Chapter 95 His city has been conquered, his crown has fallen
Ming Yuanxing was just about to take a few sips of tea when the office door knocked twice. Tong Zhongyuan had been there just now, and he had asked Hu Yuntian to come back in half an hour. Unexpectedly, he was also impatient and came back so soon.
"Come in," he said loudly.
It was Qin Tian again who walked in. She was holding a journal in her hand.
He knew it at a glance. Tong Zhongyuan was a few minutes late. If he had known this, he wouldn't have reminded her to read the journal. But it was only a matter of time. He sighed, walked out from behind his office desk, and sat on the sofa in the reception area.
"Sit down. Let's talk."
Qin Tian placed the journal in front of him and took out the manuscript that was tucked inside and placed it on the table. Ming Yuanxing folded the manuscript and put it back inside the journal.
"Don't look. I know everything."
Qin Tian was startled. Ming Yuanxing took in her expression.
"The little boy just came here."
"What is he here for? To say that the paper I wrote caused such a disaster?" she blurted out.
Ming Yuanxing laughed, picked up the teacup and took a sip.
"Is that what you think of him? That's not how he thinks of you."
Qin Tian froze and sat down on the sofa opposite with his head down.
"Xiao Qin, this is not your fault, let alone causing trouble or making a mistake. I read your paper and asked you to publish it. What's wrong with it? If you say you made a mistake, then I'm the one who made the mistake. Your paper is valuable. Our original intention was to let more cultural and museum people know that bronze artifacts can also be indirectly authenticated through ceramic molds! This is such a good thing, it can solve problems that the naked eye can't solve. In China, not all museums have the authentication capabilities of the Shanghai Museum. For example, Kongming Museum and Nanjing Museum. We at the Shanghai Museum selflessly share our latest research. What's wrong with that? How many people are willing to make their life's research public for free? For this research, you and Xiao Yuan have consumed so much radiation. I feel guilty. You are still so young. If it affects your health in the future, what can I, an old man, do to compensate you?"
Qin Tian lowered her head, not wanting Ming Yuanxing to see her eyes were red again.
"As for this matter, since the journal has already published it, we won't retract it. Not only will we not retract it, we'll also publish it in national journals. Xiaotong has translated your paper into English and will publish it in influential international journals and websites. Our goal is to quickly complete the dissemination chain now that it's been disseminated, letting all museums and private authentication institutions know that this value is authentic and reliable, a result of the Shanghai Museum's research. But at the same time, we're reminding them that visual identification remains a crucial and indispensable step. Our technology is advancing so rapidly that we can't keep up. But cultural relics are different; they belong to history. It's arrogant to attempt to conquer history with only modern technology. Without understanding their backgrounds and listening to their stories, we can't truly understand them. Xiaotong said that you could tell those twelve bronzes were fakes with your naked eyes. He also said a lot, and this is the first time I've heard him say so much. This also made me understand him better. Oh... Xiaotong... If I had a son, I would hope to have a son like Tong Zhongyuan."
He leaned against the sofa, with infinite regret in his eyes.
"Forget it, let's not talk about it. After all, he can't be kept. The fact that he's been here this long is a sign of his fate with the Shanghai Institute of Technology. So let it be, don't think too much about it. He'll continue to write new papers and apply for professional titles. Everything will be the same. As for the publication, after this incident, I will be more cautious in the future. I'll take care of it, don't worry about it."
The office door rang a few more times, and Hu Yuntian came in again. Ming Yuanxing looked up and shouted, "Xiao Hu, please wait another five minutes. I'll be ready soon."
Qin Tian knew that she shouldn't waste his time. She stood up and said softly, "Thank you, Director Ming."
Ming Yuanxing smiled and waved his hand: "What's there to thank me for? I didn't raise your salary. Once you get the title, your salary will go up."
She wanted to leave, but she had another question on her mind. She stammered, "I have a small, unimportant question."
"explain."
"Tong Zhongyuan, what else did he say?"
Ming Yuanxing laughed and walked back to his desk.
"He told me to use my influence to quickly publish the paper or notify major museums about the data leak to prevent others from being deceived. I was wondering why he was concerned about the Shanghai Museum. Now I know, Xiaotong was worried that you would feel guilty. Look, as soon as he left, you came here crying and apologizing. I think he knows you well."
Hu Yuntian stood at the door, in a dilemma. This was his third time here. Five minutes had already passed. Should he knock on the door? He gritted his teeth and just as he reached out his hand, the door opened and Qin Tian walked out. She nodded to him and left.
"Xiao Hu, are you still outside?" Ming Yuanxing's voice came from the office.
"Coming, coming!" he agreed and walked in. Finally it was his turn.
Qin Tian walked back to her office, her heart pounding. She sat there for a long moment, lost in thought. She opened her new paper, "On the Influence of Radiation Separation on the Identification of Ancient Porcelain," which she had just finished late the previous night. She still remembered the sense of relief and joy she felt at that moment, the exhilaration of returning to the heavens. She had never imagined that this paper, which she had verified through countless experiments and spent a month writing, would survive for less than 24 hours.
Select the document with the mouse, right click, delete. Slowly move the mouse to the Recycle Bin, right click, a long blank, empty the Recycle Bin.
"Have you got a meal yet?"
Tong Zhongyuan's phone lit up. He put down his chopsticks and swiped it. It was a message from Qin Tian.
He looked at the lunch box in front of him and replied, "No."
“In the office?”
"Um."
"I'm coming over now."
Tong Zhongyuan put down his phone and quickly swept the leftover fish bones into the lunch box, covered the lunch box, put it in a bag, and threw it into the trash can in front of Song Suiyang's desk.
He returned to the restoration table, picked up a few clean pens, and washed them under running water.
Qin Tian pushed open the door to the restoration room and saw Tong Zhongyuan wiping the tip of a pen dry with a soft cloth. She arrived at the right time, as he was finishing his work.
"Are you going to eat?" she asked.
"Well, what about you?"
She had no appetite at all and had no desire to eat.
"I have something else to do this afternoon, so I'll just buy a sandwich from the cafe."
He put down his pen and walked over.
"It's the weekend today, what are you doing tonight?"
"Fill in the data. I told Director Ming about the falsification, and he asked me to fill in the data as soon as possible. I'll work overtime this weekend, and it should be almost done."
"Oh." He looked at her silently. She hadn't had a rest since she came back from Niya.
His pupils were deep, with the corners of his eyes slightly raised. He looked at people intently. She had only thought his eyes were beautiful before, but she didn't know when it started, but she no longer dared to look him in the eye.
She avoided his sight, took out an A4 envelope from behind her back and handed it to him.
"For you."
He reached out and took it: "What is it?"
"Gift."
He glanced at her, opened the envelope, and pulled out a stack of bound A4 papers. The cover of the first page read "On the Influence of Radiation Separation on the Identification of Ancient Porcelain."
"Your new paper?"
She looked at her paper, which she had typed out yesterday after finishing it, and it was the only copy left in the world.
"Here you go. It should be useful if you want to understand the dosage and indicators of thermoluminescent radiation separation."
His gaze remained fixed on her face. Her loss, her reluctance to let go, were all captured in his eyes. She knew. She knew the storm her previous paper had caused. Just as he had thought, once she discovered the truth, she would definitely make this choice.
"Qin Tian, are you not going to publish this paper?"
"Yes." She was silent for a moment, then nodded and smiled. "What you have in your hands is a one-of-a-kind piece. Don't lose it, and don't make it public. If you want to use it in your studio or the British Museum, then go ahead. Once it's given to you, it's yours."
He held the paper she had given him. It was the most precious gift he had ever received. Every word here condensed her days and nights, every line of data represented the minutes and seconds her glass-clear eyes had observed in the darkness.
He stared at her silently, his expression serene. She suddenly remembered that he disliked gifts and hated owing favors. He always used money as an equivalent exchange. Her feelings might be a burden to him.
"I forgot. Your studio should be able to extract the data, too. It's not that difficult." She said, "I'd better keep it for myself."
She reached for the envelope, he raised his hand, and she pulled it away.
"You've already agreed to give it to me. You can't go back on your word." He looked at her.
She looked up at the paper he held in the air, a smile spreading across her smooth face. It turned out he hadn't refused.
"Well, no regrets. I'll give it to you."
Tong Zhongyuan, thank you for repairing the bronze coins for me; thank you for accompanying me to Niya; thank you for working on my thesis; thank you for everything you have done.
It was late at night, and he sat at his desk, reading from the first line to the last.
"Radiation dose alone is far from enough. Accurately determining the birth date of a cultural relic in the course of history depends on the distribution of radiation. The proportion of alpha, beta, and gamma rays is the lifeblood of the cultural relic, endowing each ordinary vessel roasted in a blazing fire with the glory of having been born from the flames."
He put down his paper and walked to the window. For three months, he had struggled day and night in this small world, hour by hour, minute by minute, resisting, fearing, and anticipating the raging waves that would follow the dam breaking. Today, the end had finally arrived.
He opened the window, and the cool autumn night air, carrying the long-lost fragrance of osmanthus, wafted in, unknowingly permeating the darkness of the long-closed room.
His defenses collapsed; his city fell; his soldiers surrendered; his crown fell to the ground; he surrendered to her.
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