February 16, 1980, Dayabao Hutong, Yanjing.

Huang Yongyu was sitting at his home, carefully packing five sets of Gengshen Year Monkey Tickets and five Monkey Ticket First Day Covers stamped with four postmarks.

Opposite the desk, Wang Shixiang, who had not yet been approached by Ma Weidu, was pressing hard: "Yongyu, did you hear what I asked you?"

"What words?"

"Tsk, when it comes to your cousin publishing a book, who did you ask for help?"

"My cousin wants to write a book, so why should he ask for help?" Huang Yongyu refused to admit it: "You don't even know how many publishing houses were asking him for help."

"Pull him down,"

Wang Shixiang picked up a small wooden box on the desk and started to play with it: "To tell you the truth, it was your cousin who asked me to come to you."

"Okay, tell him not to say anything, he was stabbed out so quickly!" Huang Yongyu shook his head, took a writing brush and started writing on the cowhide package.

"You're still hiding from me?" Wang Shixiang was unhappy and stared at Huang Yongyu across the table.

"I don't want to hide it, but I'm mainly worried that the news will leak out and hurt others."

"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone," Wang Shixiang began to lower his voice after saying this: "Because, I'm here for this too."

"What? You also want to write a book?"

Huang Yongyu raised his eyes and looked at this former number one dandy in the capital.

Everyone knows that the capital is not only rich in downtrodden brothers, but also rich in awesome men.

But when it comes to the man in front of me, even a hundred Wang Sicong can't beat him.

Of course, this was all a long time ago.

Wang Shixiang, who is now in his sixties, was once codenamed the number one player in Beijing.

Gao Zuguan was promoted to the Minister of the Ministry of Industry, great-grandfather was promoted to the Minister of the Ministry of Justice, and my grandfather was also the Minister of the Ministry of Industry.

By the time of Wang Shixiang's generation, the Wang family was still extremely vigorous.

His father was the secretary-general of the Guowuyuan of the Beiyang Government; his mother led a group of uncles, all of whom became well-known figures in the painting world.

Therefore, a man like Wang Shixiang, an official and a young master, has been wearing a brocade hat and mink fur since he was a child, holding a yellow hat on his left hand and holding a blue sky on his right hand.

But people not only know how to dig graves, fight crickets, and cook eagles and walk birds, but they also use these trivial skills to become elegant.

"Collection of Cricket Scores" and "Ming Dynasty Pigeon Classics and Qing Palace Pigeon Scores"... are all required reading lists for future generations of enthusiasts.

Even though I switched to collecting halfway through, I also "played" many Taobao guides in the antique world.

"Interpretation of Paintings and Decorations", "Ancient Chinese Lacquerware", "Appreciation of Ming Style Furniture"...these are all volumes that Ma Weidu cannot read.

After the Japanese surrendered in 1945, upon the recommendation of Liang Sicheng, Ma Heng, then director of the Palace Museum, assigned Wang Shixiang to go north to inspect the damaged cultural relics in the Palace Museum.

Wang Shixiang grabbed a list of cultural relics and found Song Ziwen.

The home of a German cultural relic dealer was raided directly and hundreds of priceless cultural relics were recovered.

Afterwards, the "Cultural Relics Clearance Association" was established in Chongqing.

After the cultural relics recovery team sent out by the Nationalist Government failed in Japan, the burden of recovering cultural relics fell on Wang Shixiang's shoulders again.

At the same time, Shanghai and Guangzhou also sent expert teams to Japan.

But in the end, only Wang Shixiang's team brought back cultural relics.

Among the thousands of treasures, there are as many as 110 boxes of rare books. (Rare books: ancient books with high cultural value and historical significance.)

Even the "Book of the Later Han", "Book of Rites", and "Yongle Dadian", which are national treasures of Chinese literature, were almost included in the small Japanese volume.

For this reason, Zheng Zhenduo once shouted: If it weren't for Wang Shixiang, if Chinese people wanted to study their own culture in the future, they would have to go to Japan.

After returning to Fangjiayuan, my courtyard had already turned into a large courtyard.

Not to mention the brocade hat and mink fur, just being able to light a coal stove in each of the three rooms left to him would already make Wang Shixiang burst into tears.

At this time, he faced Wang Shixiang, who was wearing a thick blue cloth coat.

Huang Yongyu, who was full of doubts, took a puff of cigarette: "You have books that you can't publish?"

Wang Shixiang nodded seriously: "It took nearly 20 years for your cousin's "Research on Ancient Costumes" to be published, but it has been 30 years since I received the assignment for this book."

"Is this true?"

Seeing Wang Shixiang's rare solemn look, Huang Yongyu quickly put down the pen and ink in his hand: "What is going on? Please tell me carefully."

"Do you still remember when you almost gave me a brick because of a book?"

"Is this happening? Why don't I remember it?"

"Why not?" Wang Shixiang remembered clearly: "When Zhang Guangyu was still living in the dormitory of the Academy of Fine Arts, I went to give him a book. You happened to be there that day, so I picked it up and read it..."

"I remembered," Huang Yongyu finally remembered:

"That day, before I could read the title of the book clearly, you jerked it back. At that time, I picked up a hard guy on the table and wanted to blow it on your head. Then I thought it was in Guangyu's house.

So I endured it again."

It wasn’t that Wang Shixiang looked down on Huang Yongyu at the time, it was just because the book was so obscure that most people couldn’t understand it: “After that, after listening to Guangyu’s introduction, I knew who you were!”

A few days later, when Huang Yongyu visited Zhang Guangyu's house again, Wang Shixiang stood up and rushed out.

At that time, Huang Yongyu was so angry that he would pursue him and fight him no matter what.

Just as several people in the room tried to break up the fight, Wang Shixiang ran back again.

After handing out a book with both hands, he said word by word: "I, Wang Shixiang, and you, Huang Yongyu, please enjoy "Painting and Decoration Records"."

Huang Yongyu lowered his head and saw that the book with a blue cover and thread binding was the same book from a few days ago.

Good guy, Wang Shixiang's move directly turned the two of them into enemies.

From then on, the two of us moved up together.

"What year are those in the almanac? Do you still remember them?"

Huang Yongyu held a teapot and added a cup of hot tea to Wang Shixiang: "Could it be...that this is the book you are talking about? I remember it was a manuscript!"

"I don't have that ability," Wang Shixiang took a sip of tea while it was hot: "Thirty years ago, Mr. Zhu Qiqian handed this "Painting and Decoration Record" into my hands. He knew that I had a hobby in this area, so he handed it over to me.

The task of interpreting and interpreting this book has been entrusted to me.”

After that, Wang Shixiang took out the two books he carried with him.

One is "Painting and Decoration Records", and the other is the manuscript of "Painting and Decoration Records".

Looking at the thick manuscript on the desk, Huang Yongyu was stunned: "How many annotations did you write for this book?"

"In terms of word count," Wang Shixiang smiled: "This annotation is already 20 times the original book. From the time I started writing in 1948 to the time I stopped writing in 1958, I wrote it for 10 years..."

Since it was never possible to publish it, Wang Shixiang continued to refine it in the next 20 years.

This is how it reaches today's scale.

Looking at this old acquaintance in front of him who was almost 70 years old, Huang Yongyu sighed deeply: "To be honest, the publication of my cousin's book is entirely thanks to a little friend of mine."

"Little friend?" Wang Shixiang quickly went through it in his mind: "Which little friend, why didn't I hear you mention it?"

"How long have you been back? It's strange to hear about it," Huang Yongyu pointed to the kraft paper package on the table:

"This little friend of mine is the editor of Pujiang No. 1 newspaper. He is popular and has a sharp mind. I will help you ask about this some other time."

"The editor of a newspaper?" Wang Shixiang was puzzled: "Can you handle your cousin's affairs?"

"Don't underestimate him," Huang Yongyu proudly patted the kraft paper package: "Do you know how Berlin and I successfully passed the review of this monkey ticket?"

"..." Wang Shixiang was speechless, just waiting for the other party to continue.

"You can still rely on him!"

"Is your little friend really just a newspaper editor?" Wang Shixiang couldn't believe it: "Don't fool me. I have seen the big world."

"Believe it or not," Huang Yongyu didn't bother to elaborate:

"My little friend's name is Jiang Shan. Although he is young, he is very skilled. The key is, he understands me!"

"for example?"

"Do you see this pipe?"

Wang Shixiang glanced at the small wooden box he had just played with: "I've seen it before. I also want to ask you where you got the Dunhill?"

"Did you see the pair of owls in the outhouse too?"

"Of course I saw it."

"These are all gifts from him."

"He helped you and gave you things?" Wang Shixiang became more and more confused as he listened: "These are not simple things, Yongyu, your little friend is very nice to you!"

“Excellent!”

"The key is ability!"

"That's right, Jiangshan is indeed not a fuel-efficient lamp!" Huang Yongyu, who rarely showed his authority in front of Wang Shixiang, exhaled a string of thin smoke happily.
To be continued...