Big Guoguo decided to open the box. Liu Dashao felt a mixture of emotions but didn’t stop Big Guoguo, since he had agreed to open it eventually.
Fan Debiao was still somewhat reluctant and tried to lecture Big Guoguo with a bunch of so-called moral principles.
Big Guoguo completely ignored Fan Debiao’s teasing and said to him, “If you’re scared of dying, then go hide underwater until I finish opening the box.”
Fan Debiao glanced at the river and replied, “That water’s colder than the South Pole! If I hide in there, I’ll freeze to death. Well, if we’re going to die anyway, better to get it over with like getting pricked by a rain of plum blossom needles.” With that, he lay down on the boat.
Liu Dashao told Big Guoguo, “Go ahead. At worst, I’ll just be a good man again in twenty years!”
Big Guoguo nodded, picked up the ‘Chunyang Treasure Box,’ examined it carefully, and finally settled on one side. He pressed the box firmly onto the boat and twisted that side 180 degrees.
Seeing this, Liu Dashao couldn’t help but be amazed. This completely sealed box could actually be twisted—perhaps this was the precision craftsmanship of the ‘Chunyang Treasure Box’? It made the seams invisible.
After twisting the ‘Chunyang Iron Box,’ they heard a sound of interlocking gears from inside. Suddenly, the side that had been rotated popped open.
Upon seeing the box spring open, Big Guoguo immediately broke into a cold sweat, trembling legs and all, fearing that needles might shoot out from within.
But nothing happened after the box opened. Everyone let out a breath of relief and gathered around the ‘Chunyang Iron Box.’
Liu Dashao looked inside first. The interior of the ‘Chunyang Iron Box’ was extremely complex, with numerous gears of varying sizes on each face. The mechanical principles were completely beyond his understanding—probably even baffling to professionals in mechanical engineering.
Except for the side that had popped open, the other faces each contained several silver needles connected to gears. It seemed Big Guoguo had chosen correctly.
People from the Three Kingdoms era were already using gear transmission systems this sophisticated? It was truly puzzling. If modern mechanics masters saw this box, they’d probably be driven mad. However, this wasn’t the time to study the mechanisms—they needed to see what was actually inside this mysterious ‘Chunyang Iron Box.’
Liu Dashao shifted his gaze to the bottom of the box and saw something folded flat like xuan paper (rice paper).
Fan Debiao looked disappointed and said, “It’s just this? We risked our lives to get it!”
Xuan paper? Even in the Eastern Han Dynasty, the best was only Cai Lun paper. How could such smooth, fine xuan paper appear in a Three Kingdoms tomb? That defied logic. Could this ‘xuan paper’ have been placed there by later generations? But that seemed unlikely, since the box itself was clearly from the Three Kingdoms era. Liu Dashao was completely confused.
Since entering the tomb, there had been sea-dwelling merfolk, ancient relics, and now in a Three Kingdoms tomb, paper comparable to later xuan paper appeared. If not for the freezing river water, Liu Dashao would have wanted to dive in to clear his head.
Fan Debiao said, “I told you not to open it. What’s so special about this thing anyway?”
Even the finest xuan paper wasn’t particularly valuable, but its presence in a Three Kingdoms tomb was strange. Liu Dashao replied to Fan Debiao, “You can’t say that. While this paper may not be valuable, whatever is written on it must have significant research value. You’ve been around Harbin for years—you should understand that better than me.” With that, Liu Dashao reached toward the paper inside the box.
But before his hand could touch it, Big Guoguo stopped him, “Wait! Don’t touch it like that, or this silk manuscript will turn to dust.”
“Wow!” Fan Debiao shrieked, “So this is a Three Kingdoms silk manuscript! Oh my god, we’ve really hit the jackpot this time!”
Hearing Fan Debiao’s words, Liu Dashao finally understood. Silk manuscripts were similar to later xuan paper, but made from silk fabric.
Silk manuscripts were not only valuable cultural relics, but also held significant historical value for studying the history of Chinese calligraphy.
Perhaps the most famous silk manuscript was the Chu Silk Manuscript. The Chu Silk Manuscript was 38.5 cm tall and 46.2 cm wide. The center contained two sets of inverted text—one with thirteen lines, the other with eight. Surrounding these were twelve sections of marginal text arranged in a rotating pattern, with three sections on each side. Each section was accompanied by an illustration of mythical creatures.
In terms of calligraphic artistry, the Chu Silk Manuscript had relatively neat rows and consistent spacing, showing both naturalness and casualness within a pursuit of standardization and order. The script was flat and stable, balanced and symmetrical, solemn and dignified, falling between seal and clerical script. Its brushwork was smooth and rounded, with curves showing a sense of strokes, and variations in thickness displaying elegance. The strokes showed careful artistic intention in their composition.
However, silk manuscripts weren’t merely artistic expressions—they often recorded major secrets.
Liu Dashao was incredibly excited. Perhaps the very purpose of their entering this tomb was to find this silk manuscript. He quickly asked Big Guoguo, “Big Guoguo, what should we do now?”
Big Guoguo replied, “It’s simple—just wear gloves.”
Only then did Liu Dashao realize that during the panic of using the black donkey’s hoof against the female mummy, he had lost his gloves.
Big Guoguo adjusted his gloves, carefully removed the silk manuscript from the ‘Chunyang Iron Box,’ and unfolded it. By visual estimation, it was about 50 cm long and 40 cm wide. It seemed that the silk manuscripts of the Three Kingdoms states were standardized in size.
Originally, there were a total of eight silk manuscripts inside the box. Despite the small size of the box, it could hold eight such manuscripts, indicating how thin these silk manuscripts were.
Eagerly, Liu Dashao asked Big Guoguo, “Big Guoguo, what does it say on them?”
Big Guoguo frowned, shook his head, and said, “Strange! This silk manuscript has only drawings, no writing at all.” He paused, then exclaimed in surprise, “This is a narrative picture—it shouldn’t even be called a silk manuscript anymore. It should be called a silk painting. This is even clearer than a manuscript. As far as I know, no silk paintings like this have ever been unearthed. This is a unique discovery, a groundbreaking find for archaeology!”
Seeing Big Guoguo getting carried away with archaeological talk again, Fan Debiao interrupted, “Stay calm. Let’s just look at the content of this silk painting first.”
Big Guoguo snapped out of his excitement, and carefully laid out the eight silk paintings on the boat.
The painting style was exaggerated, but Liu Dashao, having studied Taoism for years, had no difficulty understanding the silk paintings.
From the first to the seventh silk paintings, they depicted the construction process of this mausoleum. Originally carved into a huge mountain, the hill they had visited was merely a small hill on this great mountain, explaining why the cliff they had seen was taller than the hill.
During the construction, the river itself had originally been the tomb passage. The passage was carved from a cave outside the mountain straight to the stone gate everyone had seen. Countless laborers were shown transporting stone materials into the stone gate, but what was inside the stone gate wasn’t depicted on the silk painting. Liu Dashao thought that Zhang Jue must have been trying to keep some mystery.
Liu Dashao carefully examined the Yellow Turban laborers depicted on the silk painting. The figures were finely detailed, but something seemed off—they looked somehow strange.
At this moment, Cai Qingchong pointed at the tomb builders and said, “These people weren’t volunteers—they must have been slaves.”
Fan Debiao, startled by this, immediately looked closely at the figures on the silk painting. His face showed confusion, like a headless fly, unable to make sense of it.
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