Mei Qing, upon reading this, could not help but break into a cold sweat behind his back. He inwardly reflected 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. Moreover, Ba’er Liu’s behavior had been suspicious, and he had lived in such a strange place. Mei Qing had recklessly burned a chest, casually divided up the porcelain, and placed the remaining objects into the coffin without ever considering whether there might be something unusual about their origins.
At the time, Mei Qing had vaguely thought, “Apart from the imperial palace, there would hardly be anywhere else where such treasures could be found,” but he had not pursued the thought further to consider that these items might actually have come directly from the imperial court.
Had it not been for someone rescuing him, merely harboring stolen goods would have been enough to bring ruin upon Mei Qing’s family. Worse still, the matter involved several deaths, including that of Zhao Boxu, a high-ranking government 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.
From the Sixth Master’s behavior that day, it was evident he had been acting on someone else’s behalf. Otherwise, given the Sixth Master’s status, he probably would not even have known Mei Qing’s name, let alone intervened to rescue him. But Mei Qing had no close acquaintances in official circles—so who could have had such influence to persuade the Sixth Master to act?
As these thoughts churned in his mind, Mei Qing continued reading the case records. Since Mei Qing had been rescued, Ma Shiqing, probably confused by the situation, had released Wang Sigu soon afterward. Ba’er Liu had been officially declared the principal culprit in the palace theft years ago, and having died after years in hiding, most of the stolen goods had been recovered. As for the items taken by Mei Qing and the others, apart from the piece taken by Li Mei, which had been retrieved, the two items taken by Mei Qing and Wang Sigu were simply not mentioned in the official records at all.
The deaths of Li Mei and Mo Yu had originally been handled by the magistrate of Shuntian Prefecture. According to the records, the newly appointed magistrate had concluded the case by ruling their deaths as caused by sudden madness, and thus the matter was dropped.
As for Zhao Boxu’s death, the account stated that on that night, while alone in his study handling official business, he had suddenly cried out in agony. When attendants burst into the room, they found him already dead. There were no wounds on his body, but his face bore a look of terror, as if he had seen something unimaginably horrifying. The records also noted that the same night, an officer named Gao Ming had died of illness.
A chill crept into Mei Qing’s heart, as if something heavy pressed upon his chest, making it hard to breathe.
Counting from the beginning, including Ba’er Liu, six people had come into contact with that inkstone. Except for himself, all had died under mysterious circumstances. The entire affair was too strange and eerie to be easily believed.
Mei Qing closed the records and fell into deep thought. Until now, he had always been a carefree person. Having recently recovered from a long illness, and coming from a family where he had no need to worry about livelihood, he had never felt the need to concern himself with worldly affairs. But this incident had left him with a deep sense of helplessness and powerlessness in the face of unforeseen events, casting a shadow over his previously tranquil mind.
“Good morning, Sanqing,” a voice called out, snapping Mei Qing from his thoughts. He looked up to see Lao Zhang, known as Tian Hao, stepping into the room.
In recent days, Lao Zhang had become increasingly familiar with Mei Qing. His real name was Zhang Qizheng, courtesy name Zhongda, around fifty years old. He usually wore a stern, thin, dark face, rarely smiling. Around the compound, he seldom spoke to others, and when he did, his tone was often cold, making him somewhat unpopular.
Zhang Qizheng had been collecting antiques for many years, specializing in calligraphy, paintings, and rubbings of ancient inscriptions, especially rare editions of ancient texts. At the time, high officials and aristocrats who collected antiques mostly favored such items for their refined and elegant qualities, while paying less attention to valuable jade and porcelain.
Zhang Qizheng’s pride and joy was his collection of fine rubbings of ancient bronze inscriptions—hundreds of them in total. This was a flourishing era of the Ming dynasty, and more bronze ritual vessels were being unearthed, leading to an abundance of high-quality rubbings. However, scholars and literati of the time paid little attention to the inscriptions on these ancient bronzes. Thus, although the rubbings were excellent, identifying and interpreting the inscriptions remained a major challenge.
Bronze vessels from the Xia, Shang, and Zhou dynasties often bore inscriptions, commonly known as Jinwen or Zhongdingwen, which belonged to the category of Greater Seal Script. Though related to Lesser Seal Script, the two differed greatly in terms of legibility.
The reason was that Lesser Seal Script had been standardized by the Qin dynasty after unifying China, and later dictionaries like the *Shuowen Jiezi* provided explanations, making it relatively easy to decipher. Greater Seal Script, however, originated in antiquity and had a complex and varied lineage. Characters often had multiple forms, and there were few references for verification, making it nearly impossible for people at the time to read.
Some time ago, Zhang Qizheng had acquired a rubbing of an ancient bronze basin through a convoluted process, with no clear provenance. The inscription on it was difficult to interpret, and despite many people examining it, no one could decipher it. He had brought it to Mei Qing, who immediately identified it as an inscription from a feudal lord of the Shang dynasty, explaining that the vessel had been cast from copper granted by the king. He deciphered the entire text for Zhang Qizheng.
Zhang Qizheng, a seasoned collector, naturally recognized how rare Mei Qing’s knowledge was. He was nearly awestruck, immediately clasping Mei Qing’s hand and addressing him as a brother, insisting he visit his home for further discussions.
When Mei Qing saw Zhang Qizheng’s collection of rubbings, he praised them highly, calling them unparalleled in the country. Some of the pieces were particularly large, with inscriptions containing dozens or even hundreds of characters—extremely rare. Zhang Qizheng had always been proud of his collection, but his usual friends did not understand its value. Hearing Mei Qing’s appreciation, he felt as if he had found a kindred spirit, saying it was like meeting a lifelong 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 Huang compound, chatting about the latest oddities and curiosities in the capital or sharing new treasures, getting along extremely well.
Today, Zhang Qizheng entered with a broad smile on his face and said, “Sanqing, are you free today? I’d like to invite you to accompany me on an outing. A friend of mine who practices outside the secular world recently acquired a set of Daoist scriptures. From my view, they seem to be from the Song dynasty, but there are many suspicious aspects, making it hard to confirm. I’d like to ask you to examine them and help determine their authenticity. Would that be convenient?”
Mei Qing hesitated slightly and replied, “Today, Huang has some important matters to attend to. If we both leave, it might reflect poorly on us in front of Master Qiu’s eyes.”
Zhang Qizheng chuckled and said, “Sanqing, you’ve only been here a short time, so you don’t yet know how things work 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.
Taiping Temple, located in the northwest of the capital, was small but exquisitely crafted. Originally a Daoist temple of the Quanzhen sect, it once flourished during earlier dynasties when the imperial court supported Quanzhen. However, times had changed. Although the Ming dynasty held Daoism in high esteem, it favored the Zhengyi sect, causing Quanzhen to fall into decline. As a result, this small temple had also become quiet and neglected, with its gates and walls showing clear signs of decay.
Zhang Qizheng seemed to be a regular visitor. He led Mei Qing through the temple with familiarity, passing the front hall and entering a side courtyard through a side gate.
As soon as they entered the courtyard, Mei Qing could not help but admire its quiet elegance, truly embodying the refined spirit of a hermit. The courtyard was not as meticulously arranged as other gardens but exuded a natural charm. A small stream meandered through, with a few wildflowers scattered about, as if untouched by human hands. In front of the house stood an ancient pine tree, its branches twisting and curling, casting reflections on the eaves, adding to the sense of transcendence.
Zhang Qizheng led Mei Qing directly into the courtyard, where a young Daoist apprentice was sweeping. Upon seeing Zhang, the boy smiled and said, “Master Zhang has come. No wonder I saw a spider weaving a web in the shape of characters when I went out earlier—surely it meant a noble guest was arriving.”
Hearing this, even the usually serious Zhang Qizheng could not help but smile. “Your tongue gets sharper every day, Mingyue. What does my coming have to do with your temple’s spiders? Is Master Bai available?”
The young apprentice, Mingyue, replied with a grin, “A spider weaving auspicious signs means noble guests arrive. How can that not be related? The master has just finished his morning cultivation and is now meditating in his room. Let me go inform him.”
With that, he put down his broom and hurried into the main house. A moment later, he returned and said, “Master Zhang, please go in directly.”
Zhang Qizheng nodded and followed Mei Qing into the room. The main hall was not the Daoist shrine he had expected, but rather Bai’s private quarters. The decor was unremarkable, except for a large scroll prominently displayed in the center, inscribed with the single character “Dao” (道). The calligraphy was simple yet profound, on slightly yellowed paper. On either side of the scroll hung a couplet, evidently written in the same hand:
“In the three realms, only truth is wondrous.
In all things, nothing is beyond my heart.”
Seeing the couplet, Mei Qing frowned slightly. As his gaze shifted, he saw a figure emerging from a side door—a Daoist priest. The man wore a hemp robe, faded from frequent washing and patched in several places. His face was gaunt, but his eyes were sharp and bright. His white hair was tied in a Daoist bun, secured with a wooden hairpin. In his pale, elegant hands, he held a flywhisk made of black wood—truly the image of a cultivated sage.
Upon seeing Zhang Qizheng, the Daoist priest gave a slight bow and said, “Ah, Master Zhang has come again. Our previous discussion on Daoist principles was most enlightening. I am honored by your return. And this young gentleman,” he continued, turning his gaze to Mei Qing with a look of surprise, “has a refined appearance and noble bones—truly a celestial being among mortals! But… ah, I wonder which sect he belongs to. Master Zhang, please introduce us.”
Mei Qing was greatly surprised to hear the Daoist priest address Zhang Qizheng as a “Daoist brother,” and looked again at Lao Zhang. Zhang’s expression was stern, his speech dull, and his every move clearly that of an ordinary man—where was the slightest trace of a cultivated sage? The priest had immediately labeled Mei Qing with lofty praise, speaking in riddles, leaving him quite puzzled.
Yet Zhang Qizheng, upon hearing himself addressed as a “Daoist brother,” seemed genuinely delighted. The usual sternness on his face broke into a rare smile as he replied, “How could I dare accept such kindness from the immortal? I am but a novice in the Dao, only just beginning to understand its principles, and still in need of your guidance. This gentleman is a dear friend and colleague of mine, Mei Qing by name. He comes from a family of scholars and has long admired the Dao. He also possesses a rare eye for antiquities and is well known in the capital for his expertise. The other day, when you showed me the Daoist scriptures, he remarked that they seemed like precious relics of ancient times. But my own eyes are not sharp enough to confirm their authenticity, so I have invited Mr. Mei here to help determine their true nature.”
Mei Qing quickly stepped forward to bow, and the Daoist priest returned the gesture with equal courtesy. He invited both Zhang and Mei to sit down. Soon, a young apprentice brought tea on a tray—three small white cups, each half-filled with green tea, its fragrance adding to the refined atmosphere.
The three sipped their tea and exchanged a few pleasantries. Then the Daoist priest set down his cup and said to Mei Qing, “Earlier, I noticed that when Mr. Mei saw the couplet in the hall, he seemed to have some insight. I would be grateful if you would share your thoughts.”
Mei Qing replied, “I would not dare. I merely noticed that the calligraphy of the couplet was elegant and ancient, clearly of high quality. However, I could not help but notice that the tonal balance between the upper and lower lines was not harmonized. I wonder what this might mean?”
Zhang Qizheng added, “I had noticed the couplet before, and the upper line seemed to follow the tonal rules, but the lower line seemed somewhat unbalanced. 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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