Chapter 123

After a short two-day rest to adjust to the time difference, Xi Junjie and Zhenzhen dove back into work. Compared to Xi Junjie, Zhenzhen’s schedule was far more flexible and much less intense than it had been back home, giving her more time to manage on her own. Naturally, artifact recovery quickly made its way onto her agenda.

Starting from the easier tasks, Zhenzhen spent two months visiting various antique and art shops, collecting quite a few valuable items. Of course, she didn’t buy everything she saw—folk kiln pieces were definitely excluded. Even for official kiln wares, she considered the rarity; if the number of surviving pieces was too high, she let them go. Only rare and exquisite items were brought back.

The next level of difficulty was purchasing from private collectors. This was trickier. While money could buy a lot, not every collector was willing to part with their treasures—unless one had something equally desirable to trade. This time, Zhenzhen visited a collector named Falock, whose ancestors had joined multiple expeditions to China in the late 19th century and brought back a considerable amount of cultural artifacts.

She rang the doorbell. An elderly man in his fifties or sixties with slightly shadowed eyes came out of the house. Upon seeing Zhenzhen, he showed no smile and instead eyed her impatiently. “Who are you? What do you want?”

Zhenzhen smiled and handed over a gift she had brought—a small Yixing teapot. Falock had few hobbies, but he was known to love Chinese teapots, especially the small ones. Playing to his tastes, Zhenzhen had specially returned to China to purchase this handmade piece by a master artisan.

“Hello, I’m Li Mingzhen from China. I came hoping to see your collection. This is a small Yixing teapot I brought as a gift—just a token of respect.”

Falock’s gaze fell on the teapot in Zhenzhen’s hands, then circled back to her face. Only then did he slowly reach out to take the teapot, fondling it for a while before finally stepping aside to let her in. “Come in.”

Falock came from a family with a distinguished lineage. The rows of medals on the wall attested to the family’s legacy. After his father’s death, Falock inherited the entire family estate, including a ten-hectare vineyard surrounding the house. As an adult, he had moved out of the ancestral home to build a “love nest” in the vineyard with his wife. But now she was gone, and he lived alone in the once-luxurious but now slightly unkempt house.

Falock admired the teapot for a bit before carefully placing it on a shelf. Finally, he turned to her with honesty. “What kind of artifacts are you looking to buy? Oh, right—you’re Chinese. You must be after the Chinese ones, correct?”

“Yes,” Zhenzhen nodded. “I want to bring back as many lost Chinese cultural relics as I can. I’ve heard you have quite a few in your possession. Would you be willing to sell them to me?”

Falock chuckled, his gaze slightly mocking. “Little lady, these aren’t the kind of things you can buy with a few thousand francs. You’d best go home and ask Mommy and Daddy if they have that kind of money.”

“If I said that, it means I’ve come prepared,” Zhenzhen replied with a calm, unflinching smile.

Falock gave her a long look, then suddenly stood up and fetched a large set of keys from a safe. “Come with me, then.”

They walked down a long corridor until Falock stopped in front of a door. Zhenzhen glanced at the wooden plaque above—it read “Chinese Collection.”

He unlocked the door. The room was dim, but once he turned on the lights, piece after piece of Chinese antiquity emerged from the shadows.

At the center of the room, under a protective glass dome, sat a nearly blood-red jade seal belonging to Emperor Qianlong. Zhenzhen glanced back at Falock, who casually lifted the glass cover. “Go ahead, take a look.”

She carefully lifted the jade seal and examined the carved dragon motif and the characters at the base: Treasure of the Qianlong Imperial Brush.

“That was used by one of your emperors, wasn’t it?” Falock asked. “Buying this won’t be cheap.”

Zhenzhen said nothing. She returned the seal to its original place and moved to another table, where over twenty books were laid out. When she read the title, her eyes narrowed. “The Yongle Encyclopedia!” She quickly counted—there were twenty-three volumes in total.

Gently, she put the books back, then turned to the next display—ten pieces of oracle bone script. Zhenzhen reached out, but withdrew her hand, afraid her touch might damage such precious artifacts.

“You seem to really like these pieces,” Falock said, a mocking tone in his voice. “After being lost for so many years, I suppose it’s about time someone tried to buy them back.”

Zhenzhen didn’t reply. She carefully examined the entire room. Besides the major items—Shang and Zhou bronzes, the twenty-three Yongle Encyclopedia volumes, and the ten oracle bone fragments—there were also twenty-five paintings and calligraphy scrolls, eight porcelain pieces, five lacquerware items, thirty jade pieces, and a large box at the end containing… a Buddha head.

Zhenzhen’s face darkened, her chest tightening. This was only a small private collector in France, yet he had so many Chinese relics. One could only imagine how many more had been plundered and hidden away in national museums or by larger collectors.

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Once she regained composure, she opened them and said quietly, “Name your price.”

“I’m not short on money. These items can’t be measured by money alone,” Falock said with a smile, lifting a Ming-Qing lotus-patterned porcelain bowl to admire.

“Then what do you want?” Zhenzhen’s expression didn’t change, but her tone turned colder.

Falock set down the bowl and led her back into the living room. “Honestly, money means nothing to me. My child is dead, and my wife is gone. Money is worth less to me than toilet paper.”

Zhenzhen’s expression subtly changed. A straightforward price would’ve made things easiest. The last thing she wanted was someone who refused to play by the rules.

Farouk opened the window. The warm sunlight shone on his face, making his expression seem even more unpredictable. “Actually, all these treasures were stolen by my grandfather from your China.” He turned around and leaned against the windowsill, letting out a mocking laugh. “Maybe Heaven wanted to punish such a crime. Though my grandfather returned with a vast amount of treasure, not long after he came back, he contracted a severe illness and was bedridden for decades, plagued by pain his whole life. My father was the same. Now, in my generation, though I don’t have any major illness, I lost my child at forty and my wife at fifty. What’s the point of living alone? Death might be better. Do you think our family is cursed by your China?”

Zhenzhen stared silently at the teacup before her. The humiliation of history is a scar etched into the heart of every Chinese person. She couldn’t change the past, but she could do her best to bring more cultural relics back.

Farouk didn’t expect a reply. He took a sip and suddenly started talking about his wife again. “It must be my surname that brought me misfortune. Had I known, I would’ve cut ties with my family and run away with her.” He downed glass after glass of red wine, recounting his love story from their first meeting to their life together, rambling on and on.

“Do you see that flowerpot on the windowsill?” Farouk suddenly asked.

Zhenzhen’s gaze fell on the pot of withered branches. It could hardly be called a flower anymore—only a few root tendrils were still alive; the rest was completely dead.

“That was the last gift my wife gave me, but I didn’t take good care of it.” A murky tear rolled down Farouk’s cheek. “If you can bring it back to life and make it bloom again, I will donate all my Chinese artifacts to you—free of charge.”

Zhenzhen immediately smiled. She took back her earlier assumptions—collectors who made emotional deals like this were the easiest to handle.

Seeing her confident smile, Farouk gave her a mocking glance. “Don’t get any funny ideas. A Japanese guy came before you and tried to swap it out with a new plant back home. Does he think I’m stupid? I’m telling you, if you want the artifacts, you have to do it here, in front of me. I want to see the flower come back to life with my own eyes.”

With her powers, Zhenzhen could revive it and make it bloom in an instant. But in public, she had to keep things subtle. She took a plastic bottle out of her bag. “It just so happens that I’ve done some research on plants. This is a nutrient solution I prepared for a friend—but it looks like it’ll come in handy here.”

Holding the little bottle, she walked to the flowerpot. Farouk followed eagerly. Just as she opened the lid, she turned and said, “Since you’ve decided to let me revive it, no one else can interfere. Otherwise, who gets the credit if it survives?”

“I understand.” Farouk’s eyes flashed with hope, urging her, “Hurry, let me see if your nutrient solution works.”

It was actually just a bottle of plain mineral water—brought to quench thirst. But in Zhenzhen’s hands, even tap water could work wonders. She unscrewed the cap and slowly poured the water in, gently pressing the damp soil with her fingers. A trickle of her powers flowed into the soil, guiding the roots to absorb the water. By the time the bottle was empty, all the roots had been revived—but this transformation occurred underground, invisible to the naked eye.

Farouk waited patiently. He noticed that the “nutrient solution” didn’t drain out the bottom of the pot, which meant the roots had absorbed most of it—something that had never happened before. In the past year, many people had tried to save this flower, but the water they poured in would drain right out, barely retained.

Farouk let out a sigh of relief, and his gaze toward Zhenzhen softened. “Looks like your nutrient solution really works. But how long will it take to revive my flower?”

His home was about a three-hour drive from Paris. Zhenzhen calculated the visible timeframe—coming once a week would be the limit. “I’ll come once a week. After one month, the withered branch will show signs of life. In three months, it’ll sprout new shoots. In four months, it will bud.”

“Four months?” Farouk looked slightly disappointed but quickly nodded. “Four months it is. After all, you’re the only one I believe might actually revive it. If you succeed, all my Chinese artifacts are yours.”

“And what do you plan to exchange for the relics from other countries?” Zhenzhen blinked mischievously.

Farouk chuckled. “You’re a crafty one. But those aren’t from your country.”

“I know,” Zhenzhen replied seriously. “But many of our relics are in those countries. I could trade these for them.”

“You’re clever,” Farouk said indifferently. “They’re all going to be given away anyway. If you want the challenge, go ahead.” He led Zhenzhen to a nearby dilapidated estate. “This place was left by my ancestors. When I first met my wife, I brought her here. We wrote messages to each other and hid them somewhere, planning for the other to find it. But the game was cut short by unexpected events, and I never found the note she left me. After her death, I remembered it again. I’ve looked many times but never found it. If you can find that letter, I’ll give you another country’s artifacts.”

Zhenzhen casually swept the place with her consciousness and asked, “Anything else?”

“I want a patch of her favorite roses planted at her grave,” Farouk added. “I’ve tried cultivating them for years but haven’t grown the type she loved. If you can fulfill this wish, I’ll give you another country’s artifacts.”

Zhenzhen nodded. Compared to the other two tasks, this one wasn’t difficult. Even if the ground were solid stone, she could make flowers bloom.

“Anything else?” she asked.

“One last thing…” Farouk looked at her solemnly. “As you know, I have no family or friends. When you see where I live, you’ll notice—I don’t even have neighbors. To be honest, I have cancer. The doctor says I have at most six months to live. I’m not afraid of death. What I fear is not being buried with her. So my final wish is this: after I die, please make sure I’m laid to rest in the same grave with my wife.”

Zhenzhen’s nose tingled with emotion. “It seems you really loved her.”

“Yes,” Falock laughed. “Loved her dearly. Oh, and don’t forget to put my Yixing teapots in our grave—Lily loved those things.”

Wiping away tears from the corners of her eyes, Zhenzhen gave a small smile. “Would it be convenient for you to come with me to look for that letter now? I think I’ve guessed where it is.”

Falock followed Zhenzhen into the dilapidated manor. As they pushed open the main door, a look of nostalgia crossed Falock’s face. “My grandfather used to live here. I stayed with him for a while when I was a child. But after he passed, my father never wanted to set foot in the place again. He thought it was just too old.”

With a gentle wave of her hand, the dust stirred up by their footsteps settled silently to the ground. The electricity had long since failed in the abandoned house, so apart from the faint sunlight coming through the broken windows, all illumination came from the flashlight in Falock’s hand.

Zhenzhen didn’t waste words. She stopped directly in front of a photograph. Falock looked at the photo with a trace of fondness on his face. “That’s me with my grandfather, when I was little.”

Zhenzhen stood on tiptoe and took down the picture. A yellowed piece of paper fluttered out from behind it and landed at Falock’s feet. His tears fell in quiet streams. He hadn’t expected the letter he’d searched for all these years to be hidden behind a painting.

“I really should have guessed,” Falock said with a smile as he picked up the letter. “It’s the only photo in this entire house.”

Zhenzhen reached out and held the flashlight for him so he could read. Falock’s eyes welled up again. He had to wipe them several times before he could make out the words. No one knew what was written in the letter, but after reading it, Falock seemed lighter, the sorrow replaced by a gentle smile. Carefully, he folded the paper and tucked it into his chest pocket like a treasure.

“Was the second wish roses?” Zhenzhen stood before the grave, gazing at the small, pale roses. Once again, she took out a bottle of mineral water from her bag.
—

After leaving Falock’s home, Zhenzhen and Xi Junjie discussed and decided to donate all the artifacts they’d acquired overseas to the state. They hoped this would help jump-start the effort to repatriate lost relics—after all, it was too difficult for Zhenzhen alone to buy back every piece scattered abroad.

The following week, Zhenzhen returned to Falock’s home as promised. The withered plant on the windowsill, after a week of being nourished by her supernatural ability, no longer crumbled at a touch. If one looked closely, a few tiny new buds were just beginning to show.

After watering it with another bottle of mineral water, she went out to loosen the soil around the roses. Falock sat quietly in front of Lily’s grave and said softly, “Lily, look—our roses have grown so much taller.”

Three months later, vibrant flowers bloomed on the windowsill, and the roses in front of the tomb had become a full garden. Though one last wish had not been fulfilled, Falock handed over all his collection to Zhenzhen, symbolically accepting just one dollar for them.

Five months later, Falock passed away. In his will, he left all his property and the manor to a Chinese girl, Li Mingzhen, in gratitude for her care during his final days.

As per Falock’s last wish, Zhenzhen buried him beside Lily and transplanted the now-thriving flowering plant next to their tomb.

Taking a deep breath, Zhenzhen bowed solemnly in front of the headstone. Although the artifacts she received were immensely valuable, Falock’s passing left her feeling heavy-hearted.

With Falock’s affairs settled, Zhenzhen transferred all the Chinese artifacts she’d obtained during this period to the Chinese embassy in France, requesting their help in shipping them back for donation to the country.

The return of these artifacts caused a significant stir. Among them were a Buddha head, a jade seal, oracle bones, several pages from the Yongle Encyclopedia, and Western Zhou bronzeware—all invaluable cultural treasures. The oracle bones and Yongle Encyclopedia pages were of particular scholarly value.

The return of national treasures became a cause for nationwide celebration and was, naturally, reported by Chinese news outlets. Yu Shoujing, after writing the news article, was left dazed for a moment and wandered into the office of Jiang Mengxuan, the head of the international news department. “I feel like I really lost out when we transferred Li Mingzhen to your department.”

“Well, maybe you did, but the nation didn’t,” Jiang Mengxuan said with a grin, admiring a photo of the jade seal. “If she hadn’t gone to France, would we have gotten all this back? Where else are we going to find a journalist like Li Mingzhen—writes great reports and brings back a haul of relics too. That girl’s incredible.”

At that moment, Li Mingzhen had no idea her bosses were each singing her praises in their own way. Having composed herself, she was preparing to visit another collector—when several collectors from various countries came knocking on her door.

Seated in the living room with guests from different nations, Zhenzhen smiled. “If you want to buy back artifacts from your country that are in my hands, that’s fine. But I have one condition: exchange them with artifacts from China.” Her voice grew firmer as she looked at a black-haired, yellow-skinned collector. “I’m well-versed in antiquities. Don’t embarrass yourselves with junk.”

Half a month later, Zhenzhen had exchanged all of Falock’s collection with the foreign collectors. She made a call to Xi Junjie. “I’ve got another batch of precious artifacts—please ask the embassy to help send them home!”

Over the phone, Xi Junjie chuckled. “Miss Li, do you plan to donate all of these to China too?”

Zhenzhen’s big eyes curved like crescent moons. “Of course!”

Another batch of artifacts was sent back to China. Although it lacked the national treasure-level items of the first shipment, the sheer volume shocked the nation. Like before, the artifacts were delivered directly to the National Museum of China and the Palace Museum. Expert teams authenticated every piece—and without exception, they were all genuine.

“This journalist Miss Li is truly remarkable. Not only is she patriotic, but her eye for artifacts is extraordinary. These two batches are full of rare, high-quality items—some even fill major gaps in our collection. It’s clear she has extensive knowledge of Chinese antiquities,” a white-gloved expert said joyfully.

Hearing this, Xu Mengguo proudly raised his head. “Well, of course! I was the one who taught her.”

“Seriously?” The experts all turned toward Xu Mengguo. Seeing how proud he looked, a few people frowned and said, “But Li Mingzhen graduated from Imperial Capital University, right? She wasn’t even in the history department. How is she your student?”

Xu Mengguo declared with great pride, “We have a special bond—more than teacher and student, really. I taught her everything she knows about antiquities. Remember how you used to ask where I disappeared to on weekends? I was at her house, looking at her collection. She had some amazing pieces even then—just her Xuande incense burners alone, she had three, each in a different glaze.”

“Wow!” All the experts’ eyes lit up. An elderly man about the same age as Xu Mengguo was full of envy: “This girl doesn’t just have great taste—she’s lucky too! I’ve spent my whole life collecting antiques and never got my hands on a Xuande censer.”

Some quick-witted ones immediately tried to cozy up to Xu Mengguo: “Old Xu, when Li Mingzhen returns to China, you have to invite her to the museum on our behalf. Then we can go to her place too and have a little exchange.”

Xu Mengguo laughed, “She actually loves exchanges like that. But her current overseas assignment lasts three years, and it’s only been six months. Let’s talk about it two years from now.”

“Li Mingzhen has only been in France for six months? You’re sure you didn’t mix up the dates?” asked a younger expert named Meng Shanlin. Seeing Xu Mengguo nod somewhat dazedly, the admiration on Meng Shanlin’s face grew deeper: “She’s only been there six months and already brought back so many cultural relics. If she stays for three years, the items she sends back might fill this entire room.”

This was a newly opened storage room. Others glanced around at the vast, empty space and unanimously shook their heads: “To fill this room would take at least ten thousand artifacts. For Li Mingzhen to have brought back several hundred is already a huge achievement.”

At that moment, Yu Shoujing from Huaguo News Agency was buried in writing. The return of a large number of valuable relics was more than enough to make the front page headline of tomorrow’s paper. After checking over the content, Yu Shoujing couldn’t help feeling a little proud: “Li Mingzhen really is something. Sent to France to report news, and she ends up making headlines herself.”