Chapter 1 Xijing City
Xijing, autumn.
The lights were bright white, and the projection was somewhat distorted, so only the bolded title was visible: Cultural Heritage Conservation Department's Ceramic Restoration Practice (Part 1).
A long table was laid out in a row, covered with porcelain shards. Students sat around it, carefully piecing them together, the smell of paint mixed with glue filling their nostrils.
Lin Sicheng stared at the projection and looked at the date in the lower right corner: August 24, 2007, Friday.
He stood there stunned for a long time, then rubbed his numb face vigorously: This is the ceramic restoration lab, the first semester of senior year?
How did you get back?
At the invitation of the State Administration of Cultural Heritage, I attended a seminar on cultural relic protection, followed by a few drinks at the dinner. Feeling a bit unwell, I went back to my room and took a nap.
When I opened my eyes, I was here.
I don't know if my submitted proposal has been approved.
Now that they're all back, how can they possibly care about what happens eighteen years from now?
Just as he was chuckling to himself, a figure stood in front of him.
She was very pretty and young, wearing a megaphone and a guide badge around her neck.
She glanced at the untouched porcelain shards, her expression indifferent: "You don't know?"
Lin Sicheng did not answer.
My 20-year-old self certainly wouldn't have done that, but my reborn self is probably much better at it.
One of the youngest archaeologists in China, a leading figure in the field of cultural relic identification, conservation, and restoration, and holder of over one hundred patents related to his inventions. He has received numerous awards from the Ministry of Culture and Tourism and the State Administration of Cultural Heritage, and serves as an advisor to several national-level research institutions.
Such questions were child's play for him.
Just as I was thinking of what to say, a slender finger handed me a attendance sheet. "Sign here first. If you don't understand anything, come and ask me after class!"
Lin Sicheng took the pen and wrote it in one go.
...
The sky was clear, and a wind picked up, blowing through the eaves, causing the iron horse to sway incessantly.
Gravel swirled with blades of grass, crashing against the gray stone wall. The locust trees by the roadside bore last year's withered pods, rustling softly.
Lin Sicheng, carrying his textbooks, walked slowly towards the school gate. The cobblestones on the stone path made his shoes feel especially clear.
Gu Ming leaned against the wall, hands in his pockets, looking nonchalant. When he saw Lin Sicheng, he first flashed a pair of large front teeth.
What are you laughing at?
He was only twenty-seven when his photo was already on the wall. After that, his wife remarried, leaving him to raise the child he had raised for over ten years.
Damn it...
Sensing something was off about Lin Sicheng's gaze, Gu Ming lowered his head and looked him up and down: "What's wrong with me?"
"Nothing!"
"So you see me as if I've been thrown a knife?"
Gu Ming mumbled something, glancing at Lin Sicheng's face, "No classes this afternoon, right? How about... we go home?"
go home?
Lin Sicheng paused, as distant memories flooded his mind.
Back then, I was out of my mind and thought that since my grandfather was a professor at Northwest University and my father had graduated from Northwest University, I should also go to Northwest University.
Besides, he's about to go to university, yet he hasn't even left Xijing City and absolutely refuses to go.
But can one still have control over their own destiny?
So throughout my four years of university, my relationship with my family was never very good, and I often didn't go home.
His family was worried about him, so they would send Gu Ming over from time to time to check on him, not only to bring him living expenses but also to try and persuade him.
Looking back now, it seems pretty stupid: wouldn't it be better to be a second-generation rich kid?
As it turned out, after going around in circles, I ended up on this path anyway, wasting several years of my life.
Having lived two lives, I can't be that naive. Money can be earned slowly, and there's no rush to achieve success. At least I should live a comfortable and harmonious life.
He sighed: "Where's Grandpa?"
"Setting up a stall in Xiaodongmen, even after retirement, they can't stay idle!"
Where are my parents?
"Of course it's going to work..." Before he could finish speaking, Gu Ming paused, stunned: Huh, you've changed your mind?
In the past, I would not even ask, let alone bring it up, I would just snort coldly.
"Really going home?"
"What's the difference between going back to my own home and going back home!" Lin Sicheng stretched out his hand. "Where's my money?"
Gu Ming quickly came up with a solution: "Uncle Lin didn't give it to you, he said you should go home and get it!"
"fart!"
Before he finished speaking, Lin Sicheng moved with lightning speed, reaching into Gu Ming's pocket and pulling out several bright red bills.
Gu Ming panicked: "Now that this bastard has money, why would he ever come home?"
"Is this my money?"
Lin Sicheng sneered: "Payroll is only paid on the 1st, how much money do you have?"
Since starting his internship after the Lunar New Year, Uncle Gu has stopped caring about him. Gu Ming is also very generous, and he basically spends all his salary each month.
Let alone six hundred, if he could pull out sixty from his pocket right now, Lin Sicheng would dare to call him father.
"I found it!"
Gu Ming lunged forward to grab it, but Lin Sicheng slapped him away. "Stop fooling around. Let's go to Xiaodongmen to find Grandpa first, then go home!"
Huh, did she really change her mind?
While he was still in a daze, Lin Sicheng had walked quite a distance. Gu Ming followed closely behind, his eyes darting around: "Tonight you buy groceries, have Grandpa make braised pork belly and stewed pork hock, and we'll have a couple of drinks!"
"Are you going to eat it or not?"
"Eat!" Gu Ming swallowed hard. "And have me stew a Three Treasures Stew, the lamb penis has to be thick, the more pungent the better!"
Upon hearing that the more provocative the better, Lin Sicheng felt a chill run down his spine.
...
Two hours later, the two got off the bus.
A narrow alleyway sits beneath the city wall, with a canopy overhead. The stone-paved path is straight and flat, and the dampness mixed with the musty smell wafts into your nostrils.
A long table was lined up, porcelain cups covered in cracks, bronzeware gleaming with a dim light, and a sandalwood box half-open, revealing a jade tablet broken in two. An enamel vase was covered in years of dust, and an old man with a slicked-back white beard leaned back in a recliner, dozing.
Continuing forward, we emerged from the alley and found ourselves in a bright and open space.
Under the sunlit wall, stalls are densely packed together, selling porcelain, copper, lacquerware, tin, ancient coins, jade, wooden furniture, calligraphy and paintings, and ancient books—a dazzling array of goods, offering everything imaginable.
Xi'an, the ancient capital of thirteen dynasties, boasts more ancient tombs beneath its city walls than the combined tombs of Beijing, Nanjing, and Luoyang, naturally possessing a rich cultural heritage. There are many genuine artifacts, and it attracts a large number of tourists.
Of course, there are even more counterfeit products.
The two continued eastward until they reached the foot of the city wall, only to find it empty.
I asked the stall owner next door and found out that shortly after he arrived that morning, my grandfather received a phone call, apparently to help someone with an appraisal.
Gu Ming sighed: "Go home?"
"There's no one at home, let's wander around first!"
"It's best not to share this. Didn't you hear what our grandpa said? This lousy place is full of fake goods!"
Lin Sicheng immediately laughed: "Aren't there places that don't sell counterfeit goods, like our grandpa? Maybe we can find something good there."
"What are you picking up?" Gu Ming squinted at him. "You're picking up a coward!"
Lin Sicheng's grandfather was quite something: he taught archaeology for most of his life and collected antiques for most of his life, yet he still made mistakes. How much more so Lin Sicheng?
Lin Sicheng just smiled.
Without exaggeration, with his current level of expertise, he's absolutely at the forefront of the domestic art appreciation and cultural heritage preservation circles. Moreover, he possesses memories and knowledge surpassing those of the past twenty years.
If I had to compare him to my grandfather: he would only be better, not worse.
Since there's no one home anyway, it's a good opportunity to practice.
Lin Sicheng slowly turned around.
The stalls weren't big, with some having a hundred or so items and others only thirty or fifty. Lin Sicheng could get a general idea of what they had at a glance.
There are definitely a lot of fakes, about nine to one. Occasionally you'll find a genuine item, but the price is ridiculously high.
But this has always been the case in this industry; to put it bluntly: finding gold in the dung.
As he walked and looked around, Lin Sicheng stopped in front of a newsstand.
Gu Ming glanced at it: it was all newspapers and magazines, all in simplified Chinese characters, and they were all party newspapers.
It has People's Daily, Shaanxi Daily, Reform, and Qiushi; you can tell it was picked up from some government agency.
What's so interesting about a pile of waste paper?
Lin Sicheng casually replied, "What if we find a bargain?"
Gu Ming curled his lip, "If there's a leak in this pile of junk, I'll eat shit!"
The stall owner was displeased: "Hey, you idiot, what are you saying?"
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