Modern Epilogue (6)

Modern Epilogue (6)

Jiang Yuxun instinctively typed “No”, then gritted his teeth and deleted it.

At this point, denying it would just be protesting too much…

After an unknown stretch of silence, he finally resigned himself and sent a single word:

Yes.

At the same time, he followed his heart—in for a penny, in for a pound—and asked what he really wanted to know.

JIANG: The places you checked in at in your Moments… they all seem to be places where Minister Jiang of the Zhou dynasty once stayed.

–: Yes.

JIANG: …I see. Then why did you go traveling to all the places he stayed?

Even if this online friend really was Ying Changchuan, at most he was just a somewhat special visitor who had helped him before.

As a museum staff member, Jiang Yuxun shouldn’t be paying this much attention to a visitor’s private life.

But right now, he was overwhelmingly curious.

So much so that his heart began to feel inexplicably uneasy.

After sending the message, he stood by the bed and took a deep breath.

This wait felt especially long.

The screen slowly dimmed. Just as it was about to go dark, Jiang Yuxun’s ears buzzed twice, and his fingers went slightly numb.

He clenched his phone and held his breath as he looked at the screen.

–: Because I like him.

…This suspiciously–Ying-Changchuan online friend liked him?

Jiang Yuxun’s heart began to pound wildly.

The air conditioner was already set to maximum, yet his ears burned hot.

As a history major, Jiang Yuxun had many classmates and friends who were die-hard fans of historical figures.

They retraced their idols’ footsteps, studied their biographies in detail—this kind of thing wasn’t unusual at all.

But today, his emotions refused to stay calm over just that one simple sentence.

Perhaps because Jiang Yuxun didn’t reply for too long, the other party sent another message.

–: Don’t believe me?

–: My greatest wish is to live in the same era as him.

Only then did Jiang Yuxun come back to his senses. He slowly sat back down on the bed.

JIANG: I believe you. A lot of visitors say things like that.

–: I’m not the same as them.

–: I’m not joking.

Jiang Yuxun’s heart beat faster and faster. He even had the illusion that his blood was heating up along with his pulse.

Reason told him it would be best not to continue this topic.

…Let’s change the subject.

JIANG: What about your avatar? Why did you use Pinghuaiyuan as your profile picture?

He forcefully dragged the conversation elsewhere and let out a long breath the moment the message was sent.

He stared at the screen, waiting.

A few seconds later, the phone vibrated again.

Tonight, the other person was unusually straightforward—no teasing, no mystery.

–: I confessed to the person I liked there.

Jiang Yuxun’s heart suddenly leapt into his throat. He didn’t understand what was happening to him.

JIANG: And then? Did you get together?

–: We did.

–: But he’s forgotten me now.

JIANG: …Huh?

Together, and then forgotten?

What kind of melodramatic novel plot was this?!

After all that nervous anticipation, Jiang Yuxun suddenly felt like he’d been tricked again.

I knew it—he never says anything reliable…

Deflated, Jiang Yuxun stopped asking questions and sent a sweating cat emoji instead.

Unexpectedly, the online friend—who rarely used stickers—sent back a sad emoji.

Jiang Yuxun, who had been annoyed just a moment ago, instantly felt sad along with the emoji—and a bit regretful.

…What if he was telling the truth? Wouldn’t my reply be really rude then?

Thankfully, the suspiciously–Ying-Changchuan online friend didn’t seem to mind.

It was getting late. After briefly asking whether Jiang Yuxun was working or resting the next day, he urged him to go to sleep.

Only then did the exhaustion from running around all day finally catch up with Jiang Yuxun.

As he turned off the lights and closed his eyes, he suddenly realized something was off—

So… did he figure out that I’m the guide from today or not?

—

Saturday morning, 10 a.m.

Zhuang Youli, who had just gone to bed after gaming all night, heard the doorbell ring.

“Coming—who is it…?” He rubbed his eyes and shuffled to the door in slippers.

Without waiting for an answer, he opened it.

Standing outside was a woman in a cream-colored knitted short-sleeve top, her long hair neatly pinned back.

Fine lines traced the corners of her eyes—but rather than making her look old, they added elegance.

“Auntie, weren’t you coming tomorrow?” Zhuang Youli froze, then quickly stepped aside.

“A-Xun already had his days off on Thursday and Friday. He’s working today—he’s not home.”

She smiled and walked in with several bags.

“I know he’s working today.”

“Then, Auntie…?”

“I got a last-minute notice two days ago to go on a business trip near Zhaodu. I took the high-speed rail early this morning.”

Jiang Yuxun’s mother worked in geology—business trips were routine for her.

Seeing how sleepy Zhuang Youli looked, she said considerately,

“Youli, go back to sleep. I suddenly tried booking tickets for the Huaguo Museum a few days ago—didn’t expect to get them. I’ll walk around the museum this morning, then ask him out for lunch. I’ll call you to join us.”

Jiang Yuxun’s parents had visited Zhaoshi several times, always on his days off.

Even now, his mother had never seen him at work.

Thinking of this, she couldn’t help but feel a little excited.

Zhuang Youli scratched his head awkwardly.

“No need, Auntie. I’m meeting colleagues this afternoon. I was planning to go on an empty stomach anyway—I won’t disturb you.”

“Oh, alright then,” she said regretfully.

“I’ll invite you earlier next time.”

“Sure, sure!”

…

At the same time, Huaguo Museum.

After finishing the first round of guided tours, Jiang Yuxun was called into the director’s office.

As soon as he knocked, a booming “Come in” rang out.

“Good morning, Director,” Jiang Yuxun greeted, standing opposite him with slight nervousness.

Hearing his voice, the elderly man at the desk slowly set down his calligraphy brush and smiled.

“Sit first. Let’s talk properly.”

“Yes.”

The director of the Huaguo Museum was already in his seventies and no longer handled daily administration, appearing only for major events.

Yet today, not only had he personally summoned Jiang Yuxun—a new hire—but he also spoke earnestly:

“Here’s the situation. Mr. Ying intends to donate cultural relics to the museum. You know this, right?”

Jiang Yuxun immediately nodded solemnly.

“Yes, I do.”

“Good. The donation process has already been finalized—now it’s just a matter of implementation,” the director said while sipping tea.

“If nothing unexpected happens, we’ll start media warm-up next week, and the week after that—on Monday—we’ll close the museum for the handover ceremony.”

Though he deliberately lowered his voice, Jiang Yuxun could still hear the uncontrollable excitement in it.

…Ying Changchuan hadn’t been lying. He was serious.

Cultural relic donation was no joke.

Once the timeline was set, it meant the artifact had already undergone repeated authentication and been confirmed genuine.

The donation procedures were at least halfway complete.

If Ying Changchuan really was that online friend…

Jiang Yuxun suddenly remembered the comment the man had left under the museum’s official post over a month ago.

Could it be that Ying Changchuan really possessed Zhou Emperor Taizu’s imperial seal?

The Zhou dynasty had both the jade seal and the “Seal of the Emperor”, used for enfeoffment, rewards, and military orders.

Compared to the jade seal, the emperor’s seal was more personal—it represented the ruler’s own will.

According to historical records, Emperor Taizu’s seal was not buried in the imperial tomb, but passed down among his descendants…

Seen this way, it wasn’t impossible at all.

His excitement surged.

“Yes, Director,” Jiang Yuxun said after a brief pause, nodding firmly.

 

At the same time, a question couldn’t help but surface in Jiang Yuxun’s mind—

Why did the director specifically call me into the office just to notify me of this?

As if sensing his confusion, the director stopped keeping him in suspense.

“Here’s the thing,” the director said. “This event will be fairly high-profile. When the time comes, the National Television Science & Education Channel will be on site for a live broadcast. You’ll be representing the museum’s guides and presenting the artifact to the public. I called you in today so you could start preparing early.”

Jiang Yuxun: !!!

Holy shit—this is way too big, isn’t it?!

—

The director didn’t leave Jiang Yuxun even a sliver of room to refuse. After that sentence, he went straight into the procedure and the points Jiang Yuxun needed to pay attention to.

…By the time the instructions ended and Jiang Yuxun reached the office door, his head was still spinning.

Just as he pushed the door open, the director suddenly asked,

“Oh right—have you guessed what Mr. Ying plans to donate?”

Jiang Yuxun turned back and ventured cautiously,

“…Could it be an imperial seal?”

“Hahahaha—you’re good at guessing, Xiao Jiang,” the director laughed, neither confirming nor denying it. Instead, he added mysteriously,

“Young people should be a bit bolder.”

A breeze slipped through the gap in the office door, lifting the xuan paper piled on the desk.

A book titled Anecdotes of the Great Zhou appeared in Jiang Yuxun’s sight.

…If he remembered correctly, Anecdotes of the Great Zhou was a well-known collection of unofficial history.

So the director secretly read wild history in his office too?!

—

By the time Jiang Yuxun left the director’s office and returned to the central exhibition hall, it was already noon.

The moment he stepped into the corridor connecting to the staff lounge, he spotted a familiar figure.

Cultural relic donations involved complicated procedures. Besides signing the donation agreement, there were commitment letters and other documents.

Ying Changchuan—personally delivering a national treasure—was a VIP among VIPs.

If he wanted to, he could have had the director go to his hotel and complete the entire process there.

But according to colleagues, Ying Changchuan had been appearing at the museum from time to time these past few days.

It seemed he intended to personally come in and complete every step of the tedious procedure.

Jiang Yuxun had been on leave the last two days. Today, he finally ran into Ying Changchuan during a rare free moment…

If I don’t test his identity now, then when will I?!

“Mr. Ying—” Jiang Yuxun quickened his pace, walked up, and offered a handshake.

“Good afternoon.”

Ying Changchuan stopped, turned, and smiled at him.

“Good afternoon, Xiao Jiang.”

The central hall was unusually quiet at noon.

Their voices echoed softly down the corridor.

Jiang Yuxun, who had just steeled himself to probe Ying Changchuan, suddenly grew nervous the moment their eyes met.

“What’s wrong?” Ying Changchuan asked, mildly puzzled.

For days now, Jiang Yuxun had been dreaming about Ying Changchuan’s identity. He had even planned out his method of confirmation.

There was no reason to miss this opportunity.

“…It’s like this,” Jiang Yuxun said softly after making up his mind, taking a deep breath.

“I’m not sure whether you’ve received the event schedule, but next week I’ll be participating in the entire event as the guide representative. There are a few procedural points I still need to confirm with you.”

“Yes, I know,” Ying Changchuan nodded slowly.

He looked particularly patient today.

At the center of the hall stood a special art installation.

Using cutting-edge 3D projection technology, the exhibition designers had created a massive tree-shaped bronze lamp.

At this moment, the flickering projected flames danced in Ying Changchuan’s eyes.

They illuminated his smoke-gray gaze with an unusual gentleness.

Jiang Yuxun’s heart began to race again, just like it had that night.

So much so that he nearly forgot everything he’d prepared to say.

It wasn’t until the phone in his pocket inexplicably vibrated twice that Jiang Yuxun snapped back to reality and pulled it out.

…That online friend with the dash for a name was practically online 20 hours a day and always replied instantly. There was no way he was using an alt account.

If Jiang Yuxun just added Ying Changchuan on WeChat, he’d know immediately whether they were the same person.

Taking a deep breath, Jiang Yuxun adopted an official tone.

“Mr. Ying, I heard from the director that you’re very busy with work, so it might be more convenient to communicate online.”

Ying Changchuan raised a brow.

“That’s right.”

“Uh… so I was hoping to keep your contact information,” Jiang Yuxun said. It was the first time in his life he’d proactively asked someone for WeChat. As he spoke, he unlocked his phone, nerves evident, and held it out.

“If it’s convenient for you, would you mind scanning my QR code?”

As soon as he finished speaking, he looked up to observe Ying Changchuan’s reaction.

Contrary to Jiang Yuxun’s expectations, Ying Changchuan wasn’t flustered at all—there wasn’t even a hint of guilt.

He calmly took out his phone and smiled, nodding.

“Of course.”

—

Jiang Yuxun’s mother had wandered the museum alone for half the day without seeing him. Her messages also went unanswered.

With no other choice, she went to the information desk, found a staff member, and asked about Jiang Yuxun.

“Xiao Jiang seems to have been called into the director’s office just now,” the staff member replied, leading her toward the lounge.

“He may take a while. Auntie, please wait for him here.”

“Alright—sorry to trouble you,” she said politely.

“No trouble at all! Actually, Xiao Jiang looks a lot like you,” the staffer joked.

“I was wondering how he grew up so handsome. In the past two months, quite a few visitors have been curious about his identity and even wanted his contact info. Looks like it runs in the family.”

“Really?” She grew curious.

“Visitors asked for A-Xun’s contact info—did he give it to them?”

The staff member immediately understood—this was concern over her son’s love life.

Though reluctant, he answered tactfully,

“Xiao Jiang… seems pretty aloof in that regard.”

A trace of regret appeared in her eyes.

The crisp click of high heels echoed across the spacious hall at noon.

Just as she reached the lounge entrance, she heard a clear “beep.”

She instinctively looked up.

The next second, she saw—

A huge QR code displayed on Jiang Yuxun’s phone screen.

The staff member’s smile froze.

T-This… what was going on?

…

Footsteps snapped Jiang Yuxun out of his thoughts.

He instinctively looked toward the other end of the corridor, then his eyes flew open.

“Mom?!”

Wasn’t she coming tomorrow? Why was she suddenly at the museum?!

Jiang Yuxun froze, completely forgetting what he’d been about to do.

Before he could put his phone away, Ying Changchuan turned around and greeted her with a smile.

“Good afternoon, Auntie.”

His manner was natural—far too natural.

Jiang Yuxun: “……”

Hey—why are YOU greeting her?!

—