Dongtai Antique Market, one of the most renowned antique markets in Shanghai, is often referred to as Shanghai's "Liulichang" (a famous cultural street in Beijing).
The sprawling market stretches from Dongtai East Road to West Road, filled with vendors offering everything from ancient ceramics, gold and silverware, jade carvings, and calligraphy to modern collectibles such as books, stamps, coins, and craftwork. The market is also home to some of the earliest pioneers in Shanghai's antique trade, figures who hold significant sway in the city's antique circles.
The market is perpetually crowded, drawing not just treasure hunters but also tourists seeking to explore its famed offerings.
"Huabao Pavilion, this is the place Master told me about."
After leaving the car provided by Liang Qiong's family chauffeur, Fang Ming headed straight to Dongtai Antique Market and stopped at the entrance of a two-story antique shop called Huabao Pavilion.
Unlike the street vendors with their makeshift stalls, Huabao Pavilion boasted a two-story structure designed in the style of Ming and Qing dynasty architecture. Its vintage aura was evident, not just in its exterior but also in its meticulously aged atmosphere.
Flanking the entrance were two stone drum sculptures, intricately carved with qilins resting under pine trees. Seeing these stone drums, Fang Ming smiled, knowing he was in the right place.
These stone drums were called "Men Dang" (door threshold), a term associated with the saying "door thresholds should match" to indicate social compatibility.
Encountering the Huabao Pavilion Staff
"Young man, here to find something special? We've got a wide range of antiques, from Ming and Qing porcelains to Han and Tang jade artifacts. Why not come in and have a look?"
Two young men dressed in traditional long gowns stood at the shop's entrance, acting as greeters. Seeing Fang Ming pause outside, one of them approached with a welcoming smile.
"I'm looking for your boss. Is his name Hua Borong?" Fang Ming asked directly.
The two greeters exchanged puzzled glances before one of them nodded. "That's right, our boss is Hua Borong. Do you know him?"
"I need to speak with him," Fang Ming said.
Though still suspicious, the greeters acknowledged that Fang Ming's knowledge of their boss's name might indicate some familiarity.
"Please, have a seat inside while we check if the boss is available," one of the greeters said, guiding Fang Ming into the store.
As Fang Ming stepped inside, he abruptly paused, looking down at the threshold. "Was there a doorstep here before? Why was it removed?"
"Oh, that. Well, a few customers tripped over it, so the boss decided to have it removed a few years ago," the greeter explained casually.
Inside Huabao Pavilion, the decor matched its exterior. Antique wooden furniture, such as vintage armchairs, lined the space, and display cases showcased an impressive array of collectibles. At 300 square meters, the first floor alone was a treasure trove of jade artifacts, paintings, and calligraphy.
Soon, the greeters returned, bringing with them a young man who introduced himself.
"This is our young master," they explained before stepping aside.
"You know my father?" the young man, Hua Mingming, asked as he scrutinized Fang Ming. He found it odd that someone of Fang Ming's age would know his father, whose social circle predominantly consisted of older, more seasoned individuals.
"No, I don't," Fang Ming replied candidly.
Hua Mingming froze. He had assumed this visitor had some personal connection to his father, which explained why the greeters had called him out. Yet this answer threw him off entirely.
There are some people who can cut off others' lines of questioning with a single sentence, and Hua Mingming was now one of them—left momentarily speechless.
Taking a deep breath, he pressed on, "If you don't know my father, then why are you looking for him?"
Before Fang Ming could answer, Hua Mingming's attention shifted to the doorway as he caught sight of someone entering.
"Ah, Mr. Liu! What brings you here? This is a pleasant surprise. Please, come in!"
Hua Mingming quickly bypassed Fang Ming to greet the newcomers: an elderly man with white hair accompanied by a middle-aged man carrying a wooden box.
"I'm here to deliver something good. This is one of my students, and his family recently encountered some troubles, so he decided to sell this item," Mr. Liu explained.
Hua Mingming's eyes lit up as he turned to the student. "And how should I address you, sir?"
"Just call me Zhang."
"Well, Mr. Zhang, are you looking to consign the item or sell it outright?" Hua Mingming asked in the jargon of the antique trade. "Consignment" meant leaving the item for sale on the store's behalf, while "outright sale" referred to selling it directly to the shop.
"Sell outright," Mr. Zhang replied.
"Alright, Mr. Liu, let's head upstairs to discuss," Hua Mingming said, leading them to the second floor.
However, halfway there, he remembered Fang Ming, who was still waiting.
"Hey, man, my father isn't here today. If you really need to see him, come back tomorrow," Hua Mingming called over his shoulder.
Fang Ming's gaze, however, lingered on the wooden box in Mr. Zhang's hands. Though Hua Mingming and Mr. Liu had spoken quietly, Fang Ming had overheard every word, and a flash of coldness flickered in his eyes.
"You shouldn't accept that item," he finally said.
His words stopped everyone in their tracks. Both Hua Mingming and Mr. Liu turned to look at him, surprised by his sudden interjection. Mr. Zhang, however, visibly stiffened.
"What are you even saying?" Hua Mingming asked incredulously. "This is my family's shop. What we choose to accept is none of your business."
"I advise you to contact your father before proceeding with this transaction," Fang Ming replied calmly.
"I don't need to. I'm the young master here, and there's nothing I can't handle," Hua Mingming retorted, now visibly annoyed.
Seeing Hua Mingming's stubbornness, Fang Ming frowned. If it weren't for his master's instructions, he would have already walked away.
"Fools are hard to warn," Fang Ming murmured. Out loud, he added, "Let your father know that the disciple of a benefactor from Miaohe Village has visited."
With that, he turned and left without another word.
The Revelation
Less than an hour later, a black Mercedes S400 pulled up in front of Huabao Pavilion. From the car stepped a middle-aged man with a square face and an air of authority. He was none other than Hua Borong, the owner of Huabao Pavilion.
The greeters, recognizing their boss, instantly straightened up and greeted him with enthusiasm.
Inside, Hua Borong wasted no time locating his son. "Mingming, tell me exactly what happened with the visitor earlier."
Hua Mingming recounted the incident, still annoyed by what he perceived as unnecessary interference. However, when he mentioned the visitor's parting words—"disciple of a benefactor from Miaohe Village"—Hua Borong froze.
"Are you sure he said that?" Hua Borong's voice trembled.
"Yes, and Mr. Liu can confirm it," Hua Mingming replied.
Hua Borong's face turned pale, and he immediately summoned his son to search for the visitor. "Find him at once, and when you do, apologize sincerely. This is no ordinary matter."
"But what about Mr. Liu and the jade ruyi?" Hua Mingming protested.
"Forget the ruyi," Hua Borong snapped. "If the benefactor's disciple said not to take it, then we won't. You don't understand the gravity of this situation. Just find him."
Realizing the seriousness in his father's tone, Hua Mingming obeyed, though he still didn't fully grasp the weight of what had transpired.