“…Everyone knows the Kong family should possess numerous Danshu Tiejuan (Pill Book Iron Scrolls), yet no physical evidence has ever surfaced.” At this, Elder Qian chuckled again, “Some speculated that during dynastic changes, perhaps out of prudence, the Kong family destroyed the previous dynasty’s scrolls, which is why no physical copies survived. But now that you’ve discovered this half Danshu Tiejuan, that conclusion can be overturned.” “Is that half the left scroll or the right scroll?” Wang Guan inquired carefully.

If it were a Tang Dynasty scroll, the left scroll belonged to the Kong family, while the right was held in the imperial treasury. If it was the left scroll, it was indeed the Kong family’s property; if it was the right, the situation was less clear.

After all, during the An Lushan Rebellion in the Tang Dynasty, Chang’an was taken by the rebels, and the imperial inner vaults were undoubtedly sacked, causing many items to drift into the civilian populace. Perhaps the right half of the Danshu Tiejuan was among them.

Elder Qian understood Wang Guan’s implication and laughed easily, “It’s definitely the left scroll. If it were the right, I wouldn’t have bothered calling you specifically.

But then again, having only half a Danshu Tiejuan is certainly a pity.” “Exactly, exactly…” Wang Guan heartily agreed. “Forget it, these things can’t be forced.” Elder Qian paused, then asked, “How is the task progressing?” “Very smoothly.

Curator Wu has been very enthusiastic and completely cooperative with our work,” Wang Guan replied with a smile. “However, in the rush, some oversights were inevitable.

Upon our reminding him, he dispatched personnel to make adjustments.” “That’s good.” Elder Qian sounded somewhat satisfied, then hesitated, “So, you must be quite free at the moment?” “Yes, we finished the inspection this morning. They are adjusting this afternoon, and we can re-examine it tomorrow morning,” Wang Guan, observing the small details to understand the whole picture, immediately offered, “Elder Qian, please assign me any task you have.

I’m quite idle right now.” “It’s really nothing urgent,” Elder Qian explained. “I have an old friend; he lives in the provincial capital of Lu Province.

If you happen to have time, could you visit him on my behalf and send my regards?” “Consider it done. Where is the address?

I can leave immediately,” Wang Guan readily agreed, marveling once again at how Elder Qian seemed to know influential people everywhere. However, as Elder Qian provided the details, Wang Guan suddenly realized his old friend was no ordinary person.

His surname was Yan—as in Yan Hui—said to be a descendant of Yan Hui, or at the very least, a clansman of the Yan family. Historically, Yan Hui never held office nor left behind any written works, yet a few of his casual remarks appeared in the Analects, his philosophy perfectly aligning with Confucius’s.

Many people believed that had Yan Hui not passed away before Confucius, he would likely have been the designated successor to the Master’s teachings. Regardless, in the eyes of later generations, Yan Hui was also considered a sage—the Second Sage!

Ancient rituals honoring Confucius usually included four figures enshrined alongside him in the Temple of Confucius: the Second Sage Yan Zi, the Sage of Succession Zeng Zi, the Sage of Elucidation Zi Si, and the Sage of Wisdom Meng Zi. Yan Zi, the Second Sage, ranked first among the Seventy-Two Worthies, which clearly indicates his lofty status in the minds of the ancients.

Of course, this wasn't the main point. Even if one’s ancestors were illustrious, that was their own achievement.

If the descendants proved incapable—like the hopeless A Dou—there was nothing to be done. Yet, as Elder Qian's friend, this Elder Yan had not disgraced his ancestor.

He was described as a man possessing genuine talent and profound knowledge, yet remaining exceedingly low-key. Had Elder Qian not mentioned him, Wang Guan would never have known such a great hidden master resided in the common countryside.

Now, with Elder Qian’s guidance, he naturally set out to pay his respects. After a series of turns, Wang Guan arrived in the bustling downtown area.

As the saying goes, the modest hermit dwells in the wilderness, but the great hermit dwells in the city. Elder Yan resided amidst the vibrant clamor, a situation that seemed to test one's resolve, much like reading a book amid cannon fire.

Mental fortitude, after all, was a matter of focus. If one could concentrate sufficiently, no matter how noisy the city, one could settle their mind to their own affairs.

Conversely, without any focus, even in a quiet, peaceful environment, one would only waste time sleeping instead of diligently studying. Stepping into the crowded street, Wang Guan was immediately engulfed by continuous, rising waves of clamor.

Under the shroud of this noise, he asked himself if he could stay here for a few days, but long-term, it would surely lead to nervous exhaustion. Frankly, it was an issue of one's inner state.

He was still too young; his composure was lacking. Wang Guan shook his head, then surveyed the surroundings, inquiring of passersby.

Moments later, he found himself on a relatively wide street lined on both sides with shops selling everything needed for clothing, food, housing, and travel—it was certainly lively. Walking along, he spotted a shop dealing in the Four Treasures of the Study.

After glancing at the sign, Wang Guan immediately smiled and walked straight in. Stepping across the threshold, Wang Guan took in the store.

It spanned about thirty square meters, decorated with exquisite taste. Inside the glass counters lay numerous scholarly implements, dominated by writing brushes of every conceivable type, inserted vertically into uniquely shaped bamboo cylinders, giving an air of elegance.

However, with Wang Guan’s discerning eye, he could tell the quality of these items was excellent, hence the high pricing, which naturally kept the shop rather quiet. At a glance, apart from himself, there were no other customers.

Oh, right, there was the owner. At that moment, Wang Guan noticed an elderly man with thinning white hair and beard in the corner of the shop, engrossed in flipping through a very thick book.

He was so focused that he hadn't noticed a customer had arrived. “Excuse me…” Wang Guan hesitated, then approached lightly, his tone respectful, “Are you Elder Yan?” Hearing the voice, the old man finally snapped back to reality.

He looked up, his eyes narrowing slightly, “…What are you looking to buy?” “I’m not buying anything,” Wang Guan shook his head and smiled. “I came looking for Elder Yan.” “Looking for Old Yan?” Unexpectedly, the old man was clearly not the person Wang Guan was seeking.

He casually replied, “He stepped out. Went wandering in the mountains and streams; he won’t be back for a few days.

I’m looking after the shop for him on request. Why are you looking for him?” “Uh…” Wang Guan paused, feeling the timing was truly unfortunate.

He explained with a trace of regret, “I was also sent by someone to visit Elder Yan and convey their regards.” “…Is that so.” Hearing this, the old man showed a bit more warmth and gestured invitingly, “Sit down, have some tea.” Despite the inconvenience, Wang Guan didn't wish to leave so abruptly. He nodded and sat down, offering thanks as the old man poured the tea.

“You’re two days late,” the old man said with a smile after setting down the teapot. “Just three days ago, for some reason, Old Yan suddenly felt inspired and excitedly headed to the coast for a trip.” “Sketching and painting?” Wang Guan asked curiously.

“Mmm.” For a moment, the old man looked surprised, then chuckled, “It seems the person who sent you to visit is truly a good friend of Old Yan’s, otherwise, how would you know he’s a painter?” “Not just a painter, but a vastly accomplished one,” Wang Guan smiled. “Elder Yan has impeccable moral character; he only paints and never sells his work, which is why he remains unknown.” “He’s not here, no need to flatter him,” The old man made a jest, but nodded in agreement, “But you’re right, Old Yan’s calligraphy and paintings are indeed excellent.

It’s a pity he’s quite miserly; if I ask him to paint a few pieces, he pushes back and forth, never agreeing easily.” “Hehe…” Wang Guan didn’t know how to follow that thread, so he replaced words with a laugh. He hadn't seen Elder Yan’s artwork himself and couldn't offer an evaluation.

But Wang Guan trusted Elder Qian wouldn't lie. For an artist to paint consistently for decades, unaffected by any commercial pressures, painting with such singular focus, his skill could hardly be poor.

Such a pure individual, Wang Guan thought, would be hard to find in modern society; it was no wonder Elder Qian praised and esteemed him so highly. Most importantly, his painting was not for fame or profit, but a genuine passion.

It wasn't a profession, purely a hobby, an innate love, a personal interest. It’s often said that interest is the best teacher, but for many, it’s just fleeting enthusiasm, a three-minute heat.

Not everyone can persist. The fact that he could persevere while others could not—that was the gap, the reason for respect.

That sheer willpower alone was enough to command reverence. At this, the old man casually added, “Of course, if you have the time, you can wait a couple more days; he will certainly be back.” As he spoke, the old man smiled, “In a couple of days, the Provincial Museum is holding a Treasure Exhibition.

He definitely won’t miss it; he’ll be back before the event.” “That works out well then,” Wang Guan said immediately, nodding. “As it happens, I also have matters requiring me to stay in the provincial capital for a few more days.

I can simply come back to visit Elder Yan then.” The old man nodded slightly, then asked with keen interest, “Tell me, who sent you to visit? Perhaps I know them too.” “…It’s Elder Qian from the capital,” Wang Guan hesitated briefly, but revealed the truth without concealment.

“A man surnamed Qian?” The old man thought for a moment, then shook his head, “Don’t know him.” Wang Guan smiled, finding it unsurprising. The old man didn't seem like he belonged to that circle, so it was normal he wouldn't know Elder Qian.

But after such a long conversation, he still didn't know the elder’s background, so he asked out of curiosity, “Elder, what should I call you?” “My surname is Duan.” As he spoke, the old man reached into his pocket, pulled out a business card, and handed it over: “If you have any needs in this area, feel free to contact me to discuss.” “Oh!” Wang Guan took the card with both hands and looked down, a peculiar expression spreading across his face. The card was very clean, without any flashy titles, just a rather simple name.

Of course, there was contact information. But behind the name and contact details, there was a faint watermark.

The watermark was vivid and lifelike, faintly visible, instantly letting anyone who saw it know what it was. “A compass?” Wang Guan looked at it, genuinely astonished.

“Seeing this mark,” The old man smiled enigmatically, “You should know what I do, shouldn't you?”