Chapter Two: Acrostic Poem

A somewhat cracked yet well-preserved stone relief appeared before me. This rectangular relief, covering more than twenty square meters, is rarely seen outside temples and palaces.

What astonished me was that this relief dated back to the Qin dynasty. Qin sculptural craftsmanship was particularly skilled, evident mostly in palace architecture, bronze vessels, and funerary artifacts, achieving epoch-making brilliance.

The terracotta warriors unearthed from the Mausoleum of the First Qin Emperor cannot verify this point, yet relief carving was not prevalent during the Qin dynasty. In fact, it is difficult to find any verifiable historical record of large-scale reliefs from that era.

However, judging by the craftsmanship and style, I was certain this was a Qin dynasty artifact, more precisely from the late Qin period.

Though ancient, the vivid artistry on the relief still tells a story.

A man sits alone atop a lofty peak amidst thousands kneeling in worship below. Beneath him, furious waves rush ceaselessly down a river. The man sits cross-legged, gazing upward with a look both devout and proud. The kneeling figures wear garments in black and yellow hues; from their hats, I could discern mountain crowns, ritual crowns, and martial crowns.

I was taken aback—these were the court officials' attires from the Qin dynasty, and the one they knelt before...!

I hurried closer. The solitary man wore a “Tongtian” crown, a symbol of kingship.

This was the attire of a monarch; the man in the relief was the First Qin Emperor.

“This depicts Qin Shi Huang’s ritual of offering sacrifices on Mount Tai!” I whispered.

The relief extended to the right, carving out a massive military formation: a large square formation on the right, a sparse array at the front left, and the command center at the rear left.

Numerous warriors brandishing weapons, hundreds of warhorses pulling chariots, arranged in rows and columns, formed a grand, imposing formation, recreating the overwhelming might of the Qin army from two millennia ago.

“This must be Qin Shi Huang boasting of his great achievement in unifying the six states,” said Huo Qian.

The next relief showed a large group sitting cross-legged, forming the shape of the Eight Trigrams, with Qin Shi Huang seated at the center, his expression serene. To his left, right, and behind stood attendants. The carving suggested some kind of ceremony was underway.

“It seems the rumors are true. After his last eastern tour, Qin Shi Huang sought the Dao to attain immortality,” Huo Qian said, pointing at the following patterns with puzzlement.

“I can understand all the previous scenes perfectly—they align with historical records—but I don’t understand the last pattern.”

I stepped before the final relief, which was identical to the earlier ceremony scene. Every figure carved remained unchanged—except that the Qin Emperor who had been sitting in the middle was missing!

The subsequent image showed Qin Shi Huang’s demise at Shaqiu. A massive caravan pulled a dragon-shaped coffin, but the coffin was clearly empty.

My finger twitched involuntarily. The artist was conveying a bizarre tale: Qin Shi Huang mysteriously vanished during his final eastern tour, so in the last relief, the dragon coffin contained no one.

Suddenly, I moved to the food box, picked up one of the terracotta warriors I had just set down, and compared it to the figures in the relief. Astonishingly, these terracotta figures closely resembled those within the Eight Trigrams scene. Checking a few more, the likeness was uncanny.

Someone must have bought these terracotta warriors to recreate the ceremony’s scene!

I thought to myself: this means someone is certain Qin Shi Huang truly disappeared back then. Eagerly, I told Huo Qian,

“Don’t sell a single one of these!”

---

“Not a single one?” Huo Qian looked troubled. “But Ting told me to handle this, I…”

“Didn’t you just say that if the sky falls, there’s someone taller to hold it up? I’m definitely taller than you. Don’t worry, I’ll report this to Ting myself.”

My instructions were simple. When Yue Qianling and Qiuno returned, Huo Qian had already placed the three terracotta warriors he brought back on the table and sat silently reading the newspaper.

The rest seemed unnecessary for me. Even if Yue Qianling couldn’t tell, Qiuno was an expert in artifact appraisal, so I wasn’t worried the act wouldn’t continue.

Shopping seemed the best way for women to communicate. When the three girls came back, I noticed the strange barrier Yue Qianling once felt toward Qiuno had nearly vanished.

Yue Qianling, holding a towel and heading to the bath, glanced once at the three terracotta warriors on the table. In Jingzhao, replicas of terracotta warriors were everywhere, so she paid no mind.

But at the bathroom door, she suddenly stopped, turned back, and curiously examined the terracotta warrior for a long while.

“Where did you get these?”

“Oh, after visiting the Bell Tower, I just wandered around, saw these odd little things, and bought a few as souvenirs,” I replied nonchalantly.

“Qiuno, Qiuno, come here! Help me check this—is it just my eyes, or has the counterfeit craftsmanship become truly masterful?” Yue Qianling called out loudly.

Qiuno emerged, puzzled, took one of the figures, and examined it carefully.

Compared to Yue Qianling, Qiuno was clearly smarter. Such blatantly displayed terracotta warriors seemed a bit out of place. I flipped through the newspaper to change the subject.

“So, where did you all go today?”

“We went to the Terracotta Army, Famen Temple, and Qin Shi Huang’s Mausoleum. It was exhausting,” Gu Anqi said as she came out of the bath, drying her hair. “Yan Hui, tomorrow we plan to visit the Great Ci’en Temple. I heard the incense is very prosperous there. Why don’t you come with us?”

“Why would he go? He’s a charlatan. The Great Ci’en Temple is a Buddhist temple, one studies the Dao, the other promotes Buddhism,” Yue Qianling teased with a distracted smile. “If he goes, he’ll probably be kicked out.”

Qiuno kept studying the terracotta warrior in her hand. Actually, the item wasn’t hard to appraise. But since I said I bought it roadside, Qiuno was very surprised. They looked like genuine relics—how could such pieces be sold on the street? Had counterfeit techniques surpassed her appraisal skills?

“These were sold on the street?” Qiuno asked hesitantly.

“They’re everywhere. Jingzhao doesn’t have much, but these are abundant. If you like, I can get you some more tomorrow.”

“But… they look so real. The pigments on them should have long been lost. When did anyone replicate this successfully? How come I didn’t know?” Qiuno’s surprise grew with each glance.

“Others rely on this skill to make a living, fooling outsiders. You’re an appraisal expert. You wouldn’t mistake even this, right?” I smiled, feigning casualness.

“You won’t believe it, I’ve participated in the restoration of the Terracotta Army a few times. I can’t tell replicas from the real ones usually, but this one is too lifelike. What a world we live in—counterfeiting has become so professional.” Yue Qianling’s mind seemed still on what Gu Anqi said earlier.

“Of course, if you want, we wouldn’t mind you joining us.”

“I’d better not go. The decrypted text says December 7th, 3 PM. That time is important. I haven’t made any progress. I’m quite troubled. You guys go by yourselves.”

“If you’re troubled, you should definitely go. The Great Ci’en Temple used to be called Wulou Temple. ‘Wulou’ is a Buddhist term: ‘lou’ means all afflictions; ‘wulou’ means the absence of affliction, the cessation of suffering and rebirth. That is the meaning of ‘wulou.’” Gu Anqi spoke earnestly. “Go. Consider it a meditation on the Buddhist path—your mind will become spacious.”

---

“Suffering and rebirth cease thereby; that is the meaning of ‘wulou.’ Haha, Wulou Temple—good thing they changed the name to Great Ci’en Temple, or it’d be a tongue twister…” I slowly lowered the newspaper. “Wulou Temple! Wulou? Why do these words seem familiar?”

Gu Anqi looked at my strange behavior, clearly puzzled.

I muttered “wulou” repeatedly while Qiuno stared intently at the terracotta warrior. Our expressions were equally astonished.

Suddenly, Qiuno and I shouted excitedly almost simultaneously:

“I know!”

It didn’t surprise me that Qiuno recognized the terracotta warriors as genuine, but there was something even more important now.

“Qiuno, hold on a moment. I’ve just understood the meaning of the last four lines of the seven-character quatrain!”

“Really? What does it mean?” Gu Anqi asked cautiously.

I took out a sheet of paper and wrote down the four lines:

A century has never seen a centenarian,
The Weiyang clock’s drip heard in drunken stupor.
Now behold Anba seizing the realm,
An imperial edict flies down among the five clouds.

I pointed at the paper, beaming.

“This is an acrostic poem, but not an acrostic at the start—it’s hidden in the middle. Read the middle characters aloud!”

Yue Qianling lowered her head and read each character one by one.

“Wulou Baxi?!”

“The locations mentioned in the text are not just one. The morning bell and evening drum refer to Jingzhao, but the last four lines indicate the real place we need to find—the Great Ci’en Temple you plan to visit tomorrow!”

“Wait, Wulou equals today’s Great Ci’en Temple—that makes sense. But what is ‘Baxi’?” Yue Qianling asked, confused.

“Qianling, among the Nine Sons of the Dragon, the sixth eldest is called Bixi, also known as Baxi. It looks like a turtle and symbolizes longevity and good fortune,” Gu Anqi calmly explained.