Chapter 20: Filling the Ranks

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A scare without danger, a false alarm.

At least that's what the doctors thought: the amount of toxic gas inhaled through the respiratory tract was minimal, and no signs of internal radiation exposure were found for the time being.

Because of the timely cleansing, there was no contamination seeping through the pores, and the superficial skin burns were very slight.

But Lin Sicheng didn’t agree: without reason, how could one simply get cancer just because it was said so in a past life?

“Don’t rush to be discharged. After all, the hospital has instruments that can monitor you anytime.”

“No need for too long. Stay for half a month first, then undergo a systematic examination again.”

“Also, quit smoking as soon as possible!”

Lin Sicheng’s tone was solemn, leaving no room for argument.

Lin Changqing and Lin Mingzhi exchanged a glance, feeling a surprising sense of amazement as if the child who had been dependent all this time suddenly took charge.

Thinking the old man didn’t want to quit, Lin Sicheng frowned, “You’re not quitting for nothing: as long as you quit, after I graduate, wherever you want me to go, I’ll go.”

Oh? Such a good deal?

Lin Changqing’s eyes lit up, “Really!”

“I’m your grandson; how could I lie to you?”

The old man immediately threw the cigarette box and lighter hidden under the pillow into the trash bin, “Alright, I’ll quit!”

Lin Sicheng seized the moment, “Better cancel the stall as well, and resign from those consultancy positions wherever possible!”

The old man wanted to shake his head, but his head was already stiff, hesitating for a moment.

That place at Xiaodongmen was like a fish pond to him; unless there was no new stock, whenever there was, hardly anything escaped his ears and eyes.

Just a slight move from him was worth half a lifetime to others; wouldn’t that also thicken Lin Sicheng’s family fortune?

Moreover, with his ability, no matter which consultancy or how high the leader, they had to show him some respect. By the time Lin Sicheng graduated and joined any company, wouldn’t that guarantee protection for several years?

So he couldn’t resign, at least not yet. But Lin Sicheng hated this and used to get annoyed every time it was mentioned.

He pretended to ponder, “Contracts are signed; it’s impossible to just quit. Let’s talk after I’m discharged!”

Lin Sicheng sighed: trying to use roundabout tactics with me, huh?

“If it doesn’t work out, just leave it to me. It’s just consultancy; if I can’t handle it, how could I not?”

The old man laughed, “Fine, handle this afternoon’s session first!”

“Not just this time, but also in the future. Just push it off whenever you can.”

“And quit smoking—you promised. My dad’s the witness!”

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Lin Changqing nodded with a smile.

After a lengthy briefing, Lin Sicheng stood up and glanced at Lin Mingzhi.

Forget it, Dad is really unreliable. Counting on him to supervise Grandpa, he’d be turned over in no time.

Let’s just leave it for now.

He shook his head and left the ward.

Lin Mingzhi looked puzzled, “Dad, what does his shaking his head mean?”

Having a father but not being able to rely on him, what else could it mean?

Lin Changqing said nothing, but a father and son share a bond; a single glance was enough.

“Hey, that bastard?”

He cursed, then worried a little, “Should we ask Chengwa to help you verify it? Is he up to it?”

Why not?

If it was uncertain before, after a week in the hospital, meeting Liu Meili and Shang Yan, and hearing rumors from Tibetan friends about last weekend’s events at Xiaodongmen, the old man had no doubts.

Since the 1980s, when the ghost market opened at Xiaodongmen, he had been a regular, and most of the collections at home came from there.

After retirement, he stayed there even more, so he roughly knew what good goods came into the market and whose stall had what.

But that feather duster and the Vajra-Hayagriva statue of Tibetan Vajrayana Buddhism had been there for so long, and he hadn’t noticed?

Especially the latter: the Baspa script had lost its transmission for seven or eight hundred years; he didn’t recognize it, yet how could Lin Sicheng?

Then recalling the scene at the cultural relic company a few days ago: uranium yellow accelerating carbon atom decay, tricking carbon-14 dating. Poor uranium replacing glaze crystals releasing energy, fooling thermoluminescence... These were not textbook knowledge.

Even he had only heard a little about them; where had Lin Sicheng learned this?

From these two incidents, Lin Changqing was basically sure that apart from experience and knowledge reserves, at least in terms of discernment, Lin Sicheng might not be inferior to him.

So why worry?

Thinking again about what Shang Yan said: “Professor Lin, I suspect Lin Sicheng is deliberately slacking; actually, he’s better than anyone and learns faster than anyone.”

Looking now, isn’t he the most capable?

Just a bit puzzling: such a rebellious spirit, yet he’s rebellious in a way that leads to success?

But then there’s Lin Mingzhi: very obedient, doing whatever Dad says. Yet he just muddles along, acting careless, never taking anything seriously.

He has many reasons: Dad has already arranged everything for me; why should I worry?

He sighed and tapped the bedside, “You always take taxis, which isn’t convenient. Fix up your car and give it to Chengwa to drive.”

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“What do I drive then?”

“You drive the Santana.”

No... Chengwa is your eldest grandson, true, but I’m still your son. Are you really that biased?

Lin Mingzhi lowered his head, muttering quietly but dared not speak up.

Fine, Santana it is.

If you dare to be stubborn again, you won’t even have a Santana to drive...

...

Taxis were indeed hard to catch; not only were there few available, but even if the route was short, they wouldn’t pick you up.

After waiting almost twenty minutes and being rejected by three taxis in a row, Lin Sicheng finally hired an unlicensed private car. After more than ten minutes, he arrived at the City Cultural Relics Exchange Center.

Also a subordinate unit of the City Cultural Relics Bureau, with duties similar to the cultural relic company, but it operated its own folk museum, so the rank was a half-level higher and the scope broader: integrating collection, trade, exhibition, and promotion of cultural relics.

With five minutes left before the scheduled time, Lin Sicheng hurried upstairs.

Pushing open the door, he saw a packed meeting room filled with people.

On stage was a leader, and behind them, an electronic screen displayed the slogan: “National Day · Xijing City Folk Museum ‘Elegance of Sanqin’ Exhibition Preparation Seminar.”

Lin Sicheng glanced and quietly sat at the back.

Just as he sat down, a young man resembling a secretary approached, “Hello, which unit are you from?”

Lin Sicheng smiled, “No unit. My grandfather is Lin Changqing; he’s hospitalized and can’t come!”

“Oh, you’re attending on behalf of Professor Lin?” The secretary handed him a guest badge with no name on it. “Please wear this first.”

“Okay!”

The secretary then went up to the podium and whispered something into the ear of a female leader sitting in the center. The woman looked up and glanced back.

The nameplate in front of her read: Lan Ling.

The secretary’s voice was apparently not low; the people in the first two rows all turned their heads.

Lin Sicheng unexpectedly recognized a familiar face: Hao Jun from Rongbaozhai.

Then he recalled that Hao Jun was also the Secretary-General of the Provincial Folk Art Association. For folk museum exhibition preparation meetings like today, they really had to invite him.

Lin Sicheng smiled, and Hao Jun nodded slightly in return.