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"By the way, what kind of museum is it?"

In the car, Wang Guan casually inquired. [No Pop-up Novel Network] After all, modern museums tend to specialize; for example, the Liang Yi Museum in Hong Kong is dedicated entirely to Ming and Qing dynasty furniture and antique Western cosmetic boxes.

It's not that comprehensive museums are bad, but in the beginning, a focused collection is usually the way to go. Then, slowly, it expands and grows stronger—that aligns better with the natural progression of things. Of course, if the owner is an unimaginably wealthy tycoon who spends lavishly to acquire a huge volume of artifacts to stock the museum, then that’s an entirely different story.

"It seems to be a museum for returned porcelain."

At this moment, Yu Feibai explained, "It appears some patriotic overseas Chinese collector spent his whole life gathering porcelain abroad. Upon growing old, he felt it was time to return to his roots and brought the collection back to establish a museum."

"Oh, that’s a new tactic," Wang Guan chuckled. "Usually, wouldn't they just donate the items to the state?"

"Perhaps he figured that if he donated, he’d get a few days of publicity, and then everyone would forget him. Establishing a museum is different; as long as the museum stands, everyone knows he was the founder."

"Makes sense..."

The two weren't mocking him; they genuinely thought the man was clever.

In life, what are people chasing if not fame and fortune? Well, perhaps just better material comfort and spiritual enjoyment. This is the common desire once society reaches a certain level of development, and there’s nothing wrong with that.

If someone seeks fame, that’s a good thing. If he wants a good reputation, he must do many good deeds for people to praise him universally, and that’s how reputation spreads. Furthermore, it requires careful maintenance; there can be no slip-ups, lest a 'filial piety disaster' from his descendants ruins a lifetime of good standing overnight.

From this perspective, pure pursuit of fame is more than a hundred times harder than chasing profit. It requires constant vigilance, treading on thin ice.

"Where is the museum built?"

Seeing familiar streets now, Wang Guanan felt a touch of surprise. "This looks like it's heading toward Liulichang."

"Yes, that’s right, it’s near Liulichang," Yu Feibai smiled. "But don't worry, they only allow visits for appreciation. They aren't selling anything, so they pose no threat to you."

"Even if they were selling things, what of it? Liulichang has plenty of competitors; one more won't make a difference," Wang Guan said casually. As the business at Shiyi Pavilion flourished, his confidence grew stronger. His initial goal was just to break even; he expected to start turning a profit after a year of operation. Instead, he started making money in the very first month.

The main reason was the high proportion of genuine items at Shiyi Pavilion, with quite a few masterpieces mixed in. Some experts, unable to afford the truly fine pieces, would always stop by just to admire them, feeling a little embarrassed if they left empty-handed. Over time, word of mouth spread, money was earned, and business naturally boomed.

Of course, the business could only be called 'decent.' Compared to industry titans like Rong Bao Zhai, Shiyi Pavilion’s turnover was still miles away. However, Wang Guan had the patience and the confidence to develop Shiyi Pavilion into a leading enterprise comparable to Rong Bao Zhai within his lifetime.

But that was a matter for the distant future; a journey of ten thousand li begins with a single step. Wang Guan didn't want to overcomplicate things; maintaining steady, honest operation was enough. When the time was right, everything would fall into place naturally.

"I think we're here."

Not long after, the car stopped near Liulichang. After a brief search, the two spotted their target: a commercial building whose first three floors had been rented out and converted into a museum. A giant, red-draped sign hung above them, impossible to miss even if one tried.

"Dongxu Museum!"

Wang Guan glanced at the sign, murmuring, "Putting aside the name of the sign itself, the calligraphy looks somewhat familiar."

"...Normal." Yu Feibai narrowed his eyes to examine it, then nodded. "That’s the work of a famous contemporary calligrapher in the capital. Remember the sign for Zhengya Xuan? It was written by the same person."

"Oh, so it was him," Wang Guan said with sudden realization and a smile. "Then the fee for this sign must have been quite substantial."

"They are wealthy; they don't lack that kind of money." As he spoke, Yu Feibai waved toward the entrance. "Let’s go in and take a look. Since they claim to feature returned porcelain, they should have some pieces worth seeing."

"If they dare to open a museum, their collection certainly won't be terrible," Wang Guan laughed. "Otherwise, they’d just end up embarrassing themselves."

As they spoke, the two approached the main door.

There were security guards stationed by the entrance, but perhaps because it was a grand opening, they needed maximum foot traffic to bless the new venture, so the museum was offering free admission for the day, allowing anyone to wander in.

It must be said, perhaps due to a collective memory of poverty, Chinese people can never resist the word 'free.' Even in Beijing, hearing that a museum was free—regardless of whether people genuinely appreciated porcelain or were just following the crowd—meant that the spacious museum was instantly flooded with visitors, buzzing with energy.

"It’s certainly crowded when it’s free. But when they start charging and they don't have a strategy to win back those initial visitors, the drop-off will be significant," Yu Feibai whispered quietly. "I wonder if the director is psychologically prepared for that."

"It’s not your museum, why worry about it?" Wang Guan said casually. "Whether guests return depends entirely on the quality of the collection..."

Upon entering the museum, the two immediately saw a detailed notice posted near the entrance. The announcement humanely specified the layout of each exhibition hall, including the location of the restrooms.

"Wow, they even have export porcelain; their collection is quite rich," Yu Feibai noted as he looked closely, offering a rare compliment.

'Returned porcelain' (Hai Gui Ci) is relatively easy to understand—it refers to porcelain that has come back to China from overseas. These pieces were either looted in the past or were specifically made for export to foreigners. Porcelain made exclusively for foreign sales is known as export porcelain.

And because it was tailored to foreign tastes, export porcelain often leaned closer to Western aesthetic preferences, resulting in a blend of Chinese and Western styles. Therefore, even though much export porcelain exists abroad, it is far from cheap. In a way, the price of quality export porcelain can rival that of imperial wares from the Ming and Qing dynasties, at least in Europe.

This highlights the difference in cultural valuation. Porcelain, after all, is not gold or jewels; its monetary value primarily depends on its cultural added value. Since culture is national, prices naturally fluctuate.

Of course, tracing it back to its root, the true value of export porcelain still hinges on its inherent quality.

"We'll know if they are good pieces once we actually see them."

At the right moment, Yu Feibai waved his hand. "The exhibition halls are on the third floor. Let’s head up; there should be fewer people there."

"Mm."

Wang Guan nodded slightly and followed the flow of people surging toward the third floor. Fortunately, since the museum was converted from a commercial building, there were several staircases leading up; otherwise, the crowd might have jammed together, unable to move.

Reaching the third floor confirmed Yu Feibai’s assumption: most visitors were concentrated on the first and second floors. The third floor was significantly sparser. One reason was that many people preferred to start from the beginning and move upward floor by floor. Another reason was that many of these items were export wares, which didn't entirely align with the aesthetic sensibilities of Chinese visitors.

Of course, there were also those who enjoyed novelty, finding the export porcelain exquisite, and so they lingered to admire it. However, compared to the lively crowds below, this area felt somewhat more relaxed, which suited Wang Guan and Yu Feibai perfectly, allowing them to browse comfortably.

"This thing is quite nice."

At this moment, Yu Feibai’s gaze swept over an object and immediately paused. He pointed at a rather strangely shaped porcelain ewer and smiled. "This item should be called a kundika, right?"

Wang Guan looked over. The object had a long, slender neck, a very full body, and an upturned spout. It was indeed an uncommon item, with very distinct characteristics—notably, it lacked a handle.

Such an object was used to hold water, similar in function to the Jingping (pure bottle) in China. It was used by Muslims for ritual handwashing. It was introduced to China around the Sui and Tang dynasties. Later, Chinese artisans skillfully fired these wares and exported them back to the Arab regions, turning them into quite popular export porcelain.

This was, in essence, a process of cultural import followed by cultural export. For thousands of years, China frequently engaged in this practice: actively absorbing foreign culture, integrating it with its own, and eventually transforming it into something distinctly Chinese that, in turn, influenced others. This was proof of a powerful civilization; it used to be China’s patent, but now Europe, America, Japan, and Korea have all picked it up.

"Speaking of which, we do have these items domestically too," Yu Feibai remarked while examining it. "But mostly in mosques in the Northwest region; ordinary people rarely use them."

"Without a handle, it’s easier to break when you try to pick it up," Wang Guan laughed. "Also, you need both hands to hold it, which is more cumbersome, or perhaps Chinese people aren't used to it, so it never became mainstream."

"Exactly. Simply put, it’s laziness. If one hand can do the job, you absolutely don't want to use the other," Yu Feibai agreed, nodding. After admiring it a moment longer, his attention shifted.

Generally, most export porcelain consisted of daily household items, along with objects related to religion. As the two continued their tour, they saw that the shapes and styles of the various cups, plates, vases, and dishes were vastly different from Chinese porcelain. Furthermore, the decorations on the ceramics were incredibly varied, the colors intensely vivid, full of exotic flair.

People who appreciate this exotic atmosphere certainly admire it greatly; those who don't find it rather mediocre. In any case, while the two were touring the third floor, they noticed many people coming up from the second floor, only to browse briefly before heading back down. Naturally, many people were interested in the export porcelain and stayed to view it.

However, the two noticed that the crowd on the third floor was clustered around a corner, with dozens of people forming a tight circle, seemingly focused on something.

"Let's go see,"

Noticing this cluster, Yu Feibai couldn't resist joining the excitement. Wang Guan was also curious and followed along. As they drew closer, they saw everyone gathered around a pair of large flower vases—the tall, angular kind, usually over a meter high, their surfaces painted entirely with Western-style motifs.

As is commonly known, large items are inherently difficult to preserve; it’s easy for them to get bumped and damaged, let alone oversized objects exceeding a meter in height, taller than an average child. The chance of them surviving intact is much lower, and consequently, they must be quite precious... RS