Chapter 4: Inheriting the Ancestor’s Legacy

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Reading further: “I, once a commoner, rose from the humble lands of Shangluo…” This line—“I, once a commoner, rose from Shangluo”—could it be anyone but Li Zicheng?

Continuing: “In remembrance of the land under Heaven… In the fifteenth year, you nurtured and protected the northern river, led your troops to submit… Your merits are thus established… Now that peace is restored, rewards are to be bestowed… You are granted the title of Second-rank Earl… You are pardoned from death twice, your son once, in recognition of your service… Proclaimed earnestly in the first year of Yongchang.”

Just from the last two lines, anyone literate would know what this is.

Looking at the third line: “nurtured and protected” and “in the fifteenth year, crossed the northern river, led your troops to submit”—anyone versed in the history of Ming knows:

Lin Yangcheng, one of the Thirty-six Families at the end of the Ming, styled himself the King Who Contends for the World. In the fifteenth year of Chongzhen, the Yellow River breached its banks, and Lin Yangcheng had no recourse. He led his troops to Kaifeng and surrendered to Li Zicheng.

So, this is the imperial iron certificate granted by Li Zicheng to the King Who Contends for the World, Lin Yangcheng, after Li proclaimed himself emperor.

Commonly known as: an Imperial Pardon Medal.

Now, examining its specifications: about twenty centimeters tall; when unfolded, roughly forty centimeters wide. Compared with the measurements of Ming craftsmanship, it matches precisely—“six and a half inches high, one foot two and a half inches wide.”

The History of Ming: “Second-rank Earls: six and a half inches high, one foot two and a half inches wide…”—it aligns perfectly with the “Second-rank Earl” mentioned in the certificate.

Therefore, if this iron certificate is genuine, there would finally be no dispute among Ming historians: Li Zicheng did indeed make Lin Yangcheng a Second-rank Earl, not a Duke…

The more he recalled, the more convinced Wang Qizhi became; the veins on his forehead throbbed ever more fiercely.

He’d been so close, with just a stall between them—why hadn’t he noticed?

No, he had noticed.

When this boy bought the tile, he’d been standing right next to him, but the rust was so thick, only a few scattered characters could be seen—nothing recognizable.

At the time, he’d wondered, “What’s this kid buying that for?”

It wasn’t until that big, dark fellow tossed it aside, scraping off the rust and revealing many more characters…

The more he thought about it, the more amazed he became. “How did you see it back then?”

“I didn’t!” Lin Sicheng pointed to a line: “Heaven bears witness, truly seeking to relieve suffering.”

“At the time, only the two characters for ‘Heaven’ were visible. I was curious: do temples use iron tiles? Do churches use iron tiles? It wasn’t expensive, only forty yuan, so I bought it…”

Wang Qizhi snorted. “Heh!”

Do you think I’ll believe that?

Just now, as soon as the rust fell away and all those characters emerged, the kid didn’t even blink. Clearly, he knew exactly what it was when he bought it.

He looked at the other piece: “Deceive Heaven to cross the sea, feint east strike west…” Even buying antiques, you use the Art of War?

His eyes lit up. “Will you sell it? I’ll pay a high price!”

Lin Sicheng curled his lip: “Wishful thinking, there are only a few characters visible now.”

With each additional character revealed, its research value increases, and its collectible value rises sharply—it could easily double in price.

“Don’t rush, let me find a place to clean off the rust, and I need to verify its authenticity!”

Of course it must be cleaned, and certainly authenticated, but Wang Qizhi was sure: from the iron and the rust alone, it couldn’t possibly be fake.

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He coaxed, “I really am an expert, let me help you clean it!”

Lin Sicheng glanced at him.

“You don’t trust me?”

“It’s not that,” Lin Sicheng paused. “It’s just that this is ironwork.”

“I know, and?”

Lin Sicheng sighed, “But your expertise is in bronze.”

Just because they’re all metal relics, doesn’t mean the restoration techniques are the same—worlds apart. How could Lin Sicheng dare let him clean it?

Wang Qizhi was dumbfounded for several seconds. “How do you know?”

“Your hands: your fingertips are darkened from frequent contact with copper sulfide, tin oxide, and other corrosion byproducts of bronze… You work in Baoji, right?”

Wang Qizhi eyed him suspiciously. “There are many institutions that study bronzeware. Why not Xijing?”

“You’re the expert—you know why: water, climate, geological strata, soil composition, pH, and oxidation factors all differ. This means the corrosion products on excavated vessels differ as well…”

Wang Qizhi’s scalp tingled. Of course he knew—he really was an expert. But how could this kid, at his age, know all this?

Seeing him frozen, Lin Sicheng smiled again. “Don’t worry. Once I’ve cleaned it and authenticated it, I’ll definitely contact you.”

Wang Qizhi nodded blankly.

Lin Sicheng nudged Gu Ming, who shuffled out of the bank like a zombie.

Shan Wangshu had long been stupefied. Staring at Lin Sicheng’s retreating back, her face was full of disbelief. “What kind of family is that child from?”

Wang Qizhi was still dazed, his mouth moving before his mind. “Probably has little to do with family… Look at your father, so capable—yet you and your siblings aren’t all prodigies.”

“Wang Qizhi…” Shan Wangshu roared, pinching his waist.

“Ow… I was wrong…”

…

On the way back, Gu Ming moved as if sleepwalking.

They’d grown up together, bare-bottomed as kids—who didn’t know whom?

But suddenly, it felt as if he didn’t recognize him at all.

“Wait… when did you become so sharp-eyed?”

“Come on, I didn’t go to college for nothing.”

Gu Ming snorted. “College? You barely passed. Out of seven courses per semester, you’d flunk three… If Grandpa hadn’t put in a word, you’d have repeated two years in three.”

Lin Sicheng choked a bit. As the saying goes, you can’t force a cow to drink. Those three years, he’d pretty much slacked off. Passing all his courses would’ve been a miracle.

But that was then. Now is now.

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“What do you know? Do you understand what heritage preservation is? What about appraisal? They’re not the same at all… If I hadn’t taken so many electives in appraisal, how could I have failed any?”

“But you can’t tell me that just a little bit of dabbling, and you suddenly struck it rich?”

“I didn’t start learning appraisal in college, did I? Since I was a kid, watching Grandpa—I learned just by watching.”

Gu Ming was half convinced, half skeptical. “I’ve watched plenty, too. Why didn’t I pick it up?”

Lin Sicheng just smiled without answering. Gu Ming hesitated, clenching his fists.

Gu Ming was two years older, but when it came to intelligence and perception, Lin Sicheng could outthink him threefold. Ever since they were children, Lin Sicheng did the thinking; Gu Ming did the heavy lifting—without exception.

To say Lin Sicheng had suddenly found his calling, and could even make money from it—it all seemed abrupt, a bit hard to believe.

But that ten thousand yuan on Lin Sicheng’s card, and those two tiles in his hand—they couldn’t be fake, could they?

Gu Ming thought for a moment and pointed at the iron tile: “So, how much could this fetch?”

“Maybe ten, twenty thousand,” Lin Sicheng replied casually.

“Bullshit!” Gu Ming gritted his teeth. “You think I’m blind?”

When Lin Sicheng had withdrawn ten thousand, that man hadn’t blinked. But when he saw that iron tile, he’d trembled with excitement.

Gu Ming suspected that tile was worth at least a hundred thousand.

And what did that mean? For Deputy Director Gu to save that much, he’d need to work for four years without spending a penny. Uncle Lin, who was a rank higher, would still need three years.

But Lin Sicheng? He’d only spent half a day!

Suddenly, Gu Ming’s eyes sparkled as he gazed at the rows of antiques, each one looking like a pile of red banknotes.

“Wanna look around some more?”

“No,” Lin Sicheng shook his head. “Let’s go to the supermarket, buy some groceries, and a case of liquor.”

Gu Ming answered without thinking: “Grandpa’s favorite is Maotai!”

“Alright, Maotai it is.”

“A case costs several thousand. You’ll really buy it?”

Why not?

All his skills were inherited from his grandfather. What’s a case of Maotai for Grandpa?