1932, Peiping

Wei Changxu crouched inside Zhonghua Book Store on Liulichang Street, flipping through a book in his hands while pricking up his ears to listen to the old shopkeepers chatting.

Liulichang generally had no business in the early morning, so after breakfast, those shopkeepers would all carry birdcages and sit outside Zhonghua Book Store to chat. Sometimes they discussed the tense political situation, sometimes talked about how Beijing had actually been stripped of its capital status by the Republican government and renamed Peiping, occasionally expressing indignation at those blonde, red-haired foreign devils. When the sun shifted somewhat, they would all be called back by their shop assistants.

Yes, Liulichang was Beijing’s most prosperous antique street. Since the early Qing Shunzhi reign, this had been a gathering place for Han officials. Later, guild halls from across the nation were built nearby, and officials and examination candidates often gathered here to browse book markets. The market gradually became a neighborhood, with bookstores and antique shops from Qianmen and Chenghuang Temple also relocating here.

They say “gold in troubled times, antiques in peaceful times,” but seeing the late Qing chaos approaching, people coming to Liulichang to trade antiques for gold were endless. Wei Changxu watched day by day, noticing fewer shopkeepers coming here each morning to chat and walk birds, their expressions growing increasingly grave. Current times were difficult – seeing the Japanese occupy Manchuria and threaten the interior, many people quietly closed their shops and fled south for refuge.

Today these old shopkeepers’ conversation was also subdued. After chatting randomly for a few sentences, they all dispersed. Seeing no useful information, Wei Changxu threw down some coins, grabbed his newspaper, and walked toward Liulichang’s southwest direction.

There weren’t many people on the street. The usually bustling lanes had become cold and desolate, every passerby’s expression showing panic and unease. In the distance from Beijing city, sporadic gunshots could be heard – whether from soldiers’ conflicts or civilians’ hidden weapons, no one knew. Perhaps these gunshots had taken more lives, but no one would be moved by this. Everyone unanimously lowered their heads and quickened their pace.

Skillfully passing through several alleys, Wei Changxu pushed open Dumb House’s door. Just as he stepped inside, a small child bumped into his arms and snatched the “Peiping Daily” from his hands.

“Su Yao, how many characters can you recognize? Don’t you still need me to read to you?” Wei Changxu curled his lips but didn’t argue with him.

Wei Changxu was nine years old this year. His family had been quite wealthy when he was small, but in chaotic times, the richer the family, the harder they fell. When Wei Changxu was six, his family was destroyed and he became a street beggar, nearly starving to death. Fortunately, this antique shop’s owner showed great kindness and saved him. Later, seeing he had some interest and knowledge about antiques, he kept him as an apprentice.

Su Yao was three years younger than him. When Wei Changxu first came to Dumb House, he was still a baby in swaddling clothes. The owner said this child was also picked up during the chaos, but Wei Changxu privately thought this child was probably the owner’s illegitimate son. Because the owner was far too partial – even though Su Yao was young, the care and love lavished on him was simply blinding! Look! The white jade longevity lock this child had worn around his neck since childhood was obviously priceless! He didn’t have such fine things to wear!

Wei Changxu watched the six-year-old child lying on the yellow rosewood kang table reading characters and newspapers while internally grumbling. He placed the breakfast he’d bought outside next to Su Yao. At this moment, a young man around twenty emerged from behind the mica screen – the owner of Dumb House.

This person always wore a black Zhongshan suit with a lifelike red dragon embroidered in red thread, honestly crouched on his right shoulder, extremely imposing. No matter how many times Wei Changxu looked, he couldn’t look away. In all these years, he’d never seen the owner wear other clothes – at most adding an outer coat during autumn and winter.

Seeing the owner wet a towel and considerately wipe Su Yao’s small hands clean, then place the meat pie on a sacrificial red porcelain plate, using a small silver knife to cut it neatly into six pieces, then pour soy milk from a jar into a blue and white porcelain bowl and place it beside Su Yao’s hand – that entire sequence of actions was incredibly skilled and natural, making Wei Changxu watch with various kinds of envy.

Well, he shouldn’t compete for favor with a child three years younger, especially since this snowball-like child was one he’d watched grow up. Wei Changxu honestly washed his hands, grabbed a meat pie, and while eating tried to liven the atmosphere: “Today those people chatted about the great fire in the imperial palace before. Boss, do you have any impression of it?”

The owner was boiling water on a small red clay charcoal stove. Hearing this, he pondered slightly, then slowly said: “That was nine years ago, wasn’t it? It started burning from Shenwu Gate, from south to north. Later, for some reason, the Great Buddha Hall behind Zhongzheng Hall also caught fire. That fire burned for a whole night. It’s said altogether over a hundred palace halls were destroyed, burning many rare antiques.” The owner’s voice was always so peaceful and calm, but saying the last sentence, he obviously couldn’t hide the regret and anger in his words, his phoenix eyes rarely narrowing.

But Wei Changxu continued enthusiastically: “I was born that year! My mother was frightened by the fire and went into premature labor, so I came out early! I heard that when people were fighting the fire, they saw many beautiful or bewitching figures rushing out from the Zhongzheng Hall fire scene. They said those were ancient antiques that had cultivated into spirits over the years, taking human form!”

This legend circulated among the people, but Su Yao was hearing it for the first time. He immediately lifted his small head from the newspaper, his bright black and white eyes staring unblinkingly at Wei Changxu, hoping he would tell more.

But the owner lowered his eyes and bent to poke the charcoal in the small stove with fire tongs, saying indifferently: “Those are all rumors deliberately spread by the palace servants who stole things. How do you think this fire started? For years, palace treasures flowed out. Customers at Liulichang could even pre-order treasures from inside the palace – even pearls from the empress’s phoenix crown and hundred-jin gold bells from Shouhuang Hall could be obtained, completely unrestrained. Finally it became a huge scandal and the palace wanted to investigate, so they simply set a fire, claiming those missing antiques were all burned clean, truly impossible to verify.”

Wei Changxu curled his lips. Actually, any clear-sighted person could see this – even the emperor led the way in selling antiques. When the top beam is crooked, the lower ones follow suit. Didn’t others learn perfectly?

Su Yao, seeing no more stories, returned his attention to the newspaper in his hands. Soon he looked up again, stammering: “Brother Xu, auction? What’s an auction?”

Wei Changxu leaned over to look and nearly had his nose bent with anger. He slapped the table furiously: “Those bastards! They actually want to auction those palace antiques! To raise money to buy airplanes? Which bastard thought this up? Absolutely outrageous!” Even nine-year-old he knew that though this was called a public auction, it actually meant selling those national treasures to foreigners.

How ridiculous! They couldn’t even protect their ancestors’ things – how could they expect to protect the homeland?

“Boss! What should we do about this?” Wei Changxu looked helplessly at the owner beside him. Since the palace became the Forbidden City seven years ago and opened for public exhibition, he’d visited several times. Those exquisite, precious national treasures – in his view, not one could be missing! Moreover, those national treasures no longer belonged to the imperial family but to the entire nation!

The owner still calmly watched the small kettle on the red clay stove. After the water boiled, he steadily took it down and brewed a cup of Da Hong Pao tea, three parts red to seven parts green. Smelling the tea fragrance, the owner looked up, meeting two pairs of expectant eyes, one large and one small, and couldn’t help smiling: “Don’t worry, this auction won’t succeed. Didn’t you see the newspapers making a big fuss? If they dare auction national treasures, first the students won’t agree. I estimate there will be protest marches next.”

Wei Changxu felt somewhat relieved. Beijing’s university students were all hot-blooded – they’d march at the drop of a hat. Combined with newspaper propaganda, this probably wouldn’t succeed.

The owner sipped the clear yellow tea and sighed: “It’s just that this war will eventually reach here. If those things don’t want to be destroyed here, they’ll probably be moved south soon.”

Wei Changxu and Su Yao exchanged glances. Unlike Su Yao’s confused look, Wei Changxu’s heart was clear as a mirror, knowing his owner, like others, was probably also considering fleeing south for refuge.

In Wei Changxu’s heart, the owner was always prophetic.

The auction was indeed aborted due to students’ strong opposition and protest marches, but new turmoil arose. Rumors spread that Forbidden City antiques would be moved south. One faction thought this move was necessary, but more people felt it better to shatter like jade than survive as broken pottery – moving antiques south would only disturb people’s hearts and was abandoning the homeland.

Wei Changxu read newspaper articles of scholars arguing fiercely, saying things like “lonely empty city remains, hastily ancient treasures move.” He only hated having little ink in his belly, otherwise he really wanted to pick up a pen and curse back at them. Those who weren’t acting were the warlord soldiers! Those antiques were completely innocent! Why should they stay here to perish together with Beijing?

Which was more important – human lives or those cultural artifacts and antiques?

Different people would probably have different answers.

But though Wei Changxu was young, he knew the cultural artifacts in the Forbidden City couldn’t be judged by common sense.

They were the inheritance of the Chinese nation passed down over thousands of years. They were this nation’s culture. They absolutely could not be plundered or destroyed!

“Boss, I want to become a soldier,” Wei Changxu said with determination after struggling for many days, clenching his fists.

Su Yao tilted his head, looking at him confusedly. In a small child’s concept, he hadn’t yet realized how terrible becoming a soldier was.

The owner put down the blue and white porcelain covered bowl in his hands, patted Wei Changxu’s head, and smiled: “You’re only nine years old. They won’t take you.”

“But…” Wei Changxu knew this was true, wishing he could grow up instantly.

“Don’t worry, I understand your thoughts. I’ll help you achieve your wish,” the owner said mysteriously, miraculously calming the restlessness and unwillingness in Wei Changxu’s heart.