The Company

Chapter 36 Pardon Token

He stood deep within the mist, wandering aimlessly for an unknown duration, until an extremely familiar voice reached him.

"Bi Zhi, how would you interpret this passage?" With these words, the surrounding scenery gradually cleared. He saw that person, clad in a dignified Dark Robe, holding a bamboo scroll, standing on the pavilion platform. Sunlight bathed the figure's entire body, so dazzling that he could barely keep his eyes open, making it impossible to discern the person's face.

"What passage?" He heard himself ask slowly, yet he lowered his gaze. Because even without seeing the other's face, he could confirm who this person was.

No one but Fusu could ever call him "Bi Zhi" with such intimacy.

Was he dreaming? In those distant years, he would often accompany Fusu, engaging in scholarly discussions together.

"The Master said: The people may be made to follow a path of action, but they may not be made to understand it." The person looked at the bamboo scroll in hand, reciting unhurriedly.

"From The Analects, Chapter Taibo." Instead of answering immediately, he countered, "How does the Master interpret this passage?"

"The Master explains that this passage means the people can be made to follow the path directed by their superiors, without needing to understand why." After speaking, Fusu let out a soft sigh. "But I find such interpretation inappropriate."

The Master Fusu referred to was the great Confucian scholar Chunyue Yue. He stepped forward and saw the characters on the bamboo scroll - elegantly written Qin Script. However, texts from that period lacked punctuation, and he couldn't recall how he had actually responded at the time. Speaking from his present understanding, he said: "The punctuation must be incorrect. I believe it should read: The people may be employed; let them follow. They may not be employed; let them understand."

Fusu's eyes brightened, tapping the bamboo scroll against his palm in appreciation: "Excellent! Regarding the people, if they can perform certain tasks, let them do so. If they cannot perform, then they should be taught how!"

He didn't echo the enthusiasm, for such conjecture might not be entirely accurate. The art of punctuation had become a scholarly pursuit itself - both interpretations could be justified, ultimately depending on the ruler's choice.

Back in those days, he had probably felt equally fortunate to have chosen to follow Fusu. Little did he expect that the dream would shatter before it could ever be realized.

"Bi Zhi, you are truly my most trusted minister. When I ascend the throne, the position of Chancellor shall be yours alone.""The Master explained that this sentence means the common people can be made to follow the path indicated by their superiors, but not necessarily to understand why," Fusu said, then sighed softly. "But I find this interpretation unsatisfactory."

The Master Fusu referred to was the great Confucian scholar Chunyu Yue. He stepped forward and saw the characters on the bamboo slips - elegantly written Qin Script. Since ancient texts lacked punctuation, he couldn't recall how he had responded back then, so he spoke according to his current understanding: "The sentence division must be wrong. I believe it should read: When the people can be employed, employ them; when they cannot be employed, educate them."

Fusu's eyes lit up, and he slapped the bamboo slips against his palm in approval: "Excellent! For the common people, if they are capable of doing something, let them do it. If they are not capable, teach them how to do it!"

He didn't echo the praise, because such speculation might not be accurate either. How to punctuate sentences had become a scholarly pursuit, and both interpretations could be justified - it all depended on the ruler's choice.

Back then, he had probably felt equally fortunate to have chosen to follow Fusu. Little did he know that the dream would shatter before it could be realized.

"Bi Zhi, you are truly my most trusted minister. When I ascend the throne, the position of Chancellor shall be yours alone."

The old vow faded in his ears like background music in a film, gradually growing fainter until it became inaudible.

The Boss opened his eyes and found himself having fallen asleep at the counter of the Dumb Shop.

This was quite unusual for him, as his current body rarely experienced the need for sleep.

Looking at the rabbit doll he had used as a pillow, the Boss couldn't help but poke it. The doll showed no reaction - it must be sleeping too. Feeling the chill in the air, the Boss looked up and saw heavy snowflakes falling outside the window. For this southern city, such snowfall occurred only once in decades. The Boss stared blankly for a while, experiencing a sense of temporal dislocation that made him feel he was still in a dream. After a long moment, he finally remembered to add some charcoal to the small red clay brazier nearby, then stood up to stretch his stiffened body.

Why would he dream of such distant events? It seemed he had become completely obsessed with the Emperor's antiques recently...

With a faint self-mocking smile on his lips, the Boss walked around the jade screen into the inner room.

The slightly flattened rabbit doll struggled to get up, hopping on the counter and shaking itself. The Doctor was pleased to find his round shape restored. Oh wait - his original body wasn't that plump! The Doctor rabbit's ears drooped as he watched the snow falling outside, his comically cute face showing an unusual expression of concern.

It was already the end of the month, but the Boss hadn't produced any Emperor's antique to suppress the Yin Suppression Universe Formation.

Actually, that wasn't entirely accurate - the Doctor had seen the Boss take out that Blank Tablet, but perhaps because it had broken in two, there was no reaction when it was buried in the Formation Eye. Then there was the Four Seasons Picture - that painter who came daily to copy it had threatened suicide rather than let the Boss take it away. Damn it! The Four Seasons Picture wasn't even his property! What right did he have to make such a scene!Counting on his fingers over and over, he realized that nine imperial antiques had been used so far, meaning three more were still needed. Although Dumb Shop had plenty of antiques, finding twelve high-grade imperial pieces at once was truly stretching its resources.

Worried for the Boss, the Doctor grew increasingly agitated. Though the Boss appeared calm and unruffled, the Doctor had keenly sensed something amiss. Today, the Boss had been distracted and even dozed off absentmindedly—a brief nap, but such behavior was highly unusual for him.

A rabbit plush toy rolled back and forth on the counter. When the Boss emerged from the inner room and saw this adorable scene, his expression softened involuntarily.

"Huh? Are you going out?" The Doctor looked up, startled to see the Boss wearing a gray woolen coat over his Crimson Dragon robe. This outfit is so trendy—not really the Boss's style!

"Mm, watch the shop." The Boss gave a brief instruction but, as he turned to leave, felt a slight weight on his shoulder. Glancing back, he saw the rabbit plush had leaped onto him but lost its balance from the momentum, sliding down his arm. Just before it hit the floor, the Boss hooked his finger through the plush’s cotton coat, saving it from a crash landing.

"I'm coming too!" The Doctor breathed a sigh of relief, dangling contentedly in mid-air.

The Boss sighed. Based on past experience, refusing the Doctor’s request would mean enduring endless nagging upon his return. His plan to slip out while the Doctor slept was completely shattered. Tucking the rabbit plush into his coat pocket, the Boss resignedly warned, "Remember, don’t move or make a sound."

"Got it, as if you needed to tell me!" The Doctor chuckled smugly, tucking his long ears back and carefully hiding them behind his head.

Lu Zigang shivered the moment he stepped out of the taxi, hastily tightening his down jacket. Though accustomed to snowy winters in the north, southern winters were brutally damp—and the snowfall here was just as heavy!

"Xiao Lu, over here." A middle-aged man who had alighted with him gestured calmly, unlike Lu’s flustered state, smiling as he beckoned him forward.

"Coming!" Lu Zigang strode over. He was in Hangzhou on a business trip with Professor Tang. Rumor had it that a prominent local collector had recently passed away, leaving behind countless antiques and paintings. His heirs, unable to maintain them, had issued public invitations for a private auction. After all, antique collecting wasn’t just about wealth—porcelain could shatter into worthlessness with a single knock, while paintings demanded meticulous care against humidity, temperature fluctuations, and insects. Without patience and passion, no one could sustain such devotion.

Thus, the invitations had drawn swarms from the antique world, even alerting the National Museum. Nowadays, museum donations came with subsidies, benefits, and reputational gains, which was why Professor Tang had come to negotiate.Professor Tang, named Tang Anshi, was a guest professor at the National Museum specializing in calligraphy and paintings, nicknamed "Half-Foot Tang." This meant that Professor Tang could authenticate the genuineness of calligraphy and painting scrolls as soon as they were unrolled half a foot. While the title was somewhat exaggerated, it highlighted Professor Tang's status in the antique world. This time, it was said that the late collector had a considerable number of calligraphy and paintings in his possession, which was why Professor Tang had rushed over upon hearing the news. As for Lu Zigang, he had been studying the restoration of ancient calligraphy and paintings for over a year. His superiors, impressed by his diligence and seriousness, believed he could handle important tasks and had assigned him to assist Professor Tang.

They were now in the suburbs of Hangzhou. Following Professor Tang, Lu Zigang realized they were standing outside a fairly large hot spring hotel, with luxury cars lining both sides of the street. This private auction would last three days, and they had arrived on the final day. Lu Zigang didn't think they were late—after all, the best items were always saved for the last day. Moreover, if an antique wasn't up to standard, the National Museum wouldn't consider adding it to its collection.

Stepping into the warm hotel lobby, Lu Zigang felt as if he had come back to life. As he closely followed Professor Tang into the top-floor venue, he instinctively glanced around.

"Do you know anyone here?" Professor Tang noticed his slight movement and asked with a smile.

"Well, I know the owner of an antique shop around here," Lu Zigang said, then chuckled awkwardly, clearly not expecting to see the Boss of Dumb Shop here. The antiques in Dumb Shop felt so mystical to him, utterly incomparable to ordinary antiques.

"Oh, you might run into him. He is a local, after all," Professor Tang remarked casually, not taking it seriously. Since it was already the last day of the auction, those without sufficient status wouldn't have received an invitation for this final day. The owner of an antique shop? Probably the value of a single item here could buy several of his shops. Professor Tang didn't dwell on it, as he had already spotted a few acquaintances and quickly put on a smile to go greet them.

Lu Zigang scratched his head, thinking it would be best if they didn't run into the Boss—and preferably not that Young Master Hu either. If the Boss showed up, it would mean there was something unusual about the antiques here. He didn't want any complications; that would be too terrifying. Just thinking about his past entanglements with the Boss and that Young Master Hu—like the Kunwu Blade, the Blank Tablet, the Dragon Pattern Bell, and that Liubo Chess incident where he almost got inexplicably killed in that mansion!

Shivering involuntarily, Lu Zigang quickly pushed those unpleasant memories aside. Professor Tang was chatting with his old friends, and it wasn't appropriate for him to intrude. The venue was impeccably arranged, exuding an antique charm. There were decorative pieces on the tables and in the Curio Cabinet; although they were replicas, they were exquisitely crafted with an understated sense of luxury. The number of attendees wasn't large, only about seventy or eighty people, mostly middle-aged and elderly. The few younger ones present, like him, were there under the guidance of their elders to observe.Lu Zigang scanned the venue and indeed spotted a familiar face—Chen Miao, whom he had encountered earlier at the Liubo Chess courtyard. Chen Miao owned a private library dedicated to collecting rare ancient books. Their eyes met briefly before looking away; the other had recognized him too but showed no intention of acknowledging their acquaintance, clearly wanting to erase that memory. Lu Zigang didn’t mind. His attention was drawn to a corner of the hall where refreshments were laid out. Having skipped breakfast to catch his flight, he ambled over, relieved that his flight timing had been just right—any later, and the heavy snow in Hangzhou might have prevented landing.

Just as he picked up some pastries onto his plate and turned around, Lu Zigang noticed the boss of Dumb Shop leaning against the window with his eyes closed, resting. The angle had previously obscured him behind thick curtains, so Lu Zigang hadn’t seen him earlier. He froze in surprise—was the boss really here? Did that mean there was something unusual about the antiques at this auction? Would it be safer to leave immediately?

"King of Qi... King of Qi?"

He opened his eyes to find himself in a central military tent. Night had fallen, and the Phoenix Fish Bronze Lamp on the lacquered table before him flickered faintly, casting dim light that blurred the features of the man seated opposite.

Was he dreaming again? King of Qi—was that addressing him?

"King of Qi, Wu She has departed," the man across from him reported on military affairs, noticing he had regained focus.

As he listened to the report and the steady patrol footsteps of soldiers outside the tent, distant memories slowly stirred in his mind.

This must have been when he went by the name Han Xin, around 203 AD. After pacifying the Qi kingdom, Liu Bang had enfeoffed him as the King of Qi. Xiang Yu had secretly sent Wu She to persuade him to rebel against Han and ally with Chu, proposing a tripartite division of the realm. Of course, he had sternly refused.

In truth, his initial goal had been to support a Qin royal descendant to overthrow Qin Er Shi Huhai, but the latter had executed all his elder brothers, leaving him no choice. He had to join Xiang Yu first, then defect to Liu Bang. Later, when Xiang Yu massacred Xianyang, his dissatisfaction with the former peaked—how could he possibly collaborate with him?

"King of Qi, I have studied physiognomy and know a thing or two," the man opposite suddenly changed the subject, lowering his voice. He refocused his thoughts; this part of the memory was hazy. Having lived so long in this world, many people he had met, deeds done, and words spoken had been crushed beneath the wheels of time. Rubbing his temples hard, it took him a moment to recall that this man was Kuai Che, a debater from Fanyang and one of his strategists at the time.

"Physiognomy?" he heard himself chuckle playfully. "How skilled are you in this art, sir?"

"A person’s nobility or baseness lies in their bone structure and appearance; their worries or joys in their facial expression and aura; their success or failure in their decisiveness. By these three aspects, one can judge without error," Kuai Che leaned forward, his expression inscrutable.

Only then did he clearly see Kuai Che’s face—pale and beardless, with a lean build and eyes gleaming with wisdom. He smiled faintly and asked, "Oh? Then what do you foresee of my fate, sir?"Kuai Che's profound gaze fixed directly on him, and after a long while, he slowly said, "The King of Qi's facial features indicate he can at most be enfeoffed as a feudal lord, and there will even be life-threatening dangers... Strange, yet His Highness the King of Qi's back bears an aura of nobility beyond measure... These two contradict each other, truly peculiar..."

He slightly narrowed his eyes. If Fusu had successfully ascended the throne back then, mere princes and feudal lords would have been insignificant, given that the Gan family itself was an influential noble clan. As for life-threatening dangers? He had already experienced that once.

He took a deep breath, listening as this strategist renowned for his eloquence continued speaking eloquently, shifting to persuading him to raise an army and declare independence.

And he had to admit, in his long life, this moment was the closest he had ever come to that alluring throne.

If he wanted to, he could simply sit on it—it was that straightforward.

Yet, he did not want to.

"...Destroying Wei, subduing Zhao, intimidating Yan, and pacifying Qi—Your Highness's achievements are unmatched, beyond reward, beyond enfeoffment. If you join Chu, the King of Chu will not trust you; if you return to Han, the King of Han will be terrified. Though Your Highness holds a subject's position, you possess the imposing aura to pressure a sovereign, with a reputation that overshadows the world. This humble servant is deeply concerned..."

Perhaps because Lu Zigang's gaze was too intense, the Boss opened his eyes from his muddled dream, looking slightly surprised at Lu Zigang as well. He curved the corners of his lips slightly and said, "I didn't expect you to come too."

"Oh, I just got off the plane at noon and was thinking of visiting you tomorrow when I have time," Lu Zigang hurriedly explained, feeling ashamed of his earlier moment of hesitation. But what followed was an almost overflowing curiosity. "Boss, what have you taken a liking to this time? Tell me about it! That way, I can give Professor Tang a heads-up and avoid a bidding war." In fact, the small talk Tang Anshi and his acquaintances were engaged in now mostly involved such prior coordination. The auction invitation had already listed some of the collections. Although such advance notice couldn't deter competitors entirely, it at least helped them gauge the situation.

The Boss raised an eyebrow but, before he could say anything, suddenly seemed to sense something and looked toward the entrance of the venue, his expression shifting slightly.

Lu Zigang followed his gaze, and his face changed as well. For he saw the person he least wanted to encounter—Young Master Hu—walking into the venue with an expressionless face. His unique white hair and crimson eyes, coupled with the little crimson bird on his shoulder looking around, made it impossible to mistake him. If Lu Zigang's earlier thought of leaving had been fleeting, now he genuinely wanted to go. Choking back words, he knew he shouldn't have gotten involved in anything happening in Hangzhou!

Strangely enough, Young Master Hu had also come with someone. Leading the way was a middle-aged man, elegant and refined, leaning on a cane—apparently, he had some difficulty walking. Lu Zigang recognized him as the curator of a museum in Hangzhou, having met him at some conferences before. Standing beside the curator, shoulder to shoulder, was a young man.

Lu Zigang frowned, for this person looked extremely familiar. After a brief moment of recollection, he remembered that this man had been deeply involved with the Boss before. During the incident with the Baize Brush, he was the one who had also been summoned to recall his past life memories. He seemed to be a doctor.The curator first greeted a few acquaintances but did not linger, instead heading straight toward the corner where the Boss and Lu Zigang were. Lu Zigang hurriedly set down the pastry in his hand and wiped his fingers, only to realize the curator wasn’t approaching him at all.

"Ha! Boss, as expected, you're here too. This time I've got my eye on that set of sky-blue glazed carved Secret-Color Porcelain cups - don't even think about competing with me for them!" The Curator laughed heartily, not waiting for the Boss's response before turning to greet and chat with others. This demeanor clearly showed his high regard for the Boss, drawing puzzled glances from some attendees. Though seeing he was just a young man, they didn't pay it much mind.

The Curator had actually been overly anxious. Earlier today he had specially made a trip to the Dumb Shop, only to find it empty. This had worried him greatly, as he'd originally planned to give the Boss a ride, hoping to strengthen their rapport during the journey and ensure he wouldn't compete for the items he wanted. However, just as he was about to leave, he happened to meet the Doctor and Huhai. Knowing the Boss and the Doctor were good friends, the Curator didn't think twice and the three of them came together. What he didn't know was that this Doctor's core had long been replaced by another soul, no longer the simple doctor he once was.

After saying his piece, the Curator left, but Fusu and Huhai didn't follow. The Boss looked at Fusu before him, emotions swirling complexly, and sighed softly: "I didn't expect you to come either."

Lu Zigang found these words peculiar. He had just said this same phrase earlier, but now hearing it from the Boss's mouth, it carried an indescribable complexity. Rubbing his hands, Lu Zigang felt his palms beginning to sweat - perhaps it would be better if he stepped away for a moment?

Hearing this, Fusu smiled and said: "I just wanted to see you, nothing more." He paused slightly at this point, his gaze falling on the rabbit doll ear protruding from the Boss's coat pocket, the smile on his face deepening. "Counting it up, it's been almost a year since we last saw each other."

"Almost a year?" The Boss was taken aback. His perception of time was completely different from others'. A year wasn't a long time for him. In the Dumb Shop, time seemed to stand still yet also pass rapidly - it felt like his last meeting with Fusu, when they had parted ways, was just a blink ago. Collecting himself, the Boss looked toward the Curator who was socializing effortlessly in the distance and gestured with his chin: "You know the Curator?"

"No, he seems to know this body of mine. But don't worry, even without coming with the Curator today, I could have gotten in. It was just coincidence." Fusu spoke truthfully, as Huhai had considerable connections in the antique world - a mere invitation was something the latter had obtained long ago. Fusu's speech was completely ordinary now, his slightly archaic diction naturally unsuitable for normal occasions, showing he had adapted to local customs.

Nearby, Huhai kept his eyes lowered, a muscle twitching at his temple. Perhaps his imperial brother hadn't noticed, but today he was unusually talkative, quite different from the crown prince he normally was.Lu Zigang merely stood to the side, yet he could keenly sense the thick murderous aura permeating the area. The temperature seemed to drop several degrees in an instant, sending chills down his spine. Just as he was about to find an excuse to slip away, the music playing in the hall abruptly stopped. The host took the stage, inviting everyone to be seated and announcing that the auction was about to begin. Lu Zigang went to find Professor Tang, inwardly relieved to have escaped the storm's center. Little did he expect that Professor Tang happened to be chatting with the Curator, so the two naturally sat together. The Curator then beckoned the Boss to join them, and the Boss brought along the Doctor and Young Master Hu. Since there were no more seats in the row where Professor Tang and the Curator sat, Lu Zigang was forced to sit in the row behind with the Boss and the others. Feeling utterly helpless, he could only lower his head and flip through the auction catalog in his hands.

After taking the stage, the host delivered a few formal remarks, paying tribute to a recently deceased heavyweight in the collecting world and welcoming all the attendees. Without further ado, he promptly moved to the main event. The first ten items up for auction were explicitly designated for private collection. Although the Curator and Professor Tang acknowledged these pieces had considerable value, they fell slightly short of exceptional standards. They had privately exchanged information and knew that a total of fifteen items would be auctioned today. The five items following the initial ten were the true national treasures. Even if ordinary people could afford them, they wouldn’t be able to properly maintain them, so these five were exclusively auctioned to the various museums in attendance. However, museum budgets couldn’t compare to private fortunes, so while the first ten items might fetch astronomical prices, the total for the latter five national treasures might not even match the price of a single item from the earlier batch.

The Curator was in high spirits because he had only learned of today’s auction arrangement upon arrival and couldn’t help but admire the host’s shrewd planning. This time, he didn’t have to worry about the Boss competing with him for items, as the set of Secret-Color Porcelain cups with sky-blue glaze and carved patterns he had his eye on was undoubtedly among the national treasures.

When the fourth item—a Ming Dynasty crab-shell green Chengni inkstone—came up for auction, the Curator noticed that the Boss hadn’t raised his paddle even once. Puzzled, he turned and asked, “Boss, is there nothing that catches your eye?”

The Boss nodded but didn’t respond.

The Curator immediately slapped his forehead, realizing he had been too carried away with joy. He had seen the items in the Dumb Shop before; even the pieces displayed on the outer Curio Cabinet were priceless. Although the Chengni inkstone was a fine item, the Boss casually used a Song Dynasty Duan inkstone from the Plum Blossom Pit on his counter daily—how could he possibly be interested in this?

Quietly turning his head back, the Curator reined in his elation. Hadn’t he noticed the Boss’s grim expression? It must be because the five national treasures weren’t open to private bidders. He should keep a lower profile…

The Boss’s expression was indeed grim, but the reason was far from what the Curator assumed.Lu Zigang sat on the outermost seat, yet leaned forward intently, whispering inquiries to Professor Tang in the row ahead. Professor Tang, who enjoyed mentoring others, was happy to offer some guidance since the auction hadn't yet reached the artifacts the museum was eyeing. However, the more he answered, the more he felt this young comrade Lu seemed lacking in basic knowledge—how could he not even know the different types of Chengni inkstones? Lu Zigang was naturally not that unrefined, but if he didn't find some topics to chat about, he felt he would be pierced through by the gaze of the Doctor sitting on the other side of the Boss! Though he knew that gaze wasn't directed at him at all!

But thankfully, Young Master Hu was seated on the farthest side from him. In Lu Zigang's view, Young Master Hu was a figure a thousand, no, ten thousand times more dangerous than the Boss.

However, this arrogant Young Master Hu was unusually quiet today! He hadn't uttered a single word—truly strange...

"Your Highness, the Prince of Qi!" He snapped out of his daze and suddenly found himself standing on a city wall, watching his troops sparring in pairs not far away. Of course, it was all form without lethal intent, as this wasn't a battlefield but routine drills.

He blinked slowly, then opened his eyes again, confirming the scene before him wasn't an illusion—he was most likely dreaming again.

"Your Highness, the Prince of Qi, have you reached a decision regarding the counsel I offered days ago?" He had heard this nagging voice not long ago, so without turning to look, he knew the person behind him was the strategist Kuai Che.

Holding a command flag in one hand, he slowly tapped the bluish-gray city bricks with the other. Why did he keep recalling events from that time?

"When the birds are gone, the good bow is stored away; when the cunning hare is dead, the hound is stewed. With the enemy state destroyed, the strategist meets his end. The King of Han is not a magnanimous man—please reconsider carefully, Your Highness!" Kuai Che spoke with earnest concern and relentless persuasion.

He raised the command flag and waved it. Deafening war drums erupted abruptly, alternating in long and short intervals, and the soldiers below the wall obeyed commands instantly, moving in unified, rapid formation changes.

"Your Highness, in the eyes of an emperor, meritorious officials are inherently guilty—simply because they possess the capability to rebel. Emperors guard against their meritorious officials as they would against thieves, without exception." Kuai Che couldn't understand why this Prince of Qi remained so foolishly loyal. Were kings and nobles born to their stations? If their positions were reversed, with such elite troops and unparalleled achievements, he, Kuai Che, would certainly contend for the throne.

"Without exception... is that so..." he murmured to himself, his thoughts drifting not to Liu Bang, but to another person.

"Bi Zhi..."

The Boss opened his eyes and found himself surrounded by a clamoring crowd vying in bids. After a moment of disorientation, he realized he had lost himself in thought right in the middle of the auction.

"Bi Zhi? Are you alright?" Fusu beside him asked with concern, even reaching out to feel his forehead for signs of fever.

The Boss subtly avoided his hand and shook his head faintly, offering no further explanation.

Dreaming repeatedly of past events—was his heart unsettled because he was about to retrieve that object?Regardless of the minor incident that occurred with the Boss, the auction proceeded smoothly until the tenth item was sold, with no bidding activity from their row. To onlookers, this seemed perfectly normal—the four individuals in that row all appeared to be in their early twenties, clearly just there to watch the spectacle.

Of course, Lu Zigang was indeed there to make up the numbers, but the others were not. The Boss looked down on these items, Fusu had ulterior motives like "Xiang Zhuang performing the sword dance with intent to kill the Duke of Pei," and Huhai held extremely high standards, deeming these antiques devoid of any essence or spiritual energy and utterly worthless.

The Doctor's rabbit plush had long ceased to stay obediently in the Boss's pocket, its little head already peeking out. Yet, the Doctor hadn't been looking at the exhibits on stage but was firmly fixated on Fusu, who was sitting close by.

To be precise, he was staring at his own body.

Though resentful of this thief who had taken over his nest, the Doctor had to admit that this guy's demeanor was completely different from his own.

Dressed in branded casual wear, he clearly came across as a winner in life. His face, free of glasses, exuded a sharp and domineering aura that was hard to ignore, yet it was well-controlled—not overly aggressive. Just sitting there casually, he carried the presence of someone in authority.

Recalling his former self, it was like comparing two entirely different people! The Doctor felt increasingly dejected, his gaze growing more venomous.

Of course, no matter how fiercely the rabbit plush tried to glare, it still looked adorable and fragile. The Doctor's long ears drooped as he swore to himself that once he got back, he'd have the Boss swap him for a tiger plush—or better yet, a Tyrannosaurus rex! Well, actually, a Gundam would work too...

The Doctor's thoughts drifted off track again, but Fusu didn't even spare him a glance from the corner of his eye, utterly dismissing this opponent.

When the host announced the next item, the previously relaxed Curator straightened up, and Professor Tang stopped answering Lu Zigang's basic questions, tightening his grip on the invitation in his hand. Each invitation had a number on the back, which could be raised directly for bidding.

The remaining five items were reserved for the museum, with only those holding special numbers permitted to bid. Thus, the atmosphere grew less enthusiastic, and the process moved quickly, clearly indicating prior tacit understanding among the museum representatives. The Curator secured the set of Secret-Color Porcelain cups with sky-blue glaze and carved patterns he had his eye on, while Professor Tang acquired a painting by Giuseppe Castiglione titled "Emperor Qianlong Hunting a Tiger." The other three items were also successfully auctioned off in turn.

After a brief closing remark from the host, the event concluded. Those who had won items went to handle the handover with the relevant personnel, while others gradually left, leaving the venue quickly deserted. Professor Tang, the Curator, and the others remained seated, as they needed to follow formal procedures and were in no hurry. Just as Professor Tang was about to say something, his gaze fell on a particular spot, and his brow furrowed.

"Huh? Isn't that Old Chen? Why is he heading to the restroom?" the Curator also noticed the anomaly. The restroom was adjacent to the venue, and given the auction, the descendants of that prominent figure in the collection world must have been present, though they hadn't made an appearance.Lu Zigang was taken aback. The person they were referring to was someone he also knew—Chen Miao, who owned a private library. Lu Zigang was no fool; he quickly lowered his voice and said to Professor Tang, "This person hasn't placed a single bid at the auction. He's quite influential, so he wouldn't have come here for nothing." Lu Zigang had observed so meticulously because he had been rather idle earlier. Besides, aside from Boss and the others present, Chen Miao was the only one he recognized.

Just then, Boss, who was sitting beside Lu Zigang, stood up and walked past him, heading straight toward the lounge Chen Miao had entered. Naturally, as soon as he moved, Fusu and Huhai, who were by his side, followed suit.

The Curator tapped his cane on the floor and immediately exclaimed with vigor, "What a miscalculation! The host must have kept some hidden treasures out of the auction!" With that, he hurriedly rose to his feet and limped after Boss.

Professor Tang, not wanting to be left behind, promptly followed. Lu Zigang silently grumbled to himself: while Chen Miao's solo action had gone unnoticed, their group of six moving together was bound to attract attention. Fortunately, most people in the venue had already left, so it didn't cause any commotion.

The lounge was actually quite spacious; once the door opened, it revealed a room about the size of a conference room, complete with a long table. Chen Miao had initially been pleased with his sharp judgment and was trying to strike up a conversation with a young lady in the lounge when he was startled to see the door open and five or six people file in.

"Well, well! Old Chen, trying to keep it all to yourself, huh? Caught you red-handed!" The Curator chuckled smugly and sat down opposite Chen Miao.

Chen Miao forced a wry smile, rubbed his nose, and sighed. "I just knew there was something that wasn't put up for auction, so I came to ask about it."

"What is it?" Professor Tang, having taken a seat, grew curious as well. However, being courteous, he first handed his business card to the young lady, and they exchanged names.

The young lady, surnamed Zhang, was not a descendant of the prominent collector but a lawyer. She appeared to be in her thirties, with an oval face and an efficient, sharp demeanor. Upon hearing this, Chen Miao's spirits sank. There was little he could achieve by discussing matters with a lawyer; he had mistakenly assumed she was the old gentleman's descendant. It seemed the other party truly had no intention of showing their face.

"Eh? Judging by your expression, what exactly is it?" The Curator grew intrigued. Having seen countless antiques, they all wondered what kind of artifact could disappoint someone like Chen Miao to this extent. "It couldn't be some ancient musical score like 'High Mountains and Flowing Water,' could it?" The Curator teased, as Chen Miao was known for his obsession with ancient texts, which included musical scores.

As they chatted casually, Lawyer Zhang stood up and went over to Boss and his companions to exchange business cards—a routine social courtesy that no one paid much mind to.

Chen Miao wiped his face, regaining his composure, and sighed softly. "It's a pardon token."

"A pardon token?" The Curator and Professor Tang were both startled simultaneously.The "Pardon Plaque" is what common folk colloquially call it; its proper names are the "Vermilion Writ Iron Credential" or "Vermilion Writ Iron Covenant." In ancient times, emperors bestowed these tokens upon meritorious officials, granting their descendants preferential treatment or immunity from punishment. The name derives from the vermilion ink used to inscribe the text onto iron plates. To ensure authenticity and prevent forgery, the iron credential was split in two, with the court and the feudal lords each keeping one half. It was first issued by Emperor Gaozu of Han, Liu Bang, and later emperors followed suit, making it a form of reward for meritorious officials and nobles. Folk operas, legends, and novels often depict it, and due to its power to pardon death sentences, it became known as the "Pardon Plaque."

Although countless Pardon Plaques were issued throughout history, over time, many were destroyed, lost, or directly redeemed by descendants and reclaimed by the imperial family, so few have survived. The earliest extant Pardon Plaque is the Iron Credential of Qian Liu, the King of Wuyue from the Five Dynasties period.

At this thought, Professor Tang couldn't help but feel proud, because this Iron Credential of Qian Liu is now housed in the National Museum of China. With a boastful tone, he asked, "During the Liang Dynasty, the Vermilion Writ Iron Covenant was filled with silver characters; in the Sui Dynasty, gold characters were used; and in the Ming Dynasty, it imitated the Tang system. Old Chen, have you seen that Pardon Plaque? What was its form?"

Lu Zigang divided his attention, half listening to their conversation and half observing the Boss's movements. He saw Lawyer Zhang take out a document and hand it to the Boss, who glanced at it briefly and nodded. What was going on? Lu Zigang didn't dare act rashly, straining his eyes so hard they nearly cramped.

In his ears, he heard Chen Miao mysteriously lower his voice and ask, "When did the Vermilion Writ Iron Covenant originate?"

The Curator chuckled and said, "Well, well, Old Chen, testing us now? The Book of Han records that after Emperor Gaozu of Han, Liu Bang, ascended the throne, he 'split tallies with his meritorious officials, made vows, inscribed vermilion writs on iron covenants, stored them in golden cabinets and stone chambers, and hid them in the ancestral temple.' The term 'Vermilion Writ Iron Covenant' originates from this. However, it later became commonly referred to as a 'credential.'"

Chen Miao nodded, assuming an inscrutable expression, and slowly said, "Although I haven't seen the Pardon Plaque in the big shot's collection, I've heard from friends who have that it is a genuine Vermilion Writ Iron Covenant."

"Really?" The Curator and Professor Tang were both startled, then shook their heads in disbelief.

A genuine Vermilion Writ Iron Covenant would be one from the batch personally issued by Liu Bang, over two thousand years ago—it simply couldn't still exist. Liu Bang executed many of his meritorious officials, and their descendants didn't survive, so how could it have been passed down? This forgery was just too far-fetched.

Lu Zigang was also skeptical, but at that moment, he saw Lawyer Zhang on the other side of the lounge take out a Brocade Box and hand it to the Boss. The Boss opened it to confirm its contents and then signed the document. Lu Zigang was stunned, because from his angle, he could clearly see a rust-stained iron plate lying quietly inside the Brocade Box.

It couldn't be... this exaggerated...

Lu Zigang stood dumbfounded. By the time he regained his composure, the Boss and the other two had already left the lounge. Lawyer Zhang sat beside the Curator and the others, smiling as he listened to their endless debate. Lu Zigang opened his mouth to speak but then silently closed it. He decided to act as if he had seen nothing, and since the Boss and his group had left, it meant trouble had moved away.But he was far too curious—was the iron plaque in the brocade box the legendary pardon token? Lu Zigang was itching with curiosity.

In the distance, banners fluttered atop the majestic city walls, while soldiers and commoners lined both sides of the street to welcome him. Seated upright on his horse, he observed the attire of the soldiers and civilians amid the gentle swaying of the ride, confirming that this was the scene of his entry into Luoyang years ago for Liu Bang's ascension to the throne. The soldiers' armor was relatively tidy, but their weapons were worn and incomplete. Though the commoners had washed their clothes clean, years under Qin Er Shi's tyranny and the chaos of the war-torn era had left them sallow and emaciated.

Yet their eyes shone with a dazzling brilliance—a longing for peace and stability.

Even though he had not experienced such turbulent times for many years, the sight of such hopeful gazes still stirred his emotions intensely.

But this surge of passion cooled almost instantly, for he knew this was a scene from over two thousand years ago.

The horse obediently advanced along the imperial road. Not long after passing through the city gate, he saw a man approaching slowly, surrounded by a crowd of officials. The man had a handsome beard, a prominent nose, and a high forehead—features that Lü Zhi's father had recognized years ago as bearing the countenance of a dragon.

He quickly dismounted, unable to recall his feelings from that time long ago, and prepared to perform a kneeling salute in accordance with Zhou rites.

Of course, this was merely a public gesture of respect. Though the man before him had ascended the throne as emperor, he could never truly withstand such a bow from him.

Sure enough, Liu Bang hurried forward, grasped his arm with a hearty laugh, and led him toward the grand hall.

Surrounded by several meritorious officials, they showed no awareness of being subjects—some laughed and talked loudly, some sang heartily, and others whispered in secret. Observing them coldly, he noticed Liu Bang's smile appeared stiff, clearly extremely dissatisfied with the situation but suppressing his anger.

At some point, the enthronement ceremony became hazy and illusory, the surrounding sounds grew muddled and indistinct. Standing there in a daze, he could hardly distinguish whether he was in a dream or reality.

He had dreamed of such a scene countless times, but now, the one standing atop the vermilion steps was not the person he had hoped for.

He didn't know how much time had passed when a phrase suddenly rang clearly in his ears.

"With the empire now settled, Xiao He was ordered to codify the laws, Han Xin to clarify military regulations, Zhang Cang to establish statutes, Shusun Tong to devise rituals, and Lu Jia to compose the New Discourses." The voice of the Chamberlain of the Yellow Gate was piercingly clear. Each time he read a name, that person stepped forward from the crowd and bowed at the foot of the vermilion steps. Like a puppet, he too stood behind Xiao He.

Back then, what had truly compelled him to leave? At the beginning, he had genuinely wanted to do practical things for the displaced common people.

His memories were chaotic. Lost in thought with his head bowed, he suddenly felt a weight in his hand—an iron plaque inscribed with vermilion ink had fallen into his palm.

"His Majesty has carved the covenant and made the oath, bestowing the Vermilion Pledge and Iron Contract, to be stored in the golden coffer and stone chamber, preserved in the ancestral temple..."

He slowly closed his eyes.

Yes, it began at this moment...

The Boss, holding the Brocade Box, gazed at the bustling hotel lobby and couldn't help but let out a long, slow sigh.

It seemed this object had a deeper influence on him than he had imagined.

The Boss turned and fixed his gaze on Fusu, who had been walking beside him all along.

This was actually a very strange perspective, for in his earliest memories, he had always followed the other's figure, strictly adhering to the propriety between ruler and subject, consciously staying half a step behind.

Never before had they stood side by side like this.

The Boss couldn't help but feel momentarily dazed, but he quickly regained his composure and said calmly, "This belongs to me. I'm merely taking it back."

A glint flashed in Fusu's eyes. When they had reunited last year, he had heard the Boss mention events of the past. Hearing this, he guessed the origin of this pardon plaque. Could it be the Vermilion Pledge and Iron Contract that Liu Bang personally bestowed upon Han Xin?

Though Fusu didn't voice his question, the Boss already knew what he was thinking and nodded. "Yes, it was indeed made by Liu Bang. Back then, none of the other nobles' Vermilion Pledges and Iron Contracts included a pardon from death—only the one granted to me did. I knew then that he had deeply resented me for a long time."

"If it were me, I would never have treated you this way," Fusu sighed, filled with boundless melancholy.

The Boss pressed his lips together and remained silent this time. The pardon plaque in his hand also belonged to the category of imperial antiques. Yet this antique symbolized the betrayal of an emperor.

The contractual promises of emperors were always empty words—even if cast from the strongest iron, they could easily be shattered and destroyed.

It is often said that brothers can share hardships but not prosperity. Back when this Vermilion Pledge and Iron Contract was issued, the iron contract was still gleaming and new, yet Liu Bang's executioner's blade had already fallen.

Thus, thereafter, the Vermilion Pledge and Iron Contract was no longer called a "contract" but a "voucher"—a term filled with transactional implications.The true essence of an emperor's betrayal lies not in the "betrayal" itself, but in the "turning away."

The most terrifying kind is when someone smiles warmly to your face while secretly sharpening the blade behind your back.

Liu Bang granted each of his meritorious officials half of a cinnabar oath tablet, keeping the other half for himself, stored away in a golden vault and stone chamber. On the surface, harmony was maintained as before, but privately, it felt like a bone stuck in his throat. Once the empire stabilized, he began eliminating them one by one, following the names inscribed on those immunity tokens.

These were never tokens of immunity—they were death warrants.

Perhaps he had been too young back then. Even though he had long seen through Liu Bang's true nature and left decisively, he still found it hard to let go. The immunity token in his possession, though he could have reclaimed it countless times over the long years and returned it to the Dumb Shop, he had turned a blind eye—until today, when he had no choice but to act.

The Boss didn’t want to ponder the deeper meaning behind Fusu’s words. Feeling the rabbit plushie in his pocket struggling to climb out, he quickly freed one hand to tuck the Doctor back in, his expression calm and detached as he said lightly, "I’ll take my leave now."

Fusu said nothing in response. Noticing how thinly the Boss was dressed, he unwrapped the cashmere scarf from his own neck and carefully wrapped it around the Boss. His gaze lingered on the Boss’s gray wool coat, and upon realizing it was the same one he had worn last year while staying at the Dumb Shop, the smile on his handsome face deepened.

The Boss’s lips moved slightly, but in the end, he said nothing. He did not refuse the other’s kindness and quietly departed.

Huhai clenched his fists tightly, unable to hold back any longer as he stepped forward and said, "Elder Brother, isn’t that immunity token an imperial antique? Why did you let him take it so easily?" Huhai had come today thinking his elder brother was finally making a move to interfere with the Boss’s plans. Yet, in the end, his elder brother had done nothing.

A faint smile tugged at the corner of Fusu’s lips as he replied nonchalantly, "If you truly desire something, let it go. When it returns to you, you will possess it forever."

(End of Chapter)