Chapter 296 Original Manual of Xingyi Quan
People of all ages in Beijing have heard countless stories of striking it rich and getting rich overnight, but how many have actually witnessed or even experienced such things firsthand?
Jing Zeyang works in a song and dance troupe, and his monthly internship salary is less than 1,000 yuan. 100,000 yuan is equivalent to his salary for ten years.
Is this considered finding a bargain? Is this considered getting rich overnight?
He followed Lin Sicheng in a daze, his mind filled with a long string of zeros.
Lin Sicheng treated 100,000 yuan as just a meal fee. How extravagant is that?
After some wild guessing, the three of them left Tianhuizhai. Lin Sicheng pointed to the stalls in the aisle: "If you're interested, Brother Jing, you can pick one out too. If you're unsure, I can help you take a look. Brother Fang, you can pick one out as well..."
Jing Zeyang was not in the mood.
Firstly, he doesn't like this; he only comes here occasionally as a pastime in his spare time.
Secondly, I've heard too much: coming to this place, having a keen eye is utterly useless. If you're unlucky, you might wander around for a year and not find a single good item.
If you really want to buy good stuff, you have to go to a shop, but every shop has its own master craftsman. Like that old man at Tianhuizhai earlier, he can tell pretty much whether something is genuine and how much it's worth just by holding it in his hand, and you can imagine how much he'll charge.
Forget about finding a bargain here. As for the legends of who stumbled upon a bargain or made a fortune here, nine out of ten are just stories made up by the local merchants. Some shops even hire extras from film studios to act out scripts in order to lure tourists into their stores.
Someone like Lin Sicheng might only appear once a year.
Jing Zeyang shook his head, but Fang Jin's eyes lit up.
It does depend on luck, but what if it works out?
With Lin Sicheng overseeing things, it's hard to be fooled...
He was eager to try: "Teacher Lin, I'd like to pick one out, could you help me take a look?"
"Can!"
Teacher Lin turned around and asked, "Squad Leader He, would you like to see something?"
The towering, burly man gave a sheepish smile: "Thank you, Teacher Lin. We have discipline!"
Lin Sicheng did not force him.
Several people accompanied Fang Jin around, and Lin Sicheng would also glance at a couple of items along the way. But to be honest, the two were about equally unlucky.
Everything Fang Jin liked was a low-quality counterfeit, and each one was more fake than the last. Many were so obviously fake that Jing Zeyang would immediately scoff at them as soon as Fang Jin picked one up.
This shows that Fang Jin really doesn't have much talent in appraisal. Otherwise, with his graduate degree in archaeology from Xida University, he wouldn't be inferior to an amateur like Jing Zeyang.
Lin Sicheng's situation is slightly better; one can occasionally see one or two old items, but most of them are everyday items from the common people, made of mediocre materials and with even less craftsmanship.
And so it went, Fang Jin would pick up one item, and Lin Sicheng would shake his head. He would pick up another item, and Lin Sicheng would shake his head again.
After browsing through more than a dozen stalls, Fang Jin became increasingly unsure of himself.
Just as he was about to give up, a golden light caught his eye, and Fang Jin subconsciously squinted.
"Wooden carved panels...Teacher Lin, is this paint applied later?"
Lin Sicheng glanced at it: the pattern was not large, about the size of two A4 sheets of paper, with a wooden frame around it.
The camphor wood material and thick frame, combined with the size, suggest it's likely a backsplash for furniture like a headboard or coffee table. Judging from the characters and content, it's probably from the play "The White Robe Chronicle," also known as "Xue Rengui's Expedition Across the Sea to the East."
The gold lacquer is brand new, but judging from the aging of the frame, the carving style, and even the theatrical content, it seems to be something from the Ming Dynasty.
"It's definitely fresh paint!" Lin Sicheng paused for a moment. "Senior Brother Fang, bring it over and take a look!"
Fang Jin bent down and picked up the ceiling panel.
Lin Sicheng took it and paused for a moment: it was not only a touch-up of paint, but also a restored piece.
Most of the window frames were added later, and the flags held by the figures on both sides, along with their robes and the wall bricks, all showed signs of wear and tear. The outer frame had fallen apart, and even the entire ceiling panel had broken in two from the edge of the central pillar.
Strangely, he hadn't noticed it before, only realizing something was wrong when he held it in his hand.
With so many repaired areas, the traces are barely noticeable, demonstrating the high level of craftsmanship.
Upon closer inspection: the glue used was sturgeon swim bladder, and the cracks were filled with lacquer: raw lacquer mixed with tile ash to fill the gaps, then polished after drying. The fissures were filled with beeswax, which was melted and poured into the cracks, then painted with wood grain after cooling, and the rotten joints were replaced with boxwood tongues.
Are they all traditional methods?
What's even stranger is that, no matter how Lin Sicheng looks at it, it seems to resemble the restoration techniques of the Palace Museum's furniture group.
Surely this ceiling panel didn't come from the Forbidden City?
Honestly, if you look at the material and the carving, there's a good chance it's true.
In ancient times, camphor wood was also considered a high-grade timber. Besides golden nanmu, huanghuali, zitan, and chicken-wing wood, camphor ranked fifth.
The downside is that the wood is relatively soft, making it unsuitable for small items like pen holders or decorative pieces. The upside is that it has a natural fragrance, is naturally insect-repellent, and is very easy to preserve. It is a top choice for large Buddhist sculptures and furniture.
In the Forbidden City, many of the concubines' beds, chairs, tables, and desks were made of camphor wood.
Looking at the carving and design, it is a typical Dongyang School (Zhejiang) style:
The structure is like a painting, with the outline taking the shape of a broken branch in the style of Song Dynasty painting. The clothing is like a crabapple in bloom, and the figures are like ink bamboo with upright joints.
The design combines the real and the virtual, with openwork patterns amidst the cloud-like designs, and the knife work is as sharp as an axe cleaving Mount Hua. The straight and curved lines complement each other, with straight lines resembling hanging needles in seal script and curved lines like flowing clouds and water.
With seven layers of depth from bottom to top, the work primarily features flat relief carving, employing nine carving techniques—thin, shallow, deep, high, and overlapping—as well as inlay, rounding, and openwork, each intricately interwoven with the others. The rich layers and natural textures gradually transition from rough to refined, revealing every minute detail.
The design is excellent, the carving is superb, the figures are lifelike, and the style is elegant.
Lin Sicheng immediately made a judgment: this floral pattern was definitely the work of a master of the Dongyang School, even if it did not come from the imperial palace, it was still from the home of a prince or nobleman.
The original carving was made of white wood, meaning it was carved according to the grain of the material without applying any paint or color.
Even after restoration, the principles of "restoring the old as before" and "not losing the essence" are followed: the original appearance is restored without affecting the aesthetics, but the traces of restoration can still be seen.
And look at this layer of gold paint, it was definitely applied in the last few years, it's a real waste.
But if we hadn't applied this layer of paint, it would have been bought long ago and wouldn't be here now.
It has to be said that Fang Jin was quite lucky.
After a moment's thought, Lin Sicheng nodded, indicating that the item was good and that Fang Jin should inquire about the price.
The ceremonial board was handed out, and Fang Jin had already received it. Lin Sicheng suddenly paused and pulled the board back.
The only civil official in the painting wearing an official hat appears to have two indentations on the back of the hat brim.
This is an official's hat; the original painting wouldn't have depicted carvings on the official's beam. And since it's camphor wood, the holes couldn't possibly be from insects.
If it was just a bump or knock, and the original artwork was damaged in so many places, it's impossible to leave two flaws untouched.
Lin Sicheng picked up the whiteboard and examined it closely. The more he looked at it, the more it resembled two small characters.
It was about the size of a millet grain, not carved very deeply, and then lacquered, so only two small pits remain.
After glancing at it a few times, Lin Sicheng asked the price directly: "Boss, how much?"
The stall owner, who had been standing to the side, stretched out his hand and gestured: "An old item from the Republic of China era, eight hundred!"
"Knowing it's an old item, you still repainted it? Five hundred!"
"This isn't my fault, it was like this when I bought it!" The stall owner shook his head. "Besides, if it hadn't been painted, I would have charged you at least two thousand!"
Lin Sicheng deliberately tried to bargain, just in case something went wrong. For something like this, three hundred more or less wouldn't make any difference.
He nodded: "Senior Brother Fang, pay up!"
Fang Jin had been impatient for a long time: Lin Sicheng had looked at this item for even longer than the snuff bottle, and had looked at it twice.
I doubt it will sell for 100,000, but it won't be much less.
Without the slightest hesitation, he immediately counted out eight banknotes.
Lin Sicheng took a tote bag given to him by the boss, tucked the floral panel under his arm, and found a corner.
After stopping, he stretched out his hand: "Senior Brother Fang, the needle!"
Fang Jin was stunned for a moment, then quickly took out his toolbox.
Lin Sicheng took out a needle and carefully picked at the paint. As pieces of paint were picked off, two small characters were revealed on the back of the hat: Chang'an.
After carefully recalling the events, Lin Sicheng suddenly paused, then stared at his assistant with a strange expression.
Fang Jin asked, puzzled, "Teacher Lin, what's wrong?"
Nothing much happened, it's just that Senior Brother Fang's luck was off the charts.
Jing Zeyang also peeked out and asked, "Does it look newly carved?"
It's not exactly new; the history of those two small characters is at least thirty years old. Of course, compared to the history of the decorative board, it's practically new.
To be more precise: these are the marks left by the restorer.
Lin Sicheng pointed to the two small characters: "Chang'an, Chang Tongchang, which means Chang'an. This is Mr. Wang Shixiang's pen name..."
Wang Shixiang?
Fang Jin felt the name sounded familiar and was still trying to remember when Jing Zeyang's eyes widened.
Few people working at the Ministry of Culture would not know who this is: just last month, at the 54th anniversary celebration of the Ministry of Culture (1954), this 94-year-old gentleman, as a representative of the Jiusan Society, sat on the dais.
He graduated from Yenching University (now Peking University) and served as a teaching assistant there. Later, he was introduced by Liang Sicheng to study and work at the Society for Research in Chinese Architecture. Due to his family's scholarly background, he served as the assistant representative of the Nationalist government's "Committee for the Loss of Cultural Relics during Wartime" in 1944 and 1945, responsible for going to Japan to retrieve cultural relics and ancient books for the country.
In 1947, he served as the head of the Antiquities Department of the Palace Museum. After the founding of the People's Republic of China, he served as the director of the Exhibition Department of the Palace Museum, and was also the first director of the Exhibition Department. After retiring, he was hired as a researcher at the National Cultural Heritage Administration's Museum of Cultural Relics (the predecessor of the National Museum of China), a researcher at the Chinese Academy of Cultural Heritage, and a member of the Central Research Institute of Culture and History.
In addition to being a cultural relics expert, scholar, connoisseur, and restorer, he is also a renowned contemporary collector.
Besides his family's collection of antique porcelain, calligraphy, paintings, and books, Wang Shixiang's greatest love was Ming Dynasty furniture. He collected over a hundred pieces of Ming Dynasty imperial furniture alone.
It should be 2004 when Wang Shixiang sold it to the Shanghai Museum at a low price through a targeted repurchase and subsequent donation.
Besides collecting, he also repaired and researched. He has compiled five books on the study and restoration of Ming Dynasty furniture and lacquerware, as well as more than two hundred papers and essays.
Since his number is engraved on this plaque, it's unknown whether it was from his collection, but at least it's certain that he restored it.
Moreover, it is 100% a part of Ming Dynasty furniture, and may even have originated from the imperial court...
Lin Sicheng gave a brief explanation, and Fang Jin was stunned: he had seen many antiques, and Lin Sicheng would often find one worth millions.
Even the imperial seal exists.
But this was the first time he had personally searched for such a item. Before that, he had never even bought a genuine copper coin, let alone anything for the imperial court…
A sudden panic gripped her, and her hands began to tremble: "Teacher Lin... this... this thing... what... what should I do?"
No... Senior Brother Fang, are you so happy you've gone mad?
Of course, we should sell it!
A thought struck him, and Lin Sicheng knew what he was worried about, so he couldn't help but chuckle: "Did you pick out the items?"
Fang Jin didn't know how to explain: he was just momentarily dazzled and asked out of curiosity. If Lin Sicheng hadn't told him, he would have just assumed it was an artifact from the Republican era.
It is an object that has been repainted and resembles a modern item.
Did you pay for it?
Fang Jin hesitated for a moment, then nodded.
"Isn't that settled?" Lin Sicheng said with a smile. "Keep it if you want, or find a shop if you don't. Don't underestimate this piece of furniture just because it's a decorative piece. Just because of the name 'Chang'an,' it's worth as much as that snuff bottle from before."
One hundred thousand yuan?
That's enough for him to make a down payment on a house in downtown Xi'an.
Fang Jin hesitated for a moment, then nodded.
In an instant, Jing Zeyang's eyes turned red.
It wasn't jealousy, but astonishment: this wasn't a thousand, nor ten thousand, but a hundred thousand?
Think back to when Lin Sicheng first sold snuff bottles: "Brother Jing, do you like them? If you do, pick one out."
And just now: Brother Jing, you pick one too.
Does Jing Zeyang not like money?
He didn't believe he was as lucky as Lin Sicheng. Of course, he also had some doubts: Lin Sicheng's eye for detail was beyond question, but as the saying goes, everyone has their own expertise. Since his ability to appreciate porcelain was so high, he probably only had so-so skills in other areas.
Panjiayuan is known for its porcelain. There must be at least seven or eight million pieces, if not tens of millions. Nearly 90% of them are fakes. You'd have to be incredibly lucky to find even one genuine piece, and it might not even be valuable.
As for the others, it's pointless to look at them, and you might even end up losing money.
So when Lin Sicheng asked him, he shook his head without even thinking.
But now, looking at the plaque in Fang Jin's hand, Jing Ze felt a pang of jealousy: Fang Jin had looked at thirty or forty pieces along the way, many of which he himself could see were problematic, yet he still showed them to Lin Sicheng, which showed how good his eyesight was.
He only got this piece of furniture by sheer luck, after asking out of curiosity. Without Lin Sicheng, he wouldn't have wanted it for even eighty, let alone eight hundred.
To put it bluntly: it's like Lin Sicheng gave Fang Jin this 100,000 for free.
No... Cousin Lin, what's your family background?
Seeing his eyes glazed over, as if they were nailed to the ceiling, Lin Sicheng smiled and said, "Brother Jing, how about picking one out?"
"Take it!" Jing Zeyang dared not refuse any longer. "Cousin Lin, I don't need 100,000, 1,000 will do. It'll make me look good when I go out drinking and bragging."
"Brother Jing, be more confident. What if you find an imperial seal?"
Imperial Seal?
Jing Zeyang shook his head: "Even the smoke from our ancestral graves wouldn't be enough, it would probably take eight generations..."
"Hahaha~" Lin Sicheng laughed, "Let's take a spin first, just in case."
Jing Zeyang rubbed his hands together: "Yes, let's spin around!"
Imperial seal? Forget about it. But if you're lucky, you might come across some item worth a few thousand.
For him, a few thousand yuan was just enough for a decent meal at a slightly better restaurant. But at the dinner table, he could confidently boast: "I've been a bargain hunter at Panjiayuan Market before..."
After a moment of reflection, Jing Zeyang was filled with confidence: There was no reason why his luck should be worse than that of Lin Sicheng's assistant.
But it's all for naught; ideals are lofty, but reality is harsh.
After visiting dozens of stalls and looking at seventy or eighty items, Lin Sicheng kept shaking his head.
It was slightly better than Fang Jin's; I've picked out a few high-quality replicas, and even seen a finely crafted, half-assembled pen holder. But a fake is still a fake, no matter how realistic the imitation.
And so it went until the sun set behind the rooftop, and before we knew it, it was already five in the afternoon.
Jing Zeyang was quite the bachelor; he'd be happy to snag a bargain, but it didn't matter if he didn't. He kept insisting on treating Lin Sicheng to Peking duck at Quanjude.
Having spent the whole day with him, there's no reason for Jing Zeyang to treat us.
"Forget about the roast duck, Brother Jing, I'll treat you to Hong Fu Liang."
"Hey, Cousin Lin, you seem to know the capital quite well."
This isn't some fancy restaurant; it's a hole-in-the-wall eatery hidden in the Eight Great Hutongs, so small that even seasoned locals wouldn't be able to find it.
Lin Sicheng smiled and said, "I heard it from Sister Anning!"
Jing Zeyang nodded vigorously: "Oh, right!"
I forgot that Ye Anning is a big foodie.
Chatting and laughing, the group walked out of the market. There were far fewer tourists, and many stalls had already begun to pack up.
As they approached the market entrance, a commotion arose ahead, causing them to stop.
Five or six people were gathered around, probably watching the show, while in the middle was a stall selling ancient books.
The stall owner stood with his arms crossed and a cold expression. Across from him were a man and a woman, both around thirty years old, leading a little girl of about five or six years old; they were probably tourists from out of town.
The man was squatting on the ground picking up the papers one by one, while the woman, speaking Mandarin with a slight Shanghai accent, was scolding the child.
It seems that the little girl accidentally tore the thread of an ancient book.
The stall owner was getting impatient: "Go home and curse if you want, pay up first!"
The woman said somewhat reluctantly, "Don't blame our little girl, okay? This book is old, and the stitching wasn't done properly. It came apart at the slightest touch!"
"Sister, you know this is an old book, and the binding isn't secure? But your daughter just kept trying to pry it open?"
"The pages are stuck together, how can she see the pictures inside without prying them apart?"
"Fine, then tear it!" The stall owner pointed to the pages on the ground. "If I tear it like this, who am I supposed to sell it to?"
"Wouldn't it be fine if I just replaced the cable?"
"Ma'am, get this straight, this is an antique: old paper with new thread, what kind of antique is that?" The stall owner stretched out his hand, "I won't ask for more, five thousand is yours!"
The woman was speechless.
At first glance, it looks like a naughty child broke something. But don't doubt it, this stall owner is faking an accident.
Let alone a seven or eight-year-old, even a newborn baby in confinement could pull on his book and tear the thread.
However, unlike porcelain, jade, and calligraphy and paintings, ancient books are usually overlooked by tourists.
At this point, both adults probably still thought that their child had broken the item.
Jing Zeyang exclaimed, "Ha! Let's go, there's some fun to be had!"
Lin Sicheng glanced at it and followed.
As he approached, Lin Sicheng bent down and picked up the few pages of paper that had fallen to his feet.
Ha, it's a boxing manual, no wonder the child is curious?
It is indeed quite old; the paper has turned gray. It's in decent condition, the handwriting is mostly clear, and aside from some tearing at the edges, the content is largely complete. The handwriting is alright, the drawings are a bit abstract, but still legible.
Based on a rough guess, it should be a handwritten copy from the mid-Qing Dynasty or even earlier. This type basically falls into the category of "the item is authentic and old, but it doesn't have much value."
Using something like this to stage an accident shows that the stall owner has put some thought into it.
With that thought in mind, Lin Sicheng took two steps forward and handed over the two pages in his hand.
"Thanks!"
The man reached out to take it, probably wondering whether it was better to lose money to avoid trouble or whether he should try to negotiate the price. He was distracted and forgot that he was still holding a stack of bills.
As soon as the fingers loosened, with a "whoosh," the things that had just been picked up from the ground scattered again.
Fortunately, there was no wind, so it didn't drift far.
Lin Sicheng pointed and asked Fang Jin to help pick it up. He looked at the little girl hiding in the woman's arms, her eyes brimming with tears.
If he had scammed this couple, I don't know if he would have bothered. But this scoundrel of a stall owner even scams children, and he's asking for five thousand?
Their conscience has long been eaten by dogs.
Judging from the clothes this family of three is wearing, they should be middle class. But even if they are middle class, five thousand is equivalent to a couple's monthly salary.
Judging from the way the woman was scolding the child, the little girl will get a beating as soon as she gets back to the hotel, not even before they get home. And it won't be a light beating.
"Don't be afraid, Uncle will help you!"
Lin Sicheng bent down, wiped the tears from the child's face, and then turned away.
"Boss, the hemp rope in the middle was soaked in alkali, wasn't it..."
Before Lin Sicheng could finish speaking, Jing Zeyang reacted suddenly, glaring at the stall owner and saying, "You son of a bitch, trying to scam me?"
As he spoke, he lowered his head again, looked at the timid little girl with tears in the corners of her eyes, and said in disbelief, "Do you even have the nerve to cheat such a little kid?"
The stall owner's expression changed, and he glared at them: "Get lost and go about your business!"
"Get the hell out of here!" Jing Zeyang pointed a finger. "Get them out of here right now!"
"You can leave now!" the stall owner said, holding out his hand. "Five thousand!"
Before Lin Sicheng could say anything, Jing Zeyang stopped him, saying, "Cousin Lin, you're a cultured man. There's no need to waste words with a scoundrel like him. Leave it to me..."
As he spoke, he began rolling up his sleeves again: "If I don't make you bleed today, I'm not a Jing!"
Don't let Jing Zeyang's carefree and nonchalant attitude fool you; he has his own set of rules for doing things. For example, the snuff bottle vendor might be a bit foul-mouthed, but his way of getting revenge was to complain to his father.
But this stall owner in front of him is utterly shameless and despicable. What's a little meddling? Jing Zeyang would dare smash his stall.
Lin Sicheng paused for a moment and looked to the side.
Squad Leader He nodded almost imperceptibly, meaning that a fight was unlikely.
The two were exchanging glances when Fang Jin handed the man the pages he had picked up. Lin Sicheng glanced at them casually, then suddenly paused.
The last one in Fang Jin's hand had no pictures on it, only words, and looked like the conclusion of a boxing manual...
That's not surprising; what's surprising is the content. Look closer: a single punch can be varied a hundred times, seven punches linked tightly together, like shooting a bird in the forest, the bird falling to the ground as the bowstring twangs. Or like striking a snake in the grass, the snake dies with a swift shot. Where to be wary, where to close off...
This seems to be the essence of the Fourteen Fists of Xingyi Quan?
If that were all, it wouldn't be so strange. What's strange is the signature below the conclusion: Longfeng, Puzhou.
Puzhou is now Yongji, Shanxi. It's not surprising that Xingyi Quan originated in Shanxi.
However, the addition of "Longfeng" to the Xingyiquan boxing manual, along with the name of Puzhou, Shanxi, is quite strange.
Xingyiquan was created by Ji Jike, a native of Puzhou, Shanxi Province, during the late Ming and early Qing dynasties. Ji Jike's courtesy name was Longfeng.
So, is this the original manual of Xingyi Quan?
Ha ha……
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