Lin Zefang never dreamed he would die in a place without cell phone signal.
At the execution ground in Caishikou, a dense crowd of onlookers thronged the area. The midday sun blinded him, and his nostrils were filled with the stench of blood and rotting vegetables. He knelt on the damp stone slab, feeling the vibrations of the executioner's sharpening blade emanating from the wooden block at the back of his neck.
"Lin Zefang, the sorcerer, forged an imperial edict, misled the court, and deserves death!" The executioner's shrill voice pierced the clamor.
Lin Zefang moved his bound hands, the rope digging into his flesh. Three days ago, he was in the underground laboratory of the Capital Museum, using an X-ray scanner to analyze the casting technique of a Shang Dynasty bronze ding (a type of ancient Chinese cooking vessel). To replicate the cloud and thunder patterns on the ding, he increased the equipment's power—then came a flash of white light, the world spun, and when he opened his eyes again, he was a prisoner.
"Your Honor, this man truly deserves to die!" someone shouted from the crowd. "His forged imperial edict almost cost my master his official position!"
"Yes! This sorcerer claimed he could restore the Nine Tripods of the Xia Dynasty, but he just used a few pieces of scrap metal to fool the Empress Dowager!" Lin Zefang smiled bitterly. When he took over this body, the original owner was already dead. Through fragmented memories, he pieced together the truth: the original owner was a traveling antique dealer who swindled several unsuspecting people by forging documents. His most reckless act was attempting to forge an "Empress Dowager's edict" to blackmail the Prime Minister, only to be exposed on the spot.
The problem was, Lin Zefang had no idea how he had returned to the 21st century.
"Noon has arrived!" the executioner tossed down the order.
The executioner picked up a bowl of strong liquor, tilted his head back, and gulped it down before raising his executioner's blade. The crowd roared with excitement, and a vendor seized the opportunity to hawk his wares: "Melon seeds for sale! Melon seeds with the execution, five coins a pack!"
Lin Zefang closed his eyes. The whistling of blades cutting through the air reached his ears—
"Wait!"
An aged but authoritative female voice came from the outskirts of the execution ground, and the crowd parted like a plowed wheat field. Lin Zefang opened his eyes and saw a large sedan chair carried by eight men stopped ten paces away. A corner of the curtain was lifted, revealing a wrinkled but sharp-eyed face.
"The Empress Dowager has arrived!" An official hurriedly knelt down.
The surrounding commoners followed suit, kneeling on the ground. Lin Zefang remained kneeling, his mind racing. According to the original owner's memories, Empress Dowager Xiao of the Great Liang Dynasty had controlled the court for eight years. The current emperor was only thirteen years old; the one who truly held the reins was this old woman.
"I have heard that this person claims to be able to restore the Nine Tripods?" The Empress Dowager's voice was not loud, but it silenced the entire execution ground. The executioner wiped the sweat from his brow. "Your Majesty," he said, "this sorcerer did indeed say that, but what he presented were merely a few crudely made, broken bronze artifacts, truly..."
"Bring them to me." Two guards carried forward a wooden box and opened the lid. Inside lay three rusty bronze artifacts, the largest no bigger than a washbasin, with a few crooked seal characters engraved on them. Lin Zefang glanced at them and almost burst out laughing—the original owner of this body had simply found three Han Dynasty incense burners to swindle money, and even misspelled two characters in the seal script.
If these could be considered part of the Nine Tripods, the Simuwu Ding could be used as a spittoon.
"Lin Zefang, do you confess?" the Empress Dowager's voice rang out.
Lin Zefang took a deep breath. He understood that this was his only chance to live. But if he kowtowed and begged for mercy according to ancient customs, this old woman would most likely not let him go—she didn't want repentance, but rather something of value.
"Your Majesty, please forgive me," Lin Zefang raised his head, his voice surprisingly calm, "This humble subject does not accept it." A murmur of unease rippled through the crowd.
The executioner roared in fury: "How dare you! Even at this point, you still dare..."
"Because these three items are indeed not the Nine Tripods," Lin Zefang interrupted, his gaze fixed on the Empress Dowager in the sedan chair, "they are counterfeits that this humble subject specially prepared to test whether Your Majesty truly possesses discerning eyes." The Empress Dowager narrowed her eyes: "Oh? You mean, the genuine items are something else entirely?"
"Exactly." Lin Zefang's heart pounded as if it would explode, but he knew he had to gamble. "The legendary Nine Tripods were cast by King Yu of Xia from the metal collected from the nine provinces, each tripod adorned with the mountains, rivers, and exotic animals of that province. How can these three incense burners, mere repurposed artifacts, be worthy of being called divine vessels?"
"Where is the genuine article?"
"In my mind," Lin Zefang said slowly. "I once saw a diagram of the Nine Tripods in an ancient tomb, and I am familiar with their shape, decorations, and inscriptions. Give me only three months, and I will surely be able to recreate one and present it to the Empress Dowager!"
The executioner sneered, "Deceitful words! Guards, begin!"
"Wait." The Empress Dowager raised her hand, and the sedan curtain was fully lifted, revealing her figure in a dark purple phoenix robe. "Lin Zefang, do you know the crime of deceiving the Emperor?"
"I know," Lin Zefang gritted his teeth. "If I cannot present the genuine article after three months, I am willing to be torn to pieces!"
The execution ground was so quiet that one could hear the wind whistling through the flagpoles. The Empress Dowager suddenly laughed, a laugh like cracking ice in winter: "Interesting. I've seen countless beggars and curses over the years, but this is the first time I've encountered someone putting a knife to their own throat." She turned to the executioner: "Take him back to the Ministry of Justice prison. Give him a single cell, writing brushes, ink, paper, inkstones, and craftsman's tools—give him whatever he wants."
"Your Majesty!" The executioner's eyes widened.
"What, do you think I'm getting senile?" The Empress Dowager's voice suddenly turned icy. "Or do you also think the Nine Tripods are just a legend, not worth trying?" Cold sweat poured down the executioner's forehead, and he immediately knelt down: "Your Majesty, I dare not! I will obey your command!" The Empress Dowager gave Lin Zefang one last look: "If he's a failure in three months, I'll make you understand what it means to wish you were dead." The sedan chair curtain fell, and the eight-bearer sedan chair slowly departed. The onlookers exchanged bewildered glances, unsure whether the execution was successful or not. Lin Zefang was forced to stand by the guards, his legs trembling like leaves.
Only when he was pushed into the prison cart did he dare to breathe heavily.
He had survived.
But for the next three months, he would have to create a "Nine Tripods of the Xia Dynasty" in a world where metallurgical technology was stuck at the Han Dynasty level, a feat that could fool everyone.
The prison cart creaked away from the execution ground. Lin Zefang leaned against the railing, his mind frantically recalling the process of modern bronze forgery: molding, aging, rust treatment... If he soaked it in copper sulfate solution and then buried it in the ground, could he create the effect of a three-thousand-year-old artifact in two months?
"Hey, you fiend," the jailer driving the cart turned around, grinning, "You really think you can do it?"
Lin Zefang watched the execution ground recede into the distance, where the executioners were packing their knives. He suddenly laughed:
"How will I know if I don't try?"
Anyway, the worst outcome would be dying here in three months. But if it succeeded… He looked out at the bustling street outside the prison van: the common people in coarse clothes, the officials riding tall horses, the craftsmen sweating profusely under the scorching sun.
A brand new world, without X-ray machines and carbon-14 testing.
An era where all "forgeries" could become "genuine."
Lin Zefang closed his eyes, his smile widening.
"Interesting, very interesting…" The prison van disappeared at the end of the long street, leaving only the sound of wheels rolling over cobblestones and the suppressed chuckle of a certain forger.