One person said: The essence of Wuhou Qimen lies not in Qimen, but in Wuhou.

After broadcasting several routine political news items, the news program on that day switched to the studio. The host turned his dignified face slightly to the side, and a blue headline lit up on the screen behind him: "Strengthen the protection of intangible cultural heritage and promote the creative transformation and innovative development of China's outstanding traditional culture."

The scene then switched to the conference room of the Ministry of Culture and Tourism.

The camera pans across the neatly arranged red nameplates and white teacups on the long conference table, finally settling on the speaker's seat.

A young man stood in front of the podium, his short, dark blue slicked-back hair neatly styled, thin-rimmed glasses perched on his nose, and the collar of his white shirt crisp and new. A national emblem on his chest reflected a calm luster under the camera lights.

There was a document in front of him, but when the camera zoomed in, it was clear that he never looked down at it once.

The subtitles at the bottom of the screen slowly scrolled out a line of text: Zhuge Ming, First-Level Inspector of the Intangible Cultural Heritage Department of the Ministry of Culture and Tourism.

"In order to thoroughly implement the decisions and plans of the CPC Central Committee and the State Council on strengthening the protection of intangible cultural heritage, the Department of Intangible Cultural Heritage of the Ministry of Culture and Tourism will soon launch a special campaign for the national survey and registration of intangible cultural heritage."

This operation, guided by the principles of "protection first, rescue paramount, rational utilization, and inheritance and development," focuses on conducting a comprehensive survey of intangible cultural heritage items of significant historical, cultural, and scientific value nationwide, and establishing a unified national intangible cultural heritage archive database…

Zhuge Ming's voice was steady and clear, each word like a stone crushed by a road roller, sharp and distinct.

After he finished reading, he slightly raised his head and looked directly at the camera lens. That look fell on each of the strange people watching the news broadcast through the screen, as if he was greeting each of them individually from a distance.

The scene shifts to another location.

In front of the Tianxiahui Group headquarters building, Feng Zhenghao was wearing his signature black suit, his short silver-gray hair was neatly combed, and his round-framed sunglasses reflected a subtle luster in the sunlight.

He and Zhuge Ming shook hands under the flashing lights of the reporters, both wearing just the right smiles—Zhuge Ming's smile was gentle and composed, while Feng Zhenghao's was frank and sincere.

The two hands are clasped together, frozen in the center of the frame, like a standard news photograph with meticulous composition.

A voice-over rang out at the opportune moment, the announcer's voice clear and resonant: "Mr. Feng Zhenghao, Chairman of Tianxiahui Group, actively responded to the national call for the protection of intangible cultural heritage and donated RMB 5 billion to the National Intangible Cultural Heritage Protection Fund in his personal capacity. The funds will be specifically used to support the rescue and protection of intangible cultural heritage projects of traditional crafts and the training of representative inheritors."

Mr. Feng Zhenghao stated that intangible cultural heritage is a treasure of the Chinese nation, and as builders of socialism, we have the responsibility and obligation to contribute to the protection and inheritance of China's outstanding traditional culture.

The Tianjin Municipal People's Government conferred upon Mr. Feng Zhenghao the honorary title of "Tianjin Cultural Promotion Ambassador".

When the announcer read out the number five billion, countless people from the supernatural world sitting in front of their televisions stopped what they were doing.

Some people's teacups froze in mid-air, some people's chopsticks stopped at their lips, and some people's martial arts postures were frozen in place...

Five billion.

Feng Zhenghao donated 5 billion yuan.

Not five million, not fifty million, it's five billion.

This figure has never appeared in the entire history of the supernatural world. No supernatural organization or individual has ever donated so much money to the country in the name of "intangible cultural heritage protection".

Everyone who saw this news was thinking about the same question—was Feng Zhenghao being manipulated, or had he truly become more enlightened?

……

The Celestial Master's Mansion on Longhu Mountain, in the quiet room on the back mountain.

The quiet room was small, and its furnishings were so simple they were almost rudimentary—a bamboo couch, a low table, a handwritten fragment of the Tao Te Ching hanging on the wall, and a half-dead asparagus fern on the windowsill.

Zhang Zhiwei, the Taoist priest of Tiantong, sat cross-legged on a bamboo couch, his eyes slightly closed, his breathing long and even, as if he had merged with the silence of the quiet room.

Occasionally, a few birds chirped outside the window, and in the distance, he could vaguely hear the noise of tourists on the front mountain, but those sounds had become a kind of indistinct white noise by the time they reached his ears.

He is meditating in seclusion—this is his daily practice without fail, which he has never missed even though he is over a hundred years old.

The cell phone on the low table suddenly vibrated, the vibration sound particularly jarring in the quiet room.

Zhang Zhiwei's brow furrowed very slightly.

He opened one eye, glanced at his phone screen, and saw the words "Director Wang" on the caller ID.

He opened his other eye as well.

Director Wang of the Culture and Tourism Bureau – This call is one I cannot ignore.

He reached for his phone, swiped his finger across the screen, and held it to his ear. His aged yet calm voice carried just the right amount of politeness and composure: "Hello, is this Director Wang? No need to bother you, no need to bother you. What are your instructions?"

Director Wang's voice came from the other end of the phone, warm and polite, without any airs of a leader to a subordinate. Instead, it carried the respect and caution unique to a highly respected senior: "Old Master, I'm so sorry to disturb your peaceful cultivation."

Well, there's something I need to let you know in advance—it's about work.

Leaders from our provincial Department of Culture and Tourism will be visiting Guixi City soon to inspect and guide our work.

According to the current preliminary itinerary, there is a high probability that the trip will pass through Shangqing Town, where we may conduct an on-site inspection of the Tianshi Mansion at Longhu Mountain.

Director Wang paused for a moment, took a breath, and switched his tone from notification to admonition. He slowed down his speech slightly, and each word sounded like he was reading an important document that the other party needed to take notes on: "Old Celestial Master, the Celestial Master's Mansion on Longhu Mountain is a national-level cultural relic protection unit and the most important window unit for Taoist culture in our province. It has a pivotal exemplary significance in the integrated development of culture and tourism."

Over the years, the Celestial Master's Mansion has made great contributions to the inheritance of Taoist culture and the service of local economic and social development. The visit of the provincial leaders this time is also a sign of their concern and support for our work.

We must attach great importance to this and make all necessary preparations in advance so as to welcome the leaders with the best possible attitude.

I need to go through everything – environmental hygiene, reception procedures, explanation routes – there can't be any oversights. Of course, I trust you, I'm just giving you a few routine reminders.

You've worked hard too, sir.

Finally, his tone softened, taking on a more personal warmth: "If all goes well, I'll be able to visit you in person at Longhu Mountain this afternoon. We can talk in detail then."

Zhang Zhiwei held the phone, stunned for a long time.

He had lived to be a hundred years old and had seen all sorts of things, but at this moment his expression still showed a rare, complex look, a mixture of incomprehension, doubt, and even a subtle hint of shock.