Modern Epilogue (3)

Modern Epilogue (3)

At nine in the morning, just as the museum opened, the galleries were still empty and quiet.

Dressed in his formal uniform, Jiang Yuxun stepped out of the changing room with his headset in hand. His footsteps echoed again and again through the deserted VIP hall.

The VIP hall of the Huaguo Museum rose five stories high, its walls clad in marble. Standing alone in the air-conditioned space, Jiang Yuxun suddenly felt inexplicably nervous.

While adjusting the headset cable, he silently reviewed the commentary he already knew by heart.

“Little Jiang, all ready?”

The section chief came out of the lounge holding a teacup. Seeing him, he couldn’t help sighing. “Young people really are full of energy.”

Although Jiang Yuxun had stayed up late the night before, there wasn’t the slightest trace of dark circles under his eyes.

A colleague from the publicity department brightened at the sight of him. “What a pity today’s event isn’t being promoted. Otherwise I’d definitely snap a nine-photo set first.”

There was not a hint of exaggeration in his regret.

Since Jiang Yuxun joined the museum, whenever there was a promotional event, he was often asked to appear on camera. Before long, regular followers of the museum’s official account had come to recognize him, even asking backstage about his identity.

“That’s right!” Even the security guard at the hall entrance chimed in. “Teacher Jiang looks especially handsome today—like he’s here to get his marriage certificate!”

Marriage certificate?!

The moment he thought of who today’s guest was, Jiang Yuxun’s hands slipped. He nearly tangled his fingers in the headset cable.

“You know what,” someone else laughed, “it really does feel like that! All that’s missing is a red backdrop.”

He knew his colleagues were joking, trying to ease the tension—but for some reason, Jiang Yuxun felt a sudden, irrational pang of guilt.

Afraid someone might notice, he lowered his head at once, busying himself with the cables to hide his slightly strange expression.

Perhaps to surprise both the staff and the public, the tight-lipped section chief still hadn’t revealed what Ying Changchuan intended to donate, nor had he told Jiang Yuxun who the man really was.

Although the Huaguo Museum technically closed on Mondays, that policy was lifted during the summer peak. Even so, Monday ticket allocations were still much lower than usual, and VIP visits were usually arranged on that day.

Ying Changchuan, however, did nothing by the book.

According to colleagues, he was both mysterious and low-key. Two mornings ago, he arrived at the museum on a whim, only notifying the director once he had reached the entrance, catching him completely off guard.

After entering, he skipped all formal reception procedures and simply followed the first available staff member into the galleries.

…And that was when he encountered the incident where Jiang Yuxun had been knocked down by a visitor.

As more visitors streamed in, the noise around Jiang Yuxun gradually grew louder.

Just as he was lowering his head, guessing what Ying Changchuan might be donating, a familiar voice sounded beside his ear:

“Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“Mr. Ying!”

Jiang Yuxun turned at once and reached out his hand. “Not at all—you arrived at just the right time.”

Their hands clasped tightly.

Only then did Jiang Yuxun clearly see him today.

Ying Changchuan had changed his style.

He wore a loose black T-shirt with no pattern at all, yet the lines of muscle in his arms were unmistakably visible—strong, and faintly dangerous.

Jiang Yuxun glanced once, then quickly looked away as if nothing had happened.

…

Before the tour began, the section chief had repeatedly instructed Jiang Yuxun to keep everything simple and discreet.

Thus, after a brief greeting in the VIP room, the two headed straight into the exhibition halls.

The museum was packed during the summer holidays. Even before reaching the gallery entrance, a wave of noise washed over them.

Jiang Yuxun stopped.

“Mr. Ying, this is your headset. The galleries are crowded and noisy—you’ll need an earpiece for the guided explanation.”

As he spoke, he carefully handed over the prepared headset.

Most museums had switched to wireless devices by now, but the Huaguo Museum still used wired, over-ear headsets, fearing wireless ones might fall, be stepped on, or damaged in the crowds.

Ying Changchuan seemed unfamiliar with such old-fashioned equipment.

Seeing that he didn’t quite know how to put it on, Jiang Yuxun—already fully equipped himself—naturally turned around, rose slightly onto his toes, and placed the earpiece on Ying Changchuan’s ear, tidying the cable at the same time.

A faint, clean scent from Jiang Yuxun’s hair reached Ying Changchuan’s nose without warning.

Before he could react, a ticklish sensation brushed his ear.

Jiang Yuxun’s breath, light as a feather, swept past Ying Changchuan’s ear. As he straightened up, he lifted the cable, letting it skim across Ying Changchuan’s chest.

He had no idea how dangerous these unconscious movements were.

“All set.”

After finishing, Jiang Yuxun smiled and stepped back, blinking lightly. “I’ve adjusted the channel. Shall we go in?”

Each guide had a unique channel on their transmitter. Only those tuned to the same channel could hear them.

And today, on Jiang Yuxun’s channel, there were only two people.

“Alright.”

For some reason, a faint smile appeared on Ying Changchuan’s lips.

He followed behind Jiang Yuxun and, just before entering the gallery, asked casually, “Does A-Xun often help visitors adjust their headsets like this?”

His tone sounded relaxed—but his gaze did not match that ease.

Ying Changchuan’s voice came through the earpiece directly into Jiang Yuxun’s ear.

Perhaps because of the electronic transmission, Jiang Yuxun suddenly felt there was a strange hint of sourness in it…

What am I thinking?

He hurriedly shook the thought away.

“Hm?” He turned back instinctively and shook his head. “Not really. Most people have their equipment adjusted at the visitor center. By the time we enter the gallery, it’s usually already working.”

“I see.”

A smile appeared on Ying Changchuan’s face.

Only some children liked to fidget with the wires and needed constant readjustment inside the gallery.

—Jiang Yuxun, noticing how pleased Mr. Ying seemed, did not mention that detail.

The lighting inside the museum was dim, so one had to watch one’s step carefully.

Not long after opening, the galleries were already packed shoulder to shoulder.

Remembering how he had been knocked down by a visitor just days earlier, Jiang Yuxun unconsciously slowed his pace.

“This way, Mr. Ying.”

His voice flowed softly through the headset, almost like a dream. “The artifacts in the case ahead also date to the Zhou dynasty—roof tiles from the residence of the Shangshu Ling.”

With the headset, he no longer needed to raise his voice. To avoid harshness, he had long grown used to speaking softly to visitors.

His tone became even gentler.

“Roof-end tiles, also called tile heads, are elements placed at the eaves of buildings. Unlike later periods that favored inscribed tiles, most structures in the Great Zhou used decorative-pattern tiles.”

Once inside the gallery, Jiang Yuxun seemed to transform.

The youthful air of a recent graduate vanished completely, replaced by a focused, radiant composure. He looked as though he wanted to share everything he knew with the person beside him.

Roof tiles were not eye-catching objects; most visitors barely paused here.

After finishing his explanation, Jiang Yuxun intended to move on to the next case—but Ying Changchuan stopped.

Standing before the glass, Ying Changchuan lightly traced the display with his gaze. After a brief pause, he suddenly turned and asked:

“Is this… from Minister Jiang’s household?”

The lighting softened Ying Changchuan’s eyes.

In them, Jiang Yuxun saw traces of nostalgia that should not have existed.

Thump—thump.

His heart slammed hard against his chest.

 

“Yes.” Seeing that Ying Changchuan had taken an interest in the roof tile, Jiang Yuxun stopped at once and began explaining the otherwise inconspicuous exhibit in detail.

“The pattern on this tile is a dragon motif. At the time, only the imperial palace was permitted to use such designs. That’s why we often describe these tiles as an example of ‘exceeding one’s rank’.”

Museum guides at the Huaguo Museum rarely analyzed roof tiles with such care.

When Jiang Yuxun lingered here, more visitors gathered around, curious to hear what he was saying.

Smiling, Ying Changchuan looked at Jiang Yuxun and asked casually,

“Teacher Jiang, why do you think this tile shows an instance of exceeding rank?”

For some reason, Jiang Yuxun felt the tone of his question was strangely familiar.

At that moment, he nearly blurted out what he truly thought—but in the end, he restrained himself and answered carefully,

“About this… the academic community hasn’t reached a definitive conclusion yet.”

“No definitive conclusion?”

The moment Jiang Yuxun finished speaking, a middle-aged visitor who had been eavesdropping suddenly leaned in.

“Isn’t it obvious? Minister Jiang and the emperor were a couple—what’s there to guess?”

He was slightly overweight and wore an expression of absolute confidence, as if he knew everything.

Then, out of nowhere, a young girl nodded vigorously.

“Exactly! I read in The History of Zhou that although Zhou Taizu granted him a residence, the Minister barely spent a single day there each year. He stayed in Yuyang Palace most of the time.”

After saying that, she lowered her head and smiled conspiratorially.

Jiang Yuxun: “……”

The History of Zhou does contain such a record—but it’s only ten characters long and written extremely obliquely!

Buried in a chronicle of over a million characters, it was almost impossible to notice. How on earth had this visitor even found it?

Once those two spoke up, visitors of all ages crowded forward, eagerly sharing their own interpretations.

“A powerful minister—the most famous powerful minister in history—spending all his time in the palace? That’s suspicious. Very suspicious!”

“And the emperor not only wasn’t afraid of his power, but kept rewarding him again and again. Their relationship was definitely not ordinary.”

As he spoke, the visitor turned to Jiang Yuxun, seeking validation.

“Doesn’t that make sense, Teacher?”

“I think—”

Jiang Yuxun nearly let the words “That makes sense” slip out.

Realizing his mistake just in time, he hurriedly shook his head.

“On this matter, the academic field has yet to reach a conclusion. For the sake of rigor, we can’t make a definitive judgment.”

The relationship between Zhou Taizu and Minister Jiang had long been a hot topic in historical studies.

From ancient times to the present, countless people had speculated about their bond based on texts like The History of Zhou and surviving artifacts.

Even today, large numbers of visitors tirelessly asked guides similar questions.

Although he had only been on the job for two months, this was far from Jiang Yuxun’s first encounter with such a situation.

Museum staff, of course, could not rely on subjective conjecture.

Over time, they had developed a standard, official response.

Jiang Yuxun’s answer clearly failed to satisfy the crowd.

“How boring…”

“If only we could dig something up to prove it.”

After sighing, they stopped questioning Jiang Yuxun—the “professional”—and instead began exchanging bits of unofficial history among themselves.

A roof tile that had drawn little attention suddenly became the focal exhibit of the gallery.

One visitor gestured animatedly at the display case.

“A dragon! A dragon! What emperor would casually give someone a dragon?”

Someone else chimed in quietly,

“Forget the dragon—even the ‘Zhou Sword’ was given away!”

These events had occurred over a thousand years ago and had nothing whatsoever to do with Jiang Yuxun.

And yet, as he listened, his ears inexplicably began to turn red.

Seeing the crowd grow thicker, Jiang Yuxun pressed lightly against his earpiece and said to Ying Changchuan,

“Mr. Ying, there are getting to be too many visitors here. Perhaps we should move on to another display.”

Lowering his head to watch his step, he tried to slip out of the crowd.

But just as he finished speaking, he caught a glimpse of Ying Changchuan beside him gently shaking his head.

“No need to rush.”

Ying Changchuan—who had treated the surrounding visitors as if they were invisible ever since entering the gallery—was now listening with clear interest to their gossip!

“They say Minister Jiang’s daily attire and stipend matched—or even exceeded—that of a prince… Even Yanxian Island outside Zhaoshi was specially built for him by the emperor. Whenever they were free, the two of them would go there to ‘rest.’”

“Exactly… and that island is full of hot springs.”

The speaker couldn’t help adding a knowing chuckle.

“Oh! And the second emperor after Zhou Taizu—apparently, when he was crown prince, it was Minister Jiang who changed his name!”

The discussion grew increasingly outrageous. Not only were they indulging in unofficial history—they were dragging in material from later fictional tales as well.

—The second Zhou emperor had indeed been chosen by Zhou Taizu from a collateral branch of the clan.

When he was named crown prince, his name was also changed to something more auspicious.

The History of Zhou never states who bestowed that name, yet later generations stubbornly attributed the act to Minister Jiang.

What minister casually names a crown prince?

This was not something that could be concluded lightly.

Afraid Ying Changchuan might be misled, Jiang Yuxun quickly explained,

“Some of what the visitors are saying comes from later compilations based on folk rumors—unofficial histories, fictional stories, even modern online speculation. It shouldn’t all be taken as fact.”

With that, he prepared to lead Ying Changchuan to the next display.

As he spoke, Ying Changchuan finally looked back at him.

…The man before him wore an expression of intense focus, his gaze serious and sincere.

Anyone capable of donating artifacts to the museum and receiving VIP treatment must have a solid understanding of history.

Jiang Yuxun had assumed Ying Changchuan would take a similarly rigorous stance.

But instead—

Ying Changchuan looked deeply into Jiang Yuxun’s eyes. After a brief pause, he smiled again and shook his head.

“I think… the guesses made by people today aren’t entirely without merit.”

Then, raising an eyebrow, he mimicked the museum staff’s tone and asked,

“What do you think, Teacher Jiang?”