What the Holy Grail was, or rather, what it signified, Mr. John understood perfectly well in his heart. Even though he harbored doubts as to whether the cup was truly the legendary Holy Grail, the mere sliver of possibility made it worth acquiring for study.

With that thought, Mr. John spoke, "Mr. Wang, look closely, this is a treasure of your nation..."

"What treasure? This is a disgrace," Wang Guan retorted irritably. "I’ve already said it—don't insult me with this sort of thing."

Seeing Wang Guan’s resolute stance, Mr. John knew he wasn't playing hard to get; he genuinely looked down upon this beast’s head. Had it been earlier, Mr. John might have made a real effort, employing all his persuasive skills to sway him. But upon hearing that the cup might be the legendary Holy Grail, Mr. John lost his composure. After a couple of cursory attempts at persuasion, he hurriedly excused himself and departed.

"Wang."

As soon as Mr. John was gone, Mr. Anderson smiled, "That Holy Grail you mentioned just now..."

"What Holy Grail? Mr. Anderson must have misheard," Wang Guan denied smoothly, immediately pivoting to his own concerns. "By the way, we’ve been waiting two days now. Are your items ready? If not, we might as well go back and wait there."

"Wang, no need to rush," Mr. Anderson explained. "You must understand, the items you requested are held by different people, and we need time to coordinate."

"It’s not a request, it’s an exchange," Wang Guan reminded him, then frowned. "How much longer must we wait? Give me a definite timeframe."

"Soon, soon," Mr. Anderson chuckled. "How about this: we have some items right here in Australia. You can go over tomorrow for the initial appraisal. You won't need to wait for everything else to be transported before viewing them together."

"You should have suggested that sooner," Wang Guan nodded, agreeing to the arrangement. He ignored Mr. Anderson’s attempts to keep him for further pleasantries and left immediately to update Elder Zhou and the others.

Upon hearing they could view items the next day, Elder Zhou and the rest were naturally eager and raring to go.

In the blink of an eye, a day passed. On the morning of the second day, Mr. Anderson arrived as promised and drove them away. Soon after, they arrived at a magnificent, sprawling manor.

Once inside the grounds, there was no need for an escort. Mr. Anderson ushered them deep into the estate, leading them to a heavily secured area tucked away in a corner of the property. Mr. Anderson spent several minutes inputting a code and turning keys before finally opening the vault.

At Mr. Anderson’s gesture, the group entered without ceremony. As soon as they crossed the threshold, they were met with a wave of cool air. Clearly, the temperature here differed from the outside—a deliberate environmental control designed to protect the treasures within.

After all, it was well-known that certain artifacts were extremely sensitive to temperature fluctuations; both heat and cold could cause damage, and only a constant, regulated temperature could ensure their preservation. Unsurprisingly, this vault was equipped with climate control functions.

The group found this entirely unsurprising and paid little mind to this minor detail. Instead, their eyes were fixed intensely on Mr. Anderson, silently urging him to retrieve the items quickly. There was no choice; the items were locked away inside a row of safe deposit boxes within the vault, and they couldn't access them themselves.

However, this very layer of protection only heightened the anticipation of Wang Guan and the others.

At that moment, Mr. Anderson yielded to their eagerness and opened one of the safe deposit boxes. Inside were rows of scrolls. Predictably, these were likely Eastern calligraphy and paintings.

"Gentlemen, please help yourselves," Mr. Anderson stepped aside, a warm smile on his face.

Elder Zhou and the others naturally made no pretense of politeness, crowding forward. However, they did not scramble; rather, they worked with quiet coordination, taking one scroll each and gathering them around a nearby table. At this point, they did not immediately begin their examination. Instead, they first arranged a collection of large and small magnifying glasses on one corner of the table, a ritual perhaps to steady their minds.

After a brief pause, Elder Zhou composed himself and carefully unrolled the scroll in his hands, slowly spreading it out on the tabletop. Immediately, everyone leaned in for a closer look. The painting turned out to be a scene of rustic life, a Yequ Tu (Wild Charm Picture).

The "wild charm," of course, referred to a scene in the wilderness: an old fisherman casting a line by a lake, with fish and shrimp circling beneath his hook. Beside a thicket of lotus plants, a wild duck floated serenely. Within the submerged aquatic weeds, a crab scuttled sideways, brandishing its claws like a tyrant. The lively motion of the aquatic life contrasted perfectly and harmoniously with the stillness of the old fisherman, forming a picture brimming with lively, delightful charm.

At first glance, even Wang Guan felt a sense of aesthetic pleasure. And one should not underestimate this Yequ Tu. To an ordinary person, it might seem like just a simple picture, but the profound symbolism embedded within it would likely only be understood by an expert.

While ordinary eyes might see only fish, shrimp, and crab as mere delicacies for the dinner table, throughout the long arc of history, the Chinese people have imbued these creatures with rich cultural significance, forming a distinctive national culture centered on fish, shrimp, and crab—an indispensable part of traditional auspicious culture.

The fish needs no explanation; homophonous with yu (surplus), fish must be eaten during holidays to symbolize having abundance year after year (nian nian you yu). Furthermore, because fish reproduce rapidly and often move in large schools, the ancients hoped to multiply their descendants just as fish did. Thus, fish motifs on ancient pottery can be seen as symbols of fertility and propagation.

Of course, there is also the legend of the Carp Leaping Over the Dragon Gate—if it succeeds, it transforms into a dragon; if it fails, it remains a fish.

In this context, the carp leaping the dragon gate has naturally become one of the most widely used motifs in China, from ancient times to the present, often used to illustrate a change in status or circumstances achieved through struggle. Furthermore, it is worth noting that in the painting, the old fisherman is catching carp, and since li (carp) is a homophone for de (to obtain), the entire scene signifies "the fisherman profits" (yú wēng dé lì).

As for the crab, it is a notoriously aggressive creature. Reportedly, when a Japanese patron once requested a painting from Qi Baishi, Qi Baishi simply drew a large crab and inscribed it with the words, "See how long you can act like a tyrant!" This left the Japanese patron deeply embarrassed.

However, in traditional Chinese culture, the crab is not an object of derision based on phonetic similarity; rather, it is full of auspicious meaning. The crab's carapace is hard, and it possesses two sharp claws. In the ancient imperial examinations, the Er Jia Chuan Lu (Second Class Passers Announce) was an auspicious image, as passing the exams meant achieving the jia (top rank).

Indeed, the duck beside the lotus holds a similar meaning. Ya (duck) shares a sound with jia. If a duck holds a reed in its beak while floating in the water, it signifies the first rank of the second class (the Zhuangyuan, or top scholar). Ancient scholars aspired to official positions through study, and everyone hoped one day to have their name posted on the Golden List. Therefore, the duck also carries a deeply significant implication.

In summary, the cultural subtext of the Yequ Tu is profoundly layered. Without an understanding of traditional Chinese culture, one might mistake this exquisite painting for a mere depiction of wild food, leading to considerable ridicule.

Naturally, these hidden meanings did not escape the attention of this group of seasoned experts. Elder Zhou and the others admired the painting greatly, studying it closely and showing expressions of approval.

"What a pity, this is an anonymous work."

A moment later, one expert sighed and shook his head. "No signature, but there is a seal. Judging by the seal impression and the paper quality, it appears to be from the mid-Ming Dynasty. It holds some value, but not a particularly high one."

This was understandable. No matter how meaningful the symbolism, the painting itself was not by a master artist, and the technique and style were not breathtakingly sublime, thus affecting its intrinsic value. In short, this painting could be ruled out.

As expected, there was indeed a mix of genuine treasures and dross among these items. Wang Guan mused inwardly. If it were merely an ordinary, unsigned piece, it would be acceptable, but he worried about the inclusion of forgeries. "One should harbor no ill will toward others, but one must be prepared to defend oneself"—truly an ancient, timeless maxim.

While Wang Guan was contemplating this, Elder Zhou picked up another scroll and unfurled it.

"The Jiu Ge Scroll!"

At first glance, Elder Zhou and the others were struck by a mix of surprise and joy.

"What is it?" Wang Guan snapped back to attention and quickly looked over. He was certainly familiar with the Jiu Ge (Nine Songs); if he didn't know of Qu Yuan’s Nine Songs, his middle school Chinese literature classes would have been entirely wasted.

While people often speak of Han Fu, Tang Shi, Song Ci, and Yuan Qu, before the Han Fu, there was a literary genre that absolutely could not be ignored: the genre known as Chu Ci, or the Sao style.

This Sao style derived from Li Sao (Encountering Sorrow). Li Sao is the representative work of the Chu Ci, but the direct origins of the Chu Ci are believed to be the folk songs of the Chu region, exemplified by the Jiu Ge. Later scholars determined that the Jiu Ge was originally a shamanic song used in ritual sacrifice, later refined and preserved by Qu Yuan, with Li Sao and other works developing from this foundation.

Regardless, the Jiu Ge refers to the ten sections: the Great Unity of the Eastern Emperor, the Lord of the Clouds, the Lord of the Xiang River, the Lady of the Xiang River, the Great Minister of Fate, the Lesser Minister of Fate, the Lord of the East, the River Earl, the Mountain Ghost, and the Lament for the Fallen. Thus, the Jiu Ge Tu Juan (Nine Songs Picture Scroll) becomes easier to understand: it is a set of eleven paintings themed around the Jiu Ge, supplemented by a portrait of Qu Yuan.

Each section of text is accompanied by the corresponding illustration, creating a beautiful ancient resonance through the union of script and image.

Of course, the impression given by the artwork strongly suggested the painter possessed profound brushwork mastery. As the scroll was opened, the first thing to catch the eye was the likeness of Qu Yuan, his hair tied up, dressed in a long, wide-sleeved robe, standing with hands clasped in greeting. His spirit—solemn yet resolute, solitary yet proud, melancholic yet devoted—leapt vividly onto the paper, evoking deep admiration.

There is no need to elaborate on Qu Yuan’s background: originally a noble of the Chu state, he was exiled after the King of Chu lent ear to slander, ultimately leading him to die of overwhelming grief by throwing himself into the Miluo River.

A brief digression might be warranted: there are countless patriotic figures in ancient history who died unjustly, yet only Qu Yuan remains so vividly remembered. The reason, perhaps, is nothing more than Qu Yuan’s exceptionally high literary cultivation, which left behind so many magnificent works. Later generations of scholars, upon reading his writings, naturally felt a powerful resonance.

People often say that a song expresses one's ambition (ge yi yong zhi). Qu Yuan may not have been the first to do so, but he is certainly a representative figure. When reading his works, people are easily moved and remember him with reverence...RS