Ya She

Chapter 36 The Immunity Card

He stood deep in the mist, wandering aimlessly for an unknown amount of time, until a very familiar voice came.

"Bi Zhi, what do you think of this sentence?" With these words, the surrounding scenery became clearer, and he saw the person, dressed in noble black robes, holding a bamboo scroll, standing on the platform of the pavilion. Sunlight bathed the person's entire body, so bright that he could hardly open his eyes, and he could not see the person's face clearly.

"What sentence?" he heard himself ask slowly, but he lowered his eyes. Even though he couldn't see the other person's face, he knew who it was.

Apart from Fusu, no one else could call him Bizhi so affectionately.

Was he dreaming? In those distant years, he often accompanied Fusu, discussing scholarship together.

Confucius said: "The people may be made to follow a path, but they may not be made to understand it." The man looked at the bamboo slips in his hand and slowly recited them.

"It comes from the Analects, Taibo." He didn't rush to answer, but instead asked, "How does the Master interpret this sentence?"

"Master's interpretation is that this sentence means that the people can follow the path indicated by the ruler's will without needing to know why." After saying this, Fusu sighed softly, "But I feel that such an interpretation is inappropriate."

The "Master" Fusu spoke of was the great Confucian scholar Chunyu Yue. He stepped forward and saw the characters on the bamboo slips, written in the elegant Qin seal script. However, the characters of that time did not have punctuation, and he couldn't remember how he had dealt with it then. Based only on his own thoughts, he said, "The punctuation is incorrect. I think this sentence should be: 'The people can be made to follow, if they cannot be made to follow, know it.'"

Fusu's eyes lit up, and he clapped his hands with the bamboo slips, exclaiming, "Excellent! As for the common people, if they are capable of doing something, let them do it. If they are not competent, then teach them how to do it!"

He did not agree, simply because such conjecture was not necessarily accurate. How to punctuate sentences has become a science in itself; either of the two interpretations above is plausible, depending on how those in power choose to proceed.

Back then, he was probably just as grateful that he chose to follow Fusu. He just never imagined that his dream would shatter before it could be realized.

"Bi Zhi, you are truly my right-hand man. When I rule the world, the position of Prime Minister will undoubtedly belong to you."
He stood deep in the mist, wandering aimlessly for an unknown amount of time, until a very familiar voice came.

"Bi Zhi, what do you think of this sentence?" With these words, the surrounding scenery became clearer, and he saw the person, dressed in noble black robes, holding a bamboo scroll, standing on the platform of the pavilion. Sunlight bathed the person's entire body, so bright that he could hardly open his eyes, and he could not see the person's face clearly.

"What sentence?" he heard himself ask slowly, but he lowered his eyes. Even though he couldn't see the other person's face, he knew who it was.

Apart from Fusu, no one else could call him Bizhi so affectionately.

Was he dreaming? In those distant years, he often accompanied Fusu, discussing scholarship together.

Confucius said: "The people may be made to follow a path, but they may not be made to understand it." The man looked at the bamboo slips in his hand and slowly recited them.

"It comes from the Analects, Taibo." He didn't rush to answer, but instead asked, "How does the Master interpret this sentence?"

"Master's interpretation is that this sentence means that the people can follow the path indicated by the ruler's will without needing to know why." After saying this, Fusu sighed softly, "But I feel that such an interpretation is inappropriate."

The "Master" Fusu spoke of was the great Confucian scholar Chunyu Yue. He stepped forward and saw the characters on the bamboo slips, written in the elegant Qin seal script. However, the characters of that time did not have punctuation, and he couldn't remember how he had dealt with it then. Based only on his own thoughts, he said, "The punctuation is incorrect. I think this sentence should be: 'The people can be made to follow, if they cannot be made to follow, know it.'"

Fusu's eyes lit up, and he clapped his hands with the bamboo slips, exclaiming, "Excellent! As for the common people, if they are capable of doing something, let them do it. If they are not competent, then teach them how to do it!"

He did not agree, simply because such conjecture was not necessarily accurate. How to punctuate sentences has become a science in itself; either of the two interpretations above is plausible, depending on how those in power choose to proceed.

Back then, he was probably just as grateful that he chose to follow Fusu. He just never imagined that his dream would shatter before it could be realized.

"Bi Zhi, you are truly my trusted advisor. When I rule the world, the position of Prime Minister will undoubtedly belong to you."

The vows of the past, like background music in a movie, slowly fade away until they are barely audible.

The shopkeeper opened his eyes and found himself asleep on the counter of the Silent Shop.

This is a very rare occurrence for him, because his body now rarely experiences sleepiness.

Looking at the rabbit doll he'd been using as a pillow, the shopkeeper couldn't resist poking it. The doll didn't react, probably asleep too. Feeling the slight chill in the air, the shopkeeper looked up and saw large, fluffy snowflakes falling outside the window. This was a rare occurrence for this southern city, happening only once every few decades. The shopkeeper stared blankly for a while, feeling a sense of disorientation, almost as if he were dreaming again. After a long while, he remembered to add a few pieces of charcoal to the small red clay stove beside him, then got up and stretched his stiff body slightly.

How could he dream about something so far in the past? It seems he's really become obsessed with imperial antiques lately...

With a faint, self-deprecating smile on his lips, the boss walked past the jade screen and into the inner room.

The slightly distorted rabbit plush toy struggled to its feet, hopped around on the counter, and shook itself. The doctor was pleased to find that it had returned to its round and chubby shape. Oh. No, its original body wasn't this fat! The doctor's rabbit ears drooped, and looking at the swirling snow outside the window, a hint of worry appeared on its adorable face.

It was almost the end of the month, but the boss hadn't taken out a single imperial antique to suppress the Qiankun Grand Array.

Actually, saying there wasn't anything wrong isn't entirely accurate. The doctor saw the boss take out the blank stele, but perhaps because it was already broken in two, there was no reaction after it was placed in the array's core. And then there was the Four Seasons Painting—the painter who copied it every day threatened to kill himself but wouldn't let the boss take it. Damn it! That Four Seasons Painting wasn't even his! What right did he have to throw a tantrum and threaten suicide?!
After counting on his fingers for a lifetime, he realized that he had already used nine imperial antiques, meaning he needed three more. Although the Silent Shop had many antiques, if he wanted imperial antiques of that caliber, he would need to bring out twelve at once, which was indeed a bit of a stretch.

The doctor, anxious for his boss, was increasingly irritable. Although the boss appeared calm and collected, the doctor had already sensed something was amiss. The boss had been absent-minded all day, and had even fallen asleep while lost in thought. Although he hadn't slept for long, it was very strange for him to do this.

The rabbit plush toy rolled back and forth on the counter. When the owner came out from the back room, he saw this adorable scene and couldn't help but soften his expression.

"Huh? You're going out?" The doctor looked up and was taken aback to find that the boss was wearing a gray woolen overcoat over his red dragon robe. This outfit is really fashionable; it doesn't seem like the boss's taste!

"Okay, you watch the house." The shopkeeper gave a simple instruction, but as he was about to leave, he suddenly felt a slight weight on his shoulder. Turning around, he saw that the rabbit plushie had jumped onto his shoulder and, because of the force of the jump, had lost its balance and slid down his arm. Just as it was about to fall to the ground, the shopkeeper's fingers barely caught the rabbit plushie's cotton-padded coat, preventing it from making intimate contact with the ground.

"I want to go too!" The doctor breathed a sigh of relief, letting himself sway in mid-air.

The shopkeeper sighed. Based on his experience, if he refused the doctor's request, he'd be nagged to death by the chatterbox when he got back. It seemed his plan to go out while the doctor was sleeping was completely ruined. The shopkeeper stuffed the rabbit plush toy into his coat pocket and said helplessly, "Remember not to move or make a sound."

"I know, do you even need to tell me?" The doctor chuckled smugly, pulling his long ears back from the outside and carefully hiding them behind his head.

As soon as Lu Zigang got out of the taxi, he shivered from the cold and quickly pulled his down jacket tighter. He was used to heavy snow in the north, but winters in the south were truly unbearable; the snowfall here was no less intense than in the north!
"Xiao Lu, this way." A middle-aged man who got out of the taxi with him was not as disheveled as him, and instead smiled and beckoned him to come this way.

"Here you are!" Lu Zigang strode after him. This time, he was in Hangzhou on a business trip with Professor Tang. It was said that a prominent collector in Hangzhou had recently passed away, leaving behind countless antiques and paintings. His descendants, unable to preserve them, had publicly issued invitations to hold a private auction to sell them off. After all, antique collecting isn't just something money can buy these days. Porcelain pieces become worthless if they're chipped or broken, and paintings and calligraphy are even more difficult to care for—humidity, temperature, and insect infestation must be controlled. Without patience and genuine interest, it's impossible to pour such passion into antiques.

So once the invitations were sent out, people from all walks of life in the antique world flocked to the museum, even attracting the attention of the National Museum. Nowadays, museums receive subsidies and benefits for donations, and they also gain a good reputation. That's why Professor Tang came to negotiate this time.

Professor Tang, whose real name is Tang Anshi, is a visiting professor at the National Museum of China, specializing in calligraphy and painting. He is known as "Tang Half-Foot," meaning that he can distinguish the authenticity of a calligraphy or painting scroll by simply unfolding it by half a foot. This title is somewhat exaggerated, but it demonstrates Professor Tang's status in the antique world. It is said that this deceased tycoon of the collecting world had a large number of calligraphy and paintings, which is why Professor Tang came after hearing about it. As for Lu Zigang, he has been studying the restoration of ancient calligraphy and paintings for over a year. His superiors, seeing his diligence and seriousness, felt he was capable of handling important tasks and assigned him to be Professor Tang's assistant.

They were already in the suburbs of Hangzhou. Following behind Professor Tang, Lu Zigang realized they were outside a rather large hot spring hotel, with luxury cars parked on both sides of the street. This private auction would last for three days, and today was the last day. Lu Zigang didn't think they were late; he knew the best items would definitely be saved for the last day, and besides, their National Museum wouldn't have acquired anything that wasn't of high quality.

Stepping into the warm hotel lobby, Lu Zigang felt like he had come back to life. As he followed Professor Tang into the conference room on the top floor, he subconsciously looked around.

"Do you know anyone who might be coming?" Professor Tang noticed his subtle movements and asked with a smile.

"Uh, I know the owner of an antique shop here," Lu Zigang said, then chuckled awkwardly, clearly not expecting to find the owner of Ya She here. The antiques at Ya She felt so magical to him, completely incomparable to ordinary antiques.

"Oh, maybe I'll run into him, since he's a local," Professor Tang said casually, not taking it seriously. After all, it was the last day of the auction, and those who weren't qualified wouldn't even get an invitation for this final day. He was just the owner of an antique shop; the value of one item here could probably buy several of his shops. Professor Tang didn't mind. He had already spotted a few familiar faces and quickly greeted them with a smile.

Lu Zigang scratched his head, agreeing that it would be best if they didn't run into each other, and also that Young Master Hu shouldn't come. If the owner showed up, it meant there was something strange about the antiques here, and he didn't want any complications—that would be too terrifying. Thinking back to his past entanglements with the owner and that Young Master Hu—the Kunwu knife, the blank stele with dragon patterns, the Liubo game—he almost got killed inexplicably in that mansion!

A chill ran down Lu Zigang's spine, and he quickly forced back those unpleasant memories. Professor Tang was chatting with his old friends, and he didn't want to join in. The venue was impeccably decorated, with a distinctly antique feel. The tables were adorned with display cases, filled with exquisitely crafted replicas, exuding a subtle luxury. The number of attendees at the auction was relatively small, only about seventy or eighty people, mostly middle-aged and elderly, with a few younger attendees like himself, brought in by their elders to observe.

As Lu Zigang glanced around the venue, he spotted a familiar face – Chen Miao, whom he had met before at the Liubo Chess House. Chen Miao owned a private library specializing in collecting rare and ancient books. Lu Zigang's gaze met Chen Miao's briefly before looking away. Chen Miao recognized him but showed no intention of reconnecting, clearly wanting to erase that memory. Lu Zigang didn't mind. He noticed some food in a corner of the venue. He hadn't eaten much that morning while rushing to catch his flight, so he strolled over. He was relieved that his flight had arrived just in time; any later and he might have been unable to land due to the heavy snow in Hangzhou.

Lu Zigang had just picked out some pastries and placed them on a plate when he turned around and saw the owner of the Silent Shop leaning against the window, resting with his eyes closed. He hadn't seen him earlier because the heavy curtains had obscured his view. Lu Zigang was immediately stunned. The owner of the Silent Shop was really here? Did this mean there was something strange about the antiques at this auction? Would it be safer for him to turn around and leave immediately?
"King Qi. King Qi?"

He opened his eyes and found himself in the central command tent. It was already late, and the bronze phoenix-fish lamp on the lacquered table in front of him was flickering dimly. The light was so dim that the face of the person sitting opposite him was somewhat indistinct.

Was I dreaming again? The King of Qi? Was he being called?
"King Qi, Wu She has already left." The man opposite him saw that he had come to his senses and began to report on military affairs.

Hearing these words, and hearing the orderly patrolling steps of the soldiers outside the large tent not far away, some distant memories were slowly awakened in his mind.

This should have been during the time he used the alias Han Xin, around 203 AD. After he pacified the State of Qi, Liu Bang enfeoffed him as the King of Qi. Xiang Yu secretly sent Wu She to persuade him to rebel against Han and unite with Chu, agreeing to divide the world into three kingdoms. Of course, he sternly refused.

In fact, his initial goal was simply to support a member of the Qin royal family to overthrow Qin Er Shi (Hu Hai), but the latter had killed all his brothers, leaving him with no other choice. He had no choice but to join Xiang Yu, and then Liu Bang. However, Xiang Yu later massacred Xianyang, which brought his dissatisfaction with the latter to its peak, making cooperation with him impossible.

"King Qi, I once studied the art of physiognomy and know a thing or two." The man opposite him suddenly changed the subject, his tone extremely low. He regained his composure; his memory of this period was somewhat hazy. He had lived in this world for far too long; so many people he had met, so many things he had done, so many words he had spoken, had been crushed to dust by the wheels of time. He pressed his temples hard, and after a long while, he finally remembered that the man's name was Ke Che, a debater from Fanyang, and one of his advisors at the time.

"The art of judging character?" He heard himself chuckle knowingly. "How is your skill in judging character, sir?"

"A person's worth or lowliness lies in their bone structure and appearance. Their joy or sorrow lies in their facial features and complexion. Their success or failure lies in their decisiveness. If you judge a person by these three points, you will never be wrong." Ke Che leaned forward, his face full of inscrutable wisdom.

Only then did he get a clear look at Kuai Che's face. The man was fair-skinned and beardless, with a thin build and a wise gleam in his eyes. He smiled faintly and said, "Oh? Then, sir, what do you think of my fate?"

Kuai Che's deep eyes stared straight at him, and after a long while, he slowly said, "The King of Qi's face suggests that he can only be enfeoffed as a feudal lord at best, and even then, his life will be in danger... Strange, but His Highness the King of Qi's back is of immeasurable nobility... The two contradict each other, how strange..."

He narrowed his eyes slightly. If Fusu had ascended the throne smoothly back then, mere princes and dukes would certainly have been no problem, especially since the Gan family was already a powerful and influential clan. As for the danger to his life? He had already experienced it once.

He took a deep breath and listened as this strategist, known for his eloquence, continued to speak fluently, eventually turning to persuading him to raise an army and establish his own independent state.

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

He can sit on it whenever he wants; it's that simple.

But he didn't want to.

"...Your Highness's achievements in conquering Wei, pacifying Zhao, coercing Yan, and stabilizing Qi are unparalleled. There is no more reward to bestow, no more titles to bestow. If you surrender to Chu, the King of Chu will not believe you; if you return to Han, the King of Han will be terrified. Although Your Highness holds a ministerial position, you wield the power to overpower the monarch, and your reputation surpasses that of the entire world. Your subordinates are deeply worried..."

Perhaps it was because Lu Zigang's gaze was too intense that the boss opened his eyes from his hazy dream, looked at Lu Zigang with a slight surprise, and said with a slight smile, "I didn't expect you to come too."

"Oh, I just got off the plane at noon. I was thinking of visiting you tomorrow if I had time," Lu Zigang hurriedly explained, feeling ashamed of his last-minute retreat, but his curiosity was almost overflowing. "Boss, what did you come here for this time? Tell me! That way I can let Professor Tang know beforehand and avoid bidding wars." In fact, Tang Anshi's conversations with his acquaintances were mostly about this kind of pre-auction briefing. The auction invitation already listed some of the items, and although this kind of prior notification couldn't dispel competitors' ambitions, it at least gave them some idea of ​​what to expect.

The boss raised an eyebrow, but before he could say anything, he suddenly looked towards the entrance of the venue as if he had sensed something, and his expression changed slightly.

Lu Zigang followed his gaze, his expression changing as well. He saw the very person he least wanted to see, Young Master Hu, walking expressionlessly into the venue. His unique white hair and red eyes, coupled with the little red bird perched on his shoulder looking around, made him impossible to mistake. If the thought of leaving had only fleetingly crossed Lu Zigang's mind earlier, now he truly wanted to go. Choked with emotion, he knew he shouldn't get involved in what was happening in Hangzhou!

Strangely, this young master Hu also came with a group of people. The middle-aged man leading the way was refined and cultured, but he used a cane, indicating that he had some difficulty walking. Lu Zigang recognized him as the curator of a museum in Hangzhou; he had met him at some conferences before. To the curator's right, standing shoulder to shoulder with him, was a young man.

Lu Zigang frowned because the man looked extremely kind. After a moment's recollection, he remembered that this man had a deep connection with the boss. He was the one whose past life memories were also summoned during the Bai Ze pen incident; he seemed to be a doctor.

The curator greeted a few acquaintances first, but didn't stop. Instead, he walked straight towards the corner where the owner and Lu Zigang were. Lu Zigang quickly put down the pastries he was holding, wiped his hands, and realized that the curator wasn't coming for him at all.

"Haha, boss, you're here too! This time I've got my eye on that set of celadon-glazed, carved, secret-color porcelain cups and saucers. Don't try to take them from me!" The curator laughed heartily, not caring whether the boss responded or not, and turned to greet and chat with the others. This behavior clearly showed that he valued the boss highly, attracting some curious glances from others. However, seeing that he was just a young man, they didn't pay much attention.

The curator was extremely nervous. He had even made a special trip to the Silent Shop earlier that day, only to find it empty. This greatly worried him. He had originally planned to give the owner a ride, hoping to build a relationship along the way so the owner wouldn't steal the item he had his eye on. However, just as he was about to leave, he happened to run into the doctor and Hu Hai. Knowing that the owner and the doctor were good friends, the curator didn't think much of it and the three of them came together. What he didn't know was that the doctor's soul had long since been replaced; he was no longer the innocent doctor he once was.

The curator said a few words and left, but Fusu and Huhai did not follow. The shopkeeper looked at Fusu in front of him, his heart filled with mixed emotions, and sighed softly, "I didn't expect you to come too."

Lu Zigang felt something was off when he heard this. He had just said those words once, but hearing them again from his boss carried an indescribable, complex meaning. Lu Zigang rubbed his hands together, feeling his palms starting to sweat. Should he step away for a moment?

Fu Su smiled and said, "I just wanted to see you, nothing else." He paused slightly, his gaze falling on the rabbit doll ear sticking out of the boss's coat pocket, and his smile deepened. "It's been almost a year since we last saw each other."

"Almost a year already?" The shopkeeper paused, his concept of time completely different from others. A year wasn't a long time for him. In the Silent Shop, time seemed to stand still, yet also to fly by; it felt like his last meeting with Fusu, their falling out, was just a blink of an eye. Composing himself, the shopkeeper looked at the curator, who was making connections with everyone in the distance, and raised his chin, saying, "You and the curator's life?"

"I don't know him. He seems to recognize this body of mine. But don't worry, I could have gotten in today even without the curator. It was just a coincidence." Fusu was telling the truth, because Huhai had connections in the antique world, and he had already obtained an invitation. Fusu spoke just like an ordinary person, using slightly archaic language, which was naturally inappropriate for ordinary occasions—when in Rome, do as the Romans do.

Hu Hai, standing to the side, lowered his eyes, his forehead twitching. Perhaps his elder brother hadn't noticed, but today he was unusually talkative, quite unlike his usual self.

Lu Zigang could feel the intense killing intent emanating from the room simply by standing there; even the temperature seemed to drop several degrees instantly, sending chills down his spine. Just as he was about to find an excuse to leave, the music in the hall stopped, the host came on stage to invite everyone to their seats, and announced that the auction was about to begin. Lu Zigang went to find Professor Tang, secretly relieved to finally be out of the eye of the storm, only to find Professor Tang chatting with the curator, and the two ended up sitting together. The curator then invited the owner to come along, followed by the doctor and Young Master Hu. There were no seats left in Professor Tang and the curator's row, so Lu Zigang was forced to sit in the back row with the owner and others, feeling utterly helpless and downcast, only able to lower his head and flip through the brochures introducing some of the items to be auctioned.

After the host took the stage and offered a few polite words, mourning the deceased luminaries of the collecting world and welcoming the attendees, he immediately got to the point. The first ten items to be auctioned were all designated for private collection. While the curator and Professor Tang, among others, felt these items were of good value, they weren't quite up to par. They had all privately discussed that a total of fifteen items would be auctioned today, with the last five being national treasures. These five items were meant for sale to the attending museums, even if ordinary people could afford them, they couldn't afford to keep them. However, museums' funding was naturally far less than that of private collectors, so the first ten items could fetch astronomical prices, while the combined value of the last five national treasures might not even equal the price of a single one of the first ten.

The curator was in a good mood because he only learned about the auction's arrangements upon arrival and couldn't help but admire the family's resourcefulness. This time, he didn't need to worry about the shop owner trying to steal his items, because the set of celadon-glazed, carved, secret-color porcelain cups and saucers he had his eye on were undoubtedly national treasures.

When the auction reached the fourth item, a Ming Dynasty crab-shell celadon inkstone, the curator, surprisingly, didn't raise his paddle even once. He turned around in confusion and asked, "Boss, what's wrong? Don't you have anything you like?"

The boss nodded but did not answer.

After asking the question, the curator slapped his forehead, realizing he had been too excited to think straight. He had seen all the things in the Silent Shop before; the items displayed in the outer treasure pavilion alone were priceless. Although the Chengni inkstone was a good item, the owner casually kept it on the counter and used it every day—a Duan inkstone from the Song Dynasty's Meihua Pit. How could he possibly be interested in this?

The curator discreetly turned his head back, no longer gloating. Didn't he see the owner's expression wasn't pleasant? It must be because those five items weren't open to private auctions; he needed to keep a low profile…

The boss did look unhappy, but the reason was definitely not what the curator thought.

Lu Zigang sat on the outermost edge, but he leaned forward desperately, whispering to Professor Tang in the row ahead for a question. Professor Tang, always eager to teach, was happy to offer some pointers, especially since it wasn't the museum's collection up for auction. However, the more Lu Zigang answered, the more he felt that this young man's basic knowledge was lacking. He didn't even know the different pits in Chengni inkstones. Lu Zigang wasn't that ignorant, of course, but if he didn't try to start a conversation, he felt like he was being pierced through by the doctor on the other side of the boss! Although he knew that doctor wasn't looking at him at all!
Fortunately, Young Master Hu was sitting on the farthest side from him. In Lu Zigang's eyes, Young Master Hu was naturally a thousand times, ten thousand times more dangerous than the boss. However, this arrogant Young Master Hu was unusually well-behaved today! He hadn't uttered a single word, which was truly strange…

"Your Highness, Prince Qi!" He snapped out of his daze and suddenly realized he was standing on the city wall, with his troops engaged in fierce fighting not far away. Of course, it was just a show of force, not a real battle, as this was not a battlefield, but merely routine drills.

He blinked slowly, then opened his eyes again, confirming that the scene before him was not his imagination, and that he was probably dreaming again.

"Your Highness, have you made a decision regarding the words I spoke the other day?" He had heard this nagging voice in his ear not long ago, so he didn't need to turn around to confirm that the person behind him was the debater Kuai Che.

He held a command flag in one hand and slowly tapped the gray city bricks with the other. Why did he keep recalling what happened back then?
"When the birds are all gone, the good bow is put away; when the cunning rabbit is dead, the hunting dog is cooked; when the enemy state is destroyed, the strategist is killed. The King of Han is not a magnanimous person, Your Highness, please think it over!" Kuai Che said earnestly and sincerely.

He raised his hand, raised the command flag, and waved it. Suddenly, the deafening sound of war drums rose up, with varying intervals. The soldiers below the city wall obeyed his command and began to quickly change formation in perfect unison.

“Your Highness, in the eyes of emperors, meritorious officials are inherently guilty. Who gave them the ability to rebel? All emperors guard against meritorious officials as if they were thieves, without exception.” Kuai Che couldn’t understand why this Prince Qi was so blindly loyal. Are kings and generals born with special privileges? If they were in each other’s shoes, Kuai Che, with such elite troops and such unparalleled achievements, would definitely compete for them.

“Without exception…” he muttered to himself, but his thoughts were not on Liu Bang, but on someone else.

"Bi Zhi..."

The boss opened his eyes and found himself surrounded by a noisy crowd bidding against each other. After a moment of stunned silence, he realized that he had lost his senses in the auction hall.

"Bi Zhi? What's wrong?" Fu Su asked with concern, even reaching out to touch his forehead to see if he had a fever.

The boss subtly avoided his hand, shook his head slightly, and offered no further explanation.

The repeated dreams about past events are because my mind is in turmoil as I try to reclaim that thing.

Regardless of the minor incident involving the owner, the auction continued smoothly until the tenth item was sold, and their row made no bids. This was perfectly normal to onlookers; the four people in the row all looked to be in their early twenties, clearly there to watch the spectacle.

Of course, Lu Zigang was just there to make up the numbers, but the others weren't. The boss looked down on these collections; Fusu's intentions were more like a ruse than a genuine desire; and Huhai, with his extremely high standards, decided that these antiques had no spirit or essence and were worthless.

The doctor's rabbit doll, no longer obediently nestled in the shopkeeper's pocket, had already poked its little head out. But he never looked at the exhibits on the stage; instead, he stared intently at Fusu, who was right in front of him.

To be precise, it means staring at your own body.

Although he was indignant at this thief who had taken over his place, the doctor had to admit that the guy's temperament was completely different from his own.

Dressed in designer casual wear, he was clearly a winner in life. His face, without glasses, exuded an undeniable sharp and domineering aura, yet it was well-controlled, without being overtly aggressive. Just sitting there casually, he carried himself with the air of a superior.

Looking back at his former self, he felt like a completely different person! The doctor was in low spirits, and his gaze grew increasingly fierce.

Of course, no matter how fiercely the rabbit plush toy glares, it's still incredibly cute and vulnerable. The doctor's long ears drooped, vowing to get the shopkeeper to replace it with a tiger plush toy when he got back, or a Tyrannosaurus Rex if necessary! Actually, a Gundam would also work…

The doctor's thoughts wandered off again, but Fusu didn't even have time to glance at him, completely disregarding his opponent.

When the host announced the next item, the curator, who had been relaxed, sat up straight, and Professor Tang ignored Lu Zigang's basic knowledge questions, clutching his invitation tightly. Each invitation had a number on the back; bidders could simply hold up their invitation to bid.

The remaining five items were all pre-selected for museums, and only those with special numbers could bid on them. Therefore, the atmosphere wasn't as lively as before, and the bidding proceeded quickly, clearly indicating that the museum representatives had reached a prior agreement. The museum director acquired the set of celadon-glazed, carved, secret-color porcelain cups he had his eye on, Professor Tang purchased a painting by Lang Shining of the Qing dynasty, "Emperor Qianlong Slaying a Tiger," and the other three items were subsequently auctioned off.

The host gave a brief closing remark and the meeting adjourned. Those who won the auction took their invitations to hand them over to the relevant personnel, and the others left one after another, quickly leaving the venue quiet. Professor Tang and the curator, among others, did not rise; they were following the proper procedures and were not in a hurry. Professor Tang was about to say something when his gaze fell on a certain spot, and his brows furrowed.

"Huh? Isn't that Old Chen? Why is he in the lounge?" The curator also noticed something was wrong. The lounge was next to the main hall. Since the auction was taking place, the descendant of that big shot in the art collecting world must have come, but he just didn't show up.

Lu Zigang was taken aback. He recognized the person they were talking about—Chen Miao, the one who owned a private library. Lu Zigang wasn't stupid; he quickly lowered his voice and said to Professor Tang, "This man hasn't bid once at the auction. He's very capable; he wouldn't have come for nothing." Lu Zigang's detailed observation stemmed from his earlier idleness. Besides the owner and his group, this was the only person he recognized present.

At this moment, the boss sitting next to Lu Zigang stood up, walked past him, and headed directly towards the lounge where Chen Miao had gone. Naturally, Fusu and Huhai, who were beside him, followed suit.

The curator tapped the ground with his cane and immediately exclaimed with renewed vigor, "What a blunder! The owner must have some hidden treasures he hasn't brought out for auction!" With that, he quickly stood up and followed the owner, his steps unsteady.

Professor Tang, of course, wouldn't be left behind and immediately followed. Lu Zigang silently complained in his heart again. Originally, Chen Miao's actions alone wouldn't have attracted much attention, but with six people in their group, such a commotion was bound to draw attention. Fortunately, by this time, most of the people in the venue had left, so it didn't cause any trouble.

The lounge wasn't actually small; once the door opened, it was roughly the size of a conference room, with a long table inside. Chen Miao was secretly pleased with his discerning eye and was trying to strike up a conversation with one of the ladies in the lounge when he was surprised to find five or six people entering as soon as the door opened.

"Well, Old Chen, you actually wanted to eat alone? I've caught you now, haven't I?" The curator chuckled and sat down opposite Chen Miao with great pride.

Chen Miao chuckled wryly, rubbed his nose, and sighed, "I just knew there was something that wasn't put up for auction, so I came to ask."

"What is it?" Professor Tang asked curiously after taking his seat. However, being courteous, he first handed the woman his business card and they exchanged names.

The woman, surnamed Zhang, was not a descendant of the tycoon in the art collecting world, but a lawyer. She was probably in her thirties, with an oval face and a capable, shrewd demeanor. Chen Miao immediately deflated; he couldn't get anything out of talking to a lawyer. He had originally thought she was a descendant of the old gentleman! It seemed she really didn't want to show her face.

"Huh? Judging from your expression, what is it?" The curator also became interested. They had all seen too many antiques. What kind of antique could it be that could disappoint someone like Chen Miao like this? "It's not some ancient score of 'High Mountains and Flowing Water,' is it?" The curator teased, because Chen Miao was obsessed with all kinds of ancient books, including scores of musical instruments.

As they chatted, the lawyer Zhang got up and walked over to the boss and his group to hand out his business card. These were all social etiquette, which they paid no attention to.

Chen Miao wiped his face, regained his composure, and sighed softly, "It's a get-out-of-jail-free card."

"An immunity card?" The curator and Professor Tang were both shocked.

"Immunity token" is a common term used by ordinary people; the proper name should be "Iron Certificate of Red Inscription" or "Iron Contract of Red Inscription," a token bestowed by emperors upon meritorious officials in ancient times, granting them hereditary privileges or immunity from punishment. It was named "Iron Certificate of Red Inscription" because it was written in red ink on an iron plate. To ensure authenticity and prevent forgery, the certificate was split in half, with one half kept by the court and the other by the feudal lord. It was first issued by Emperor Gaozu of Han (Liu Bang), and later emperors of various dynasties followed suit, making it a form of reward for meritorious officials and feudal lords. It is also frequently described in folk operas and legends, where it is called an "Immunity token" because of its power to exempt one from death.

Although countless pardons were issued throughout history, over time, these pardons were either broken, lost, or directly used by later generations and reclaimed by the royal family, so very few have survived. The earliest known pardon is the iron certificate of Qian Liu, King of Wuyue during the Five Dynasties period.

Thinking of this, Professor Tang couldn't help but feel smug, because this iron certificate was now housed in the National Museum of China. He asked with a boastful tone, "This iron certificate was inscribed with silver characters during the Liang Dynasty, gold characters during the Sui Dynasty, and the Ming Dynasty imitated the Tang style. Old Chen, have you ever seen that pardon plaque? What was its design?"

Lu Zigang was half-attentive to their conversation, but the other half was focused on his boss's actions. He saw the lawyer, Zhang, hand a document to his boss, who glanced at it and nodded. What was going on? Lu Zigang dared not move, his eyes wide open, almost cramping.

But then he heard Chen Miao lower his voice mysteriously and ask, "When did the ironclad oath begin?"

The curator chuckled and said, "Well, you old Chen, you're actually testing us now. The Book of Han records that after Emperor Gaozu of Han, Liu Bang, ascended the throne, he 'made a pact with his meritorious officials by splitting tallies and writing them in red ink and iron, which were then stored in a golden cabinet and stone chamber in the ancestral temple.' The term 'red ink and iron oath' originated from this. However, it was later mostly referred to as a voucher."

Chen Miao nodded, his face displaying a profound and inscrutable expression, and slowly said, "Although I have never seen the death-exemption token that the big shot has hidden, I have heard from friends that the death-exemption token is a genuine imperial edict."

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

The genuine imperial edicts, the ones personally issued by Liu Bang, are over two thousand years old and couldn't possibly still exist. Given Liu Bang's massacre of his meritorious officials, none of whom had descendants, how could the edicts have been passed down? This forgery is ridiculously absurd!
Lu Zigang was also skeptical, but then he saw the lawyer, Zhang, take out a brocade box and hand it to the boss on the other side of the lounge. After the boss opened it and checked it, he signed the document. Lu Zigang was stunned, because from his angle, he could see a rusty iron plate lying quietly inside the brocade box.

No way... that's so exaggerated...

Lu Zigang stared in disbelief. When he came to his senses, he saw that the boss and the other two had already left the lounge. Lawyer Zhang sat with the curator and the others, listening to their endless argument with a smile. Lu Zigang opened his mouth, then silently closed it again. He decided to pretend he hadn't seen anything, and besides, the boss and the others leaving meant the trouble was gone.

He was just too curious. Was the iron plate in that brocade box the legendary amulet that granted him immunity from death? Lu Zigang was so curious that he was itching to answer.

Banners fluttered atop the majestic city walls in the distance, and the streets were lined with soldiers and civilians waiting to greet him. He sat astride his horse, observing the attire of the soldiers and civilians with a slow, swaying motion, finally confirming that he was witnessing the scene when he entered Luoyang to attend Liu Bang's ascension to the throne. The soldiers' armor was relatively intact, but their weapons were broken and incomplete. The civilians, though their clothes were clean, were all emaciated and pale after experiencing the tyranny of Qin Er Shi and the turmoil of the era.

But their eyes shone with a dazzling light, a longing for a peaceful and tranquil life.

Even though he hadn't experienced turbulent times for many years, he still couldn't help but feel emotional when he saw such expectant eyes.

But his passion cooled down in an instant, because he knew that this scene was from more than two thousand years ago.

The horses obediently proceeded along the imperial road. Not long after entering the city gate, a man slowly walked in, surrounded by a group of officials. The man had a beautiful beard, a high nose, and a prominent forehead. Years ago, Lü Zhi's father had spotted him and said he had the appearance of an emperor.

He quickly dismounted, unable to recall his feelings at that moment, but intended to perform the kneeling ceremony according to Zhou ritual.

Of course, this was only to give the other party face in public. Even though the person in front of him had already ascended the throne, he would definitely not be able to accept his bow.

Sure enough, Liu Bang quickly stepped forward, grabbed his arm, laughed heartily, and led him toward the main hall.

Surrounded by his many meritorious officials, Liu Bang showed no regard for his duties as subjects; some laughed loudly, some sang at the top of their lungs, and some whispered among themselves. He observed coldly and noticed that Liu Bang's smile was somewhat stiff, clearly indicating his extreme dissatisfaction, though he kept it hidden.

The coronation ceremony had become hazy and illusory at some point, and the surrounding sounds were also chaotic and indistinct. He stood there in a daze, unable to distinguish whether he was in a dream or in reality.

He had dreamed of such a scene countless times, but now, standing on the steps of the imperial palace, was not the person he had expected.

He didn't know how much time had passed when suddenly a very clear sentence entered his ears.

"Now that the realm is at peace, I order Xiao He to establish the laws and regulations, Han Xin to enforce military law, Zhang Cang to establish the procedures, Shusun Tong to formulate etiquette, and Lu Jia to create the *New Discourses*." The Yellow Gate Attendant's voice was extremely penetrating. Each time he called out a name, that person would step forward from the crowd and bow to stand beneath the steps. He, too, stood behind Xiao He like a puppet.

What exactly were his reasons for leaving back then? He clearly wanted to do something practical for those displaced people at first.

His memory was somewhat confused. He lowered his head and continued to think. Suddenly, his hand felt heavy, and an iron plate with cinnabar writing on it fell into his palm.

"His Majesty made a solemn oath by splitting the tally, bestowed upon it a red inscription and an iron contract, which was then stored in a golden cabinet and stone chamber within the ancestral temple..."

He slowly closed his eyes.

Yes, that's when it started...

Holding the brocade box in his hands, the owner looked at the bustling hotel lobby and couldn't help but let out a long sigh.

It seems this thing has a deeper impact on him than he imagined.

The boss turned around and stared intently at Fusu, who was walking beside him.

This is actually a very strange perspective, because in his earliest memories, he always followed the other person's back, always adhering to the proper relationship between ruler and subject, and voluntarily falling behind by half a step.

Never before have we stood side by side like this.

The boss was momentarily dazed, but quickly regained his composure and said calmly, "This belongs to me; I'm just taking it back."

A glint flashed in Fusu's eyes. When the two of them reunited last year, he had heard the boss mention the events of that year, and upon hearing this, he guessed the origin of this pardon. Was it actually the ironclad decree personally bestowed upon Han Xin by Liu Bang?
Although Fusu did not speak aloud, the boss already knew his question and nodded, saying, "That's right, it was indeed made by Liu Bang. Back then, none of the other kings' edicts included a pardon for life, but mine was the only one granted. I knew then that he had hated me for a long time."

"If it were me, I would never have treated you like this," Fusu sighed, utterly dejected.

The shopkeeper pursed his lips, but this time remained silent. The immunity token in his hand was also an imperial antique. However, this antique represented the emperor's betrayal.

The contracts and promises of emperors are always just empty words; even if they are forged from the strongest iron, they can be easily destroyed and shattered.

People say that brothers can share hardship, but not wealth. Back then, when this inscribed contract was issued, the contract was still brand new and gleaming, but Liu Bang's butcher's knife had already fallen.

Therefore, the iron contract was no longer called a "contract" but a "voucher," a term that carries a strong connotation of transaction.

The key to the emperor's betrayal is not actually "betrayal," but rather "betrayal."

The most terrifying kind are those who appear cheerful and friendly on the surface, but secretly sharpen their knives.

Liu Bang awarded each meritorious official half of a red-inked edict and iron certificate, keeping the other half for himself and hiding it in a golden cabinet and stone chamber. On the surface, things remained harmonious, but in private, they harbored deep resentment. After the empire was stabilized, he removed them one by one, according to the names on those edicts that granted them immunity from death.

This is not a get-out-of-jail-free card, but a death warrant.

Perhaps he was too young back then. Even though he had long seen through Liu Bang's true nature and left decisively, he still couldn't let go of the resentment in his heart. Although he could have retrieved the immunity card he held countless times over the long years, he ignored it until today when he had no choice but to use it.

The shopkeeper didn't want to think about the deeper meaning behind Fusu's words. Feeling the rabbit doll in his pocket struggling to climb out, he quickly used one hand to put the doctor back in, and said calmly, "I'm leaving now."

Fusu didn't say anything. Seeing that he was dressed so thinly, he took off his own cashmere scarf and carefully wrapped it around his neck. His gaze fell on the gray woolen coat his boss was wearing. When he realized that the coat was the one he had worn last year when he stayed at the Silent House, the smile on his handsome face deepened.

The boss's lips twitched a few times, but in the end he said nothing, neither refusing the other party's kindness nor leaving quietly.

Hu Hai clenched his fists, finally unable to hold back any longer, and stepped forward, saying, "Brother, isn't that pardon token an imperial antique? Why did you let him take it so easily?" Hu Hai had come today thinking that his brother was finally going to make a move to interfere with the boss's plans. But in the end, his brother did nothing at all.

Fusu's lips curled slightly, and he said nonchalantly, "If you really want something, then let it go. When it comes back to you, you will have it forever."

(End of this chapter)