Feng Shui

Chapitre 15

"When are you going to show me your true colors?" Yan Shang said with considerable dissatisfaction, then stood up and casually jumped onto the edge of the sink to sit on. "I heard you're actually quite handsome!"

"The completion is quite good. It's soaked in blood, and even the texture of the skin is just like the real thing." Yan Shi ignored the curious "little" girl beside him, his ugly scars on his face becoming even more distorted as he focused on examining his work.

"What a workaholic!" Yan Shang pouted, muttered, and jumped into the sink to continue watching her cartoon. On TV, the White Bone Demon was transforming into a beautiful young girl to seduce Tang Sanzang.

"The Gabriel family seems far more complicated than you imagine, dear Mr. Seger. I should have reminded you of that."

Yan Shi smiled as he looked at the handsome mask in his hand, which resembled that of Apollo, the sun god.

Chapter Twenty-Two: The Bones

Name: Chongtuan Gender: Male Age: Appearance: Over forty

Occupation: Owner of Wa Su Ge Store Address: No. 12, Xikou Street, Bomeiji

"This vase is a white-ground famille rose porcelain piece, decorated with eight peaches and bats. Those familiar with the history of Chinese porcelain will know that there is a saying in porcelain making techniques called 'Yong-eight, Qian-nine,' meaning that if eight peaches are painted, it is a porcelain piece from the Yongzheng period, and nine peaches indicate a product from the Kangxi period. Moreover, we can see that the bats painted on the vase have downward-curving hooks at the tips of their wings, with a dot in the hook—all characteristics of Yongzheng famille rose porcelain. Therefore, I judge that this porcelain piece should be made during the Yongzheng period. However, we did not find any official kiln marks on the vase, so we speculate that the vase should be from a folk kiln. Since the mouth of the vase is broken, I finally estimate the value of this vase to be 7,000 RMB!"

"A master is a master; everything he says is so convincing!" The worker responsible for cleaning the TV station's cafeteria stopped what he was doing, leaning on his mop, and looked enviously at the well-dressed scholar on TV.

"Hey, don't you know? Chu Zhengyu is finished!" Another older cleaner glanced disdainfully at the person on TV and said slowly while mopping the floor.

"What do you mean he's no longer good enough?" Intrigued by his companion's question, the younger man put down his tools and asked curiously, "Isn't he known as a master?"

“That was in the past. I heard…” The older one also stopped what he was doing, looked around, and then lowered his voice to whisper in his companion’s ear, “I heard that he hasn’t been able to fire any decent porcelain for many years. Some people even say that all his previous works were made by his students!”

"Is that so?" the younger one exclaimed in surprise, then nervously covered his mouth.

"That's right. A while ago, that guy named Li Siqin was making a big fuss about it everywhere. But looking at the works he produced, they do have some of the style of Chu Zhengyu in his prime."

"Master is amazing! He can even distinguish styles. I don't know anything about this!" The young apprentice hurriedly flattered him.

A few months ago, Li Siqin, Chu Zhengyu's former disciple who had been expelled from the school and had been in hiding for a long time, suddenly reappeared in the public eye, publicly claiming that all of Chu Zhengyu's award-winning works were made by him. This explosive news made almost every newspaper, magazine, and television station extremely happy. For three months in total, from large city television stations to small gossip magazines, all media outlets with a certain circulation were frantically hyping this news, with all sorts of reports and interviews flying around. The central figure of the incident, Li Siqin, not only used this to sweep away the shadow of his past being exposed for bad behavior and being expelled from the school, but also returned to the porcelain industry in a grand manner, and even became a hot topic of discussion.

“In the past, Teacher Chu begged me not to tell anyone about this. I kept it a secret because of our teacher-student relationship. But now I feel that if I keep this a secret for the rest of my life, I will not be able to face the public or my own conscience. It would be a desecration of China’s thousands of years of civilization and something that no porcelain craftsmanship enthusiast can forgive. So today I’m standing up against all odds. This is not for my own reputation, but to restore the integrity of this ancient art!”

Li Siqin has a repulsive appearance, but he spoke these words with an air of righteousness. Although this matter was never verified by any reliable evidence, and Chu Zhengyu did not express any affirmation or denial on the matter, in the public's mind, Chu Zhengyu's silence, given his creative slump in recent years, was undoubtedly an admission of the matter, which further solidified the idea that Chu Zhengyu had indeed used other people's works to gain fame.

"Oh dear, I just heard it from someone else, you little rascal! Master isn't that amazing!" The older cleaning lady, listening to her colleague's flattery, looked smug but tried her best to appear indifferent. "That's why you can't go too far. What's yours will be yours, and what's not yours will be yours sooner or later. Just think about how glamorous Chu Zhengyu used to be, and now he's ended up doing this kind of boring TV program. It's really..."

"I really didn't expect this..." At this point, the two sanitation workers shook their heads in unison, as if they were very disappointed.

"If you have time to gossip behind people's backs, you'd be better off learning something new. You wouldn't be sweeping floors at the TV station at your age!"

A cold voice came from nowhere. The two cleaners were startled and looked up at the same time, only to see Chu Zhengyu, with his gray hair, standing at the restaurant entrance, looking at them coldly.

"My work is none of your business to criticize!" Chu Zhengyu said coldly, adjusting his gold-rimmed glasses before turning and leaving.

I really shouldn't have put aside the bond between master and disciple and tolerated that scoundrel Li Siqin back then! Walking on the warm spring street, Chu Zhengyu's thoughts unconsciously drifted back to five years ago.

Five years ago, Li Siqin, then a disciple of Chu Zhengyu, was accidentally discovered by Chu Zhengyu to be using his skills to make counterfeits for black market antique dealers. When questioned by Chu Zhengyu, Li Siqin not only failed to repent but also accused Chu Zhengyu of being inflexible. This angered Chu Zhengyu, who had previously cherished Li Siqin's talent and even considered having him inherit his mantle, leading him to expel Li Siqin from his school. Unexpectedly, before leaving, Li Siqin absconded with several porcelain pieces that Chu Zhengyu had painstakingly completed but had not yet publicly displayed, disappearing without a trace. Chu Zhengyu, mindful of their past relationship and Li Siqin's respect for him, and fearing that exposure would ruin Li Siqin's porcelain-making career, decided after much deliberation not to report the incident. The matter was thus suppressed. Whether due to the blow of this incident or a genuine creative block, Chu Zhengyu never produced a piece that satisfied him again from that day on. Ironically, the events that had been suppressed for five years were forced to resurface three months ago due to Li Siqin's appearance. Even more ridiculous, Li Siqin returned to the porcelain-making industry and used the following evidence to prove that Chu Zhengyu's award-winning works were made by him: the few pieces of porcelain that Chu Zhengyu had personally fired when he left his master Chu Zhengyu.

"Sigh..." Chu Zhengyu sighed silently, took off his glasses, and took out a checkered handkerchief from his pocket to wipe his forehead. The spring afternoon had unknowingly become so hot.

"Sir, would you like to come and take a look?" someone called out to him from the roadside.

Chu Zhengyu looked up and saw a man who looked like a street vendor sitting on a few wooden boxes on the sparsely populated street, smiling at him. In front of the man was a dirty red cloth, which was filled with all kinds of pottery and porcelain. He was obviously an unlicensed vendor selling small handicrafts.

"No... okay." Chu Zhengyu originally wanted to refuse, but suddenly became interested halfway through and agreed to go and take a look.

"Well, sir, you have a really good eye! This vase is Xuande blue and white porcelain. Look at the glaze, look, there's 'orange peel texture' and 'rust spots' here. Don't like it? How about this blue and white eight-treasure pattern plate? This is a late Chenghua piece. And this one, this is a masterpiece. I can tell you're an expert. It's a Yongzheng blue and white underglaze red cloud and dragon celestial globe vase. Remember that flower-patterned pot at that auction on TV? This is no worse than that. Look at the underglaze red color..."

Chu Zhengyu listened patiently to the vendor's introduction while carefully examining the porcelain in his hands. Indeed, orange peel texture and rust spots were characteristics of Xuande blue and white porcelain, but possessing these characteristics did not guarantee it was Xuande blue and white. The vase in front of him had a thick glaze with remarkably uniform bubble size, undoubtedly achieved through machine-controlled firing temperature. The blue and white eight-treasure pattern plate, supposedly from the late Chenghua period, while small and exquisite, reflecting the style of the late Chenghua era, appeared rough in its glazing. However, the fact that a small street vendor could be so knowledgeable about the styles favored by porcelain connoisseurs was actually pleasing to Chu Zhengyu. Therefore, even though the authenticity of those pieces' dates had been completely refuted, Chu Zhengyu patiently listened to the vendor's tireless explanations.

"If you're not interested in any of these, sir, I have another treasured item here that I wasn't planning on selling!" Seeing that Chu Zhengyu was just admiring his items with a smile but didn't seem to be buying them, the vendor seemed to be getting anxious and pulled out his last trump card.

"Hey, don't tell anyone I have this. I went through so much trouble to get it. If it weren't for the fact that you, sir, are a connoisseur, I would never have shown it to anyone." The vendor said mysteriously, placing his half-eaten lunchbox on the cart beside him. He carefully dragged out a smaller wooden box from among the boxes he had been sitting on. After looking around to make sure no one who looked like city management officers or business administration officials was passing by, he pulled out a dirty hammer from behind him, removed the nails from the box, parted the straw, and took out the object wrapped in layers of silk. Unwrapping the packaging, he found a pottery urn about thirty centimeters long and twenty centimeters in diameter. The brownish-yellow mouth of the urn was covered with an oiled paper and bound with red rope.

"This is..." Chu Zhengyu narrowed his eyes, looking at the unremarkable pottery in front of him with some surprise. The shape was unstable, the glaze was uneven, there were cracks in some places, and the mouth of the jar was broken. Even if it was a fake, it was a failed fake.

"Don't look down on this urn." Seeing Chu Zhengyu's thoughts, the vendor said with a smile, scratching the back of his head, looking as honest and simple as the fruit farmers sitting on their carts next door, eating and chatting.

“That’s right. This urn is neither a product of the previous dynasty nor a work of a famous artist. Its value does not come from the urn itself, but from what it can offer to collectors—” At this point, the vendor paused, smiled, and said, “Well, that’s hard to say, hard to say.”

Chu Zhengyu was taken aback for a moment, then a smile crept onto his face. To him, the vendor's actions were undoubtedly a clumsy scam. After showing no interest in the displayed goods, the vendor tried to sell them to him with such poor acting and awful lines; such a conman was somewhat laughable.

"Since it's hard to say, let's take it back." Chu Zhengyu brushed the dust off his hands and prepared to leave.

"If we use the clay from this urn instead, we might be able to fire a better piece."

Before Chu Zhengyu turned around, the vendor suddenly said those words. Chu Zhengyu looked at the short man in front of him with surprise. He hadn't looked closely before, only intuitively feeling that the man was just an ordinary small vendor, unremarkable in appearance and dressed in a shabby way. However, at this moment, this man with a buzz cut gave Chu Zhengyu an indescribable feeling.

This person is very insightful!

At that moment, the vague adjective popped into Chu Zhengyu's mind—deep! He couldn't see what the man was thinking. His eyes weren't like those of an ordinary merchant, which showed shrewdness or cunning. His eyes were quite simple, but they were impossible to see through. Something seemed to be hidden deep in his black pupils, but it was perfectly concealed by his outward calm.

“You may not believe me until what I say is proven, so I will not ask you for a price upfront, and even after this urn brings you everything you want, you may not have to pay the price if you do not wish to,” the peddler said gently and calmly. “However, when you think of coming to me one day, you should be prepared to pay a huge price for everything you have gained—Mr. Chu!”

Chu Zhengyu was startled and snapped back to reality.

"This guy's crazy!" A young couple walked past him, embracing. The woman turned her head and glared at him. "He's been standing in the middle of the road for ages without moving."

Chu Zhengyu looked up and saw that it was already completely dark. The streetlights in Lishui were just coming on, and the streets were bustling with people. Several vendors were enthusiastically hawking their goods to passersby.

What just happened? Chu Zhengyu wondered. He should have finished recording a program at the TV station in the afternoon and was heading back to his studio. How did he end up standing on the street all afternoon? Could he really be getting dementia? Chu Zhengyu chuckled self-deprecatingly, loosened his tie, and let the spring breeze blow against him. Just as he was about to take a step, he suddenly kicked something. The object made a thud, fell to the ground, and rolled away – it was a ceramic urn.

"Place a bowl next to the urn at night, and the next morning there will be soil in the bowl. Add that to your clay, and you will be able to fire good porcelain. But remember, never try to open the paper on the urn, or I will take back everything I have given you."

In Chu Zhengyu's mind, from some unknown corner, someone's voice was speaking. He tried hard to recall, but he couldn't remember anything. He only remembered that someone had told him that this urn could bring him what he wanted, but he had no recollection of who gave him the urn.

Gazing at the giant advertisement featuring Li Siqin's smiling face under the city's dazzling neon lights, Chu Zhengyu hesitated for a moment, then picked up the urn and left.

"Professor Chu, it is an honor for our school to have you take time out of your busy schedule to give a lecture today! Let's give a round of applause to welcome Professor Chu!" Amid cheers, Chu Zhengyu, dressed in a suit and tie, stepped onto the university's podium and repeatedly greeted the audience.

"Speaking of the history of porcelain, we must mention the Kangxi, Yongzheng and Qianlong reigns..." Chu Zhengyu cleared his throat and began to introduce the history of porcelain making to the elite students below the stage.

"Teacher Chu is truly remarkable. A year ago, I thought he was going to retire from the porcelain industry. Back then, that guy named Li... Li... Li something was causing quite a stir."

"That's right. People are going around claiming that he's the one who made all of Teacher Chu's works, just by showing off a few pieces of porcelain. It's hilarious. Did you see those pieces Teacher Chu made a while ago? Those are truly masterpieces. Sigh, I really don't know when I'll ever have that kind of skill."

"Save your breath, not everyone can be a master."

"That's true, haha."

"By the way, I heard that Teacher Chu's only daughter went missing without a trace a while ago and hasn't been found yet."

"I heard about it too. It's really admirable that he could still give a speech for us with such energy after what happened. His dedication is truly admirable!"

Two students were talking quietly in the audience, and no one noticed a man leaving the scene.

"Chu Zhengyu—" Luo Jian looked at the file in his hand, sighed heavily, and closed the file. It seemed that nothing could be found for the time being; he should go back to the police station first.

"I heard you went out to play a while ago." Yanxiang curiously leaned on the railing of the flower-adorned corridor, watching with great interest as Chong Tuan wiped the displayed porcelain. Bowls, plates, cups, pots, bottles, jars, and vats—all kinds of porcelain and pottery filled the entire room. The heavy mahogany shelves stretched all the way to the roof. Chong Tuan, wearing glasses, climbed the ladder and carefully wiped the porcelain with silk. Every movement was meticulous and careful, as gentle as if he were treating a lover, without the slightest hint of annoyance. It was as if he had spent thousands of years doing this thing that others would consider tedious. In fact, he had been doing it for thousands of years.

"Let me tell you a story," Chong Tuan suddenly said, grinning with an honest look, but his hands didn't stop moving.

"I'm not a child," Yanxiang protested, but then picked a seat, poured tea, and took some pastries, as if she were about to start a tea party.

"Have you heard the story of the kilns in Jingdezhen?" Chong Tuan asked as he wiped the kilns.

"No!" Yanxiang answered decisively, stuffing two large pieces of plum blossom cake into her mouth, straightening her neck, and swallowing with all her might.

"In ancient times, an emperor ordered his potters to make a porcelain dragon bed for him. If the bed wasn't finished by the deadline, he would have all the potters beheaded. However, no matter how hard the potters tried, they couldn't finish firing the bed. With the deadline fast approaching, everyone was at a loss, their faces constantly clouded with worry, not knowing what to do. Among them was a potter's daughter..."

"Is she a beauty?" Yanxiang asked, raising her hand while continuing to stuff food into her mouth with her other hand.

Chong Tuan sighed, "How would I know if she's a beauty or not?"

"Aren't you a storyteller? I don't want to listen if you're not a beautiful woman!"

"Who says storytellers have to know everything... Okay, let's just treat her as a beauty." Realizing that he had been so easily provoked by Yanxiang, he took a deep breath and changed his tune.

"Just because you say she's beautiful doesn't mean she is. How can there be such irresponsible storytellers!"

"..." Chong Tuan's lips twitched a few times, completely at a loss for how to respond to Yan Xiang's illogical and irresponsible words that jumped around.

"In the end, it's just that this girl came up with some way to save everyone, that's how Chinese legends usually go~" Yanxiang saw that things were getting out of hand and carefully steered the topic back.

“Yes, she sacrificed herself in the furnace.” Chong Tuan chuckled softly. “People always believe that sacrificing oneself in the furnace as a virgin will result in the creation of something unparalleled. Whether it’s a swordsmith or a porcelain maker, there have been stories like this since ancient times.”

The image of the well-dressed man appeared before his eyes. In the end, he still curiously opened the urn. Having lost the miracle that Chongtuan had given him, he was unwilling to pay the price and had to sacrifice others.

"That's basically just a method of changing the crystal lattice structure or the composition of raw materials, and spraying blood onto the sword or something, I think it's just cold work hardening." Yanxiang wiped her mouth, wiped her greasy hands with the silk tablecloth, and said with a grin.

"Where did you learn such saccharine words?" Chong Tuan frowned. Had this kid abandoned his business again to go out and have fun, just like... just like him? No, he was out gathering inspiration, unlike this lazy, good-for-nothing spendthrift! How had his thinking been unconsciously assimilated by this guy?

"It's a secret." Yan Xiang chuckled and let out a satisfied burp, stretching as she walked out. "You keep wiping, I'm going back now, lest that little sparrow nags me again. See you later!"

It's best not to meet! Chong Tuan looked at the mess on the table—the teapot was overturned, the freshly brewed Mao Feng tea was empty, the pastries were all gone, the table was covered with crumbs, and ten dark fingerprints were clearly visible on the apricot-yellow silk tablecloth…

"Captain, we found Chu Yuan's hair in the clay excavated from Chu Zhengyu's kiln. After DNA analysis, it was confirmed that the clay contained... Chu Yuan's flesh and bones... This is too cruel!" Detective Xiao Zhang, who came to report, looked at the identification conclusion on the report with a look of unbearable pain.

"Bomeji..."

"What? Captain, what did you say?"

"I need to go out for a bit. You guys continue interrogating Chu Zhengyu." After giving the order, Luo Jian grabbed his coat and rushed out of the office.

"What exactly is Bomei Market?!" Clutching the gold business card he had taken from Chu Zhengyu tightly, Luo Jian vowed to find out the true nature of this market at all costs!

===================================

This is another difficult article to write. Firstly, the author is a complete novice when it comes to porcelain; I know absolutely nothing about it. All the porcelain knowledge mentioned in this article is from the internet, so please correct me if I'm wrong. Secondly, the author feels it's time to make a decision about the future of *The Collection of Bomei*. Should it continue as before, writing short pieces about various people and objects whenever inspiration strikes, or should a main storyline and a climax emerge, leading to the conclusion of *The Collection of Bomei*? That's why I've included the character Luo Jian in this article; he might become the one who ends *The Collection of Bomei*. I should have gotten everyone's opinions before deciding on the direction of this article, but unfortunately, nobody reads it when I'm not updating T_T, so I'll just have to write and decide later. Busy with work, studying, and serializing two books simultaneously, I'm feeling a bit overwhelmed one night… What a pity.

Chapter Twenty-Three: Mermaid Blood

Name: Saju Gender: Female Age: Appears to be 20 years old

Occupation: Owner of Queyuyuan Restaurant; Address: No. 12, Dongshi Street, Bomei.

Name: Xiao Bi Gender: Female Age: Appearance: 8 years old

Occupation: Servant at the Bird Fish Garden; Address: No. 12, East Street, Bomeiji

The brilliant lights and bustling market were far behind. The rickshaws rattled on the damp stone pavement, accompanied by the heavy breathing and footsteps of the drivers. The mechanical noises, muffled and heavy, crashed against the empty alleyways in the quiet autumn night. The alleyways, seemingly without end, were like an endless corridor of time. Compared to the towering gray walls, the people who moved through them seemed so small and vulnerable.

"Sir, could we please stop here? At most, I won't take your money, okay?" the rickshaw driver pleaded, slowing his pace. This place was so silent that even a heartbeat could be clearly heard, not a single light could be seen. All around were silent buildings—tall pavilions, low houses, with doors, windows, wells, and roads—but no life! Not a single living being could be seen, neither human nor animal; it was like a dead city.

This was a strange place. Just moments ago, it was a brightly lit market, but after a few steps, it suddenly fell into complete silence, like the contrast between night and day. The intense feeling terrified the driver, and the passenger, the one wearing a heavy veil that prevented him from seeing his face, also filled him with fear.

The passenger, hidden by the rickshaw cover, remained silent for a while before finally speaking: "You can go back now. I'll walk the rest of the way myself."

****

At six in the morning, the alarm clock woke him up. He got up and went to the bathroom. Glancing at himself in the mirror, he noticed his hair was a bit long and needed a trim. Wanling hated unkempt men more than anything, and for Wanling's sake, he had to pay attention to his appearance. He brushed his teeth, washed his face, shaved, washed his face again, and meticulously combed his hair back in front of the mirror. He dampened any unruly spots with water, then used hair wax to fix it. Perfect, a flawless look.

He changed into the only decent-looking suit on the chair, carefully buttoned it, looked at himself in the mirror again and again, and then grabbed his car keys and went out. Just before leaving, he saw the large "22" on the calendar by the door and couldn't help but stop. Beneath the large, bright red Arabic numerals were rows and rows of taboo and auspicious words, reminding people what they should and shouldn't do today. His eyes stopped when he saw the line for funerals, and a smile unconsciously spread across his face. He couldn't help but whistle excitedly. Two years of hard work, today it would finally pay off, he thought, and opened the door with a flourish and walked out.

Wanling looked at him with intense emotions—disbelief, hatred, and deep sorrow. She couldn't believe her fiancé would point a gun at her; she hated him for admitting he'd only approached her for the Tong family's wealth, and that her father had died at his hands a month earlier; she was sorrowful because she loved him deeply. He smiled smugly. Although he didn't have deep feelings for this woman, the fact that a high-society heiress was so devoted to him, a street urchin, still greatly satisfied his ego. Even more satisfying was the thought of his own pockets. From this day forward, all the Tong family's money would be in his name. He had just persuaded this naive woman, who knew nothing of deception, to sign a will, promising to entrust all her assets to him after his death. Now, he only needed to pretend ignorance, to act like a pitiful man who had lost his wife, and the charade would be perfectly over.