Hearing Wang Guan announce his departure, Elder Duan readily agreed. “That’s right. It’s certainly not safe keeping these things out here; you should take them back for safekeeping.”

“Indeed.” Wang Guan nodded, then smiled. “Elder Duan, Elder Yan, I’ll take my leave then. If you ever find yourselves in Beijing, be sure to give me a call so I can play the host.”

“No problem, we’ll definitely look you up if we visit…”

After a round of pleasantries and polite exchanges, Wang Guan called the security guards, shouldered his various acquisitions, and departed leisurely. After two or three hours of transit, the group arrived back in the capital—more precisely, back at Old Master Qian’s residence.

Having given prior notice, Old Master Qian showed no surprise at Wang Guan’s return. Instead, he observed the boxes being carried into the hall with keen interest, chuckling, “So, these are the spoils you managed to acquire from the residence… oh, wait, I should say, from dismantling someone’s residence?”

“That’s right,” Wang Guan confirmed. “All of it, the people’s sweat and toil.”

Confucius, undoubtedly, commands respect, but his descendants are not necessarily afforded the same reverence. One must remember that once the descendants of Confucius attained noble status, they were inevitably set against the common people. Consider this: the Kong family lineage in Qufu endured for over two millennia, implying that the populace of Qufu suffered under their yoke for nearly two thousand years…

The word ‘oppression’ might not be precisely accurate, but the moment the Kong family received enfeoffment from the court and were elevated to dukes and marquises, it meant the Kongs had transformed from a pure lineage of scholars and literati into social parasites.

A brief historical inquiry reveals what else the so-called Duke Yansheng had to offer besides the illustrious golden signboard of Confucius himself? What genuine academic or philosophical achievements could they claim?

The title of Duke Yansheng was, in reality, a shackle—a massive one—firmly clamped onto the Kong family, leaving them with no room to maneuver. However, it must be said that successive dynasties kept the Kong family elevated precisely because they wanted them to remain silent, like clay Buddhas in a temple. Any utterance of dissent would likely have met a terrible end…

Regardless of the underlying reasons, in the minds of many, the Kong family represented a great malignant tumor. Consequently, during the various movements following the founding of the People’s Republic, the fate of the Kong Residence was rather tragic. Yet, as society evolved, people began to view Confucianism with a more balanced perspective, discarding the dross and extracting the essence, allowing the signboard of Confucius to be raised once more.

One has to concede that the most innocent party is the venerable Confucius himself. For over two thousand years, his academic thought has been repeatedly twisted and misinterpreted, and he himself subjected to constant judgment. Truly unjust.

“What exactly is inside these boxes?”

At this juncture, Old Master Qian asked with a smile, “Just simple gold, silver, pearls, and jade?”

“Mostly,” Wang Guan replied. “Though it sounds cliché, there’s no helping it. After all, whether ancient or modern, these are the things that hold the highest tangible value.”

In retrospect, burying gold and silver was the most practical and secure measure. Gold and silver are scarce resources on Earth, and even after centuries, they will certainly remain the natural medium of exchange.

Burying anything else is less certain. Setting aside the eventual fate of glass cups, consider even diamonds, currently prized highly. Who knows if, in a few decades or centuries, scientists might devise a simple method for manufacturing them? If lab-grown diamonds become commonplace, the price of natural diamonds would inevitably suffer, perhaps losing their worth.

“Mmm.”

Old Master Qian then casually lifted the lid of a box. Golden luster, silver gleam, the dazzling radiance of pearls and gems shone as brightly as starlight. Yet, having seen it all countless times, he felt nothing particularly extraordinary. After a brief glance, he closed the lid, his expression tinged with mild disappointment.

Then, settling his mind, Old Master Qian inquired, “So, that half piece of the Iron Scroll of Edicts must have originated from the Kong family village?”

“Nine times out of ten,” Wang Guan confirmed. “We don’t know why Kong Chao managed to get hold of it, but it’s a shame it’s only half. The other half was likely in the Tang Imperial Palace and probably destroyed in the flames of war long ago.”

“That is fate, and we cannot alter it,” Old Master Qian shook his head slightly. “Never mind. One cannot demand perfection in everything. Knowing the provenance of even half the Iron Scroll is a good outcome; we shouldn't ask for more.”

At Old Master Qian’s current stage of cultivation, mere treasures of gold and silver no longer stirred his heart; only rare and singular artifacts could genuinely pique his interest.

Wang Guan understood this perfectly. He gave a slight smile. “Since you aren't seeking anything else, Elder Qian, I won’t bother showing you the other items. It’s nice enough to enjoy them myself.”

“What do you mean?” Old Master Qian’s interest was immediately piqued, and his gaze flicked over. “You found something else?”

“I did.”

Wang Guan stated plainly, “There’s a roof beam—it looks quite interesting. I wonder if you’d care to see it, Elder Qian?”

“Enough talk. Have someone bring it up immediately.”

Old Master Qian, hearing this, knew that Wang Guan wouldn't tease him unnecessarily. Moreover, given his years of experience, he was well aware of the ancient custom of concealing items within roof beams.

Wang Guan spread his hands with a smile. “Elder Qian, it’s not that I don’t want it moved inside, but the beam is extremely long. Even if brought in, it won't fit in the main hall. The item is currently in the courtyard. I invite you to step outside to view it…”

“Let’s go take a look.”

Hearing this, Old Master Qian immediately walked toward the exit. Just outside the hall door, they could see a large, thick, round log leaning against the corner of the courtyard wall—the very roof beam dismantled from Kong Chao’s ancestral home.

Generally, the timber used for the roof beams of commoner homes was elmwood. This was not only because elm was sturdy and hard, but also because the character for elm, yú, was homophonous with yúliáng (surplus grain), offering a favorable omen.

Of course, this doesn't mean all ancient structures used elm for beams; exceptions certainly existed. For high officials, nobles, or military leaders, if circumstances allowed, the beam wood would undoubtedly be the finest available. Using precious materials like Golden Silk Nanmu or huali (rosewood) for a main beam was not impossible.

“What kind of wood is this?”

Old Master Qian carefully examined the beam leaning in the corner. Due to its age, even after sweeping away the surface dust, the dark, lacquered color obscured the wood’s true nature, making identification difficult.

“I had someone inquire,” Wang Guan explained. “It appears to be Sophora wood (Huai Mu).”

“Sophora wood is also an excellent omen,” Elder Qian remarked happily. “A Sophora tree planted before the door either invites treasure or attracts wealth—a better auspicious sign than elm. Of course, the most important thing is that Sophora wood is structurally very stable, making it excellent material for a beam.”

“Good material isn't the main point; the key is that what should be a solid beam appears to have a hollow section,” Wang Guan said with a laugh, tapping a spot on the side. A dull, thudding echo immediately resonated.

“Then what are you waiting for?”

Old Master Qian laughed. “Hurry up and inspect it. See if it’s damage from termites or if it was hollowed out by hand.”

“Roger that.” Wang Guan nodded. A moment’s inspection showed that the hollowed area had been sealed shut. It was impossible to pry open with bare hands; tools would be necessary.

Calling for someone to fetch a chisel and hammer, Wang Guan began carefully tapping and chiseling. After a moment, the tightly sealed wooden panel cracked open in response, revealing a long, dark recess.

Naturally, something was hidden within the recess. Old Master Qian stepped closer and saw an object over three chi long, meticulously wrapped in oil paper and sprinkled with insect-repelling medicine—a clear indication of how highly the ancients valued its contents.

“It looks like a scroll.”

Weighing the item after retrieving it, Old Master Qian’s face broke into a smile. “And it’s heavy. It must be a long scroll. To be hidden so securely, it’s probably a masterwork of painting or calligraphy.”

“We’ll know soon enough.”

Wang Guan set down the tools, washed his hands, and returned to the hall, where he found Old Master Qian had already unwrapped the oil paper. Beneath it lay a long tube, a beautifully crafted bamboo cylinder.

“Just as expected.”

Old Master Qian’s expression brightened slightly, and he gestured. “Look, this bamboo cylinder isn't simple either. It seems to have been treated with some secret oil preparation, making it moisture-proof. Furthermore, the air inside the tube was evacuated, creating a vacuum environment…”

Don't assume the ancients knew nothing of science. In fact, while they might not have known the term or the full scientific implications, many of their actions followed scientific principles. This was likely a case of knowing how without knowing why, which is understandable given the limitations of their era.

“We can study the bamboo cylinder later,” Wang Guan urged. “Open it up and see what’s inside—that must be more important.”

Old Master Qian smiled, readily taking the task. He gently pierced the small hole on the side of the cylinder, which was sealed with wax, and then easily pushed aside the bamboo cap. Inside, just as he predicted, was a scroll. Judging by its thickness, Old Master Qian was correct: it was indeed a long scroll.

“I wonder if it’s calligraphy or a painting.”

Old Master Qian was also quite curious. He instructed Wang Guan to clear the long table nearby, then carefully untied the scroll’s bindings and gently lifted the beginning, unrolling it bit by bit…

“Eh.”

As the scroll was halfway unfurled, Old Master Qian studied it closely. A look of surprise immediately crossed his face. The scroll depicted a piece of art, but unlike ordinary paintings, this was a baimiao drawing.

Baimiao is a specific technique in painting, meaning to depict forms using only monochrome ink lines without any color. Examples include many illustrations found in the embroidered editions of the Four Great Classical Novels from the Ming and Qing dynasties, which are generally baimiao works.

However, one should not assume that because baimiao was used for novel illustrations, it held low value. That is a misconception. In reality, works by baimiao masters, both ancient and modern, have always been highly sought after by collectors.

The reason is simple: while the entry barrier to baimiao is low, reaching a truly high level of proficiency demands exceptional skill from the creator…

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