Chapter 167 My Heart Follows You Wherever You Go
The office door was closed. The desk was piled high with books and models. The screen saver was on. Qin Tian, wearing glasses, sat at the desk with a book spread out before him.
When there was a knock on the door, she picked up the book and turned a page, saying in a calm tone, "Come in."
The door opened and Tang Zhixu stood at the door, leaning against the door frame and looking at her.
Qin Tian raised his head and pushed his glasses: "What do you want to talk to me about?"
Tang Zhixu stared at her intently and sat opposite her.
"Are you really leaving? Not coming back?"
She lowered her eyes and turned a page.
"That should be it."
"Should be?" He crossed his legs and asked, "You mean he didn't tell you about his return?"
She steadied her breath: "It has nothing to do with you."
"It has nothing to do with me. I'm just a little surprised. He flirted and then ran away. This is a new level of scumbag."
Qin Tian closed the book, took off his glasses, and lowered his red and swollen eyes. He whispered, "It's not what you think. What do you want from me?"
Tang Zhixu took out a box and put it on the table.
"I found out this morning. He asked Song Suiyang to give this to me. This thing seems a bit too much for my relationship with him. So I came to ask you."
Tang Zhixu stared at Qin Tian's tired face. She stared at the box without blinking, her lips pale. It seemed as if she knew what was inside without even opening it. After a long moment, she reached out and touched the box, scratching the crack in the lid with her fingernails, her knuckles turning white, and biting her lips tightly, but still did not open the lid. Tang Zhixu could no longer bear to watch, so he took the box, tore it open, took out the leather box inside, opened the lid, and placed it in front of her.
An OMEGA men's watch lay in the watch box.
With a sharp collision sound, Qin Tian pushed the chair away and stood up, then turned his back to him and leaned on the windowsill.
Over the past month, Tang Zhixu has felt regret, pain, loss, and emptiness, but never has he felt as bitter and uncomfortable as he does now.
She made no sound except for her shaking shoulders. But he heard the sound of her heart breaking. He even regretted coming to her. He suppressed the lump in his throat and asked her calmly.
"You said he gave you a watch before he went back last time. Is this a matching watch? What did you tell him? Am I part of your play?"
Qin Tian bent over and leaned against the window, shaking his head vigorously, but without saying a word.
"What time is his flight?" he asked.
She covered her ears, as if she didn't want to hear any more of his questions, but she leaned against the windowsill, her shoulders heaving.
Tang Zhixu took out his cell phone and dialed.
"Hello? Tong Zhongyuan..."
With a dull thud, the things on the table fell to the floor. Qin Tian rushed over and snatched his phone away.
Tang Zhixu maintained the posture of talking on the phone, holding the air in his hands.
Qin Tian held the locked phone with tears on his face. There was nothing on it except the time, which jumped from 12:49 to 12:50.
Qin Tian lowered his head, threw the phone back on the table weakly, and panted: "Is it fun?"
Tang Zhixu picked up the phone and put it back in his pocket. He closed the watch box and picked up her glasses and handed them to her.
"That's not fun. Go get ready for the press conference at 3 p.m. Ice your eyes and put on some makeup so your glasses won't be noticeable."
"Take the watch away." Qin Tian held onto the table and gasped.
Tang Zhixu stopped and said, "If you want to be my partner, I'll accept it. Otherwise, you can return it to him on my behalf. He took a morning flight and has already left China. You should focus on the press conference. After all, he's still on Earth, there's nothing to cry about."
Tang Zhixu left. Qin Tian collapsed in his chair. The phone on the table rang sharply.
Qin Tian wiped his face roughly, took a few deep breaths, and placed his hand on the phone, picking it up firmly. He said hoarsely, "Hello?"
"Xiao Qin, I have something to tell you." Ming Yuanxing's voice was hesitant and heavy. "I'd better tell you in person. Come to my office when you have time."
Her heart was in her throat. It was clearly a matter at the museum, so why did she think of the person on the plane?
"Can you tell me now?"
Ming Yuanxing sighed and said, "Okay."
"The press conference... has been canceled. The higher-ups feel that the method of bringing this matter back can't be disclosed openly, and holding a press conference now would be too high-profile. It's better to let it cool down first and wait six months before promoting it. I'm sorry, Xiao Qin, you've been so busy with this. I even asked you to prepare a speech... Once the city's commendation is officially announced, we'll hold an internal ceremony within the museum to formalize it. There's no change to the professional title evaluation after the new year."
"I understand. Thank you."
She gently put down the phone. Outside the window, the sky was a deep blue. The trail left by the plane as it streaked through the clouds slowly dissipated, transforming back into white clouds.
Qin Tian washed her face, tied her hair back up, and put on her glasses. She was in charge of the press conference, and now it was canceled, so the equipment in the auditorium had to be returned, the projector computer taken back, and the cameras returned to the imaging department.
Passing through the collection area, he took the elevator to the top floor. A mosaic of marble led to the auditorium's main entrance. The sign announcing the press conference for "The Fourth Transformation of the Heavenly Eye" still stood by the door. Qin Tian pushed open the door, and the glass-domed auditorium was bathed in the afternoon sun. The empty crimson seats glowed golden orange, and the podium was covered with flowers. The projection screen froze on the first page, revealing a dazzling, shimmering Heavenly Eye.
She walked towards the podium, her footsteps echoing alone in the auditorium.
She moved the computer, wanting to close the PPT, but the music suddenly started playing. She smiled silently and turned to watch the stubborn PPT playing on its own.
A video introducing the transformation of Tianmu echoed in the empty auditorium.
"The Tianmu porcelain is a rare porcelain produced by the Jian kiln during the Southern Song Dynasty in my country. It originated from an uncontrolled kiln change..."
The sound of the guqin is like a stream flowing down from a high mountain. The sound of the guqin is a song of the mountains, and the understanding of the stream is rare in the world.
Beside the blazing flames of the ancient kiln, she quietly watched the man. The potter's wheel spun rhythmically, the white clay surging in his hands as if alive. The flames reflected his calm, watery eyes into a breathtaking molten lava. Across the wheel, he took her hand, interlacing their fingers. A white soul gradually rose from their grasp. His gaze quietly shifted, and the raging magma transformed into a pool of spring water.
The glaze of the 矅变天目 (Tenmoku) flows and shifts as it spins, each line a mark of time. It journeyed across the ocean from China and returned to China through their hands. The throbbing heartbeat of Michiko Nakayama as she signed the contract, the emotion and heartache of Zhuang Beiyao as his name appeared on the letter of commitment. It was their determination that paved the way for the 矅变天目 (Tenmoku) to return home.
The last syllable faded from the air, and the image faded from view. The PPT stopped at her speech page.
The crimson chairs were neatly arranged, like a silent ocean, without a ripple or a single response. Six months from now, the Tianmu (Heavenly Eye of the Heaven) will be quietly unveiled. Zhuang Beiyao's name will be hidden, and Tong Zhongyuan's dedication will remain unknown. And so will she be, with her unpublished thesis and untold journey. The story behind the glory will be reshaped, and the true sacrifice will vanish like sea foam in the sunlight.
No one listened, no one responded; this had been her life. She took out her speech, her eyes sweeping across the empty seats, her voice echoing in the emptiness.
Good afternoon, leaders, colleagues, and journalists. I am Qin Tian, a staff member of the Cultural Relics Appraisal Group at the Shanghai Asia Museum.
I'm able to stand here and deliver this speech not because I've accomplished anything remarkable. In truth, I neither found nor brought back this Radiant Heavenly Eye. All I can do is accompany it, and embark on this journey home with it. This journey, for me, is an honor and a blessing.
The creation of a piece of kilnware is a miracle of art created by clay and fire, the product of the wisdom and dedication of thousands of years of craftsmen. In ancient times, people believed that only by dedicating one's soul could a rare treasure be created. Today, I'm afraid no one believes this anymore. But I know! Behind every precious piece of porcelain, behind its dazzling glory, lies a nameless sacrifice, a sincere devotion of the soul, a selfless sacrifice.
It was the dedication of the unnamed that allowed the Tianmu to return home. I don't want to call them unsung heroes. Because, they are not heroes. They have not performed any heroic deeds, and they will not be remembered. They are just insignificant dust in human history, using their fleeting lives to fly across the sky and sea, and in the moment they intersected with millennia-old relics, they possessed a moment of eternity.
They are just an unnamed group of people who deeply love cultural relics.
Thank you everyone! "
Qin Tian put away his speech and looked back at Tianmu.
In the empty auditorium, solitary applause rang out behind her.
She turned around, and in the gaps between the fragmented sunlight, the wind from the Huangpu River blew her hair, and the bells of the Customs Building crossed the river of time.
He walked towards her as a child, his eyes as deep as those of that late summer afternoon encompassing her.
He stretched out his hand, and a large Hexiangu coin lay quietly in his palm.
"A parting gift."
Tears welled up in her eyes. With a sharp breath, the coin fell into her outstretched, trembling hand.
"Goodbye, Qin Tian."
In the summer wind that year, he smiled gently against the light.
The moment he turned around, she took out the small box from her pocket and stopped him.
"This is my parting gift."
Her little box fell into his warm, large hands.
"Goodbye, Tong Zhongyuan."
The time of memory was gone with the rushing river. He put the gift in his pocket and walked towards the gate.
"Qin Yizhang, are you crying?"
“There can’t be only one of all the coins in the world.”
"One day, I will open this door, defeat the dragon, and retrieve our commemorative coin."
On the stage, she straightened her back, lifted her skirt, and slowly performed a kneeling salute and a curtain call.
His footsteps in the marble corridor quickened. With clenched hands and fluctuating breathing, he ran through the corridors of memory.
"To the airport."
The driver looked at the man in the rearview mirror and drove away from the Shanghai Museum silently.
He stared out the window at the pale afternoon sun, the constant flow of passing cars, and the dry rustle of wheels on the elevated road.
The box in his palm was a little damp. He didn't want to open it, a gift in such a small rectangular box, he didn't want to open it.
The taxi pulled up to the airport terminal. He checked in with his luggage, passed through security, and quietly waited to board his flight. The sky shifted from light to dark. The check-in announcements played over and over again. He stood up from his seat and handed over his boarding pass.
He put his carry-on bag in the luggage rack, took off his coat, and sat down in his seat.
"Sir, would you like to hang up your coat?"
His hand felt the box through his coat pocket, a damp, hard parting gift.
"Need not."
The passengers were seated, the cabin door closed. The low roar of the engines gradually rose, vibrating the eardrums like distant thunder. The fuselage trembled slightly, and the wing flaps slowly deployed. Ground staff waved in the distance.
He was going home, back to the country he was familiar with, carrying with him six months of memories and gifts.
The white knuckles pulled open the lid of the box, revealing a seal as red as blood.
"Can you give me a seal you carved?"
"What are you carving?"
"My name."
He took out the seal with his calloused fingertips and carved it deeply into the palm of his open hand.
From then on, there was a bright red name in the palm of his hand - Tong Zhongyuan.
The sound of the engine vibrated my eardrums, and the seat trembled. The ground outside the window was rapidly receding, and the lights on both sides of the runway were connected into flowing strips of light, blurring into one.
The feeling of weightlessness suddenly hit him. The plane was moving away from the earth, and he was moving away from her. The runway, the lights, the buildings were rapidly getting smaller. The whole world was overturned and falling apart.
The bloodless hands covered his face, and water flowed between his fingers.
Dusk dyed the sky a brilliant color, and silver flashes came from far to near, dragging thin white lines across the sky.
There was a gentle knock on the door, and Yuan Junruo asked weakly, "Will it still be open?"
Qin Tian closed the window and walked back to the office.
"It'll start in 10 minutes. Go to the conference room first."
She rummaged aimlessly around on the table, trying to find her phone. It rang just in time. She flipped open the file covering it. The name flashing in her eyes was from someone she least expected: Director Jiang from Niya.
She quickly picked up the phone and greeted respectfully.
"Hello, Director Jiang."
"Is it Xiao Qin?"
"It's me."
"I'm sorry to have kept you waiting so long. I think I've translated the Kharosthi script on the coin. I'm now certain it's from a tomb. This sentence is very rare, very rare."
She gripped the phone tightly, her heartbeat rising.
"If I understand correctly, this is a love statement. This coin was probably minted to commemorate a lover who left him. Turning it over, it means, 'My heart will always be with you.'"
There was silence on the other end of the line. Director Fang took out his phone and looked at it. The call had not been interrupted and was still going.
"Hey, Xiao Qin? Can you hear me? Did you hear what I just said?"
Like glass shattering to the ground, like the wind sobbing, like a child's heartbroken and sad cry, the sound echoed in the silent sand dunes of Niya.
"I can hear it... I hear it. My heart follows..."
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