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“Hmm?”

Sensing a change in Fang Mingsheng’s demeanor, Wang Guan’s mind stirred, and he couldn't help but examine the box resting in the glass display case closely. This time, he noticed something peculiar. The last item must be this box.

Modern people often ridicule the ancients for buying the casket but returning the pearl, unaware that sometimes, the casket is indeed worth more than the pearl. Take, for instance, the box Fang Mingsheng collected; it was exquisitely crafted with vermilion lacquer, gold inlay, and shell marquetry.

The vermilion lacquer and gold inlay are common enough techniques and hardly warrant detailed explanation. However, shell inlay, or luotian inlay, is something the average person might not fully understand. In essence, it involves engraving recessed patterns of figures, birds, and flowers onto the box surface, then filling those grooves with polished luotian (mother-of-pearl), creating patterns that shimmer with an iridescent sheen.

After admiring it for a moment, Wang Guan casually asked, “May I take it out to look at it?”

“No problem at all.”

Fang Mingsheng readily agreed, opened the glass case, and presented the box for Wang Guan to inspect up close.

“This is Huanghuali!” After a brief look, Wang Guan confirmed the material. This box could certainly be called a ‘Hundred Treasures Box inlaid with Jewels and Luotian on Huanghuali.’

Furthermore, don't let the box’s small size fool you; it hides clever intricacies. It was less a box and more an exquisitely delicate small jewelry casket. The left and right sides could slide open like drawers to hold various items. Lifting the lid revealed space for a dressing mirror, and inside were several small compartments for different objects.

In short, it was a multifunctional box of superb craftsmanship, which made Wang Guan click his tongue in admiration and jest, “Speaking of which, this thing is practically an ancient puzzle box, isn't it?”

“A puzzle box?” Fang Mingsheng shook his head. “This is nothing compared to a true mechanism box; this is child’s play.”

“Hearing you say that, have you seen a real mechanism box?” Wang Guan asked, intrigued.

“Heh heh…”

Fang Mingsheng concealed his expression with a slight laugh and changed the subject. “How about it, seen enough? It’s getting late, and I have a flight to Beijing tomorrow. Better get some rest!”

As he spoke, Fang Mingsheng gestured for Wang Guan to rise. Wang Guan, understanding the cue, carefully returned the box to its place and stepped toward the door. Fang Mingsheng briefly checked the room, securing everything before following and pulling the door shut behind him.

Click!

The heavy security door locked with a faint sound of engaging gears. Only then did Wang Guan notice the door’s unique nature—it was clearly different from standard security doors.

This is hardly surprising; perhaps everyone knows that security doors come in grades. Ordinary ones are merely sturdy and durable. Higher-grade doors certainly use better materials, resisting even high-temperature torches or electric saws for a while. The highest grade would undoubtedly be made of superalloys, perhaps even impervious to explosives.

Furthermore, door opening mechanisms vary. Common ones use keys; better ones require a passcode. More advanced ones utilize fingerprints, retinal scans, or even voice control…

Judging by its texture, Fang Mingsheng’s security door was certainly top-tier, perhaps ten centimeters thick, likely immune to conventional explosives. Yet, unexpectedly, this door used a combination lock. This wasn't the type with an LCD screen requiring a fingerprint scan followed by a code entry, but a keypad lock brimming with distinctly Chinese characteristics.

The reason it felt uniquely Chinese was the lock mechanism situated dead center: a large, circular dial, completely unconcealed. This dial contained numerous buttons, but these buttons could move, shifting like pieces in a Tangram puzzle. Perhaps completing a certain configuration was required to open the door.

But these movable buttons weren't a jigsaw or a numerical keypad; they were Chinese Bagua symbols and characters representing the Heavenly Stems and Earthly Branches. At first glance, the lock plate resembled a luopan (geomancer’s compass) held by a Feng Shui master. Faced with such a device, most people would likely be completely baffled, understanding nothing of its meaning.

Wang Guan was much the same; he knew only superficial details. He could read the characters aloud and grasp the general meaning of the Bagua and the Stems/Branches, but if asked to articulate any deeper implications, he was utterly lost.

“How is it?”

Noticing Wang Guan studying the lock plate, Fang Mingsheng smiled somewhat smugly. “I commissioned an expert to design this lock. You either know the code or bring enough explosives to breach it. Otherwise, no one gets in.”

“Mhm, mhm…”

Wang Guan nodded, acknowledging the statement.

“Actually, my door isn't much,” Fang Mingsheng commented casually as he led Wang Guan toward the guest room. “I once saw a massive gate forged from refined steel alloy; its lock mechanism was similar to mine, only infinitely more complex…”

While speaking, Fang Mingsheng chuckled, “Because it was too complicated, the owner suddenly forgot the password one day and could never open the vault again, leading to immense frustration.”

“That’s terribly unlucky,” Wang Guan laughed. “What did he do? Was there any way to salvage it?”

“None whatsoever,” Fang Mingsheng shook his head. “The only way was to slowly decipher the code, otherwise, it would remain sealed forever.”

“In that case, why not take a different approach? Just stop trying the lock and dig through another section,” Wang Guan suggested casually. “It’s his own house; he wouldn't need to hold back.”

“It’s not that simple,” Fang Mingsheng explained. “Didn’t I mention it? It’s a vault, an underground treasury built beneath an ancient castle. Unless you demolish the entire castle, don’t even think about digging in from elsewhere.”

“A castle?” Wang Guan paused. “Foreign?”

“Precisely, and from a noble lineage spanning centuries. They inherited the castle hundreds of years ago,” Fang Mingsheng said with a touch of envy. “If it were in our country, it would be intangible cultural heritage. It’s similar abroad, too; if he dared demolish that castle, he’d surely become the laughingstock of the entire circle and lose all face.”

“That makes sense,” Wang Guan agreed. Although he wasn't entirely sure what foreign nobility was like, he figured nobles across ages and nations shared a common trait: valuing honor above life. Simply put, they cared immensely about appearances, much like the banner descendants in the late Qing Dynasty who, despite having no food, still maintained an air of prosperity.

Perhaps foreign nobles weren't quite that extreme, but demolishing a centuries-old ancestral castle—even if he had the nerve, the state would likely intervene and stop him.

“In short, bombing is out, and demolition is impossible; it has to be cracked slowly,” Fang Mingsheng chuckled. “I recall last year he offered a five-million-pound reward, bringing in several mathematicians to crack the code, promising them any item from the vault once opened. I wonder if they succeeded.”

“Pounds?” Wang Guan was slightly surprised. “A British noble?”

“That’s right…” Fang Mingsheng nodded, then said no more, escorting Wang Guan to the guest room, wishing him goodnight, and retiring to his own room.

The night passed without incident. The next morning, Wang Guan awoke, freshened up, and headed to the living room, immediately spotting a large blue-and-white porcelain plate on the table—the very one seized by Customs. He had no idea by what connections Fang Mingsheng managed to retrieve it.

“A fine piece, yet it turns out to be a fake,” Fang Mingsheng stood by the table, admiring the plate as he sighed, “If only it were real, it would have been another heirloom treasure.”

“Mr. Zhu Da relies precisely on that kind of sentimentality to repeatedly succeed,” Wang Guan walked over and remarked casually. “There are certainly many treasures in this world, but this piece definitely isn't one of them.”

“That’s why I find it such a waste…” Fang Mingsheng shook his head, ushering Wang Guan to breakfast before they left together. They didn't go to the airport; instead, they returned to Jieyang to pick up the Porcelain Mother, then boarded the flight to Beijing, landing smoothly at the Capital Airport shortly thereafter.

Indeed, Fang Mingsheng accompanied him to visit Elder Qian—not only to let Elder Qian study the Porcelain Mother but also because Elder Zeng had instructed him to discuss matters concerning Mr. Zhu Da.

Having landed safely and arrived in the capital, it was Wang Guan’s home turf. He took charge, navigating Fang Mingsheng through the familiar route to the grand courtyard residence.

Of course, Fang Mingsheng was worldly and likely had visited Beijing often. He had probably seen many siheyuan courtyards, so he showed no outward shock. However, upon seeing Elder Qian, he displayed profound respect, greeting him with a warm, amiable smile.

“Don’t be formal; please, have a seat,” Elder Qian said with a gentle smile. “Traveling from afar, you must be tired.”

“No trouble at all…” Fang Mingsheng quickly shook his head and sat down obediently. His gaze drifted past and landed on Yu Feibai, who was holding a cup and drinking… no, he seemed to be drinking wine. A clear, rich fragrance wafted over, which surprised him—drinking in the middle of the day? Was he truly that devoted to drink?

In reality, Fang Mingsheng didn't know that what Yu Feibai was drinking was merely… water.

“You’re back?”

Yu Feibai glanced at Wang Guan, his eyes full of interest. “Find any treasures?”

“Do you think I’m a god? I was there on official business, with no time for bargain hunting,” Wang Guan sighed. “Flying around so much, I feel like I’m about to fall apart.”

“Really?” Yu Feibai’s eyes brimmed with suspicion as he pointed at several large bags. “Then what are these things?”

“Fakes from Mr. Zhu Da,” Wang Guan explained, then added with a smile, “Oh, and there’s a Qing Dynasty replica colored wood carving of the Eight Immortals of Wine Drinking. I acquired it in Chaozhou, a little gift for Elder Qian.”

That was the essence of borrowing flowers to present to the Buddha. Wang Guan wasn't worried Fang Mingsheng would expose the truth; besides, since Fang Mingsheng had given the item to him, how he disposed of it was his own business, and Fang Mingsheng had no say.

It proved true. Hearing this, Fang Mingsheng blinked but said nothing. It was Yu Feibai who voiced an objection, unable to hold back, “So there’s a gift for Elder Qian, but none for me?”