It is also worth acknowledging that Elder Tan had a point; if the funerary objects were truly inauspicious, why have grave robbers relentlessly excavated the tombs of emperors, generals, and high officials for thousands of years?

The belief that tomb guardians are unlucky must stem from some historical root.

In truth, grave robbing was never a common practice among the populace from the outset. Those who dared to plunder tombs were usually warlords or rogue leaders during times of chaos. Take Cao Cao, for instance; his establishment of the Mojin Xiaowei (Grave Robbing Colonels) is still a topic of fascination today. Ordinary folk simply lacked the concept of precious cultural relics and were too simple-minded to actively dig up graves.

It was only through accidental discoveries—when floods washed things out, riverbanks collapsed, or earth was dug for kilns—that they occasionally unearthed some rather ancient, odd-looking objects. Villagers would take these strange old things home, unsure of their use, and sell them for a pittance to traveling junk collectors. Once they realized these items could actually fetch money, the word spread, and people naturally learned that valuable things lay beneath the soil.

Under these circumstances, the trend of private tomb robbing naturally began, and over time, it evolved into a proper trade. Once a trade exists, an associated culture is bound to emerge.

Furthermore, due to the unique nature of this profession, its culture inevitably became intertwined with superstitions about ghosts and deities. Even if people were motivated by the lure of wealth ("Men die for wealth, and animals die for food"), those who dared to dig graves at night certainly harbored immense psychological fear. Especially upon encountering a terrifying, fierce-looking tomb guardian, anyone would likely curse it as unlucky. Over time, this perception solidified.

In summary, it was all psychological. Elder Tan did not believe in bad luck and preferred using such objects to guard his home; that was his own affair. At the very least, once they calmed down, Wang Guan and the others glanced at the object, felt no fear, and simply bypassed it to enter the main hall.

Speaking of Elder Tan’s living room, apart from the rather fierce-looking stone beast near the entrance, the decor inside was quite refined. There was a large fish tank, evergreens, and several bonsai plants. These items were arranged methodically, spaced artfully around the low coffee table, creating a pleasing and comfortable sight.

Of course, the most striking features were the calligraphy and paintings hanging on the walls. The painting was quite large, occupying an entire wall, depicting a scene of green mountains and clear waters. The interplay of ink wash, mist, and clouds was rendered flawlessly, possessing a certain grand momentum.

As for the calligraphy, it was a single character: Fu (Blessing). This Fu was no ordinary piece; it was famed as the "Number One Blessing Under Heaven." To be called such indicated that this piece was indeed extraordinary. Fu is the foremost of the six auspicious characters: Fu (Blessing), Lu (Prosperity), Shou (Longevity), Xi (Happiness), Cai (Wealth), and Ji (Auspiciousness). Pasting a Fu character upside down on the door during the New Year has been a long-standing tradition, one even emperors could not ignore.

Legend has it that in the twelfth year of the Kangxi reign, Empress Dowager Xiaozhuang’s sixtieth birthday was approaching, but she suddenly fell gravely ill, and the imperial physicians were helpless. In desperation, Emperor Kangxi learned of an ancient concept: an emperor, the true Son of Heaven, being a person of boundless fortune and longevity, could petition Heaven on behalf of his elder for blessings and extended life.

Based on this rationale, Emperor Kangxi decided to seek a blessing for the Empress Dowager. After three days of purification and fasting, he produced this single Fu character in one inspired burst, pouring his deep affection for his grandmother into it. He then affixed his imperial seal, intending it to signify supreme good fortune, radiant blessings, and the power to suppress all earthly evil spirits. The world thus began to call this piece the "Number One Blessing Under Heaven."

Naturally, the imperial calligraphy itself isn't what made it the "Number One Blessing." The primary reason lies in the character's structure, which cleverly conceals the forms of five other characters within it: Zi (son/seed), Tian (field), Cai (talent), Shou (longevity), and Fu (blessing). This structure implied abundance in offspring, land, talent, longevity, and fortune. From a calligraphic perspective, merging several characters into one fluid and natural form was considered a rare stroke of genius.

With its ingenious structure and authorship by Emperor Kangxi, this Fu character inevitably gained fame and became the only Fu character never displayed upside down. Ordinarily, hanging a Fu upside down symbolizes that blessings have arrived. However, this "Number One Blessing Under Heaven," incorporating the Five Blessings and Longevity in one, and being an imperial script, demanded to be hung perfectly upright.

The "Number One Blessing Under Heaven" hanging on the wall now could certainly not be Kangxi’s original masterpiece. The genuine seal script of Emperor Kangxi has been lost, though a Fu Yuan stele (Stele of the Source of Blessings) remains, currently housed in Prince Gong’s Mansion in the capital. Visitors touring the mansion inevitably make a point to touch the stele to solicit good fortune.

Consequently, rubbings taken from the stele sell very well and constitute a major source of income for the management unit of Prince Gong’s Mansion. Whether others gain fortune from touching the stele is unknown, but the management unit certainly prospers, benefiting fully from the stele's aura. However, the piece on the wall was not a rubbing but a faithful imitation by a master calligrapher. The style was expansive, possessing its own unique charm.

Although the calligrapher’s identity was unclear, judging by the brushwork, the author was likely a local artist of minor renown. The distinction between "minor renown" and a true master could be discerned from the manner of display. After all, if the work were truly by a renowned master, one would take pains to preserve it carefully, not casually hang it up where it might collect dust.

Only works by artists with some recognition, but who were not top-tier masters, were suitable for such casual display. This served both to showcase the owner’s taste and because, being less valuable, one wouldn't suffer heartache if it were damaged or soiled.

While Wang Guan was admiring the art, Elder Tan had finished brewing the tea and invited everyone to partake.

Unlike ordinary tea, Elder Tan was serving Peony Flower Tea. As the hot water steeped it, the floral aroma drifted out, offering a genuinely refreshing sensation that touched the soul.

Wang Guan took a small sip and found the infusion smooth and refreshing, leaving a lingering fragrance. But they weren't there for tea; after offering a few compliments, they steered the conversation back to the main topic.

There wasn't much to discuss. Knowing Tang Qinghua’s purpose for visiting, Elder Tan was quite tactful, chatting briefly before rising to retrieve something from his room. Wang Guan took the opportunity to look as Elder Tan returned carrying a large tray. On the tray rested several items—specifically, a few ceramic vessels: jars, bowls, and plates.

Yuan Dynasty porcelain, though lacking the famed Yuan Blue and White, included precious varieties such as Celadon, Eggshell White Glaze, and Underglaze Red.

A Celadon vase, an Eggshell White bowl, an Underglaze Red plate, and a Blue Glazed stemmed cup. Even individually, the value of each piece would be considerable, but gathered together, their shimmering surfaces were even more captivating.

Of course, only genuine articles were treasures; if they were fakes, there was nothing more to say.

“The items are all here,” Elder Tan said, a hint of reluctance in his tone as he sighed softly. “Take a look. If you find them acceptable, then take them.”

“Mm.”

Tang Qinghua nodded but made no move toward the items. Instead, he looked at Wang Guan and Yu Feibai. He realized he should have brought a professional appraiser for this negotiation, but since he was traveling with them, he decided against the formality.

In fact, when Zheng Laoban saw that Tang Qinghua hadn't brought an appraiser, he felt a little uneasy, but he said nothing. After all, he cared only about whether the deal succeeded, not whether Tang Qinghua might be duped.

“Underglaze Red, a fine piece,” Yu Feibai said, immediately stepping forward to carefully lift the Underglaze Red plate for inspection.

Underglaze Red porcelain was created by painting designs on the biscuit using copper oxide, covering it with a transparent glaze, and firing it at high temperatures in a reducing atmosphere. This technique demanded extreme precision in temperature control; insufficient heat would reduce the copper oxide, turning the vibrant red into a dull black glaze.

It is worth noting that although Underglaze Red originated in the Yuan Dynasty, surviving examples are exceptionally rare, like phoenix feathers or unicorn horns. This was largely because Yuan aesthetics favored white, while Han aesthetics favored red, reflecting differing ethnic identities, thus keeping production volumes low. Such pieces typically fetch over a million yuan, and exceptionally well-preserved rarities could easily reach tens of millions.

Speaking of condition, this plate’s state was indeed slightly less than perfect. Described as Underglaze Red, it actually presented a grayish-black hue, very dull in color, unlike the bright, vivid tones of a true masterpiece.

Yet, it was precisely this condition that gave Yu Feibai more confidence in the plate. Underglaze Red was an experimental technique in the Yuan Dynasty, still in the exploratory stage. Truly bright, vivid examples were exceedingly rare—not nonexistent, but treasures of national importance that ordinary collectors could not easily acquire.

Take Wang Guan, for instance. Though possessing many rare treasures, he lacked a single piece of Yuan Blue and White or Underglaze Red. It wasn't that he couldn't afford them, but he hadn't yet encountered the right opportunity to collect one.

Opportunity is crucial. Since entering the trade, Wang Guan had seen Underglaze Red from the Yuan, Ming, and even Qing and Republican periods. The quality varied widely: the good ones were brilliant and stunning, while the poor ones fired to look like grayish-black charcoal, entirely unsightly.

Consequently, the market was mixed. For pieces in poor condition, even if genuine, Wang Guan wasn't interested; for those in excellent condition, they invariably turned out to be counterfeits. Why would he buy those? Counting through the famous porcelain treasures across dynasties, setting aside the official kilns of the three Qing reigns, Wang Guan only owned one Northern Song Black Ding ware piece.

Viewed this way, Wang Guan's porcelain collection seemed sparse, considering it was his specialty. However, a single masterpiece like the Black Ding was enough to eclipse hundreds of pieces owned by others.

“Feibai, are you finished?”

At the same time, Tang Qinghua reminded him, “Show it to Wang Guan as well.”

His implication was clear: he didn't fully trust Yu Feibai’s judgment and considered Wang Guan more reliable. Yu Feibai naturally rolled his eyes and glared indignantly, “I’m done examining it, and I can state with certainty that it is genuine.”

This was not mere boastfulness; Yu Feibai wouldn't make such a declaration without considerable confidence.

“It is definitely genuine,” Zheng Laoban chimed in with a smile, “The craftsmanship, the patterns, the glaze—it completely matches Yuan Dynasty characteristics. Over the years, many people have asked Elder Tan to sell this treasure, and he always refused. Only recently, having taken a liking to a certain masterpiece and needing to liquidate funds quickly, did he agree to put it up for auction…”