Mei Qing, upon reading this, could not help but break into a cold sweat on his back, inwardly reflecting that his previous actions had indeed been somewhat ill-considered.
The items belonging to Ba’er Liu were clearly not things an ordinary household could possess. Furthermore, Ba’er Liu’s behavior had been suspicious, and he had lived in such an isolated place. Mei Qing had recklessly burned the chest, casually distributed the porcelain, and placed the remaining objects into the coffin without ever questioning the legitimacy of their origins.
At the time, Mei Qing had vaguely considered, “Apart from the imperial palace, there would hardly be any other place where such treasures could be found,” but he had not delved further into the possibility that these items might actually have originated from the imperial court itself.
Had he not been rescued by someone, merely harboring stolen goods would have been enough to ruin Mei Qing’s family and cost him his life. Worse still, the matter involved several deaths, including that of Zhao Boxu, a high-ranking official. Thinking of this, Mei Qing became even more intrigued about the identity and motives of the person who had saved him. He could not understand why the Sixth Master had extended his help.
Judging from the Sixth Master’s actions that day, it was obvious he had been acting on someone else’s behalf. Otherwise, given the Sixth Master’s status, he likely would not even have known of Mei Qing’s existence, let alone intervened to rescue him. Yet Mei Qing had no acquaintances within the officialdom—so who could have had such influence to command the Sixth Master’s assistance?
As these thoughts swirled in his mind, Mei Qing continued to read through the case records. Since Mei Qing had been rescued, Ma Shiqing, unable to understand the situation, had released Wang Sigu soon after. The case had ultimately charged Ba’er Liu as the ringleader of the palace theft years earlier, who had escaped and lived in hiding until his recent death. Most of the stolen items had been recovered after his death—except for the items taken by Mei Qing and the others. Apart from the item taken by Li Mei, which had been retrieved, the two items Mei Qing and Wang Sigu had taken were not even mentioned in the official records.
The deaths of Li Mei and Mo Yu had originally been handled by the Prefect of Shuntian. According to the records, the newly appointed Prefect had concluded the case by attributing their deaths to sudden madness and let the matter drop.
As for Zhao Boxu’s death, the account stated that on the night of his death, he had been alone in his study handling official matters when he suddenly cried out in agony. When attendants rushed into the room, they found him already dead. There were no wounds on his body, but his face was twisted in terror, as if he had seen something absolutely horrifying. The records also noted that on the same night, an officer named Gao Ming had died of illness.
A chill crept into Mei Qing’s heart, as though a heavy weight pressed upon his chest, making it hard for him to breathe.
Counting from the beginning, including Ba’er Liu, six people had come into contact with that inkstone. Except for Mei Qing himself, all had died under mysterious circumstances. The entire affair was too strange and eerie to believe.
Mei Qing closed the scroll and fell into deep thought. Until now, he had always been a carefree person. Having only recently recovered from a long illness, and coming from a family that required no effort from him, he had never felt the need to worry about worldly matters. Yet this incident had left him with a profound sense of helplessness and powerlessness in the face of unforeseen events, casting a deep shadow over his heart.
“Three Qings arrived early,” came a greeting, and Mei Qing looked up to see Old Zhang from the Heavenly Courtyard striding in.
In recent days, Old Zhang had become increasingly familiar with Mei Qing. His real name was Zhang Qizheng, styled Zhongda, around fifty years old. He usually wore a serious, thin, dark face, rarely smiling. Within the courtyard, he seldom interacted with others, and when he did, his words often came off as cold. He was not particularly popular.
Zhang Qizheng had long been an avid collector, specializing in calligraphy, paintings, and rubbings of ancient inscriptions, especially rare editions of ancient texts. In those days, most aristocrats and officials who collected antiquities focused on these items for their literary and refined qualities, rather than on high-value jade or porcelain.
Zhang Qizheng’s most prized possessions were his collection of fine rubbings from bronze and stone inscriptions, numbering in the hundreds. This was a time of flourishing during the Ming Dynasty, when more and more ancient bronze vessels were being unearthed, leading to a greater availability of high-quality rubbings. However, scholars and literati of the time had little interest in studying the inscriptions from earlier dynasties. Thus, although the rubbings were excellent, identifying and interpreting the inscriptions remained a major challenge.
Bronze ritual vessels from the Xia, Shang, and Zhou dynasties often bore inscriptions, commonly known as Jinwen or Zhongding script, a form of ancient seal script. Though both large and small seal scripts were related, the difficulty in deciphering them varied greatly.
The reason lay in the fact that small seal script had been standardized by the Qin Dynasty after its unification of China, and later dictionaries like the Shuowen Jiezi provided clear explanations, making it relatively easy to interpret. Large seal script, however, originated in antiquity, with a complex and varied lineage. Characters often had multiple forms, and there were few references for verification, making it nearly impossible for people of that time to read.
Recently, Zhang Qizheng had acquired a rubbing of a bronze basin, obtained through a long chain of transactions, its origin unknown. The inscription on it was difficult to decipher, and despite many people having examined it, none could interpret it. Eventually, he brought it to Mei Qing, who immediately identified it as a vessel cast by a feudal lord during the Shang Dynasty using copper granted by the king, explaining the inscription in full to Zhang Qizheng.
Zhang Qizheng, a seasoned connoisseur, naturally understood how rare Mei Qing’s knowledge was. He was nearly awestruck, immediately clasping Mei Qing’s hand and addressing him as a brother, insisting that Mei Qing visit his home for further discussion.
When Mei Qing saw Zhang Qizheng’s collection of rubbings, he praised them highly, calling them unparalleled in the empire. Some of the pieces were particularly impressive, with inscriptions containing dozens or even hundreds of characters—rare indeed. Zhang Qizheng had always taken pride in these, but most of his friends lacked the knowledge to appreciate them. Thus, hearing Mei Qing’s insights, he felt as if he had found a kindred spirit, exclaiming, “It’s like meeting an old friend at first sight.” From then on, Zhang Qizheng and Mei Qing became very close. Whenever they had free time, Zhang would visit Mei Qing in the Yellow Courtyard to chat about the latest oddities and amusing stories from the capital or to admire new acquisitions together.
Today, Zhang Qizheng entered with a beaming smile and said, “Three Qings, do you have time today to accompany this elder brother on an outing? A few days ago, a friend of mine from the Buddhist and Daoist circles came across a set of Daoist scriptures. From my observation, they seem to be from the Song Dynasty, but there are many suspicious aspects, making it hard to determine their authenticity. I’d like to borrow your discerning eye to help me judge—would that be convenient?”
Mei Qing hesitated slightly and replied, “Today, Huang Xiong has some important matters to attend to. If we both leave, it might reflect poorly on us in front of Master Qiu.”
Zhang Qizheng chuckled and said, “Three Qings, you’ve only been here a short time. This is not how things are done in this office. Don’t worry—I’ll take responsibility with Master Qiu. Please, do me the honor of coming along.”
Hearing this, Mei Qing no longer resisted. He smiled, gathered his documents, locked the door, and left with Zhang Qizheng.
As Mei Qing read through the case files, a cold sweat broke out on his back. He silently admitted to himself that his actions that day had indeed been reckless. The items belonging to Scar Liu were clearly not something an ordinary family could possess. Moreover, Scar Liu’s behavior was bizarre, and he had been hiding in such a place. Mei Qing had impulsively burned the boxes, casually distributed the porcelain, and buried the remaining artifacts without ever considering the possibility that these items might have dubious origins.
At the time, Mei Qing had vaguely thought, “Apart from the imperial palace, there’s probably nowhere else to find such treasures,” but he hadn’t delved deeper into the idea that these items might have actually come from the palace itself.
If it hadn’t been for someone rescuing him, the mere act of harboring stolen goods would have been enough to ruin Mei Qing’s family. Moreover, the case involved several lives, including that of Zhao Boxu, a high-ranking official. Thinking of this, Mei Qing became even more intrigued by the identity and motives of his rescuer. He couldn’t understand why Sixth Master had extended a helping hand to him.
From Sixth Master’s demeanor that day, it was clear that he had acted on someone’s behalf. Otherwise, given Sixth Master’s status, he probably wouldn’t have even heard of Mei Qing’s name, let alone gone out of his way to save him. But Mei Qing had no close connections in the official circles. Who could have had such influence to persuade Sixth Master to intervene?
As Mei Qing pondered this, he continued to read through the case files. Since Mei Qing had been rescued, Ma Shiqing, likely confused by the situation, had also released Wang Shigu. Scar Liu was declared the main culprit in the palace theft years ago, having fled and died in hiding, with most of the stolen goods recovered. As for the items Mei Qing and the others had taken, except for Li Mei’s piece, which was recovered, the items Mei Qing and Wang Shigu had taken were not even mentioned in the files.
The deaths of Li Mei and Mo Yu had been handled by the Shuntian Prefecture Magistrate. According to the case files, the new magistrate had ruled that they died of a sudden mental breakdown, and the matter was left at that.
As for Zhao Boxu’s death, it had occurred late at night while he was alone in his study handling official business. Suddenly, he let out several screams. When his subordinates rushed in, they found him already dead. There were no wounds on his body, but his face was contorted in terror, as if he had seen something horrifying. The file also mentioned that on the same night, a constable named Gao Ming had also died of illness.
Mei Qing’s heart felt heavy, as if something was pressing on his chest, making it hard to breathe.
Counting from the beginning, including Scar Liu, six people had come into contact with that inkstone. Apart from Mei Qing, all of them had died under mysterious circumstances. The whole situation was so bizarre and inexplicable that it was hard to believe.
Mei Qing closed the files and fell into deep thought. Before this, he had always been a carefree person. His health had only recently recovered from a long illness, and his family’s affairs didn’t require much effort from him, so he had never felt the need to worry about worldly matters. But this incident, and the series of unexpected events that followed, had left a deep shadow in his heart, a sense of helplessness and vulnerability he had never experienced before.
“Sanqing, you’re here early,” a voice greeted him. Mei Qing looked up to see Old Zhang from the Tian character room walking in.
In recent days, Old Zhang and Mei Qing had grown closer. Old Zhang’s name was Zhang Qizheng, courtesy name Zhongda. He was around fifty years old, with a thin, dark face that rarely showed a smile. In the courtyard, he seldom interacted with others, and when he did speak, his tone was often cold, so he wasn’t particularly well-liked.
Zhang Qizheng had been a collector for many years, specializing in calligraphy, paintings, and rubbings, with a particular fondness for rare ancient books. In these times, high-ranking officials and nobles often collected antiques, valuing their cultural and artistic significance. As for the more expensive jade and porcelain items, they didn’t attract as much attention.
Zhang Qizheng’s most prized possessions were his collection of fine rubbings of bronze and stone inscriptions, which numbered in the hundreds. During the prosperous Ming dynasty, more and more ancient bronze artifacts were being unearthed, so compared to previous eras, there were many more fine pieces available. However, scholars of the time rarely studied the inscriptions on these ancient bronzes, so even though the rubbings were excellent, deciphering them was a significant challenge.
On many ancient bronzes, there were inscriptions, known as “jinwen” or “zhongdingwen,” which belonged to the “dazhuan” script. Although “dazhuan” and “xiaozhuan” scripts were related, the difficulty in deciphering them was worlds apart.
The reason for this was that “xiaozhuan” had been standardized after the Qin dynasty unified China, and later dictionaries like “Shuowen” provided translations and annotations, making it relatively easy to decipher. “Dazhuan,” however, originated from ancient times, with a complex and varied lineage, and there were many cases of the same character appearing in different forms. With little scholarly research on the subject, almost no one in that era could decipher it.
Some time ago, Zhang Qizheng had acquired a rubbing of a bronze vessel, which he had obtained through various channels, though its origins were unclear. The inscription on it was extremely difficult to decipher, and although many people had seen it, no one could make sense of it. Later, he brought it to Mei Qing, who immediately identified it as an inscription from a Shang dynasty duke, explaining the meaning of the text to Zhang Qizheng.
Zhang Qizheng, being an experienced collector, naturally understood how rare Mei Qing’s knowledge was. He was so impressed that he immediately took Mei Qing’s hand, addressing him as a brother, and insisted on inviting Mei Qing to his home as a guest to seek further advice.
When Mei Qing saw the various rubbings in Zhang Qizheng’s collection, he couldn’t help but praise them, saying they were among the finest in the country. Particularly impressive were a few large pieces with dozens or even hundreds of characters, which were extremely rare. Zhang Qizheng had always been proud of these, but most of his friends didn’t understand their significance, so when Mei Qing praised them, he felt he had found a kindred spirit, exclaiming, “It’s like meeting an old friend.” From then on, Zhang Qizheng and Mei Qing became very close. Whenever he had free time, Zhang Qizheng would visit Mei Qing in the Huang character room to discuss the latest news and gossip in the capital or to admire new acquisitions together.
Today, Zhang Qizheng walked in with a smile and said, “Sanqing, are you free today to accompany me on an outing? A friend of mine recently acquired a set of Taoist texts. To me, they seem like Song dynasty editions, but there are some questionable aspects that make it hard to be sure. I was hoping to borrow your discerning eye to verify their authenticity. Would that be possible?”
Mei Qing showed a hint of hesitation and said, “Today, Brother Huang has some urgent matters to attend to. If we both leave, it might not look good in front of Magistrate Qiu.”
Zhang Qizheng chuckled and said, “Sanqing, you’ve only been here a short while, so you might not know how things work in this office. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of Magistrate Qiu. Just do me the favor of coming along.”
Hearing this, Mei Qing no longer insisted and nodded with a smile. He tidied up the documents in his hands, locked the door, and left with Zhang Qizheng.
The Taiqing Palace was located in the northwest of the capital. It wasn’t large, but it was exquisitely designed. Originally, it had been a Taoist temple of the Quanzhen sect, which had enjoyed imperial favor and a thriving following in earlier times. However, as times changed, the Ming dynasty, while still revering Taoism, favored the Zhengyi sect over Quanzhen. The once-bustling Taiqing Palace had fallen into quiet obscurity, its walls and gates now showing signs of wear.
Zhang Qizheng seemed to be a frequent visitor here. He led Mei Qing through the front hall, through a side door, and into a small courtyard at the back of the temple.
As soon as they entered the courtyard, Mei Qing couldn’t help but admire its serene and charming atmosphere, which truly reflected the lofty ideals of a spiritual practitioner. Unlike other meticulously arranged gardens, this one embraced a natural simplicity. A small stream and a few scattered flowers seemed to have been placed without human intervention. In front of the house stood an ancient pine tree, its twisted branches casting shadows on the eaves, adding to the sense of otherworldliness.
Zhang Qizheng led Mei Qing into the courtyard, where a young Taoist acolyte was sweeping. When the acolyte saw Zhang Qizheng, he smiled and said, “Master Zhang, you’ve arrived. No wonder I saw a spider weaving a web into characters earlier—it must have been a sign of your visit.”
Hearing the acolyte’s words, even the usually stern Zhang Qizheng couldn’t help but laugh. “Mingyue, your tongue is getting sharper by the day. Whether I come or not has nothing to do with your spider. Is Master Bai available?”
The acolyte Mingyue smiled and said, “The spider foretold a guest’s arrival, so how can it be unrelated? Master Bai just finished his morning meditation and is now resting in his room. Let me announce your arrival.”
With that, he put down his broom and hurried to the main room. A moment later, he returned and said, “Master Zhang, please go right in.”
Zhang Qizheng nodded and entered the room with Mei Qing. The main room wasn’t what one might expect of a Taoist hall; it seemed to be Master Bai’s private quarters. The decor was simple, with a large scroll in the center bearing the character “Dao” (道), written with a calm and unpretentious brushstroke on slightly yellowed paper. On either side were a pair of couplets, likely written by the same hand, which read: “The Three Realms are but the wondrous truth; all things are but my mind.”
Seeing this, Mei Qing frowned slightly. As he turned his gaze, he saw a Taoist priest emerging from a side door. The priest wore a hemp robe that had been washed to a pale color and patched in several places. His face was thin, but his eyes were bright and lively. His graying hair was tied into a Taoist bun, secured with a wooden hairpin. In his jade-like hand, he held a black-handled horsetail whisk, giving him the appearance of a true sage.
When Master Bai saw Zhang Qizheng, he gave a slight bow and said, “So it’s Master Zhang. Our discussion of Taoist principles the other day was most enlightening. Your return today must mean you have more to teach me.” Then he turned his gaze to Mei Qing, his expression showing surprise. “This young man has an extraordinary appearance and a remarkable bone structure—he could be considered a worldly immortal! But… ah, I wonder which school he belongs to. Master Zhang, won’t you introduce him to me?”
Hearing Master Bai address Zhang Qizheng as “Master Zhang,” Mei Qing was greatly surprised. He glanced at Old Zhang, whose stern expression and dull speech made him seem like an ordinary man, with no trace of a Taoist master’s demeanor. This Master Bai had immediately labeled him as extraordinary, which was both flattering and confusing.
Zhang Qizheng, however, was delighted to be addressed as “Master Zhang.” His usually expressionless face broke into a smile as he said, “Master Bai, you flatter me too much. I’ve only just begun to learn the Taoist principles and am still at the threshold. I need your guidance. This is my colleague and friend, Mei Qing, who comes from a family with a deep respect for the Tao. He has a keen eye for antiques and is quite renowned in the capital. The other day, when you showed me those Taoist texts, I thought they might be rare treasures from the past. But my own eyes are not sharp enough, so I’ve brought Mei Qing here to verify their authenticity.”
Mei Qing quickly stepped forward to bow, but Master Bai waved his hand modestly and invited Zhang and Mei to sit down. A young acolyte brought tea in three small white cups, each filled halfway with green tea, its fragrance adding to the room’s elegance.
As the three of them sipped their tea and chatted, Master Bai set his cup down and said to Mei Qing, “Just now, I noticed that you seemed to have some insight when you saw the couplet in the hall. I’d be grateful if you could share your thoughts.”
Mei Qing replied, “I wouldn’t dare. I just noticed that the calligraphy of the couplet is calm and ancient, which is certainly remarkable. But I’m puzzled as to why the tones of the two lines don’t match. What could that mean?”
Zhang Qizheng, who had also been looking at the couplet, said, “When I first saw it, I noticed that the first line’s tones were correct, but the second line seemed off. I didn’t dare ask at the time, but now that Mei Qing has pointed it out, could there be a deeper meaning?”
Zhang Qizheng seemed to be a regular visitor, leading Mei Qing through the temple with familiarity. They passed the main hall and entered a side courtyard through a side gate.
As they entered the courtyard, Mei Qing could not help but admire its quiet elegance, truly embodying the refined spirit of a hermit. Unlike other gardens with their carefully arranged beauty, this one exuded a natural charm. A small stream meandered through the yard, with a few wildflowers scattered about as if untouched by human hands. Before the house stood an ancient pine tree, its branches twisting and curling, casting reflections against the eaves, enhancing the sense of detachment from the mundane world.
Zhang Qizheng led Mei Qing directly into the courtyard, where a young Daoist apprentice was sweeping. Upon seeing Zhang, the boy smiled and said, “Mr. Zhang has come—no wonder I saw a spider weaving its web into a pattern earlier, indicating the arrival of an honored guest.”
Hearing this, even the usually stern Zhang Qizheng could not help but smile. “Your tongue gets sharper by the day, Mingyue. What does my coming have to do with your temple’s spider? Is Master Bai available?”
The young apprentice Mingyue laughed, “When the spider weaves auspicious signs, it means honored guests are coming. The Master has just finished his morning cultivation and is now meditating in his room. Let me go inform him.”
With that, he set down his broom and hurried into the main room. A moment later, he returned and said, “Mr. Zhang, please go in directly.”
Mei Qing couldn’t help but feel a cold sweat break out on his back as he read this, silently acknowledging that his actions that day had indeed been somewhat reckless.
The items belonging to Scar Liu clearly couldn’t have been ordinary household possessions. Moreover, Scar Liu’s behavior was bizarre, and he stayed in such a place. Mei Qing had rashly burned the boxes, casually distributed the porcelain, and collected the remaining artifacts without ever considering the possibility that these items might have dubious origins.
At the time, Mei Qing had vaguely thought, “Apart from the imperial palace, there’s probably nowhere else to find such treasures,” but he hadn’t delved deeper into the idea that these items might indeed have come from the palace.
If it hadn’t been for someone’s intervention, the mere act of harboring stolen goods would have been enough to ruin Mei Qing’s family, not to mention the involvement of several lives, including that of Zhao Boxu, a high-ranking official. Thinking of this, Mei Qing became even more intrigued by the origins and reasons behind his rescuer. He couldn’t understand why the Sixth Master had come to his aid.
From the Sixth Master’s demeanor that day, it was clear that he had been acting on someone’s behalf. Otherwise, given the Sixth Master’s status, he probably wouldn’t even have heard of Mei Qing’s name, let alone stepped in to help. But Mei Qing had no close acquaintances in the official circles. Who could have had such influence to persuade the Sixth Master to intervene?
As Mei Qing pondered this, he continued to read through the case files. Since Mei Qing had been rescued, Ma Shiqing, likely confused by the situation, had subsequently released Wang Shigu. Scar Liu was identified as the main culprit in the palace theft years ago, having fled and died in hiding, with most of the stolen goods recovered—except for the items taken by Mei Qing and the others. Apart from Li Mei’s item, which had been recovered, the items taken by Mei Qing and Wang Shigu were conspicuously absent from the records.
The deaths of Li Mei and Mo Yu had been handled by the Shuntian Prefectural Magistrate. According to the case files, the new magistrate had concluded that they had died from a sudden fit of madness, and the matter was left at that.
As for the circumstances of Zhao Boxu’s death, it was said that on the night in question, while he was alone in his study handling official business, he suddenly let out several screams. When his subordinates rushed in, they found him already dead. There were no wounds on his body, but his face was contorted in terror, as if he had seen something extremely horrifying. The records also mentioned that on the same night, a constable named Gao Ming had died of illness.
Mei Qing’s heart felt as if it were submerged in icy water, weighed down by something that made it hard for him to breathe.
Counting from the beginning, including Scar Liu, six people had come into contact with that inkstone. Apart from Mei Qing himself, all of them had died under mysterious circumstances. The whole situation was so bizarre and inexplicable that it was hard to believe.
Mei Qing closed the file and sank into deep thought. Before this, he had always been a carefree person. His health had only recently recovered from a long illness, and his family background didn’t require him to worry about worldly affairs. He had never felt the need to concern himself with such matters. But this incident, and the series of unexpected events that followed, had left a deep shadow in his heart, a sense of helplessness and frustration that he had never experienced before.
“Sanqing, you’re here early,” a voice greeted him. Mei Qing looked up to see Old Zhang from the Tianzi room walking in.
In recent days, Old Zhang and Mei Qing had become quite familiar. Old Zhang’s name was Zhang Qizheng, styled Zhongda, and he was around fifty years old. He usually wore a stern, thin, and dark face, rarely showing a smile. In the courtyard, he didn’t interact much with others, and when he did speak, his words were often cold, so he wasn’t particularly well-liked.
Zhang Qizheng had been a collector for many years, specializing in calligraphy, paintings, and rubbings, with a particular fondness for rare ancient books. In these times, high-ranking officials and nobles who dabbled in antiques mostly focused on these items, valuing their cultural and elegant qualities. Expensive jade and porcelain items didn’t attract much attention.
Zhang Qizheng’s most prized possessions were the various high-quality rubbings of bronze and stone inscriptions he had collected, numbering in the hundreds. During the prosperous Ming dynasty, more and more ancient bronze artifacts were being unearthed, so compared to previous eras, there were many more fine pieces to be found. However, scholars and literati of the time had little interest in studying the inscriptions on these ancient bronzes. As a result, while the rubbings themselves were excellent, deciphering them had become a significant challenge.
On many ancient bronzes from the Three Dynasties period, there were inscriptions. These writings, known as “jinwen” or “zhongdingwen,” were a form of “dazhuan” script. Although “dazhuan” and “xiaozhuan” scripts were related, the difficulty in deciphering them was incomparable.
The reason for this was that “xiaozhuan” had been the standard script promulgated after the Qin dynasty unified China, and later works like the “Shuowen Jiezi” provided translations and annotations, making it relatively easy to decipher. “Dazhuan,” however, originated in ancient times, with a complex and varied lineage, and many characters had different forms. There was also little scholarly research on it, so almost no one in that era could decipher it.
Some time ago, Zhang Qizheng had acquired a rubbing of a bronze vessel, obtained through various channels, with an unknown origin. It bore several lines of inscriptions that were extremely difficult to decipher. Although many people had seen it, no one could make sense of it. Later, he brought it to Mei Qing, who immediately identified it as an item made by a feudal lord during the Shang dynasty, using copper bestowed by the king. Mei Qing then explained the inscriptions to Zhang Qizheng in detail.
Zhang Qizheng, being an experienced collector, naturally understood how rare Mei Qing’s knowledge was. He was so impressed that he almost regarded Mei Qing as a celestial being. He immediately took Mei Qing’s hand, addressing him as a brother, and earnestly invited Mei Qing to his home as a guest, hoping to learn more from him.
When Mei Qing saw the various rubbings of bronze and stone inscriptions in Zhang Qizheng’s collection, he couldn’t help but praise them, saying they could be considered the best in the country. Particularly, there were a few large pieces with dozens or even hundreds of characters, which were extremely rare. Zhang Qizheng had always been proud of these, but most of his friends didn’t understand their significance. Hearing Mei Qing’s words, he felt as if he had found a kindred spirit, exclaiming, “It’s like meeting an old friend at first sight.” From then on, Zhang Qizheng and Mei Qing became very close. Every day, when he had free time, Zhang Qizheng would come to the Huangzi room to chat with Mei Qing about various strange and interesting stories from the capital or to admire new acquisitions together.
Today, Zhang Qizheng entered with a smile and said, “Sanqing, are you free today to go out with me? A couple of days ago, a friend of mine from outside the city happened to acquire a set of Taoist scriptures. In my opinion, they seem to be from the Song dynasty, but there are many suspicious aspects that make it hard to determine. I was hoping to borrow your discerning eye to verify their authenticity. Would that be possible?”
Mei Qing showed a hint of hesitation and said, “Today, Brother Huang has some urgent matters. If we both leave, it might not look good in front of Magistrate Qiu.”
Zhang Qizheng chuckled and said, “Sanqing, you haven’t been here long, but that’s not how things work in this office. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of Magistrate Qiu. Please do me the honor of accompanying me.”
Hearing this, Mei Qing didn’t insist further. He nodded with a smile, tidied up the documents in his hands, locked the door, and went out with Zhang Qizheng.
The Taiqing Palace was located in the northwest of the capital. It wasn’t large but was quite exquisite. Originally a Taoist temple of the Quanzhen sect, it had flourished during a period when the Quanzhen sect was favored by the court. However, times had changed. Although the Ming dynasty revered Taoism, it primarily supported the Zhengyi sect, leaving the Quanzhen sect in the cold. The once-thriving Taiqing Palace had fallen into obscurity, and its walls and gates had become somewhat dilapidated.
Zhang Qizheng seemed to be a frequent visitor here. He led Mei Qing through the temple with ease, passing through the front hall and entering a side courtyard through a side door.
As soon as they entered the courtyard, Mei Qing couldn’t help but admire its serene and charming atmosphere, which truly reflected the profound essence of a place of cultivation. Unlike other meticulously arranged gardens, this courtyard had a natural beauty. A small stream and a few scattered flowers seemed to have been placed without human intervention. In front of the house stood an ancient pine tree, its branches twisting and turning, casting shadows on the eaves, adding to the sense of otherworldliness.
Zhang Qizheng led Mei Qing straight into the courtyard, where a young Taoist acolyte was sweeping. When the acolyte saw Zhang Qizheng, he smiled and said, “Master Zhang, you’re here. No wonder I saw a spider weaving a web in the shape of characters when I went out earlier. It must have been a sign of your arrival.”
Hearing the acolyte’s words, even the usually stern Zhang Qizheng couldn’t help but smile and said, “Mingyue, your tongue is getting sharper. Whether I come or not has nothing to do with your spider. Is Master Bai in?”
The acolyte Mingyue smiled and said, “The spider brings good news when a distinguished guest arrives. How can it be unrelated? The master has just finished his daily meditation and is sitting quietly in his room. Let me announce your arrival.”
With that, he put down his broom and quickly walked to the main room. After a moment, he came out and said, “Master Zhang, please go in.”
Zhang Qizheng nodded and entered the room with Mei Qing. The main room wasn’t what one might expect of a Taoist hall; it seemed to be Master Bai’s private quarters. The decor was unremarkable, except for a large central scroll with the character “Dao” written in a simple yet powerful style on slightly yellowed paper. On either side were a pair of couplets, likely written by the same hand, which read: “The Three Realms are but the wondrous truth, All things are but my mind.”
Seeing this couplet, Mei Qing couldn’t help but frown. As he turned his gaze, he saw a Taoist master approaching from the side door. The master wore a hemp robe that had been washed to a pale color and patched in several places. His face was thin, but his eyes were bright and lively. His graying hair was tied in a Taoist bun, with a wooden hairpin. In his jade-like hand, he held a black wooden-handled whisk, giving him the appearance of a true sage.
When Master Bai saw Zhang Qizheng, he bowed slightly and said, “So it’s Taoist Zhang who has come. When we discussed Taoist principles the other day, I benefited greatly. Now that you’ve returned, I suppose there’s more to learn.” Then he turned his gaze to Mei Qing, his expression showing surprise, and said, “This young man has an extraordinary appearance and a remarkable bone structure. He could be considered a worldly immortal! But… alas, I wonder which school he belongs to. Taoist Zhang, won’t you introduce him to me?”
Hearing Master Bai address Zhang Qizheng as “Taoist Zhang,” Mei Qing was greatly surprised and glanced at Old Zhang. He saw that Zhang Qizheng, with his stern face and dull speech, seemed like an ordinary person, with no trace of a Taoist master’s demeanor. This Master Bai had immediately bestowed such high praise upon him, making it all seem rather mysterious and hard to grasp.
However, Zhang Qizheng seemed delighted to be addressed as “Taoist Zhang.” His usually expressionless face broke into a smile as he said, “Master Bai, you flatter me too much. I’ve only just begun to understand Taoist principles and have barely crossed the threshold. I still need your guidance. This is my colleague and close friend, Mei Qing. His family has long admired the Tao, and he has a discerning eye for antiques, earning him quite a reputation in the capital. The other day, when you showed me those Taoist scriptures, I thought they might be rare treasures from the past. But my eyes are not sharp enough, so I’ve brought Mei Qing here to verify their authenticity.”
Mei Qing quickly stepped forward to bow, and Master Bai, with a humble expression, invited Zhang and Mei to sit down. A young acolyte served tea in three small white cups, each half-filled with green tea, its fragrance adding to the elegant atmosphere.
As the three of them sat sipping tea and chatting, Master Bai put down his cup and said to Mei Qing, “Just now, I noticed that you seemed to have some insight when you saw the couplet in the hall. I would appreciate your thoughts.”
Mei Qing replied, “I wouldn’t dare to presume. I just noticed that the calligraphy of the couplet is simple yet profound, which is quite remarkable. However, I couldn’t help but notice that the tones of the two lines don’t match. I wonder what that signifies?”
Zhang Qizheng, who had also been puzzled by the couplet, added, “When I first saw it, I noticed that the first line’s tones were correct, but the second line seemed off. I didn’t dare to ask at the time, but now that you mention it, perhaps there’s a deeper meaning?”
Seeing the couplet, Mei Qing furrowed his brow slightly. As he turned his gaze, he saw a figure approaching from a side door—a Daoist priest. The man wore a plain hemp robe, faded from washing and patched in several places. His face was thin and pale, but his eyes were bright and piercing. His white hair was tied in a Daoist bun, secured with a wooden hairpin. In his pale, slender hand, he held a flywhisk made of black wood—truly the image of a cultivated sage.
Upon seeing Zhang Qizheng, the Daoist priest bowed slightly and said, “Ah, it’s Master Zhang who has come. The other day, we discussed the Dao, and I gained much from our conversation. I am honored by your return. And this young man,” he continued, turning his gaze to Mei Qing, “has a refined appearance and noble bones—he is indeed a celestial being among mortals! But… ah! I wonder which sect he belongs to. Master Zhang, would you be so kind as to introduce us?”
Mei Qing was greatly surprised to hear the Daoist priest address Zhang Qizheng as “Daoist friend,” and he glanced again at Old Zhang. Zhang’s expression was stern, his words few, and his every movement clearly that of an ordinary man—where was the slightest trace of a Daoist master? This Bai Daoist had barely seen Mei Qing before he started speaking in riddles, making him feel quite perplexed.
But Zhang Qizheng, upon hearing the priest address him as “Daoist friend,” was clearly delighted. The usual sternness on his face broke into a rare smile as he replied, “How could I dare accept such honor? I am but a beginner in the Dao, barely stepping through the gate, and still in need of your guidance. This is a dear friend and colleague of mine, Mr. Mei Qing, from a family of scholarly tradition, who has long aspired to the Dao. He also possesses a rare ability to identify ancient treasures and enjoys a good reputation in the capital. The other day, when you showed me those Daoist scriptures, he remarked that they seemed like precious works from antiquity. But my own eyes are not reliable enough to judge, so I have invited Mr. Mei here to help authenticate them.”
Mei Qing quickly stepped forward to bow, and the Daoist priest returned the gesture with equal courtesy. He invited Zhang and Mei to sit down, and a young apprentice brought tea. Three small white teacups were placed before them, each half-filled with green tea, its subtle fragrance adding to the refined atmosphere.
As the three sat sipping tea, the priest set down his cup and turned to Mei Qing, saying, “Earlier, I noticed that Mr. Mei seemed to have some insight upon seeing the couplet in the hall. I would be grateful if you could share your thoughts.”
Mei Qing replied, “It would be presumptuous of me to claim understanding. I merely noticed that the calligraphy of the couplet was elegant and ancient, clearly extraordinary. However, I could not help but notice that the tonal patterns of the two lines did not match—was there a particular reason for this?”
Zhang Qizheng added, “I had noticed the couplet before as well. The upper line seemed to follow the tonal rules correctly, but the lower line did not appear to be properly balanced. I had not dared to ask before, but now that Mr. Mei has pointed it out, could there be a deeper meaning hidden within?”
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