Museum

Museums are the diaries of humanity, civilization, peoples, and nations.

A nation's museums reflect, to a certain extent, the accumulation and splendor of its history, recording the glories and humiliations of its ancestors.

Of course, some museums have vast collections of rare treasures from countries and civilizations around the world. These do little beyond proving that their ancestors were pirates, robbers, slave traders, and drug dealers. It was hard to understand why they felt no shame, but instead took pride in it.

The Xiangnan Museum was not especially famous in China, but in fact, in terms of the number of national treasures forbidden from being exhibited abroad, it ranked behind only the National Museum of China and the Palace Museum (including the Taipei Branch).

Naturally, the most famous exhibits were those related to Lady Xin Zhui. But in Liu Chang'an's memory, the lords and nobles around Junsha had never made much of an impression.

Ants and lords alike were no more than countless waves in a long river. Who could have imagined that, after time tossed one such wave before the eyes of modern people, it would bloom with such elegance and splendor, astonishing the world?

The tomb of a woman so obscure in the history of China had become one of the world's ten most precious tombs as soon as it was discovered. Anyone with even a little common sense knew that tombs like this were too numerous to count throughout China's history. It was hard not to feel a degree of superiority and contempt: beyond China, after all, there were mostly barbarians. A few prosperous years could never erase the naivete born of their ancestors' spiritual and cultural poverty.

Only when Liu Chang'an reached the museum did he discover that it was closed for renovations. He had known about the closure for a long time, and remembered hearing that it would reopen to the public in 2017, but he hadn't expected the posted notice to say it would be around November 2017.

Liu Chang'an was somewhat impulsive in the way he did things. He hadn't looked into it beforehand. He had simply come here, found the museum closed, and felt no particular disappointment. He didn't linger for even a minute before turning and walking away.

He might as well go buy groceries. Liu Chang'an planned to get some mustard greens.

"Hey, young man!"

A middle-aged man wearing an army-green beret called out to Liu Chang'an. Some of the hair beside his ears had turned gray. Dressed in casual clothes and sneakers, with a crocodile-patterned bag tucked under his arm, he waved Liu Chang'an over.

"Here to visit the museum? Interested in antiques and artifacts, are you?" the middle-aged man asked with a genial smile.

Liu Chang'an nodded, and the man handed him a business card: Zhang Xingliang, editor at Xiangnan Museum Magazine.

The card wasn't especially elegant, and the printing was nothing special either. But it didn't say anything like manager, chairman, or CEO, so it was perfectly suitable for an editor.

"The museum won't reopen until at least next year. If you want to see the artifacts inside, you'll have to go to the warehouse." Zhang Xingliang led Liu Chang'an over to the side of the road.

A security guard at the museum glanced over. Zhang Xingliang tossed him a packet of betel nut, and the guard moved away.

"Look... We're all familiar with each other. Our museum magazine and the museum are affiliated, like brothers. We can get into their warehouse. If you'd like to take a look, I can bring you in." Zhang Xingliang pointed to the alley behind him.

"How much?" Liu Chang'an asked.

"One hundred!"

Liu Chang'an thought that was a bit expensive. "I can get in for free next year."

"That's not the same thing at all," Zhang Xingliang said confidently. "You don't know this, young man, but museums usually display replicas. Most of the originals are in the warehouse... This is your only chance to see all the originals."

"All right." Liu Chang'an nodded reluctantly.

Zhang Xingliang led him off, winding through a series of turns until they had skirted the construction area around the museum and reached a rolling shutter door. After looking around, Zhang Xingliang took out a key and unlocked it.

It really was a large warehouse inside, filled with all kinds of handicrafts. Several of the Xiangnan Museum's "national treasures" were prominently displayed right in the center.

A little light leaked through the warehouse roof, and a few lamps overhead swayed unsteadily. All kinds of "artifacts" were scattered haphazardly around the edges and center. At first glance, most were bronzes from the Shang, Zhou, and Spring and Autumn periods, along with a large number of objects from the Warring States, Qin, and Han periods.

A set of chime bells stood conspicuously at the warehouse entrance. Beside it hung a crooked sign that read, "Chime Bells of the Grandson of the King of Chu, Illegitimately Used by a Minister under the Rites of the Feudal Lords." In the later Zhou dynasty, the royal house had declined, and many feudal lords and even high-ranking ministers and officials had begun violating the rites... This was also the origin of the later feudal royal houses' particular wariness about such violations.

In terms of size and craftsmanship, this set of chime bells was inferior to the chime bells of Marquis Yi of Zeng in the Xiangbei Museum's collection. After taking a look, Liu Chang'an turned his eyes away.

"Pay me first," Zhang Xingliang said, snapping his fingers.

Liu Chang'an paid, then picked up a tiger tally. It was quite finely made, with gleaming gold inscriptions and a lifelike expression. Only part of its tail had broken off, marring it.

"How much for this?" Liu Chang'an asked.

"One hundred."

"Twenty at most."

"This is an artifact!" Zhang Xingliang shook his head.

Liu Chang'an stared at Zhang Xingliang. Are you serious?

"Fine, fine. Twenty it is." Zhang Xingliang waved a hand.

Liu Chang'an paid twenty and tucked the tiger tally away. Many of the museum's important artifacts had exquisitely made replicas, ready to replace the originals when they were being restored or loaned out. Museums also operated their own shops selling souvenirs for visitors to collect, all of them finely crafted reproductions.

Under normal circumstances, a tiger tally souvenir like this would cost at least two hundred. But this one was defective. Besides, Zhang Xingliang seemed to be exploiting the convenience of his job to sell public property for personal gain. It cost him nothing, so he didn't care what he sold it for.

Liu Chang'an took a fancy to another ceremonial vessel from the State of Jin, once owned by Zhao Jianzi. Its full name was the Phoenix-Pattern Bronze Basin and Lotus-Lid Dragon-Pattern Square Hu. Since he planned to buy some mustard greens that day to dry into dried greens, it would make a good container.

Zhang Xingliang wanted two hundred for the square hu. Liu Chang'an turned him down; it was beyond his means and what he was willing to spend.

Zhang Xingliang could also tell that there was no more money to be squeezed out of Liu Chang'an. He wasn't like the other tourists visiting the Xiangnan Museum, who were unwilling to leave empty-handed and spent generously.

"Go ahead and look around," Zhang Xingliang said. He couldn't be bothered to entertain Liu Chang'an anymore, and went off to chew betel nut.

After Zhang Xingliang left, the whole warehouse seemed to grow much quieter. Though everything on display here was merely a replica, lacking the unique aura of history that stirred the emotions, the patterns and forms etched into Liu Chang'an's mind, the styles of the objects, and the names of artifacts associated with illustrious figures of their respective eras still stirred a range of feelings in him.

The owner of the square hu before him, Zhao Jianzi, was none other than Zhao Yang, the grandson of Zhao Wu—the orphan in the film Orphan of the Zhao Clan.

"Prince Chao has joined the rebels. Why aren't you all sending troops?" Zhao Yang, still a young man making his first foray into the world, had raged in bewilderment at the feudal lords' indifference while the Son of Heaven was in danger.

"Shi Yang is treacherous, and the Handan clan is beyond foolish!" Zhao Yang, too, had once been green. Faced with Shi Yang's scheme to split the Zhao Clan, he had been powerless to resist.

"Punishment does not apply to the officials, and rites do not extend to the common people? At least in my State of Jin, that's a thing of the past." Zhao Yang had cast the penal codes into a bronze cauldron, publicly proclaiming the laws of the state for the first time in the history of Jin. He had challenged the privileged class, whose power rested on the principle that "punishment does not apply to high officials," and challenged the entire class of officials and nobles of the Spring and Autumn period. Confucius and other Confucian sages had denounced him in the harshest terms... though this was not something he had decided and carried out alone.

From ancient times to the present, the class of officials and nobles had always been the true rulers of China, with only a very few exceptions. Those who challenged that class were invariably reviled after death, their names carried down through all kinds of exaggerated or fabricated stories. In their accounts, Qin Shi Huang was a bloodthirsty demon, Zhu Yuanzhang ugly and cruel, and Yongzheng harsh, severe, and miserly. A careful look at history showed that these were the emperors who had truly dealt harshly with the class of officials and nobles.

Now they were trying to make a comeback... Liu Chang'an recalled many things about Zhao Jianzi, and a peaceful smile gradually appeared on his face.

476 BC:

"Sir... Give me another hundred years. I swear I can..."

"..."

"All right, Zhao Wuxu... If the Zhao Clan ever falls into danger, you can rely on Jinyang, where you'll be serving."

"I will."

The historical records preserved only one thing Zhao Yang had said to his son, Zhao Wuxu: If the State of Jin is in danger, do not dismiss Jinyang as too distant; it must be made your refuge!

There was no preamble, no explanation of why Jinyang was a place they could rely on, and no record of Zhao Yang ever begging anyone for another hundred years.