended mid-air using stands, filling the hall with an atmosphere rich in ancient scholarly charm.

Those who understood the craft lingered to observe closely, nodding their heads in contemplation. Those who didn't understand simply enjoyed the spectacle, finding pleasure even in a superficial glance.

Culture, perhaps only a select few could grasp its essence, but it has always been intended for the masses. Culture that lacks popular support cannot possibly endure. Throughout history, countless people have written poems and lyrics, yet how many have truly survived? Even if a few managed to be preserved, how many of those poems are familiar enough for people to recite a line or two effortlessly?

Take Emperor Qianlong, for example; the sheer volume of his poetic output in his lifetime was staggering. Some statistics estimate the number to be around thirty-nine thousand, while others suggest forty-three million. Regardless of the exact figure, the total number of poems recorded from all poets in the entire Tang Dynasty combined is less than what Emperor Qianlong composed alone.

This astonishing productivity not only made him the most prolific poet in Chinese history but likely in the history of poetry worldwide. He could surely apply for a Guinness World Record, and he wouldn't have to worry about anyone breaking it.

Yet, despite writing so many poems, not a single one of Qianlong’s works is remembered or recited by later generations. In fact, no version of Chinese literary history has ever included this most prolific emperor among its ranks. It is quite a miracle, and perhaps a joke.

The reason, after all, boils down to this: Qianlong’s poetry lacked a mass foundation, or rather, his verses were purely for self-amusement. He wrote for himself, savoring his own solitary elegance, rather than entertaining the public.

Some modern cultural figures suffer from the same affliction as Emperor Qianlong. They always feel their works are exquisitely refined, highbrow, and distinctly separate from the mundane world. Then, when their works fail to sell, these individuals never question whether they have detached themselves from reality; instead, they blame the public for lacking aesthetic taste and appreciation...

Wang Guan, in this regard, felt like spitting on them. Clearly, they lacked the ethereal talent of Li Taibai or Su Dongpo, yet they refused to humble themselves to learn from Bai Juyi. Bai Juyi, a great poet, would present his finished poems to an old woman first; if she didn't understand, he would revise them until she did. It would be strange if such accessible poetry didn't stand the test of time.

In truth, the ancients were well aware of the principle: writings are composed for the times, and poems are created for events. Since literature and poetry shoulder the important responsibility of social education, they naturally hoped everyone could understand them. Simply put, speak plainly; connect with the people.

Regrettably, both in ancient and modern times, many choose to go against this correct direction.

To return to the main point, at this very moment, everyone was engrossed in admiring the various exhibits. Then, someone was surprised to find that in the center of the exhibition hall wall, one item was concealed beneath a large piece of red cloth, roped off with a cordon. It was clear that behind the red cloth lay something truly valuable.

Upon realizing this, many people immediately gathered near that section of the wall, curiously inquiring about the situation.

"Do you know what's going on?"

"No idea..."

Many shook their heads in confusion, but one person puffed up his chest proudly, "I happen to have some inside information."

Under the gaze of the others, the man smiled faintly, "The brother of the cousin of the little brother of the girlfriend of the son of my next-door neighbor—he’s a security guard here. He just told me this item is extremely precious, important enough to alarm provincial leaders. Those leaders are rushing over now, and they won't uncover the red cloth until they arrive..."

It turned out this bit of "inside information" was quite reliable.

Soon after, the provincial leaders arrived: the Director of the Provincial Department of Culture, along with the heads of local cultural bureaus, leading a large entourage as they swept in.

At this point, the reporters from the provincial and municipal stations naturally seized the opportunity, rushing forward with their long lenses and large cameras pointed at the officials, clicking away furiously. The intensity of the camera flashes momentarily eclipsed the glare of the hall's fluorescent lights.

These leaders were seasoned veterans; they didn't blink, and their smiles were radiant as they posed cooperatively. After a good three to five minutes, they slowly made their way to the side of the red cloth.

Meanwhile, Director Su, appearing from some unseen corner, handed out several microphones.

Clearly, the leaders were about to speak. Seeing this, the attendees who had come to view the exhibits instinctively began to move away; some even turned toward the exit.

"Here, I am about to announce some good news, excellent news..."

Just then, someone began to speak. As expected of a cultural department leader, he immediately seized the central issue, drawing everyone's attention.

"What good news?"

"It must be related to the item behind the red cloth."

"Probably some precious calligraphy or painting."

Never underestimate the masses; their insight is sharp. From the shape of the red cloth, they could roughly guess the nature of the object, just not how precious it was.

In the crowd, Xiao Duan squinted at the red cloth, feeling that its dimensions and length evoked a familiar sense he couldn't quite place: "I feel like I've seen this somewhere before..."

"What did you say, Brother Duan?" Liu Liang asked vaguely, "Seen what?"

"Nothing," Xiao Duan shook his head. "Pay attention. If the provincial department values it this much, it must be something incredible."

The others felt the same way. Those who had started to leave immediately stopped and slowly regrouped, which pleased the cultural department leaders immensely, who secretly admired the Director's exceptional organizational skills.

Having captured everyone's attention with his opening, the Director beamed and launched into a long discourse on the cultural festival's significance, how much the Department of Culture valued it, and the enthusiastic participation from all sectors of society...

After a string of platitudes that offered little substance, the crowd began to grow restless, suspecting they had been duped. The previously gathered crowd showed signs of dispersing again.

Seeing this, the Director swiftly shifted focus: "For instance, the items displayed in this hall were gathered with the strong support of people from all walks of life. This includes a national treasure behind me—a rare gem of incomparable cultural and research value..."

"Did you hear that? It really is a treasure."

"Of course. If it weren't something special, why would they hide it so securely?"

With that single sentence, the effect was immediate. The previously loosening crowd instantly solidified. However, the Director wasn't foolish; he knew he couldn't repeat the same tactic. Since he had arrived at this point, he decided to follow the momentum and continued with a smile, "I imagine everyone is extremely curious about what this rare treasure is, right?"

At this juncture, the Director paused. The audience gave him some polite, scattered affirmations. Although the response wasn't uniform, it was enough to delight the Director, who later had the sound engineers amplify the murmurs several times in the provincial TV broadcast, creating a classic example of official-citizen interaction.

Cutting the pleasantries short, buoyed by his success, the Director motioned to several accompanying officials. They spread out beneath the red cloth, each grasping a dangling pull rope. After the reporters snapped more than a dozen photos, they pulled the ropes in sequence. The red cloth fell away section by section, gradually revealing a long calligraphy scroll.

"Huh?"

Liu Liang glanced over, then gasped in astonishment, "Brother Duan, isn't this... isn't this the one sold to Xing Qiu?"

Lowering his voice, Liu Liang continued, "How could it be here? Could that kid have thought it was genuine and submitted it for the exhibition?"

"Possible." Xiao Duan also found it extremely surprising but agreed with Liu Liang's assessment.

Just then, the Director exclaimed enthusiastically, "Let me introduce this to everyone: this is the Grand Calligraphy Scroll of the 'Ode to the Red Cliff'! After meticulous examination by our province's master calligraphy and painting appraiser, Elder Chi, and others, it has been definitively confirmed to be the original manuscript of Scholar Su Dongpo, making it a priceless national treasure. Now, we invite Elder Chi to the stage to give a detailed explanation..."

"What, Su Dongpo's original manuscript?"

Suddenly, an uproar swept through the crowd. If the security guards hadn't been present, many people would have surged forward, pushing toward the wall to get a closer look. As for Xiao Duan and Liu Liang, they were simply dumbfounded, their faces etched with shock, confusion, and disbelief.

(To be continued)