Upon returning to Beijing, Shirley Yang and I went our separate ways; she was tasked with finding the equipment necessary to scan and strip the head of King Xian, while the delicate job of dismantling the sixteen jade rings naturally fell to me. This task, though seemingly straightforward, offered no clear starting point. Shirley Yang would likely have results within a day or two, and I, lacking any direction for my efforts, was resigned to waiting for her news.

As I sat cooling myself in the courtyard one afternoon, Da Jinya came rushing in, clearly agitated. Seeing only me, he immediately asked where Pangzi was. I told him that Pangzi had polished his leather shoes to a blinding sheen that morning and was probably out dancing; given the strange hour, I asked why Da Jinya was free and if business at Panjiayuan had ceased.

Da Jinya replied, "Master Hu, I came because I need to discuss this very matter with you. As soon as the market opened this morning, over a hundred of the 'thunderers' arrived, two hundred-plus from the Bureau of Industry and Commerce—all in uniform. They started confiscating anything they saw, forcing our brothers to retreat into the mountains to wage guerrilla warfare."

I questioned him, "What in the world is going on? Haven't you greased the palms of everyone up and down the chain?"

Da Jinya sighed, "Don't even mention it. Lately, more and more foreigners have been coming to look for artifacts. You know as well as I do, Master Hu, how many genuine pieces those of us operating in the open actually have? It turns out one of our associates, acting as a foreign agent, sold a supposed relic to a rather influential international friend. He sold him a cracked jar, claiming it was once used by the Qianlong Emperor to pickle imperial preserved vegetables. When the fellow had it authenticated back home, it turned out to be complete nonsense. It severely offended this esteemed international friend's feelings toward our hospitality. And now, this whole thing has blown up..."

I told Da Jinya, "Operating without a license there is certainly not a long-term solution. We should find a decent location and rent a shop; it would save us the constant anxiety."

Da Jinya countered, "The appeal of the open stalls at Panjiayuan is the massive flow of information; it provides a huge platform for both buyers and sellers. Nobody expects to make real money right there on the stalls; everything happens beneath the surface—the currents are turbulent."

I then asked about the Blind Man, wondering why I hadn't seen him since we returned. Da Jinya said the Blind Man was now incredibly successful. He claimed descent from the Chen Chuan lineage, now had men fanning him everywhere he went, specializing in fortune-telling, bone-reading, and offering guidance to those Hong Kong visitors. And damn it all, those "Hong Kong slaves" actually believed him.

Da Jinya and I sipped tea and made small talk, the midday sun nearing its peak. Just as we were debating where to go for lunch, there was a knock at the door. I assumed it might be Shirley Yang returning and went to answer it. When I opened the courtyard gate, a stranger stood there—a slick, well-groomed man whose demeanor was extremely courteous. He introduced himself as Dongzi and said he was looking for Mr. Wang Kaixuan.

I replied, "You're looking for Pangzi? He's not home; come back this evening," and started to close the door, but Dongzi quickly added that he was also looking for Mr. Hu Bayi. Not knowing his purpose, I invited him into the courtyard first.

Dongzi explained that his boss had sent him to invite us over to discuss the antique business. I wasn't in the mood for business lately, but upon hearing a potential client had arrived, Da Jinya immediately urged me to go and talk terms. Since Da Jinya happened to have a few items with him and I had nothing better to do, I agreed to go with Dongzi to meet his boss.

Dongzi drove us over, and I couldn't help feeling a strange curiosity. How did this man, Dongzi, and his boss know where we were staying? When I asked Dongzi about the boss's identity, he refused to say anything. I figured damn it, Pangzi must have been talking outside again. Still, it wouldn't hurt to go discuss business; maybe we could even fleece them for some cash.

Dongzi drove us to a quiet, secluded courtyard residence. Da Jinya and I looked at the place with immediate envy; the manor was truly exquisite. Upon entering the main room, we saw numerous antique curios displayed on rosewood shelves. Both Da Jinya and I recognized quality, and after a sweep of the room, we knew the owner was no ordinary person; everything displayed was genuine.

Dongzi asked us to take a seat while he went to fetch his boss. As soon as Dongzi left, I whispered to Da Jinya, "Master Jin, see that? The Falan Furong Zhi Ji Yuchun bottle, the gilded Zisha square pot, the Doucai Gaoshi ring—these are all treasures. Any single one of them dropped in Panjiayuan could stun a crowd. Compared to the items in this room, the few things we brought are too embarrassing to even show."

Da Jinya nodded. "Indeed. This so-called boss, judging by this grandeur, is certainly no ordinary man. Why would he want to do business with us? He surely wouldn't look twice at our little collection."

Suddenly, I spotted something extremely peculiar in the room and quickly said to Da Jinya, "That porcelain piece displayed in the center—does something seem off to you?"

Da Jinya rose from his chair and moved closer to examine the porcelain. It was a large, fat porcelain cat with wide, bright, spirited eyes. However, it didn't appear to be from any famous kiln, and the workmanship was mediocre, seeming out of place in this setting. The most striking feature of the porcelain cat was its whiskers; for some inexplicable reason, this cat had thirteen whiskers, and they were detachable and movable. The most meticulous craftsmanship was concentrated here. Da Jinya suddenly seemed to remember something and turned to me, saying, "This is the kind they keep for offerings in the corpse-carrying households—the Thirteen-Whiskered Porcelain Cat."

In mountainous regions like those in Western Hunan, there have historically been two professions: corpse driving and corpse carrying. "Corpse carrying" was a practice similar to grave robbing. Those who carried corpses would keep such a porcelain cat in their homes. Before every job, they would burn a stick of incense and kowtow to the Thirteen-Whiskered Flower Porcelain Cat. If any whisker broke during this time, they absolutely would not venture out that night, as it was an omen of disaster. This was said to be unerringly accurate and almost mythical in folklore. The practice of corpse carrying has long since died out, but we once saw one of these items at the antique market in Panjiayuan.

In the regions around Beijing and Tianjin, starting from the Ming and Qing dynasties, people from the Outer Nine Guilds also worshipped porcelain cats; those thieves kept them in their homes. However, those usually had nine whiskers and came in different styles. The "Thirteen Whisker" type belonged exclusively to the corpse carriers of Western Hunan. The origin of this custom remains untraceable to this day.

The moment I saw this "Thirteen-Whiskered" cat, I immediately thought: "The ancestor of this residence's owner must have been a major bandit from Western Hunan who specialized in corpse carrying and grave robbing, otherwise, how could he be so wealthy?" A sound of footsteps echoed, and I quickly signaled Da Jinya to act as if we had seen nothing and remain seated.

The boss who invited us to talk business turned out to be a man from Hong Kong, slightly overweight and short, in his early fifties. He introduced himself as Uncle Ming and immediately tried to act overly familiar with me, claiming he had done business with me before.

I racked my brain but couldn't recall any previous transaction. It wasn't until Uncle Ming brought it up that I realized: the very first deal I had with Pangzi, the "Dry Yellow Youchi Bi," was conducted with a young woman named Han who ran an antique shop in Tianjin—and she was Uncle Ming's mistress.

I couldn't fathom why he was seeking me out again. There might be trouble lurking here, and it was best to avoid complications. I wanted him to quickly examine the few items Da Jinya had brought so we could part ways. I told Uncle Ming, "Elder, we appreciate you treating us with such importance and fetching us all this way. Honestly, we don't have anything truly exceptional on hand right now; we just brought a few random things. If you find anything you like, please keep it for your collection." Then I asked Da Jinya to present a few small items for his inspection.

Seeing a tourist, Da Jinya knew an opportunity to make a score was at hand. He immediately put on a broad smile, took a porcelain vase from his bag, and held it up carefully with both hands: "Take a look, sir. This is genuine Northern Song Longquan ware."

Uncle Ming was startled by this. "Are you kidding me? That's a national treasure! You just casually stuffed it into a bag like that?"

Da Jinya knew that the more you speak with conviction to an expert, the more likely they are to be confused by your statement, making them doubt their own judgment. Da Jinya told Uncle Ming, "You might not know, sir. See this gold tooth I have inlaid? Our ancestor was Jin Wuzhu, the Fourth Wolf Lord of the Great Jin Dynasty; I am his authentic eighteenth-generation descendant. These items were confiscated from Emperor Huizong of the Northern Song by our ancestor. They were kept locked away in our family home in Heilongjiang for who knows how many years before I managed to dig them out..."

Uncle Ming wasn't fooled. He ignored Da Jinya and spoke only to me: "Brother Hu, do you possess any truly fine items? If you aren't short on money, I can trade you something. Feel free to take anything from the antiques in this room that catches your eye."

I thought to myself that his meaning was obvious; he invited us here for a specific reason. However, the items I brought back from Yunnan were all for a crucial purpose; even an entire mountain of gold wouldn't persuade me to part with them. Since that was the case, there was no point in hiding things. I laid my cards on the table, telling Uncle Ming directly that the best thing we had was this Longquan ware piece. Although it was a replica, it was presentable. If he wanted it, fine; if not, we'd take it back, and we wouldn't be responsible if he regretted it later.

Uncle Ming smiled, picked up a photo album from the coffee table, and said he wanted to show me his collection from Hong Kong. I flipped through a few pages, finding them increasingly strange, but I finally understood. This Uncle Ming from Hong Kong wanted to buy a bronze mirror capable of suppressing spirits. Pangzi must have let something slip outside, and the information somehow reached Uncle Ming's ears. He thought we still possessed that ancient mirror, unaware that it had vanished before I could even properly warm it up in my hands. I then asked Uncle Ming, "What are you collecting so many ancient desiccated corpses for?"