This part has five chapters written in total, one chapter every day (it seems that the last paragraph has not been finished, but it doesn't matter). Just take a look

Christmas On April 1, 1995, the Haitian Highway was close to the end, and there was always a lot of traffic, because the heart of the United Empire of China was Haijing in the distance, as if approaching the center of the spider web woven by a traffic network, the traffic volume was getting bigger and lower and lower: Whether it was a Phoenix high-end sports car or a permanent commercial vehicle, the sedan was polite and kept lower and lower. The eighteenth** truck of the Royal 6th Transport, known as the "high killer", was no longer the name of a killer. The famous golden lightning in front of its car is no longer the usual kind of lightning that turned into a lightning while driving high, but honestly revealed its true face - just a yellow trademark, and even the pigeon dung on it may be seen clearly by passers-by.

In this traffic, a black phantom suddenly appeared on the road under the scorching sun. Its wake ignited the air, making it look like a mirage behind it; there were waves of roars in the fuselage, like a burst of thunder; but it was as clever as a black ghost folded around in the traffic, constantly blocking any vehicle in front.

On the 18** truck that was overwhelmed by this ghost, the driver even left his seat and looked at the shark that seemed to be swimming down a whale. Until the flexible shark was roaring and disappeared into the traffic ahead with his butt. Then he lowered his head and looked at his whale's watch hand pointing at eighty kilometers. He excitedly picked up his intercom and shouted: "This is 'Shentong Express No. 16'. The convoy noticed that a Jialing 1887 version of the 'Free Knight' has just passed! You will be there soon! Look at it! Grass! What a motorcycle!"

An hour later, the motorcyclist slowed down. He raised his chin and looked up at the monster in front of him: a towering tower of giant towers, the world's tallest building - the "Pacific Trade Center", also known as the "Lights Tower". People all over the world know the source of this name - Bible: Matthew 5:15: People light the lamps, not under the bucket, but on the lampstand, illuminate the family.

This building, built in 1963, shows the great influence of the Chinese United Empire in business and politics. Therefore, it is naturally located in the trading center of Haijing, the most prosperous place.

This kind of place seems to be neither matched nor contrasted with the guys who are looking like racing players. Therefore, when the huge "Freedom Knight" relies on his own flexibility to pass through the "Phoenix", "Porsche", and "Haijing" luxury cars, they drove into the underground parking lot of the "Light Stand Tower", they gained a lot of surprised gazes in the back seats of the luxury cars.

Fifteen minutes later, the security guard on the 85th floor of the "Light Stand Tower" watched someone walk out of the elevator and walk towards him. He couldn't help but feel nervous. He subconsciously touched the handle of the electric baton on his waist, lowered his head, and placed his mouth on the intercom and whispered: "Note, a guy is coming up. A yellow man is tall, pay attention!"

"There is a guy" represents a person worthy of being wary of.

The man who came up was wearing a suit and ties all over the floor was very conspicuous: he was holding a black motorcycle helmet in one hand and his black leather jacket in the other, wearing only a vest, a bulging but ragged backpack behind him, and a pair of 6 battle boots covered with mud unscrupulously stepped on the red carpet at the front desk of the elevator door.

Not only is he dressed in an alternative way, but his appearance and figure are also different: he is thirty or forty years old, nearly 1.85 meters tall, with a tangled muscle, square head, big ears and big hands, a fierce face, a long shawl, revealing the skin of the clothes is covered with tattoos, a copper coin hanging around his neck, and a string of silver earrings hanging on his ear.

This kind of person is not a good person at first glance. He looks like he is afraid of the prison frequent visitor with his wallet when he glares at Haijing slums.

The security guard watched such a person swaying over. He was only 1.7 meters tall and was a head shorter than the other party, but he was not afraid. He was just prepared for some conflict and stared at the man. He also thought in his heart: Should he ask the brother in advance what he wanted to come? If he had gone to the wrong floor? After all, the big companies on this floor are not like people like this.

But seeing that the man was not squinting, his direction was clear, and hesitated again, until he walked past him, the security guard saw a tattoo on the strong man's left arm and felt relieved.

The tattoo was a pattern surrounded by two small knives, and a circle of Latin letters outside. The well-trained security guard recognized it at a glance as the unique tattoo of "Ocean 6 War Army": the two small knives came from the predecessor's Little Knife Legion, and the Latin letters should be their oath to "kill the enemy for God."

"So it's a former soldier of the empire." The security guard thought so, feeling a little relieved. The man had already walked past him, put his helmet on the front desk, leaned over and said to the lady inside, "Hello, I want to see Sir Fu Jiajun."

Although the lady inside was startled by the appearance of the man, she still stood up in a conditioned manner, first bowed, and then smiled and said, "Do you have an appointment with Sir Fu?"

"I called his cell phone, but it couldn't get through." The big man shook his head.

"Just is hosting the auction. Of course you can't get through. But who knows who you are?" The front desk lady flew in her mind and refused the guest. She smiled and said, "Sorry, it's hard for me to let you in without making an appointment. Please make an appointment with Sir Fu."

"Can't I go in?" The man was stunned for a moment, handed over a card and said, "This is my social welfare card. If you talk to Sir Fu, just say that the people from Peking are here."

The lady reached out to take the name on it, and compared the photo with the appearance of the man. Since the man gave all the welfare card, he didn't look bad, but he felt that since he had not made an appointment, it would be impossible to disturb the boss like this, so he smiled and handed the welfare card back to the man.

"Haha, can you call Sir Fu yourself? Now that his phone is off, I don't know if he is in the company. Sorry." The front desk lady shoved and gave her a stylized smile, then bowed again.

"Don't you give me a notice?" The big man pointed to the company wall behind the lady and shouted: "Isn't this a 'pomegranate flower'?"

The nameplate behind this company is not a huge and luxurious display plaque like other international companies, but a bronze plaque embedded in plexiglass. The bronze plaque made of brass is not high-tech, is poorly crafted and has been a little rusted. The big characters on it are engraved with "Daming Pomegranate Flower Auction House" and a line of small characters below it are "No. 69, Fuxing Road, Tianjing, Daming", and there are two carefully etched pomegranate patterns.

A row of numbers "Christmas 1881---Christmas 1981**" was etched on the glass under the bronze plaque.

This is naturally the "Daming Pomegranate Flower Auction House" that is ranked among the forefront of the world, specializing in Chinese antiques and cultural relics, and has a century-old history.

"This is naturally a pomegranate flower auction house..." The man seemed a little impatient, and the front desk lady said in a panic, but her eyes were on the security guard behind the man. Immediately, four security guards surrounded him and surrounded him.

The man tilted his body towards the front desk, pressed his thick left arm's elbow on the table, rolled the sleeve of the vest on his left arm to his shoulder, pointed his right hand at his top arm and said, "Look at what this is? The pomegranate flower is the badge of my family! I am Dr. Fu Qingluan, Fu Jiajun's nephew!"

The man's arm was above the tattoo of the Ocean 6th Army, and there was also a tattoo, two pomegranates, which were exactly the same as the business logo of the pomegranate flower.

"If you perfunctory me, I will smash the ancestral plaque in our family. Do you believe it? At that time, wouldn't my uncle come out to see me?" The big man punched the table, and a fierce light flashed in his eyes and stared at the helpless front desk lady.

Half an hour later, after the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Guangzhou Bay at the lampstand tower, Fu Qingluan sat in the sand, holding his arms and watching his uncle in front of him work.

"Why don't you take a plane? At least I'll give me a correct letter and drive a motorcycle. So who knows when you will arrive? Otherwise, how could the front desk stop you?" the uncle who was already bald on his head complained.

"Isn't it just one thousand three hundred kilometers? It's great to drive a motorcycle from Peking to Haijing." My nephew, covered in dirt, raised his legs and smiled.

In his office, Fu Jiajun, who had been dealing with cultural relics and antiques, touched a few sparse white hairs around his bald head, shook his head and sighed. He pointed to his nephew who was sitting in the sand and didn't think he was polite and said sadly: "Our family is always a scholarly family. Don't talk about me, how sad it is for your mother to see you now? You are thirty-five years old this year, so you can't always be so childish!"

"What does my life have to do with my mother and you?" Fu Qingluan snorted disdainfully, and then rubbed the soil in her neck because of dust all the way, and asked, "Uncle, why did you ask me to come? You are not going to teach me?"

After saying that, he turned around and looked at the antiques from all over the office. He put down his legs and knocked on the antique Song Dynasty antique coffee table in front of him. He smiled and shouted: "Uncle, you have such a lot of good things!"

Fu Jiajun rubbed her temples and sighed deeply. Without answering her nephew’s question, she asked, “What should I drink?”

He turned around and stood in front of the half-wide wine cabinet, pointed to the dazzling array of famous wines, and asked his nephew in consultation: "Hai Jingli in 1932..."

"I'll drink beer! Do you have it in the refrigerator?" Fu Qingluan waved his hand firmly.

"You kid! Alas!" Uncle sighed with a look of regret, but took off the bottle of red wine, poured two glasses, and handed them to his nephew.

Sitting down next to his nephew, Sir Fu said with concern: "Nephew, I heard your mother Yunlan say last month that you knew that you were dismissed by Peking University. Alas, you have been smart since childhood. You are a talented person at Tiandida (Tianjing Imperial University). You were a double sports star in baseball and swimming at that time. You were one of the top ten graduates. How could you make quick money for the gangsters to identify antiques? It has fallen to this point?"

"Tsk! The third-rate university like Peking University is just a small lecturer position. Damn, I'm dismissed me? When I saw the old slut of the department head, I wanted to slap him in the face! I'm going to dismiss them!" Fu Qingluan said gritting his teeth and picked up the red wine.

Seeing that although my nephew was silly, when I drank red wine, my uncle still subconsciously did not forget to shake the red wine evenly and then breathe the elegant habits of alcohol. He glanced at his nephew's thigh and said, "Actually, I understand you, you are a good child. You are stimulating on the battlefield and have stress reaction trauma, so-called battlefield psychological illness. So my nephew's wife divorced you three years ago, right? You haven't won the custody of the two children, but don't give up on yourself! Since God arranged this way, he naturally has a beautiful intention. A man, a real man, can't bow to any unlucky things. Do you still take medicine regularly now?"

"Why do I take those damn pills? I'm not a mentally ill! Bastard!" Fu Qingluan was originally tasting red wine with his tongue, but when he heard his uncle's words, he stopped tasting them. He raised his head and drank the red wine in his glass, like a lower class person.

He turned his head and shouted, "I just don't accept it! Even if my wife said I was ignoring my family, saying that I was traveling around the world, and saying that I was robbing tombs, I recognized it! But why did she, a guy with no eyes, marry the idiot who studied Jin Guo Chuichi Wen? If he was robbing the tombs, it would take longer than me! And he wouldn't robb tombs at all, he was a damn four-eyed frog! She couldn't even play table tennis! If I saw him, I would dig out his eyeballs!"

"Okay, okay, women are unreasonable." Fu Jiajun quickly interrupted his nephew's complaints, looking at his nephew who had suffered mental illness because he had bloody killing the empire on the battlefield, and had a serious violent tendency.

"Uncle, what did you suddenly ask me for? Since my wedding, I haven't seen you for ten years. I can only see you, a world-renowned auction house, auctioning this auction, on TV." Fu Qingluan put down the high-legged glass, wiped the red wine marks on the corner of his mouth and sneered.

"I think you are an unemployed vagrant, and I feel sorry for you. With your talent in archaeology, these are wastes. My brother will feel sorry for you in heaven." Fu Jiajun smiled and said, "And don't think I forgot you. Your work and papers are paying attention to it. It just happened that your research field is in modern times, which matches the main body of my auction house. Can I give you a job?"

"Are you atonement for my father's inherited title?" Fu Qingluan sneered, crossed her legs and raised them again.

Whether Hai Song or Wu Ming, the title can only be inherited by the eldest son, unless something happens to the eldest son. The title of the Ming baron of the Fu family is inherited by the second son Fu Jiajun. If this kind of thing is not the death of the eldest son, it means that the family has something shameful to have.

Hearing his nephew's words, Fu Jiajun was shocked. He took off his glasses, wiped them, and put them on again. He looked at his unruly nephew and said slowly: "Do you have to say this again every time I see you? This is a matter between adults, not something you can do with. You are also an adult now. Do you know that there is no absolute black and white right or wrong in this world, and everyone has a last resort. I have a clear conscience about this matter. For the honor of my elder brother, I cannot tell you the details. Maybe my will will state it, and you can wait and see it."

"Well. My mother also said not to let me hate you, it would be difficult for you." Fu Qingluan sighed.

"Do work for me first, prove that you have noble character and do not humiliate the glory of the Chinese Wuming Fu family. If you do well, I will list you as the first heir to the title, so that you can wash away the shame of your elder brother." Fu Jiajun said word by word.

Upon hearing what his uncle said, Fu Qingluan paused and slowly lowered his legs. As a history and archaeological expert, can he not understand the history of his family?

He knew in his heart that his father might not have the responsibility to lose his title, such as drug use, tomb robbery, bigamy, gambling, fighting and injury. He was afraid that no aristocratic heir would be able to get any good things. His father did not go to jail to make the family look disgrace, which was the result of his grandfather using all the upper-level relationships to clear it. This ending was a great favor from God.

But his unruly temper came back again. Perhaps to hide his inferiority and powerlessness, the former soldier of Kong Wu snorted and shouted: "Inheritance at the top? No need, give me a few cousins! It's an era now, who cares about the title? Tell me, why are you looking for me? Do you want to just let me wear a suit and come to you to check in on time? I can't do this!"

Although the words behind his nephew were hard and soft, Fu Jiajun smiled and said, "There is a matter that needs someone who is extremely trusted to do, so I'll bring you here."

"Black cultural relics?" Fu Qingluan's eyes lit up as soon as he heard this: Black cultural relics are things obtained through illegal channels.

"That's right." Fu Jiajun nodded.

In the eyes of my nephew, Fu Jiajun's private office was extremely large, but in fact, his uncle's office was even larger.

Fu Jiajun pressed a button, and a wall filled with cultural relics across from his nephew Sha slid silently, revealing a huge secret room.

"Come with me!" Uncle waved his hand.

Half an hour later, Fu Qingluan, who was originally dressed as a racing party, became a chemical drugmaker who seemed to be hired by a gang: he sat in front of the workbench, wearing white gloves in both hands, a magnifying glass on his eyes, and a variable light lamp with excellent light was placed on the workbench. Under this soft light, Fu Qingluan carefully flipped a shabby notebook.

The uncle sat opposite the doctor, his face full of nervousness.

Using gloves to touch the cowhide cover of the notebook, Fu Qingluan's eyes swept across the cracked mouth, and she wished she could sweep her eyes into the broken mouth. These details were so cautious, let alone any handwriting and symbols on the cover.

After studying the cover, he turned on the inner page and found that most of the pages of the notebook were sealed to the back cover. It seemed that my uncle didn't want people to see the content after a few pages. There were a lot of messy handwriting on the previous pages, which were written in a hard pen. In the present opinion, these font calligraphy are all at the same level as dog crawling.

The content of the previous pages is nothing important, they are all dates and short schedules: "Today I invite the group of stupid bishops to have dinner", "I played mahjong three times yesterday", "I drank too much, I had a headache, I drank less sour wine in the future, too strong", "Do you want to kill the dog bishop of the church?" "Tell me... I really want to kill that Daibi reporter" and such fragmented and ignorant sentences.

After looking at it for a long time, Fu Qingluan put down his notebook, raised the magnifying glass on the frame, and said in an expert tone: "This seems to be the palace notebook of the Haisong Empire before the founding of the United Empire of China. In terms of number 270096, it should be 1872, because I studied the famous notebooks of 270080 and 271127 in the Imperial Library, which was the official helper of the country, and the time was 1872. This paper was Western paper at that time, and it was not absorbed and suitable for writing with a hard pen. From the cover, it would be very expensive at that time; it was not affordable for the poor;

The writing tool is a pen. The pen leaks slightly. Although it is very forceful, it is obvious that the pen has no scratches. The tip of the pen is made into a semi-spherical shape. This pen and ink were also luxury goods at that time. On the third page of the sentence "Drinking too much" obviously broke the first pen tip and replaced it again. This person has at least two such high-end pen pens, which can be replaced at any time. It seems that he doesn't care at all. This thing doesn't look like a fake. If I identify the ink composition, I'll be more confident."

"I have long identified the ink ingredients. They are genuine from the 19th century. Are you not an expert in handwriting? Whose handwriting?" Fu Jiajun asked with a smile. It seemed that the nephew's previous judgments were even his wishes.

Fu Qingluan stared at her uncle and said in disbelief: "This is exactly why I was shocked. This handwriting...this handwriting...this notebook belongs to the Emperor of the Sea?"

"How can I see it?" Uncle asked with a smile.

"This is the famous sea emperor dog reptile!" Fu Qingluan said.

"The reptile body of the Sea King dog is easy to forge." The uncle was still smiling.

As soon as he arrived at the professional field, Fu Qingluan was so serious that he stared out his eyes and replied: "This is true, but I have studied too many words in the Haihuang. This font is his. Note that the whole article is simplified, but when he wrote 'Kill', it was a standard traditional Qing Dynasty character, which is one of the symbols of the Haihuang. Second, his writing mode is always horizontal from left to right; Third, when he recorded the date, he did not write the 'Christmas' or 'Lord' he appointed, which is a translation, but a special title: AD, this is a Japanese origin word, which was used twenty years earlier than Japan, and he used it alone; Fourth, he always subconsciously used punctuation marks when he made sentences; Fifth, the Haihuang liked to secretly call people with dirty words, and this method of swearing is not from the Song and Yue areas, but using the name bi..."

"From your doctoral in history, how sure is this book written by the Emperor of the Sea?" Fu Jiajun asked.

"From the booklet itself and the previous pages, I'm about 70% sure." Fu Qingluan put his hands on the booklet, as if holding an atomic bomb. He carefully raised the booklet two inches and then gently put it down. He bounced the plastic seal behind the bullet and said, "Can I open the plastic seal behind and see the contents behind? If I were asked to study the complete booklet, I can tell you with certainty!"

"It's better not to do it. This is the diary of the Sea Emperor that I have tried my best to get. You'd better not read the contents behind it. This booklet may approach the 'Secret of the Sea Emperor'. At least you can understand who our Song Taizu is on the other side." Fu Jiajun breathed a sigh of relief.
Chapter completed!