The Company

Chapter 52: Celadon Figurine

The midday sun blazed with scorching intensity over the war-ravaged city of Dali, where crumbling walls and shattered structures stretched as far as the eye could see. Streets once lush with flourishing flowers and trees were now stained with blood, while the shimmering Erhai Lake floated several bloated corpses. In the distance, thick plumes of smoke rose from the verdant Cangshan Mountains, cremating Dali soldiers who had fallen in battle or been executed for refusing to surrender.

Armed Mongol soldiers patrolled the city, all sporting the ridiculous bojiao hairstyle resembling the "three-patch" style of Central Plains children. Yet no one dared mock them openly. The displaced Bai people of Dali, herded to the roadside, bowed their heads in silence, wept quietly, or suppressed their fury—until a creaking prisoner cart slowly entered through the southern gate.

Standing within the cart, Gao Taixiang privately felt grateful that the Mongols, to showcase their mercy, had sent someone to bathe him and provide fresh clothes that morning. This concealed his torture-ravaged body, allowing him to retain some dignity as Dali’s former chancellor, despite his disheveled appearance and haggard expression.

Witnessing the shock and despair in his people’s eyes along the roadside, Gao Taixiang felt as if his heart were being sliced open. He and Duan Xingzhi had failed—when Dali fell, they fled with their troops instead of standing with the city unto death, leaving heaven-blessed ancient Dali to suffer the ravages of war.

Gao Taixiang had always believed Dali belonged to the Gao family, even though its emperors, past and present, bore the surname Duan.

Since the reign of the fourth emperor, Duan Sicong, the Gao clan had seized the chancellorship from the Dongs, dominating the court ever since. His great-grandfather, Gao Shengtai, even deposed Duan Zhengming and declared himself emperor. Though the throne was returned to the Duan family two years later, real power remained firmly in Gao hands, passed down through generations. Any reigning Dali emperor who showed disobedience could be forced to abdicate and retreat to Wuwei Temple as a monk, replaced by a more compliant Duan. Indeed, eight Duan emperors had taken monastic vows there over the years.

Thus, in Dali, nearly everyone knew the emperor was merely a figurehead—true authority lay with the reigning Gao chancellor.

The Gao family followed an ancestral decree: never usurp the Duan throne. Gao Shengtai’s violation had cost him burial in the family cemetery. Though resentful, Gao Taixiang adhered strictly to this rule, knowing no royal lineage endured forever—usurpation would inevitably invite the same fate upon the Gaos.

But now, it seemed all of Dali was on the verge of vanishing.

As the common people knelt blankly along the streets, their gazes felt more unbearable to Gao Taixiang than the blazing sun overhead. Sweat drenched his back like poured broth.

The city’s former beauty—flowers gracing every household, streams flowing through each lane—lay in ruins. Blossoms withered and broken, the prisoner cart crushed camellia petals mingled with bloodstains on the bluestone bricks, evoking a heart-wrenching despair.From afar, the Wuhua Tower at the end of the road was visible, its magnificent structure still adorned with exquisite wood carvings. This guesthouse, built during the Nanzhao period, had not been ordered destroyed by Kublai Khan. Instead, after the fall of Dali City, he stationed his troops here. What differed from the past were the fluttering banners on the Wuhua Tower, all inscribed with foreign scripts. Gao Taixiang’s prison cart creaked to a halt in the square before the tower, and he was led by soldiers onto a newly erected wooden platform in the square.

This was a public execution, intended to intimidate the people of Dali who still harbored rebellious intentions.

Gao Taixiang’s handsome face was expressionless, his hands bound behind his back, his spine ramrod straight. The midday sun shone directly overhead, casting a golden halo around him that conveyed an aura of inviolable dignity. For a moment, no one dared to step forward and force him to kneel.

In truth, Gao Taixiang was standing solely by sheer willpower; a mere gust of wind could have toppled him. Every bone and muscle in his body screamed in agony, yet he stood unyielding and righteous. Glancing up at the shadowy figures gathered on the Wuhua Tower, he vaguely discerned a burly man seated beneath a ceremonial canopy, wearing a folded-waist-style helmet and clad in twisted gold brocade. This was the Mongol prince, the fourth son of Regent Tolui, Borjigin Kublai Khan.

Soon, a voice called out from the Wuhua Tower, spouting the same tiresome rhetoric about surrender and promises of high positions and wealth—words Gao Taixiang had heard so often he could recite them by heart. When the shouting soldier grew weary, the square fell into a suffocating silence. Thousands of eyes watched, awaiting Gao Taixiang’s choice.

If he had intended to surrender, he would have done so long ago. If he had sought an early death, why endure such humiliation? Clearly, Kublai Khan aimed not only to intimidate but also to root out all remaining resistance in Dali City. A shrewd plan, indeed.

A flicker of mockery crossed Gao Taixiang’s handsome face. He declared loudly, "The Duan lineage’s fate is sealed by heaven! My duty is done!" With that, he closed his eyes and fell silent, offering his neck to the executioner. No matter what, Duan Xingzhi still lived. He hoped Duan would have the chance to return to Dali...

Duan Xingzhi, remember our pact. I will watch over you from the heavens.

The executioner, following orders from the Wuhua Tower, raised his massive axe.

Suddenly, the blazing sun was obscured by thick clouds. In an instant, a fierce wind arose, whipping the banners into a frenzy. Thunder roared, lightning flashed, and sand stung faces. As torrential rain poured down, a shower of blood mingled with it...

The heavy, carved door of the Dumb Shop creaked open, and Lu Zigang soon heard the sound of a cane tapping against the floor. Without bothering to look up, he continued focusing on carving the jade piece in his hand with his knife.

The Curator, needing no invitation, familiarly placed a brocade box on the counter and then carefully picked up a tea bowl nearby, examining it with delicate reverence. "You must be joking!" he murmured. The glaze, the unglazed rim, the tear stains, and the refined mouth—it was unmistakably a late Song Ding ware, and a rare black glaze at that. Peering into the clear tea, he saw the distinct leaf pattern at the bottom. Without further appraisal, the Curator was certain: this was a Song Dynasty Ding kiln black-glazed leaf-patterned tea bowl.His hands trembling slightly, the Curator hastily set the tea bowl back on the counter. What a sin! An antique of this quality could rightfully be displayed in a glass case for admiration even at the treasure-filled Taipei National Palace Museum. Yet here in Dumb Shop, it was casually used as a vessel for brewing tea. Though the bowl was originally meant for drinking tea, the Curator could never quite get used to this sight, no matter how many times he witnessed it.

Torn between fear of damaging the bowl and the desire to hold and caress it, the Curator stared blankly at the black Ding ware tea bowl for a while before shifting his gaze to Lu Zigang. What he saw made him adjust his presbyopia glasses in even greater astonishment.

Was he seeing things? When had Lu Zigang developed such exquisite craftsmanship? Could he truly be possessed by the spirit of the Ming dynasty Lu Zigang?

The peony carved on this jade piece was so lifelike that even the veins on the petals were clearly defined, with dewdrops appearing ready to drip at any moment. Moreover, the jade material used was Hetian jade seed stock - creamy white like mutton fat, smooth and lustrous. The remaining yellowish skin just happened to fall upon the peony's stamens, where Lu Zigang was currently carving with his knife.

The Curator became completely mesmerized, knowing he shouldn't disturb the work. A single stroke with slightly excessive force could ruin this masterpiece of divine craftsmanship. He watched breathlessly as the peony stamens emerged one by one before his eyes, while the darker-colored areas nearby were skillfully carved by Lu Zigang into a bee with wings as thin as cicada's, seeming ready to take flight at any moment.

Throughout this process, the Curator feared even his breathing might disturb Lu Zigang, so he consciously kept his breaths light and quiet. This led Lu Zigang to completely forget there was someone watching nearby. Only after finishing the bee, engraving a poem on the back of the jade piece with his knife, and casually adding the Zigang signature did he look up, intending to take a sip of tea from the bowl beside him.

Reaching out, he found nothing there, finally noticing the additional person in Dumb Shop. Seeing the black Ding ware leaf-patterned bowl placed before the Curator, Lu Zigang didn't need to guess that the curator uncle had undoubtedly examined it thoroughly. He curled his lip in distaste, fetched another similarly-sized tea bowl from behind the counter, and poured himself a fresh pot of tea.

Even when faced with another Song dynasty Ding ware black-glazed partridge-feathered bowl, the Curator didn't get as excited this time. His expression became somewhat dazed - could he be mistaken? Such exquisite carving technique! Such authentic Zigang signature! Had he not witnessed this jade piece being carved himself, and with some additional aging techniques like vinegar quenching, gloss removal, and dye penetration, he might have believed this to be a genuine work by the Ming dynasty Lu Zigang...

Could it be that Dumb Shop was actually a counterfeit workshop?

The Curator immediately dismissed this suspicion. Counterfeiting required specialization in certain areas - it was impossible for all antiques to appear so authentic. Besides, how many genuine treasures had he obtained from Dumb Shop? Could he have been fooled every single time? Moreover, there had been numerous imitations of Zigang-style jade pieces throughout history - it was just that this young man's carving was exceptionally similar to the original.Lu Zigang couldn't care less about what the Curator was pondering—he actually hoped this uncle would overthink things and stay as far away from Dumb Shop as possible. These past few days, the uncle had been showing up daily without stating his purpose, always beating around the bush. Taking a sip of hot tea, Lu Zigang glanced at the additional brocade box on the counter today and sighed, "Uncle Curator, I've already told you the Boss isn't around lately. Even if you bring something to me, it's no use."

Prompted by his words, the Curator remembered his purpose and quickly said, "Xiao Lu! Your uncle here really has no one else to turn to! Come on, help me take a look!"

Reluctantly, Lu Zigang took the black Ding-ware wooden-patterned bowl in front of the Curator, washed it, refilled it with tea, and assumed a listening posture. To be honest, Lu Zigang had initially intended to just pass the time, but as the Curator spoke in his slightly hoarse voice, his expression grew increasingly serious.

Earlier in the year, due to leg problems, the Curator had gone to Kunming for recuperation. But he wasn't one to stay idle, and soon connected with local colleagues in Kunming. Not long after, he heard about an ancient tomb excavated in Dali Old Town and couldn't resist taking a train to Dali. Because of his status, although he didn't directly participate in the excavation work, he still examined all the unearthed artifacts one by one. Before the tomb was reported to the state, locals had already discovered it, and due to the remote location, a large portion of the antiques had been stolen by the time archaeologists sealed the site. The Curator lingered in the area persistently and actually managed to buy a porcelain figurine suspected to be from this tomb.

"Just suspected, because I didn't see similar porcelain figurines among the unearthed artifacts. I only roughly dated this figurine to around the same period as the tomb using devitrification analysis and glaze microscopic observation. So I submitted it, but they didn't accept it, thinking my judgment was wrong." The Curator rubbed his hands, his wrinkled face full of frustration. "So I had to bring the figurine back, originally planning to just add it to my personal collection as another item, but then..."

"But then what?" Lu Zigang hadn't heard the Curator continue after a long pause and became interested in the porcelain figurine in the brocade box. He washed his hands, dried them, and put on thin gloves from under the counter. He was usually casual with artifacts in Dumb Shop because they were everyday items, but this porcelain figurine might be funerary objects from an excavation, warranting different treatment.

There, a palm-sized celadon figurine lay quietly in the brocade box.Celadon is also a type of green porcelain, with a slightly bluish glaze that is crystalline, smooth, and highly translucent. Celadon is typically colored using iron as the pigment and is often glazed on carved raw blanks, resulting in pieces that are generally simple and elegant. The Celadon Figurine before them was relatively crude; although the glaze surface was smooth, there were areas where the glaze had peeled off, indicating that the firing technique was not particularly refined. Nevertheless, the clothing and patterns on the figurine were still discernible. The Celadon Figurine knelt on both knees, its head slightly bowed. Unfortunately, the glaze on its facial features had severely cracked and peeled away, making it difficult to discern its original appearance. Upon closer inspection, Lu Zigang understood why the Curator was so convinced that this figurine also originated from that ancient tomb.

As someone in the field, Lu Zigang had heard about the excavation of the Dali ancient tomb. It was the burial site of a Dali noble, but due to the theft of many important burial artifacts and the chaos of war during the late Song and early Yuan dynasties, when the Dali throne changed hands frequently, the identity of the tomb's owner remained uncertain. The clothing on this Celadon Figurine was unmistakably that of a Dali noble, with intricate patterns covering its body. Notably, there was a blank space on the waist area, symbolizing the absence of deceitful intentions—a distinctive feature of Bai nobility.

Lu Zigang had rarely encountered such a Celadon Figurine and found himself captivated by it. However, he hadn’t forgotten the Curator’s unfinished words and pressed further, "What happened then?"

"...Lately, I’ve been having nightmares repeatedly," the Curator said, wiping his face. He felt he should refrain from speaking of supernatural matters, but ever since acquiring the Sword of the King of Yue years ago and experiencing that terrifying night at the museum, he had come to believe in such things to some extent. "I keep dreaming of a person being executed. Judging by the surroundings and the flags, it seems to be when Dali City was occupied by Mongol troops."

"The last ruling member of the Gao family?" Lu Zigang thought for a moment and recalled the answer. He couldn’t immediately remember the person’s name, but Dali’s unique form of governance, distinct from that of the Central Plains, left a deep impression. In a way, the Duan clan of Dali resembled modern-day Japanese or British royalty—holding no real power, merely serving as symbolic figures. The Gao clan were the true rulers of Dali, and the one publicly executed could only be one person.

"Yes, his name was Gao Taixiang," the Curator replied, well-versed in this history. "When Dali City fell, Duan Xingzhi, the last emperor of Dali, and Gao Taixiang fled separately. Gao Taixiang was captured, refused to surrender, and was beheaded beneath the Wuhua Tower. Not long after, Duan Xingzhi was also captured and sent north to the Mongol court to meet Möngke Khan. The Khan, employing a policy of appeasement, bestowed upon him a golden tally and allowed him to return as the Dali Administrator, continuing to govern the original tribes. In my opinion, Duan Xingzhi was probably quite pleased—free from the constraints of the Gao clan, he could rule more freely."Lu Zigang raised an eyebrow. Those who studied historical artifacts rarely added personal preferences when commenting on historical facts, and the Curator's obvious disdain for Duan Xingzhi was likely influenced by those dreams. After turning the Celadon Figurine over in his hands for a while, Lu Zigang placed it back into the Brocade Box and smiled, saying, "Curator, I suspect this is a case of 'what you think about by day, you dream about at night.' This Celadon Figurine shows no abnormalities." With that, he spread his hands helplessly and added, "To be honest, even if there were, my level of expertise wouldn't be enough to detect it."

"No abnormalities at all?" The Curator smacked his lips twice. "I was planning to send this Celadon Figurine for thermoluminescence dating, but I can't bear to drill a hole in it. Fortunately, there are areas where the glaze has peeled off. I sent it for component analysis the day before yesterday, but the evaluation report hasn't come back yet..."

Lu Zigang strongly felt that the Curator was going to unnecessary trouble. He also knew that the Curator wasn't expecting any suggestions from him, or even if he had any, they wouldn't be heeded. So, he wisely kept his mouth shut.

The Curator, however, continued to ponder and eventually decided to trust his intuition. Typically, burial objects with excessive yin energy were placed in museum exhibitions. Exposing them to light and the constant flow of visitors' yang energy would gradually dissipate the yin aura from the artifacts.

Decision made: next week's porcelain exhibition would include this Celadon Figurine!

Gao Taixiang still remembered clearly the day he chose his own destiny, while simultaneously determining the fate of others—even the entire fate of Dali.

The Gao family's enduring wealth and immense power had created a sprawling, intricately connected behemoth. Within the Gao clan, the selection of each generation's leader wasn't based on primogeniture like Han Chinese traditions, but on meritocracy. To become a qualified Gao family leader in the eyes of his elders, Gao Taixiang had paid a price and endured hardships beyond imagination.

The throne of the Duan royal family of Dali was, in fact, a proxy chosen by the Gao family's leader. After the death of Emperor Xiao Yi (Duan Xiangxing), whom Gao Taixiang had assisted, his primary task was to select the most suitable successor from among the Duan descendants.

No Gao family leader failed to relish this moment. Some might think becoming emperor was the highest honor in the mortal world, but the power to choose who would inherit the throne—to control the person sitting on the Dragon Throne—could inflate one's lust for power to its extreme.

At the very least, Gao Taixiang enjoyed it, though he still felt some annoyance. Despite his youth, having emerged victorious from the Gao family's den of talented schemers, he had witnessed countless underhanded tricks. The Duan descendants who swarmed around him from dawn till dusk, seizing every opportunity, were like flies buzzing around pastries, utterly irritating him.

Until one day, a bright-eyed young man stood before him, completely unfazed by the battle aura still clinging to Gao Taixiang fresh from the battlefield. Without saying a word, he calmly met Gao Taixiang's gaze. "Why aren't you speaking?" Gao Taixiang admitted—this Duan Xingzhi had genuinely captured his interest."Even if I don't speak, Chancellor Gao already knows my purpose." A confident smile bloomed at the corners of Duan Xingzhi's lips, the light in his eyes so brilliant under the sun it was almost impossible to look away. He continued unhurriedly, "Moreover, Chancellor Gao will ultimately choose me."

"Oh? And why would I choose you?" Gao Taixiang raised an eyebrow upon hearing this, letting out an involuntary chuckle.

"Because I will die before you," Duan Xingzhi said simply. His voice was gentle, yet carried an undeniable persuasiveness.

Gao Taixiang's smile faded as he truly examined for the first time the youth standing composedly before him. The boy hadn't claimed he would exhaust himself in service to Dali, nor attempted to leverage personal connections, nor employed roundabout tactics. Because he knew what was needed first.

He was promising that he would be easier to control than his brothers - and if he proved difficult to control, he could simply be replaced.

"Very well, this is our agreement."

"This is our agreement."

"Very well, this is our agreement."

"This is our agreement."

Gao Taixiang emerged from his memories, his hand stroking the carved railing beneath his palm. The Wuhua Tower was the tallest and most magnificent structure in Dali City, its every detail crafted with unbelievable precision. Perhaps only the Han Chinese imperial palaces could rival it. Yet even those powerful Han people hadn't been able to stop the Mongol cavalry, their magnificent rivers and mountains ruthlessly trampled beneath horses' hooves. And now, it was Dali's turn...

Heavy footsteps sounded on the wooden stairs behind him. Without turning, Gao Taixiang knew who was approaching. This was the highest level of Wuhua Tower, and in the Kingdom of Dali, only two people had the privilege to ascend here.

"Chancellor, lead the troops to break through the encirclement." Duan Xingzhi's weary voice sounded behind Gao Taixiang, and a pair of pale hands stained with blood rested on the railing beside the latter.

Gao Taixiang's gaze involuntarily fell on the bloodstains between the fingers, confirming that the other was not injured, before narrowing his eyes and asking, "What about you?" Duan Xingzhi's eyes were vacant as he watched the panicked citizens of Dali below the Wuhua Tower. After a long silence, he sighed and said, "I will live or die with Dali."

"Are you content with that?" Gao Taixiang smirked coldly. With his assistance, Duan Xingzhi had been on the throne for three years. This young man was not as harmless as he appeared. He had ambition, though well-hidden, it was almost transparent in Gao Taixiang's eyes.

Duan Xingzhi pressed his thin lips into a tight line. How could he be content? But in such a critical moment of survival, he could not deceive himself into thinking there was still hope.

"Let's break through separately," Gao Taixiang said calmly. "That way, the Mongol soldiers will have to split their forces to capture us. At the very least, they need one of us to survive."

"Why?" Duan Xingzhi turned his head and asked. He wasn't questioning why the Mongols would spare one of them—it was obvious they needed to pacify the people of Dali. He was asking why Gao Taixiang was going to such lengths.

Gao Taixiang responded with a faint smile. "After all, we made a promise, didn't we?" Duan Xingzhi curled his lips helplessly. Indeed, they had made a promise. Breaking through separately would give them a better chance of survival than if Gao Taixiang went alone. Moreover, even if Gao Taixiang were captured, as long as he surrendered, he could reclaim everything he once had.

He was overthinking things.

Outside the window, the spring rain fell softly, carrying a lingering chill of late spring.

Doctor stood by the window, feeling an inexplicable shiver of cold seeping through the slightly ajar window crack.

Strange, when had he started to dislike the rain so much? Though he found it inconvenient, it had never reached the point of aversion, let alone fear.

A few blurry images flashed through his subconscious. Doctor frowned, trying to grasp and examine them clearly, but to no avail.

"What are you staring at the window for? Didn't you just finish your night shift? Shouldn't you hurry home? Did you forget your umbrella?" Chun Ge, who was reading a newspaper nearby, pointed to the umbrella drying on the floor. "Use mine. I'm on duty today anyway."

"...Thanks." Doctor couldn't explain that he was afraid to step into the rain or that he had an innate aversion to borrowing umbrellas. But he was probably overthinking it. Pushing his doubts about the rain aside, he walked over to Chun Ge, took the umbrella, and casually asked, "What's got you so excited? Reading some gossip?"

"Ah, it says here that the museum has a porcelain exhibition lately, and some people claim they felt breathless and weak after visiting. I think it's just a publicity stunt. Who goes to museums these days anyway?" Chun Ge pointed at the newspaper with a mocking grin. "See, as soon as the newspaper reports it, more people visit. They might even run a series of reports on it!""...Maybe they really aren't hyping it up?" Doctor didn't know why he had such thoughts—normal people should think like Chun Ge, right? Chun Ge looked at Doctor as if he were an alien, but then shrugged understandingly and said, "Well, I know you're close with Boss, and he's rubbed off on you a bit. By the way, didn't you mention that Boss has some connection with the museum curator? You could ask for insider information when you have time."

"Boss?" Doctor's frown deepened. Was he referring to the owner of some snack shop? One that sold soup dumplings or fried dough sticks?

"The owner of the Dumb Shop antique store on the commercial street! Oh, right, I haven't seen you going there lately. Is Boss still not back? Ah, it's time for rounds." Chun Ge had only mentioned it casually and didn't dwell on it. He glanced at the clock on the wall, folded the newspaper, put on his white coat, picked up the medical charts, and headed off for his rounds.

Doctor thought Chun Ge must have mistaken him for someone else. How could he possibly know any antique shop owner? He chuckled dismissively, left the hospital building, and stared blankly at the gloomy sky for a moment before opening his umbrella and stepping into the rain.

Raindrops pattered dully against the umbrella. Doctor felt a bit dazed, and with the umbrella blocking most of his view, he found himself standing on the commercial street before he realized it.

Oh, right, he should buy some breakfast to take home, and get a portion for Tang Yuan too—that kid should be up by now.

Snapping back to reality, Doctor began selecting breakfast on the commercial street. The leek buns near his neighborhood weren't as good as the ones here, but the fried dough sticks were better there. Soy milk was too troublesome to carry, so he'd buy it downstairs—though by this hour, the breakfast stalls downstairs had probably already closed.

Unconsciously, his footsteps seemed to have a mind of their own, stopping in front of a certain shop before he even registered it. The carved door caught his attention. Doctor lifted his head, the edge of his umbrella slowly rising, and two small seal script characters came into view.

Meanwhile, Tang Yuan, who should have been obediently waiting at home for Doctor's breakfast delivery, was standing in front of the museum under a transparent plastic umbrella, lost in thought.

"Little White Snake, are you sure there's spiritual energy to absorb here? Can you absorb it through the glass cases? Hey, Little White Snake, have you ever even been to a museum? Those glass cases covering the antiques seal everything off from the air!" Tang Yuan muttered to the little white snake coiled on the umbrella ribs, his tone earnest. "And I checked the almanac today—it's actually an inauspicious day for travel!"

The little white snake lazily flicked its tongue at him, hissing twice.

Tang Yuan had no choice but to abandon the idea of going home. With the determination of someone marching to their doom, he stepped through puddles one by one toward the museum entrance. As he closed his umbrella and placed it in the rack by the door, the little white snake swiftly darted into his sleeve.Shivering from the cold, Tang Yuan resignedly tugged at his sleeves and flashed an adorable smile at the inquiring staff member. He claimed he had requested leave from his teacher to visit the museum specifically to write an article about it. No matter where he went, Tang Yuan often encountered well-meaning people asking why he wasn't in school, so he had honed the skill of casually offering various explanations. After all, these people only asked out of courtesy and wouldn't actually interfere in others' lives. This time was no exception—Tang Yuan was allowed into the museum, which was, in any case, open to the public for free.

Since it was neither a weekend nor a holiday, and the museum had just opened early in the morning, there were pitifully few visitors. The spacious, well-ventilated hall sent a chill through him the moment he stepped into the exhibition area. Gazing at the dimly lit exhibition hall, Tang Yuan couldn't help but shiver.

The Little White Snake, which had been coiled around his wrist, slithered up his arm to his neck and peeked out from his collar, urging him forward. Feeling enslaved, Tang Yuan had no choice but to carry the snake and stroll slowly past each display case, pausing briefly before certain exhibits for a few seconds before moving on. To onlookers, he appeared to be a child casually browsing, but in reality, it was the unnoticed Little White Snake around his neck determining whether the exhibits were usable.

The Curator was completely unaware that a lawless little troublemaker had entered the museum. At that moment, he was slapping a newspaper and calling the media, arguing with them about inaccuracies in their reporting. "Difficulty breathing? Could it be that the reporters, afraid of lacking sensational material, deliberately fabricated this story? Don't think this old man doesn't know what hype means! Those journalists must be desperately racking their brains for news, gone mad with it!"

When the assistant knocked and entered the office, he happened to see the Curator eloquently berating the other party without using a single profanity. Bored, the assistant stood there waiting for his boss to vent his frustrations, and it was quite a while before the Curator finally hung up.

"What is it?" The Curator's tone was far from pleasant. Although he felt there was something off about the Celadon Figurine in the porcelain exhibition, having the media publicize it with baseless reasons made him furious and embarrassed.

"Curator, the composition report for that Celadon Figurine is out." The assistant promptly composed his expression and solemnly handed over a bound stack of documents.The Curator quickly took it and flipped through, his gaze lingering on a particular line of data. He pushed up his glasses in disbelief. "Silicon dioxide, aluminum oxide, and calcium oxide..."

"Yes, Curator, the composition of that Celadon Figurine is indeed problematic. It's not a silicate structure like ordinary porcelain," the assistant also expressed astonishment. "In nature, there aren't many sources of calcium oxide, so animal bone powder is typically chosen as the source. If our inference is correct, that Celadon Figurine should be the world's first true bone china. This discovery could completely overturn the definition that bone china is the only porcelain type invented by Westerners! It predates Western bone china by five hundred years! Curator! This is an epoch-making discovery!"

Ignoring the increasingly agitated assistant, the Curator removed his glasses and rubbed his sore nose bridge.

No wonder he had always felt something off about that Celadon Figurine—it was the weight. Bone china of the same volume is always much lighter than ceramic fired from clay, with a slightly different texture and a subtle feel.

Finally having pinpointed the issue with the Celadon Figurine, a weight lifted from the Curator's heart. He put his glasses back on and snorted coldly at the noisy, excited assistant, "Naive youth, this is a burial object. Do you think the ingredients here would be the same as in the West—cow bones?"

The assistant's voice cut off abruptly, his young face filled with horror. He immediately felt the temperature in the office drop several degrees.

If Western bone china uses cow bones... then the Curator's meaning... that Celadon Figurine... was fired using... human bones?

Meanwhile, not far from the office, Tang Yuan, who had been stopping and starting, finally came to a halt under the direction of the Little White Snake.

Inside the display case before him knelt a Celadon Figurine, silent and still.

Even without the Little White Snake tapping him with its tail tip, Tang Yuan would have stopped at this display case.

It wasn't because the figurine was exquisitely crafted or had smooth lines, but because its neck was tightly bound by two thin threads, with both ends securely fixed to the four corners of the base. At first glance, it looked as if the figurine was being punished.

"Holy crap... this anti-vibration thread tying method is insane..." Tang Yuan, afraid of leaving fingerprints on the spotless display case, leaned as close as possible to the glass for a better look. He had seen anti-vibration threads before—museums use them to prevent porcelain or jade artifacts from toppling during earthquakes, avoiding unnecessary damage. Antiques with higher centers of gravity are often fixed at the base or tied with such threads. But tying them like a prisoner? This was a first for him. Glancing around, Tang Yuan remarked, "But the exhibition hall layout is interesting—each item arranged according to the Later Heaven Bagua diagram, yang rising and yin descending, clearly meant to suppress this Celadon Figurine... Still, it looks strange, this method of restraint... My little ancestor, even if you didn't say anything, I'd feel an overwhelming sinister aura from this figurine. But with this setup, how are you supposed to absorb its spiritual energy?"

The Little White Snake disdainfully poked out its head, but before its crimson forked tongue could touch the glass cover of the display case, Tang Yuan pulled it back."Ouch! Don't bite, someone's coming." Tang Yuan stuffed the furious Little White Snake back into his embrace, calmly retreating several steps while watching several people rush into the exhibition hall.

Soon, several white screens were erected around the display case, with security guards stationed outside to prevent anyone from approaching. In truth, Tang Yuan was the only visitor in the entire exhibition hall. Peeking through the gaps between the screens, he could see staff opening the display case. He recalled one of the people who rushed in was carrying a Brocade Box, suggesting they intended to retrieve the Celadon Figurine from the display case and cease its exhibition.

Seeing the heavily guarded situation, Tang Yuan shrugged helplessly and whispered to the little ancestor around his neck: "Lulu, it seems we won't get a chance. Should we find another antique? Be good... Look at that Yuan blue-and-white porcelain jar over there, it seems nice... Mm... alright, we'll watch a bit longer."

Once again yielding to the Little White Snake's pressure, Tang Yuan put on an expression of curious innocence, standing on tiptoes to observe from a safe distance. After all, he was just a child, and curiosity was permitted - no one came to shoo him away. The Curator didn't notice the boy and snake watching the Celadon Figurine covetously just steps away, preoccupied with concerns that media exposure about the figurine being made from human ashes might cause an uproar. In his view, there was no difference between using human ashes or animal ashes. The custom of live burial had persisted until the Ming dynasty, making bone china relatively subtle by comparison. Moreover, confirming the Celadon Figurine was bone china would enhance its research value, possibly proving it was indeed a burial object from that ancient tomb, making suspension of exhibition for further appraisal advisable.

However, the Curator hesitated slightly. Before organizing this exhibition, unsure what was amiss with the Celadon Figurine, he had deliberately arranged the display case according to feng shui divinations mentioned by the Boss. The two shock-absorbing silk threads securing the figurine weren't ordinary either - they were special threads wrapped with talismans, obtained from the Boss long ago. The Boss had warned that once such talisman threads were used, they shouldn't be tampered with arbitrarily, and preferably should be removed by him personally.

But now that they understood the reason, was such extreme caution still necessary? Besides, the Boss's whereabouts were currently unknown, making it impossible to have him remove the threads. Though the Curator would rather err on the side of caution, he mostly felt he was making a fuss over nothing. Seeing the glass case already open, he rolled up his sleeves, put on gloves, and personally untied the threads to retrieve the Celadon Figurine.

The moment the taut threads went slack, the Curator watched as they faintly glowed before dissolving into the air like melting snow. Before he could react, his vision blurred. When he regained awareness, he found himself standing in void space, facing the Celadon Figurine which continuously enlarged until it reached normal human proportions.

As the Curator stood gaping, trying to examine it closely, the Celadon Figurine suddenly emitted brilliant white light and vanished before his eyes.Soon, several white screens were erected around the display case, with security guards stationed outside to prevent anyone from approaching. In fact, Tang Yuan was the only visitor in the entire exhibition hall. Peeking through the gaps between the screens, he could see staff opening the display case. He recalled that among the people who had rushed in earlier, someone was carrying a Brocade Box. It seemed they intended to retrieve the Celadon Figurine from the case and discontinue its exhibition.

Faced with this heavily guarded situation, Tang Yuan shrugged helplessly and whispered to the little ancestor coiled around his neck, "Lulu, it looks like there's no chance here. How about we pick a different antique? Be good... See that blue-and-white porcelain jar from the Yuan Dynasty over there? It looks quite nice... Hmm... Alright, alright, we'll watch a little longer."

Once again yielding to the Little White Snake's dominance, Tang Yuan put on the appearance of a curious child, standing on tiptoe to observe from a safe distance. After all, he was just a kid, and curiosity was permissible—no one came to shoo him away.

The Curator didn't notice the boy and snake eyeing the Celadon Figurine covetously just a few steps away. His concern was that if the media found out this figurine was made from human ashes, it would likely cause an uproar. In his view, there was no real difference between using human ashes and animal ashes. The custom of burying the living with the dead had persisted until the Ming Dynasty; by comparison, bone china was relatively subtle. Moreover, confirming that this Celadon Figurine was bone china would significantly increase its research value. It might indeed be a burial object from that ancient tomb, so pausing the exhibition for further appraisal was prudent.

However, the Curator hesitated slightly. Before organizing this exhibition, unsure what was off about the Celadon Figurine, he had deliberately arranged the display case according to the feng shui divination methods once mentioned by the Boss. The two anti-vibration silk threads wrapped around the figurine weren't ordinary—they were special threads entwined with talismans, obtained from the Boss long ago. The Boss had warned that once these talismanic threads were used, they shouldn't be tampered with; it was best to wait for him to remove them personally.

But now that the reason was clear, was there still a need for such extreme caution? Besides, the Boss was currently unreachable, so asking him to remove the threads was impossible. Although the Curator tended to err on the side of caution, he mostly felt he was overreacting. Seeing the glass case already open, he rolled up his sleeves, put on gloves, and personally untied the threads to retrieve the Celadon Figurine.

The moment the taut threads went slack, the Curator watched as they faintly glowed before melting away like ice and snow into the air. Before he could process this, his vision blurred. When he regained his senses, he found himself standing in a void. Across from him, the Celadon Figurine grew continuously until it reached the size of a normal person before stopping.

As the Curator stood there dumbfounded, trying to get a closer look, the Celadon Figurine suddenly emitted a brilliant white light and vanished before his eyes.

In another blur of vision, the Curator found himself back in the museum. His assistant was cautiously calling out, "Curator?" He was holding the Celadon Figurine, as if he had been frozen in that position for a long time.After a moment of dazed silence, the Curator placed the Celadon Figurine into the Brocade Box. Whether it was psychological or not, he couldn't help but feel the glaze on the figurine had dulled significantly, as if it had suddenly lost a certain vitality.

The Curator let out a soft sigh. Perhaps what had dissipated in that earlier moment was Gao Taixiang's lingering resentment.

But perhaps it was for the best—everything had vanished like smoke.

Boss lowered his head to examine the Nirvana Compass in his hand. The compass needle was trembling restlessly, and his expression shifted unpredictably in the flickering candlelight.

"What's wrong? Did something happen?" Fusu entered carrying a freshly brewed pot of tea, his voice filled with concern. Dressed in a plain white Hanfu robe that accentuated his tall, bamboo-like stature, he let his overly long bangs cover the scars on one side of his face, leaving the visible portion strikingly handsome. He deliberately set down the teapot with his left hand, keeping his right hand deeply hidden in his sleeve.

The Boss didn't notice Fusu's unusual behavior. He lowered his gaze and gently nudged the needle on the Nirvana Compass, watching it spin several times before settling quietly on one of the hexagrams.

"It seems... something has awakened..." The Boss sighed softly, reaching for a cup of steaming tea. "Young master, are you familiar with burial figurines?"

"Zhongni said: 'Those who first made burial figurines, did they not have descendants?' Because they resembled humans and were used as such. Confucius considered straw effigies virtuous but deemed burial figurines inhumane, nearly equivalent to using living people." Fusu rather missed this kind of scholarly discussion with the Boss. After sitting down, he crossed his arms and tucked his hands into his sleeves, smiling as he continued, "Burial figurines are essentially straw effigies - funerary objects meant to replace living human sacrifices. Why do you suddenly bring this up?"

"It reminded me of something from long ago." The Boss took a sip of tea and began rubbing the cup in his hands. They were in a quiet mountain villa surrounded by rolling hills, and his gaze drifted toward the verdant forest outside the window, as if transported back centuries. "There was an emperor who was little more than a puppet and a prime minister who held sway over the court. When the imperial capital fell to foreign invaders, they each led troops in separate breakouts to escape."

"Oh? I hadn't heard of this." Though Fusu had diligently studied history after waking from his two-thousand-year slumber, he couldn't possibly know every historical detail. Intrigued, he pondered the story. "They must have split their forces to divide the pursuing enemy troops. But if the situation was so dire that the imperial capital fell, they couldn't have gotten far."

"Correct. They couldn't both be captured, so they fled separately."

"Oh? Couldn't both be captured... I suppose the invaders actually needed a proxy to govern the country? So..."

"Exactly. Therefore, only one could survive - either the emperor or the prime minister."

"What happened then? Who ultimately survived? Well, come to think of it, the one captured first would have the best chance of survival, since they could surrender immediately."

"Before ascending the throne, the emperor made a pact with his prime minister, promising that he would die before his minister."

"What kind of spineless emperor would make such a promise? Well then, the emperor must have been the one who died."

"The prime minister was captured first, but he refused to surrender. The invaders had no choice but to execute him before his subjects."

"...He did this... to ensure the emperor's survival, leaving himself no way out?" Fusu felt deeply conflicted upon hearing this. To him, a prime minister with such immense power sacrificing himself for a puppet emperor seemed utterly implausible. Yet after brief reflection, he understood the prime minister's reasoning. A minister of such influence would rather break than bend, utterly incapable of bearing submission to foreign rulers. Thus, he chose death, leaving whatever slim chance remained for the emperor to lead their people and preserve their nation."Yes." The boss sighed wistfully. "But that emperor didn't live many more years in the end. Because the foreign tribes ultimately found him too unyielding and difficult to control, they assassinated him and installed his younger brother as acting governor..."

Fusu didn't know what to say anymore. His eyes fixed on the now lukewarm tea, he fell into silence.

The boss recalled the young man from long ago, who had desperately pleaded, wanting to atone for his sins.

He had refined his own ashes into a Celadon Figurine, forever kneeling in the darkness, guarding his dearest friend's tomb.

That lingering resentment was probably more than the tomb raider could bear...

(End of Chapter)