## Detailed walkthrough
### [00:01](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wzvE5DQ3UT8&t=1s) Visiting the Forbidden City and Climbing Jingshan Hill to View Ancient Architecture
Visiting the Forbidden City is an undertaking of such magnitude that even lifelong Beijing residents occasionally live out their entire lives without ever stepping inside. For those who do make the trip, the experience remains incomplete without making the effort to climb Jingshan Hill immediately afterward. Although Jingshan Park and the Forbidden City operate under separate management today—requiring visitors to purchase two distinct tickets—the standard tour route naturally leads visitors from the south entrance straight through to the north gate, which opens directly facing Jingshan. If visitors possess the physical stamina, climbing Jingshan is essential; looking down from its summit is the only way to genuinely grasp the immense scale and layout of the Forbidden City complex. The climb itself is the gentlest of any mountain excursion, serving as a baseline where anyone incapable of ascending it cannot realistically claim to climb mountains at all. Looking southward from the peak, the expanse below is dominated by an ocean of golden and green glazed-tile rooftops glistening in the sunlight.
The speaker emphasizes that the primary purpose of visiting the Forbidden City should be observing its 600-year-old architectural complex rather than pressing one's face against windowpanes to peek at imperial sleeping quarters or decorative cups. Chinese imperial architecture is defined by rigid hierarchical grades reflected in roof construction. The most prestigious halls feature "double-eaved" roofs with two tiers of eaves, a privilege denoting supreme imperial status compared to the single-eaved roofs permitted on commoners' dwellings, while certain historic structures even featured triple-eaved designs. At the pinnacle of this hierarchy stands the hip roof (wudiandian), seen on the Hall of Supreme Harmony, characterized by four sloping sides that converge at the central main ridge. Below the hip roof rank gable roofs, hip-and-gable roofs, and hard-gable roofs. While lightning strikes and catastrophic fires repeatedly burnt down the three main halls over the centuries, forcing extensive reconstructions, the overarching structural majesty of the six-century-old complex remains fully intact. As the speaker remarks, “If you go into the Palace Museum and don't care about the architecture, I think that's a real shame.”
- Entrance and exit flow: Standard visitor trajectory enters the Forbidden City from the south gate and exits through the north gate, directly across from Jingshan Park.
- Architectural hierarchy: Hip roofs represent the highest grade, followed in descending rank by gable roofs, hip-and-gable roofs, and hard-gable roofs.
- Structural elements: Double-eaved roofs signify elite rank; common folk were restricted to single-eaved structures.
- Preservation status: Many primary buildings, including the Three Great Halls, are historical reconstructions rebuilt following lightning strikes and accidental fires.
---
[03:00](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wzvE5DQ3UT8&t=180s) Comparing Global Museums and the Foundations of Beijing vs. Taipei Palace Museums
The visitor volumes of both the Beijing and Taipei Palace Museums rival the world's most heavily trafficked cultural institutions, including the Louvre in Paris, the British Museum in London, the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York, and the State Hermitage Museum in Saint Petersburg. Yet, a fundamental distinction separates the Beijing Palace Museum from many modern purpose-built institutions. Alongside iconic European palace estates like the Palace of Versailles and Fontainebleau, the Beijing Palace Museum is itself an authentic, inhabited historical monument.
In sharp contrast, the Taipei Palace Museum represents a fundamentally different concept. Following the Kuomintang's retreat to Taiwan, the Taipei facility was constructed from scratch once administrative and financial resources allowed for the erection of a palace-style museum. Consequently, a visit to the Taipei Palace Museum is undertaken strictly to view its displaced imperial artifacts, as its modern architecture does not warrant an independent architectural pilgrimage. Beijing, conversely, offers a dual experience where the architecture alone justifies a complete visit. In the speaker's words: “The Taipei museum is a building constructed from scratch after the Kuomintang retreated to Taiwan.”
| Institution | Facility Type | Primary Visitor Attraction | Historical Foundation |
|:--- |:--- |:--- |:--- |
| **Beijing Palace Museum** | Authentic 600-year-old imperial palace | Architectural complex & Imperial collections | Ming & Qing dynasty imperial seat |
| **Taipei Palace Museum** | 20th-century purpose-built museum | High-density premier relocated relics | Constructed post-1949 by the Kuomintang |
| **Palace of Versailles / Fontainebleau** | Authentic historic palace estate | Historical architecture & royal collections | French royal residences |
| **Louvre / British Museum / Met** | Classical & purpose-built global galleries | Encyclopedic global artifact collections | National & civic public collections |
---
[04:26](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wzvE5DQ3UT8&t=266s) Changing Perspectives on Culture and the Rise of Chinese Museum Education
Historically, domestic exhibitions in Chinese museums focused almost exclusively on indigenous Chinese heritage. Following reform and opening up and the accompanying broadening of global perspectives, both the Beijing and Taipei institutions expanded their curatorial scope to host major exhibitions showcasing foreign civilizations, including artifacts from Europe, the Middle East, Afghanistan, and India. These international showcases offer an unfamiliar experience to the domestic public, many of whom still struggle to fully interpret their own heritage due to historically underdeveloped museum education.
The speaker recalls observing visitor reactions years ago, noting that many museumgoers evaluated exhibitions entirely through a narrow, materialistic lens. Guests frequently bypassed historical context and spiritual inspiration, asking only what an object was worth, how much pure gold was used in its creation, or marveling at the emperor's material excess. In earlier decades, traditional culture was neglected in formal education or mobilized strictly for political critique. In recent years, traditional culture has been treated as an essential subject, sparking an unprecedented surge in museum attendance. The speaker, drawing on more than two decades of museum experience, notes that while visitor numbers remained stagnant in earlier years, both Beijing and Shanghai institutions have recently experienced annual attendance growth exceeding 30 percent, with an unprecedented influx of young people developing genuine scholarly and aesthetic appreciation for cultural relics. As the speaker observes regarding this educational shift, “In the past, our culture was not a required course; when I was young, culture was only used for criticism.”
- Growth rate: Museum visitation across major cultural hubs such as Beijing and Shanghai has been expanding at over 30 percent annually.
- Curatorial evolution: Expansion from solely indigenous relics to international exhibitions covering Europe, the Middle East, Afghanistan, and India.
- Societal shift: Evolution from evaluating artifacts based on raw material value (e.g., gold content, monetary worth) to understanding artistic and spiritual significance.
- Generational demographics: Marked increase in young visitors independently seeking out historical artifacts.
---
[06:54](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wzvE5DQ3UT8&t=414s) The Southward Relocation of Palace Treasures: Selection and Journey
Approaching its centennial anniversary, the Palace Museum has endured what can only be described as a turbulent history. Founded roughly a dozen years into the Republican era, the museum was immediately caught in the instability of warlord conflicts and the impending threat of Japanese military aggression. Although the War of Resistance was traditionally dated from the Lugou Bridge (Marco Polo Bridge) Incident of July 7, 1937, historical framing traces the conflict to the Mukden Incident of September 18, 1931. Across the six escalating years between 1931 and 1937, leading scholars and museum officials grew acutely alarmed that China's cultural heritage would be annihilated by war.
Operating under the traditional Chinese belief that the southern hinterland offered safety, top-tier scholars formed a specialized committee to execute the southward relocation of the palace collections. The selection process was meticulous, spanning several years rather than being improvised under emergency conditions. Thousands of custom crates—both standardized containers and oversized wooden cases tailored for irregularly sized treasures—were built to pack the finest imperial holdings, forming the core collection displayed in Taipei today.
```mermaid
flowchart TD
accTitle: The Southward Relocation Route of Palace Treasures
accDescr: Sequential transit path of the Palace Museum artifacts from Beijing across mainland China to Taiwan over 15 years.
A["Beijing (Forbidden City)"] -->|"1933 Evacuation"| B["Shanghai"]
B --> C["Nanjing (Base Storage)"]
C -->|"Wartime Retreat"| D["Chongqing & Western Hinterland"]
D -->|"Post-War Consolidation"| E["Nanjing"]
E -->|"1948-1949 Transshipment"| F["Taichung"]
F --> G["Taipei Palace Museum"]
```
While the Beijing Palace Museum maintains an overwhelming advantage in total artifact quantity, cultural relics cannot be ranked purely by numbers or compared across dissimilar artistic categories such as bronzes, jades, ancient manuscripts, and ceramics. Beijing retained clear superiority in specific categories left behind during the evacuation:
1. **Imperial Furniture:** Massive hardwood pieces were excessively heavy to transport during wartime transit and were viewed by early twentieth-century scholars as utilitarian domestic objects lacking profound historical value.
2. **Qing Dynastic Attire and Imperial Portraits:** Republican officials and scholars harbored deep anti-Qing political resentment following the 1911 Xinhai Revolution, showing little desire to salvage portraits of Qing emperors or official court robes.
The odyssey of the evacuated crates traversed a winding 15-year route from Beijing to Shanghai, Nanjing, Chongqing, back to Nanjing, and ultimately to Taichung and Taipei. Spanning tens of thousands of kilometers under severe wartime bombardment and primitive transport conditions, the operation stands as an unparalleled triumph of logistics and cultural preservation. As the speaker highlights regarding the extraordinary outcome: “It is unimaginable that tens of thousands of crates of artifacts suffered no loss or damage despite such harsh conditions.”
[11:25](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wzvE5DQ3UT8&t=685s) The Southward Exodus and the 1935 London Royal Academy Exhibition
Following the Mukden Incident of September 18, 1931, and the sharp deterioration of Sino-Japanese relations by 1933, the authorities made the urgent decision to evacuate the imperial collections from the Palace Museum. The artifacts were packed and transported by rail from Beijing through Nanjing, eventually arriving in Shanghai. The speaker emphasizes the sheer scale of the evacuation by citing the exact historical record: precisely 19,557 crates were moved, counting both the museum holdings and items from the Exhibition Office. This was a count of massive packing crates rather than individual pieces, representing hundreds of thousands of historical relics.
In the midst of this chaotic wartime relocation, the museum pulled off an extraordinary feat: its first-ever international exhibition. Once the crates arrived safely in Shanghai, European scholars and connoisseurs submitted a formal proposal through the Chinese Embassy in the United Kingdom, inviting China to bring the imperial treasures to London. The proposal immediately ran into a seemingly insurmountable logistical hurdle: insurance. No commercial insurance company in the world dared underwrite the shipment. Insurers frankly admitted that the cultural and monetary value of the artifacts exceeded their financial capacity, and that any maritime accident or loss would instantly bankrupt their firms.
The British government stepped in to resolve the deadlock with military protection. As the speaker explains, the British side concluded, “Fine, for the sake of security, we will use a warship to escort them.” The Royal Navy cruiser HMS *Suffolk* was dispatched from Hong Kong to Shanghai to take on the cargo and provide escort. The exhibition was placed under the highest diplomatic patronage, sponsored jointly by King George V of the United Kingdom and Lin Sen, the Chairman of the Nationalist Government of China.
Over 1,000 masterworks were selected for the journey. The speaker notes that while "over a thousand" sounds abstract, its true magnitude depends entirely on the objects: if the cargo consisted of small curiosities like coins or snuff bottles, one could simply grab two bags and head out, but when shipping heavy bronzes and monumental porcelains, even a hundred pieces creates an enormous logistical burden. In museum terms, 200 to 300 pieces constitutes a small-to-medium exhibition, making an overseas showcase of more than 1,000 imperial artifacts an exceptional undertaking. Arriving safely in Britain in 1935, the exhibition ran for exactly three months to immense critical and public acclaim. The speaker marvels at the spirit of the era, observing how scholars simultaneously braved wartime chaos to rescue cultural relics while curating an ambitious international cultural showcase, demonstrating an unparalleled devotion to China's patrimony.
- Crates evacuated from Beijing through Nanjing to Shanghai: 19,557 crates.
- British escort vessel: Royal Navy cruiser HMS *Suffolk*, sailing out of Hong Kong to Shanghai.
- Exhibition patrons: King George V and Nationalist Government Chairman Lin Sen.
- Scale and duration: Over 1,000 artifacts exhibited in London for exactly three months in 1935.
[14:21](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wzvE5DQ3UT8&t=861s) Wartime Evacuation Routes Through Mountains and Rivers
In July 1937, the Lugou Bridge (Marco Polo Bridge) Incident ignited total war, and Japanese forces rapidly closed in on Shanghai. The 80 crates of repatriated treasures from the London exhibition had to be evacuated immediately inland. They were moved through Hankou and Changsha before being sent southwest into the rugged interior of Guiyang, Guizhou. The speaker recalls a recent trip to Guiyang, noting that the province is historically characterized by the idiom “not three days of clear skies, nor three miles of flat land,” owing to its unforgiving, mountainous terrain. In 1939, as the threat of aerial bombing expanded, these crates were moved to the Anshun Caves in the outskirts of Guiyang for extended subterranean storage, before making another perilous journey in 1944 to an isolated village in the rugged mountains of Sichuan.
```mermaid
flowchart TD
accTitle: Wartime Evacuation Routes of the Palace Museum Artifacts
accDescr: Diagram illustrating the three primary evacuation routes taken by the Palace Museum crates across China between 1937 and 1946.
NJ -->|"Water Route (9,331 crates via Yangtze)"| CQ1["Chongqing"]
CQ1 -->|"1939 river transit"| LS["Leshan, Sichuan"]
NJ -->|"Land Route (7,280 crates via rail/road)"| XZ["Xuzhou to Baoji, Shaanxi"]
XZ -->|"Overland transit"| MS["Meishan, Sichuan"]
end
subgraph Consolidation ["Post-War Gathering (1945–1946)"]
SC_S --> CQ2["Chongqing Assembly Hub"]
LS --> CQ2
MS --> CQ2
CQ2 -->|"1946 Yangtze River downstream"| NJ_Ret["Returned to Nanjing"]
end
```
The remaining collections were split along separate arterial routes. In 1937, a second convoy of 9,331 boxes was dispatched along the Yangtze River waterway. Water transport was viewed as a nerve-wracking gamble of last resort: if a vessel suffered a shipwreck, every artifact on board would sink to the riverbed and be destroyed forever. However, water vessels offered unmatched cargo capacity compared to the limited space of motor trucks and trains. This water convoy traveled upstream along the Yangtze, resting temporarily in Chongqing before being moved further upriver to Leshan, Sichuan, in 1939.
A third batch of 7,280 boxes was evacuated via land routes. This convoy traveled from Nanjing north to Xuzhou, then pushed west along the railway into Baoji, Shaanxi. When the military situation made Shaanxi untenable, the convoy was packed onto trucks again and moved southward through the difficult Qinling mountain passes into Meishan, Sichuan. Following Japan's surrender in 1945, the artifacts dispersed across Baxian and Leshan were collected in Chongqing. In 1946, they traveled back down the Yangtze River by boat and returned to Nanjing. Despite traversing thousands of miles across battle zones by river, rail, and unpaved mountain roads over more than a decade, not a single crate was lost or damaged.
Following the war, over 2,800 crates remained stored in a Nanjing warehouse, where they remain undisturbed to this day. The speaker notes that only a few of these crates were opened for official inspection two years ago under state authorization before being resealed, observing that if that warehouse collection were unsealed today, “I believe it would be more than enough to fill eight to ten museums.”
- Southern Route: 80 crates (London exhibition items) via Hankou and Changsha to Guiyang, then Anshun Caves (1939), and finally remote Sichuan (1944).
- Water Route: 9,331 crates up the Yangtze to Chongqing, then to Leshan, Sichuan (1939).
- Land Route: 7,280 crates from Nanjing to Xuzhou, Baoji (Shaanxi), and finally Meishan, Sichuan.
- Post-War Return: Consolidated in Chongqing in 1945, sailed downriver to Nanjing in 1946.
- Residual Nanjing collection: Over 2,800 crates still sealed in storage.
[18:07](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wzvE5DQ3UT8&t=1087s) The Division of Treasures and the Crossing to Taiwan
After remaining displaced from Beijing for sixteen years between 1933 and 1949, the public and cultural community hoped the entire collection would finally return to the Forbidden City. However, the resumption of the Chinese Civil War and the collapse of the Nationalist government altered the fate of the collection. The retreating Nationalist authorities initially drew up an evacuation plan to transfer the Palace Museum crates from the mainland to Taiwan in seven successive maritime shipments.
Due to the rapid advance of the People's Liberation Army and severe shipping shortages, only three of the planned seven shipments were completed before the mainland ports fell. In total, 2,972 crates were loaded onto naval warships and merchant steamers and transported across the Taiwan Strait—roughly one-seventh to one-eighth of the original 19,000-plus evacuated crates. The remaining bulk of approximately 10,000 crates was eventually repatriated northward to the Forbidden City in Beijing.
The speaker reflects on the profound danger of crossing the Taiwan Strait in the late 1940s, when sea mines still drifted throughout Chinese coastal waters and wartime naval engagements were common. Had an overloaded transport ship struck a stray mine or come under fire, irreplaceable treasures spanning millennia would have been lost to the ocean depths, an outcome the speaker terms an unthinkable cultural catastrophe for the Chinese nation.
When curating which crates would board those three limited crossings, the Nationalist authorities naturally selected the most exceptional, compact masterpieces. The speaker draws a direct analogy to how families historically fled war: in traditional Chinese culture, when families were forced to abandon their ancestral homes, they always gathered their "valuable portable items" (细软) first, ensuring the highest-value, easiest-to-carry heirlooms survived. In a strict sense, while every artifact within the imperial collection remains a national treasure, the wartime evacuation stands as an unprecedented feat: “every artifact in the Palace Museum is a national treasure, and their evacuation during wartime is a miracle in the history of human cultural heritage migration.”
- Planned shipments to Taiwan: 7 batches; actual shipments completed: 3 batches.
- Total crates shipped to Taiwan: 2,972 crates (approximately 1/7 to 1/8 of the evacuated collection).
- Returned to Beijing: Approximately 10,000 crates.
- Selection principle: Prioritization of compact, high-value, top-tier masterworks (porcelains, jades, bronzes, calligraphic scrolls).
[20:30](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wzvE5DQ3UT8&t=1230s) Liulichang Expertise and Ancient Packaging Techniques
The logistical miracle of transporting hundreds of thousands of fragile artifacts across thousands of miles of war-torn mountains and waterways for over 11 years without major breakage was fundamentally a triumph of packaging technique. The speaker explains that packaging delicate antiquities is not merely a matter of patience; it requires deep craft expertise. Because the Palace Museum personnel were ivory-tower scholars, bibliophiles, and academic researchers, they possessed no practical background in heavy commercial shipping or crate packing.
Recognizing their limitations, museum leadership turned to Beijing's Liulichang district, which had served as the center of China's commercial antique trade throughout the late Qing and early Republic periods. The museum engaged seasoned Liulichang antique dealers and master packers to train the museum staff and demonstrate specialized packing, padding, and binding methods for porcelain, jade, and bronze.
The first universal rule was that every single artifact had to be encased in paper before touching any other material. The speaker notes that this remains a standard practice among Western and international art handlers today: a clean, soft paper wrapping acts as an essential chemical and physical barrier. Without it, direct contact with coarse padding materials or potentially acidic and corrosive substances could permanently stain, react with, or abrade the delicate glazes of porcelain, the surface patina of ancient bronzes, or the polish of jades.
Beyond paper wrapping, master packers relied on traditional folk techniques using straw ropes and cotton padding. The speaker shares a vivid firsthand account of the ingenious method once used to ship imperial porcelain bowls: packers would wrap the ceramics in tight bundles of straw, scatter dry rice grains into the crevices between the bundles, and bind the entire package tightly with hemp rope. Once packed, the bundle was lightly sprayed with water:
> “Once sprayed with water, the grain would sprout and expand, locking everything in place. A bowl packed in that straw bundle could be thrown around and wouldn't break.”
Through the integration of Liulichang antique craftsmanship, scientific precautions, and rigorous personal oversight by the accompanying curators, the packaging held firm against bumpy mountain roads, wet river transits, and sudden evasive maneuvers throughout the more than 11-year southward migration.
- Packing instructors: Veteran antique dealers from Beijing's Liulichang antique market.
- First layer requirement: Soft, clean paper wrap to prevent chemical corrosion and surface abrasion.
- Traditional shock-absorption methods: Tight straw wrapping, cotton stuffing, and hemp rope binding.
- Sprouting grain technique: Scattering dry grains into straw bundles and wetting them to make the seeds swell and lock fragile porcelain bowls solidly in place.
[23:06](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wzvE5DQ3UT8&t=1386s) The Southward Migration and the Siku Quanshu Water Damage Incident
Following the victory in the War of Resistance Against Japan, official government surveys revealed that while Chinese cultural heritage suffered catastrophic losses nationwide during the invasion, the Palace Museum’s relocated collection emerged almost entirely intact. Preserving these treasures across thousands of miles of wartime displacement—through transit hubs and mountain hideouts such as Anshun in Guizhou and Mount Emei in Sichuan before they were eventually reassembled—depended entirely on the tireless dedication of museum personnel and local custodians. Despite the perilous journey, the collection suffered remarkably few mishaps, with one notable post-war exception involving the *Siku Quanshu* (Complete Library in Four Sections). After being shipped to Taiwan, the ancient volumes were housed in Taichung at Beigou, initially stored inside an old above-ground building before later being moved into an underground storage cave.
Due to Taiwan’s heavy rains and high humidity, a routine inspection in 1974 uncovered dampness and water stains on storage crates. When caretakers opened the damaged containers, they discovered that rainwater had seeped in and soaked nine volumes of the *Siku Quanshu*. Even though expert conservators could restore such classical texts through skilled remounting and mending, the incident sent shockwaves through cultural circles because the imperial compilation represents one of China's preeminent literary treasures. Museum staff felt an overwhelming sense of guilt and professional distress over the preventable water damage, prompting several responsible officials to tender their resignations.
Reflecting on why the wartime southward migration succeeded with virtually no loss or theft, Ma Weidu argues that the feat rested on two foundational pillars: internal morality and professional duty. Chinese moral philosophy, cultivated since the Western Zhou Dynasty, served as an internal compass far more demanding than external legal boundaries. As Ma Weidu explains: “Morality governs the heart, while the law governs your behavior.” Law acts merely as a punitive bottom line, whereas an internalized moral framework eradicates greed before it can manifest. Had the escorts succumbed to temptation, anyone tasked with transporting national treasures could have grown fabulously wealthy by siphoning off individual masterpieces along chaotic mountain roads, yet no one contemplated stealing. Coupled with this ethics was a rigorous sense of accountability—an inner standard where failing to execute a duty weighed heavily on the conscience, prompting Ma Weidu to question whether such selfless discipline could ever be replicated under modern logistics.
- **Storage Location in Taiwan**: Stored at Beigou in Taichung, initially kept in an old structure before being relocated into a storage cave.
- **1974 Inspection Damage**: Nine soaked volumes of the *Siku Quanshu* caused by heavy rainwater infiltration.
- **Accountability**: Despite professional paper restoration being feasible, staff members resigned to accept personal responsibility for the incident.
---
[27:07](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wzvE5DQ3UT8&t=1627s) Popular Treasures in Taipei and the 1925 Public Opening of the Forbidden City
Shifting to how modern visitors engage with both institutions, Ma Weidu observes that tourist interest at the Taipei Palace Museum often centers around two small decorative works rather than grand historical monuments: the Jadeite Cabbage and the Meat-shaped Stone. Whenever tour groups enter with guides waving miniature flags, the crowds instinctively rush toward these two exhibits, shouting to catch a glimpse of the "Jade Cabbage" and "Pork Belly." Visitors commonly react with bemused surprise at the cabbage's diminutive scale, asking why it is so tiny, while marveling at the pork belly stone simply because it looks appetizingly real. Ma Weidu points out that typical popular appreciation often hinges on nothing more than raw physical dimensions or superficial, lifelike verisimilitude.
```mermaid
flowchart TD
accTitle: Milestones of the Palace Museum
accDescr: Three major historical milestones that transformed the imperial palace into a modern public museum.
subgraph Milestones["Key Milestones of the Palace Museum"]
M1["1911: Xinhai Revolution<br/>Imperial Qing Dynasty Overthrown"]
M2["October 10, 1925: Public Opening<br/>Forbidden City Becomes Palace Museum"]
M3["October 1, 1949: PRC Established<br/>Palace Museum Continuity Preserved"]
end
M1 --> M2
M2 --> M3
```
Entering the Forbidden City today is as effortless as booking an admission ticket online, but less than a century ago the complex was entirely forbidden to the public. When the Beijing Palace Museum officially opened on October 10, 1925, contemporary newspapers reported that "ten thousand people emptied the streets" because common citizens had been barred from setting foot inside the imperial palace for centuries. Organizers projected roughly 100,000 visitors across the two-day opening; over 20,000 flooded through the gates on the first day and more than 30,000 on the second. Shortly after its inauguration, Chiang Kai-shek toured the grounds accompanied by Museum Director Yi Peiji. Observing the weathered and peeling halls, Chiang asked why the complex appeared so run-down, to which Yi explained that decades of neglected maintenance could not be remedied without substantial funding. Chiang spontaneously offered to donate 100,000 silver dollars on the spot.
Taking the pledge seriously, Yi Peiji went directly to Chiang’s residence at Houyuan Temple to claim the promised funds. When Chiang's chief steward heard the request, he was flabbergasted and protested: “The Chairman doesn't have that much money; why would he say that? There's only 40,000 left in the account.” Undeterred, Yi replied that 40,000 silver dollars would do just fine and took whatever was available, cementing Chiang Kai-shek as the very first financial donor in the museum's history. Across its nearly century-long history, the Palace Museum weathered three critical junctures: the 1911 Xinhai Revolution that abolished imperial rule, the October 10, 1925 formal opening to the public, and the founding of the People's Republic of China on October 1, 1949, when the incoming government explicitly affirmed and maintained the museum’s ongoing status despite sweeping institutional overhauls elsewhere.
- **Opening Day Crowds (1925)**: Over 20,000 visitors entered on October 10, followed by over 30,000 on October 11, totaling more than 50,000 people.
- **Chiang Kai-shek's Donation**: Pledged 100,000 silver dollars; Director Yi Peiji collected the remaining balance of 40,000 silver dollars held at the Houyuan Temple residence.
- **Centenary Horizon**: Established in 1925, the Palace Museum approaches its 100th anniversary marking its transition from imperial seat to public sanctuary.
---
[31:25](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wzvE5DQ3UT8&t=1885s) Youthful Days and Solitary Study in the Empty Forbidden City
Recalling his own lifelong bond with the Beijing Palace Museum, Ma Weidu reminisces about visiting countless times starting in his youth, occasionally wandering its courtyards two or three times a week. Decades ago, long before tourism surged to its present overwhelming volume, the museum was remarkably quiet and lightly staffed. Admission in those early years cost merely two or five mao, but as a frugal young photography enthusiast, Ma Weidu preferred to enter without paying by exploiting acquaintance networks. He would casually strike up conversations with staffers until strangers turned into acquaintances and acquaintances became friends across various museum departments. Upon arrival at the entrance gate, he would fill out an official visitor slip under the pretext of visiting a staff contact inside, roam the museum freely for the afternoon, forge the staffer's sign-off signature himself, and hand the slip back at the exit.
During those quiet afternoons, visitor management was so relaxed that Ma Weidu often found himself entirely alone in major exhibition halls, including the bronze and jade galleries. In contrast to modern museum lighting engineered to craft dramatic ambient focus, the old galleries were dim and illuminated only by bare, flickering fluorescent tubes that buzzed and blinked overhead. Undaunted by the harsh conditions, he treated these solitary hours as an intense, self-directed visual memory drill. He would plant himself before individual artifacts and scrutinize every contour, forcing his brain to memorize their precise details. As Ma Weidu describes his visual training routine: “When you look at something and consciously try to remember it, and then when you leave and find your memory a bit fuzzy, the next time you go back, you look at those specific details again.” Over years of repeated visits, this rigorous observation bred an instinctive familiarity with ancient imperial crafts. He could happily spend an entire day inside the palace grounds until security finally escorted visitors out at closing time, often resting in secluded, deserted corners to absorb the silent majesty of the ancient halls.
[34:12](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wzvE5DQ3UT8&t=2052s) The Contrast Between Beijing and Taipei Palace Museums
Ma Weidu contrasts the experiences of visiting the Beijing and Taipei Palace Museums. In Beijing, one can sit alone in the vast, historic palace and truly communicate with the ancients through the architecture itself. In Taipei, however, the experience is entirely different; visitors go there specifically to see the artifacts. Taipei holds the world's largest collection of Ru ware—21 pieces with clear, extraordinary provenance. Yet, for the average tourist, the highlight of the Taipei Palace Museum is its massive gift shop, complete with supermarket-style shopping baskets where crowds gather to buy souvenirs. Interestingly, the best-selling item is adhesive tape. Ma Weidu jokes that he has no idea why people buy so much tape or what they are sticking together at home.
Regardless of individual motives, visiting either museum inevitably connects people to Chinese culture. Taiwan is an inseparable part of the motherland, and visiting both sides of the strait offers distinct cultural feelings. Ma Weidu expresses a warm wish that the two Palace Museums could hold a joint exhibition every year, allowing these "scattered brothers" to be reunited.
“Regardless of individual motives, when you visit a museum, you are inevitably influenced by Chinese culture.”
- Taipei Palace Museum holds 21 pieces of Ru ware, the largest collection in the world.
- The museum shop provides supermarket-style shopping baskets for visitors.
- Adhesive tape is the top-selling souvenir at the Taipei Palace Museum shop.
[36:00](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wzvE5DQ3UT8&t=2160s) The 2009 Joint Exhibition and Emperor Yongzheng's Legacy
Ma Weidu recalls a major milestone in 2009 when the two sides collaborated on a grand exhibition dedicated to the Qing Dynasty's Emperor Yongzheng (Shizong). For this event, the Beijing Palace Museum lent a beautiful vase to Taipei. Ma Weidu points out that the painting on that Beijing vase was executed by the exact same hand as the painting on the porcelain plate he has in the studio. He explains that just as one can identify the same handwriting on two letters by analyzing the brushwork, an expert can instantly recognize the identical brushwork on these two ceramic pieces.
Furthermore, because the Taipei Palace Museum lacked portraits of Qing emperors and imperial dragon robes, they had to borrow them from Beijing. Among the notable items was an imperial seal engraved with the character "Wei" (representing "The Monarch's Difficulty"). Emperor Yongzheng used this seal to remind himself and others that a monarch's life is even harder than that of ordinary citizens worrying about basic necessities.
“He would stamp it everywhere, using it as a constant reminder of how difficult his job was.”
- The landmark joint "Yongzheng Exhibition" took place in 2009.
- Taipei had to borrow portraits of Qing emperors and dragon robes from Beijing for the exhibition.
- Emperor Yongzheng's personal seal read "The Monarch's Difficulty" to reflect the burdens of rulership.
[37:55](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wzvE5DQ3UT8&t=2275s) The Exquisite Yongzheng Famille-Rose Peony Plate
Ma Weidu showcases a Yongzheng famille-rose (historically referred to as *Yangcai*) porcelain plate decorated with peony patterns. An expert can identify its Yongzheng-era origin at a single glance due to its incredibly exquisite painting. While Chinese speakers often use the phrase "subtle and marvelous" to describe such mastery, Ma Weidu notes that the depiction is simply incredibly vivid, even though it looks quite different from real-life peonies.
The leaf textures, dual-color tones, and blossom painting techniques are identical to those on the olive vase from the 2009 exhibition. Even the spatial layout is identical, utilizing the classic Chinese painting technique of leaving strategic blank spaces. He invites viewers to download the Guan App (观复App) to learn more and participate in these cultural discussions.
“When we Chinese can't find words to describe how well a painter has captured something, we use four rather blunt words: 'subtle and marvelous'.”
[39:41](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wzvE5DQ3UT8&t=2381s) A Painful History: The Erased Mark of the Imperial Kiln
Turning the plate over reveals a tragic and painful history: the original six-character mark reading "Made in the Yongzheng Period of the Great Qing" (大清雍正年制) has been completely ground off. Ma Weidu explains that when porcelain is ground, it leaves fine, dense pores on the surface, making the alteration obvious to an expert. This vandalism dates back to the aftermath of the Eight-Nation Alliance's invasion of Beijing in 1900. When Empress Dowager Cixi fled to the west, a massive amount of imperial porcelain was looted from the Forbidden City by corrupt officials, eunuchs, and subordinates.
Upon her return, an angry Cixi ordered an investigation to recover the stolen treasures. To avoid returning their looted official kiln pieces, some ministers and officials painstakingly ground off the imperial marks by hand—a delicate, slow process on such thin porcelain—to erase the objects' identities, much like tearing up a passport. This specific plate, its identity erased over a century ago, eventually made its way to Japan, from where it was recently bought back.
“With no evidence left, it’s a bit like tearing up your own passport, so no one knows which country you're from.”
```mermaid
flowchart TD
accTitle: Journey of the Yongzheng Famille-Rose Plate
accDescr: A flowchart showing how the imperial plate went from the Forbidden City to Japan and back to China.
A["Forbidden City (Yongzheng Period)"] -->|"1900: Looted during Eight-Nation Alliance invasion"| B["Looters (Officials/Eunuchs)"]
B -->|"Imperial marks ground off by hand to hide identity"| C["Erased Identity Plate"]
C -->|"Smuggled across the sea"| D["Japan"]
D -->|"Purchased back in modern times"| E["Returned to China / Studio Collection"]
```
[41:51](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wzvE5DQ3UT8&t=2511s) The Five Famous Kilns and the Three-Dollar Flea Market Find
Ma Weidu transitions to discussing the five famous kilns of ancient China: Ru, Guan, Ge, Jun, and Ding. Having covered the first four in previous episodes, he dedicates this final segment to Ding kiln ware. He shares a legendary story from about five years prior, when Sotheby's in New York auctioned a small Ding kiln bowl measuring 13.4 centimeters. The bowl had been bought at a New York flea market for a mere three dollars by an individual who kept it on display at home for five years.
Curious about the booming international market for Chinese antiques, the owner decided to consign it to Sotheby's. Initially estimated at $200,000, the bowl sparked intense bidding and was ultimately purchased by Europe's largest antique dealer for $225,000—an amount capable of buying a very nice apartment in New York.
“I reckon if you asked this guy, he could tell you exactly what it means, since he bought something for three dollars. It eventually sold for 225,000 dollars.”
- The five famous kilns of the Song Dynasty are Ru (汝), Guan (官), Ge (哥), Jun (钧), and Ding (定).
- The auctioned Ding bowl measured 13.4 centimeters in diameter.
- The bowl was originally purchased for $3 at a New York flea market and sold for $225,000 five years later.
[43:51](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wzvE5DQ3UT8&t=2631s) The Pinnacle of Ancient Technology and the Antiques Gamble
Ma Weidu explains that a seemingly ordinary white bowl commands such an astronomical price because, a thousand years ago, it represented the absolute pinnacle of global technology. At a time when both Chinese emperors and commoners could use pristine white porcelain, Europeans lacked the technology to fire high-quality ceramics. Ma Weidu shares a historical anecdote: Europeans historically wiped their plates with bread because the bread itself originally served as the plate; they would eat the food on top and then eat the "plate" afterward. Europe has only a 300-year history of firing true porcelain.
While Ding ware is relatively common in the antiques market, high-quality reproductions are incredibly convincing, making authentication exceptionally difficult. Buying Ding ware today is often a high-stakes gamble. Ma Weidu concludes that while the public is obsessed with the sensational gossip of flea-market treasures selling for fortunes, these stories simply add spice to life. For every happy seller, there is often a bitter buyer who got carried away in the heat of the moment and overpaid.
“Back then, both the emperor and commoners could use such pristine white bowls.”
```mermaid
flowchart TD
accTitle: 艺术品拍卖运作流转图
accDescr: 展现艺术品拍卖从拍品征集、拍卖落槌到资金交割的双向流程与拍卖行角色
subgraph S1["拍品流转"]
A["卖家 / 委托人"] -->|"征集藏品"| B["拍卖行 (中间撮合)"]
B -->|"预展与落槌"| C["买家 / 竞买人"]
end
subgraph S2["资金结算"]
C -->|"付款交割"| B
B -->|"结算扣除佣金后的货款"| A
end
```
古玩鉴定界与学术界常将定窑底部镌刻的单字“官”或双字“新官”解读为“官窑”之意,甚至衍生出所谓地方官窑的推论。马未都对此明确提出了反驳:“We should discuss history in its own context; looking at history means not projecting today's affairs onto the past, nor using Qing dynasty customs to explain the Ming, or Ming customs to explain the Song.”
> [01:01:48](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wzvE5DQ3UT8&t=3708s) We should discuss history in its own context; looking at history means not projecting today's affairs onto the past, nor using Qing dynasty customs to explain the Ming, or Ming customs to explain the Song. — 马未都
> [23:06](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wzvE5DQ3UT8&t=1386s) Morality governs the heart, while the law governs your behavior. — 马未都
> [00:01](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wzvE5DQ3UT8&t=1s) If you go into the Palace Museum and don't care about the architecture, I think that's a real shame. — 马未都
> [34:12](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wzvE5DQ3UT8&t=2052s) Regardless of individual motives, when you visit a museum, you are inevitably influenced by Chinese culture. — 马未都
> [04:26](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wzvE5DQ3UT8&t=266s) In the past, our culture was not a required course; when I was young, culture was only used for criticism. — 马未都
[45:54] 马未都: 近年因为暴发户越来越多,暴发户买东西是凭直觉,看着简单的、漂亮的他就喜欢,所以在国际市场上这些年卖得很贵的,都是通俗讲最漂亮的、一般人都能看懂的漂亮。
[61:48] 马未都: We should discuss history in its own context; looking at history means not projecting today's affairs onto the past, nor using Qing dynasty customs to explain the Ming, or Ming customs to explain the Song.
[23:06] 马未都: Morality governs the heart, while the law governs your behavior.
[0:01] 马未都: If you go into the Palace Museum and don't care about the architecture, I think that's a real shame.
[34:12] 马未都: Regardless of individual motives, when you visit a museum, you are inevitably influenced by Chinese culture.
[4:26] 马未都: In the past, our culture was not a required course; when I was young, culture was only used for criticism.
Original transcript
[0:01] Not everyone has the opportunity to
[0:03] visit the Forbidden City; even some
[0:05] Beijing residents have lived their
[0:07] entire lives without ever stepping
[0:08] inside, as visiting the Forbidden City
[0:10] is always a major undertaking. When you
[0:12] visit the Forbidden City, you must find
[0:14] a way to climb Jingshan Hill. Even
[0:18] though Jingshan Park and the Forbidden
[0:19] City are managed separately today—in
[0:21] other words, you have to buy two
[0:23] separate tickets—Most people enter
[0:24] the Forbidden City from the south and
[0:26] exit from the north. When you come out
[0:30] the north gate, you are right in front
[0:32] of Jingshan. So, if you go a little out
[0:35] of your way and buy another ticket to
[0:37] enter, provided you are fit enough, you
[0:38] should climb it. Only when you look
[0:43] down from Jingshan Hill at the
[0:45] Forbidden City’s complex do you truly
[0:47] understand its scale. I don't know how
[0:51] many times I've climbed Jingshan; I
[0:53] even climbed it a couple of years ago.
[0:56] Because among all mountain climbing
[0:58] activities, this is the lowest hill of
[1:00] all; if you feel you can't even climb
[1:02] Jingshan, then don't even talk about
[1:03] climbing mountains. When you stand on
[1:06] Jingshan and look down, the most
[1:08] prominent things you see are the roofs
[1:10] of all the buildings in the Forbidden
[1:11] City. Glistening in gold and green.
[1:15] What do you go to the Forbidden City to
[1:17] see? You should look at the building
[1:18] complex. You aren't there to press your
[1:21] face against glass windows, looking at
[1:23] how the emperor slept or how pretty a
[1:25] cup is; that's not the point. You need
[1:27] to look at the architectural complex.
[1:31] The buildings of the Palace Museum are
[1:32] strictly graded; the most important
[1:34] buildings are the grandest. The
[1:38] technical term is "double-eaved." It
[1:42] means two layers of eaves. Ordinary
[1:45] houses for common folk only need one
[1:47] layer; why have two? Having two
[1:50] represents status. Historically, we
[1:53] even have triple-eaved structures. What
[1:56] does a "hip roof" actually mean? It is
[1:58] the highest grade in our architecture.
[2:00] Just look at the Hall of Supreme
[2:01] Harmony and you'll understand. It
[2:04] features a slope coming from four
[2:06] directions. Toward the highest point,
[2:09] the ridge at the very top. Converging
[2:13] together. If you are willing to learn
[2:16] something about architecture while you
[2:17] are there, start by looking at the
[2:19] roofs. The roof, as I mentioned, has
[2:22] the hip roof as the highest grade,
[2:24] followed by gable roofs, hip-and-gable
[2:26] roofs, and hard-gable roofs, and so on.
[2:29] If you go into the Palace Museum and
[2:31] don't care about the architecture, I
[2:33] think that's a real shame. Because the
[2:37] most worthy thing to see in the Palace
[2:39] Museum is the architecture built 600
[2:41] years ago. Although many buildings are
[2:45] not the original structures—for
[2:47] example, they were destroyed by
[2:48] lightning and fires, and our three main
[2:50] halls were all burnt down and rebuilt
[2:52] —the overall majesty remains. I...The
[3:00] visitor traffic at both Palace Museums
[3:02] has reached the level of world-class
[3:04] institutions, like the Louvre in France
[3:06] , the British Museum in the UK, the
[3:08] Metropolitan Museum of Art in the US,
[3:10] and the Hermitage in Russia. These are
[3:15] all major global museums that are
[3:17] always crowded no matter when you visit
[3:19] . They differ from other museums
[3:28] because, apart from the Beijing Palace
[3:30] Museum and some others like the British
[3:32] Museum or the Met which were built
[3:34] later, many iconic sites like the
[3:35] Palace of Versailles or Fontainebleau
[3:37] are historical ancient structures
[3:39] themselves. The Taipei Palace Museum is
[3:48] different; it is not the same concept
[3:50] as Beijing's. The Taipei museum is a
[3:54] building constructed from scratch after
[3:56] the Kuomintang retreated to Taiwan. It
[4:02] was only when they had the resources
[4:03] that they decided to build such a
[4:05] palace, so when you go to the Taipei
[4:07] Palace Museum, you are undoubtedly
[4:08] there for the artifacts. While the
[4:13] architecture has its own
[4:14] characteristics, it is not worth
[4:16] visiting for that reason alone. The
[4:18] Beijing Palace Museum is different; if
[4:20] you come here, you can specifically
[4:21] focus on the architecture, which is
[4:23] more than enough to keep you occupied.
[4:26] In the past, the museums we ran in
[4:28] China were primarily focused on our own
[4:30] culture. However, in recent years,
[4:33] thanks to reform and opening up and a
[4:35] broader perspective, both the Beijing
[4:37] and Taipei Palace Museums have started
[4:39] hosting exhibitions on civilizations
[4:41] from other countries. For instance,
[4:44] cultures from Europe, the Middle East,
[4:46] Afghanistan, and India can now be seen
[4:48] on display in our Palace Museums. For
[4:54] most Chinese people, these exhibitions
[4:56] are quite novel, as many of us still
[4:57] find it challenging to fully understand
[4:59] our own culture. Why is that? It is
[5:04] because, in the past, our museum
[5:06] education was relatively weak. Most
[5:09] people go to museums just to join the
[5:11] crowd and see what’s popular. Years
[5:13] ago, when I visited museums and
[5:14] observed others, I paid special
[5:16] attention to people’s reactions to
[5:18] the exhibits. Many visitors would
[5:22] immediately ask how much something was
[5:24] worth, or remark on how much gold was
[5:25] used to make it; they judged the museum
[5:27] entirely from a material perspective.
[5:33] They do not look at it from a spiritual
[5:35] angle, wondering why it was made that
[5:37] way or what kind of inspiration it
[5:39] offers; they are not really concerned
[5:40] with that. They care about the material
[5:44] aspects, often saying, "My goodness,
[5:46] how did the Emperor have so many fine
[5:48] things?" This is the initial impression
[5:50] most people have when they first visit
[5:52] a museum. In recent years, because we
[5:57] have started to respect, learn about,
[5:59] and disseminate our culture, we now
[6:01] treat our own culture as a required
[6:03] course. In the past, our culture was
[6:07] not a required course; when I was young
[6:09] , culture was only used for criticism.
[6:13] Today, as we begin to learn our
[6:15] traditional culture, more and more
[6:16] people are visiting museums. I’ve
[6:24] felt this myself; the number of
[6:25] visitors to our museums, whether in
[6:27] Beijing or Shanghai, is increasing
[6:29] every year, and by over 30 percent at
[6:31] that. This was something unseen in the
[6:36] past. Just think, I have worked in
[6:38] museums for over 20 years. In the early
[6:41] days, the annual visitor numbers didn't
[6:43] change much, but these past few years
[6:44] ......they have been constantly
[6:46] increasing, with a great many young
[6:48] people, and many of them have developed
[6:50] a genuine interest in artifacts, which
[6:51] was unheard of before. Now, since the
[6:54] Palace Museum was established quite
[6:56] early, in another seven or eight years,
[6:58] it will reach its centennial. To
[7:03] describe the Palace Museum using a
[7:04] Chinese idiom, its destiny has been
[7:06] rather turbulent. It was established in
[7:13] the early years of the Republic; only a
[7:15] dozen or so years into the Republic,
[7:17] the Palace Museum was founded.
[7:23] Afterward, society during the
[7:25] Republican era was quite unstable,
[7:27] marked by warlord conflicts and,
[7:29] subsequently, a prolonged war against
[7:31] Japan. Therefore, to escape the flames
[7:38] of war, the Palace Museum, through the
[7:40] selection of top scholars at the time,
[7:42] established a committee for the
[7:43] southward relocation of the palace
[7:45] collections. The experts at the time
[7:50] were all top-tier; everyone involved
[7:52] was a scholar and a person of profound
[7:54] understanding. The southward relocation
[8:00] was initiated because, while we used to
[8:02] date the start of the War of Resistance
[8:04] to the Lugou Bridge Incident on July 7,
[8:07] 1937, we now trace it back to 1931. You
[8:13] see, there were six years between 1931
[8:15] and 1937, and the scale of the Japanese
[8:18] invasion of China was growing ever
[8:20] larger. During this period, many people
[8:23] , especially scholars, worried that the
[8:25] Palace Museum must not be destroyed by
[8:27] the war, so what could be done? They
[8:30] had to select the finest artifacts. And
[8:33] find a way to move them to a safe place
[8:35] . It is a traditional Chinese belief
[8:38] that the south is safer than the north,
[8:40] as the south is considered the
[8:41] hinterland of China. To move all these
[8:46] items, many standard crates were made;
[8:48] while most were standard, some
[8:49] oversized crates were also built
[8:51] because some artifacts simply wouldn't
[8:53] fit in a standard one. The selection
[8:56] process was rigorous and lasted for
[8:58] several years, taking a very long time.
[9:03] It wasn't a snap decision made in a few
[9:05] days; it took many years to carefully
[9:07] select this collection, which is truly
[9:09] excellent. Much of it can be seen today
[9:14] at the Palace Museum in Taipei. The
[9:17] Palace Museum in Taipei holds a very
[9:19] high status on the international stage.
[9:23] If we are talking about quantity, there
[9:25] is no question that the collection at
[9:27] the Beijing Palace Museum is much
[9:28] larger than that of Taipei. However,
[9:33] when it comes to cultural relics, their
[9:35] value can never be judged solely by
[9:37] quantity. If you say we should judge by
[9:40] quality, sometimes that is incomparable
[9:42] . For example, you can't compare
[9:44] bronzes with jades, jades with books,
[9:46] or books with ceramics. Thus, we cannot
[9:48] compare them by quantity or by quality.
[9:51] So, what are the advantages of the
[9:53] Beijing Palace Museum over the one in
[9:55] Taipei? There are several areas. First
[9:58] is furniture. During the southward
[10:02] relocation, furniture was too heavy to
[10:04] transport. Furthermore, in the eyes of
[10:11] older scholars, furniture was
[10:12] functional and therefore deemed to have
[10:14] less historical value, so it was left
[10:16] behind. Second is clothing. Qing
[10:24] dynasty apparel and portraits of Qing
[10:25] emperors were not taken to Taipei
[10:27] because the Republican government at
[10:29] the time held deep resentment toward
[10:31] the Qing dynasty. Consequently, they
[10:35] had no interest in imperial portraits
[10:37] or royal attire, and these items were
[10:39] not taken. That is why today, these
[10:42] items are not in the Taipei Palace
[10:44] Museum. The southward relocation of the
[10:49] artifacts followed a zigzagging route:
[10:51] first from Beijing to Shanghai and
[10:53] Nanjing, then to Chongqing, back to
[10:55] Nanjing, and finally to Taichung and
[10:57] Taipei. How many years did it take? It
[11:02] took 15 years. Covering tens of
[11:04] thousands of kilometers, it became a
[11:06] monumental feat in the history of human
[11:08] artifact relocation. What makes it a
[11:10] monumental feat? Not a single piece was
[11:12] lost. It is unimaginable that tens of
[11:16] thousands of crates of artifacts
[11:18] suffered no loss or damage despite such
[11:20] harsh conditions. Since the Mukden
[11:25] Incident of 1931, and especially by
[11:28] 1933 as Sino-Japanese relations
[11:29] deteriorated, artifacts from the Palace
[11:32] Museum were transported by rail from
[11:34] Beijing through Nanjing to Shanghai.
[11:39] Including those from the Exhibition
[11:41] Office, how many items were there in
[11:42] total? There is a precise figure:
[11:47] 19,557 crates, not individual pieces.
[11:55] During the time these Palace Museum
[11:57] artifacts were being relocated,
[11:59] interestingly enough, the museum also
[12:01] managed to hold its first overseas
[12:02] exhibition. Once these artifacts
[12:12] arrived in Shanghai, European scholars
[12:14] and collectors proposed—through the
[12:16] Chinese Embassy in the UK—that the
[12:17] collection be invited to Britain for an
[12:19] exhibition. When the exhibition was
[12:26] being planned, everyone asked: who
[12:28] would insure it? Insurance companies
[12:30] wouldn't take it, saying the items were
[12:32] too valuable to cover. It exceeded
[12:34] their capacity, and they were afraid
[12:36] that if something went wrong, the
[12:37] company would go bankrupt. So the
[12:40] British side said, "Fine, for the sake
[12:42] of security, we will use a warship to
[12:44] escort them." Thus, a British Royal
[12:48] Navy cruiser named HMS Suffolk sailed
[12:50] from Hong Kong to Shanghai. The
[12:55] exhibition committee began organizing
[12:56] the shipment from Shanghai. King George
[13:03] V of Britain and Lin Sen, the Chairman
[13:05] of the Nationalist Government, served
[13:07] as the patrons. How many artifacts were
[13:13] selected? Over a thousand pieces were
[13:16] chosen. You know, "over a thousand" is
[13:19] an abstract concept; how many items
[13:21] that really is depends on what they are
[13:23] and how you count them. If the
[13:26] artifacts are small, like coins or
[13:28] snuff bottles, that's not much—you
[13:30] could just grab two bags and go. But if
[13:34] you're talking about bronzes or large
[13:35] porcelain pieces, you don't even need a
[13:37] thousand; a hundred would be enough to
[13:39] keep you busy. So, those thousand-plus
[13:43] pieces represented a very large-scale
[13:45] exhibition. Anything reaching 1,000
[13:48] pieces is definitely a major exhibition
[13:50] . Usually, 200 or 300 pieces make for a
[13:53] small-to-medium exhibition, and 300-
[13:56] plus is medium-sized. So, when did this
[13:58] happen? In 1935, the collection arrived
[14:01] safely in the UK. How long was the
[14:03] exhibition? It ran for three months,
[14:05] exactly three months. It was a great
[14:07] success. Just imagine that. During
[14:12] those turbulent times, scholars
[14:13] organized teams to protect cultural
[14:15] relics from danger while simultaneously
[14:17] planning exhibitions, reflecting the
[14:19] profound attachment people felt toward
[14:21] these treasures back then. In 1937,
[14:25] after the Lugou Bridge Incident broke
[14:27] out and the Japanese forces began
[14:29] closing in on Shanghai, the 80 boxes of
[14:31] cultural artifacts intended for
[14:33] exhibition were evacuated through
[14:35] Hankou, Wuhan, and Changsha in Hubei.
[14:38] But where were they sent? They were
[14:40] evacuated to Guiyang, Guizhou. I just
[14:42] returned from Guiyang a couple of days
[14:44] ago; the traditional description of
[14:46] Guiyang is: "not three days of clear
[14:48] skies, nor three miles of flat land,"
[14:49] as it is entirely mountainous. So, they
[14:52] were hidden in Guiyang. Two years later
[14:56] , in 1939, they were placed on the
[14:58] outskirts of Guiyang. In a place called
[15:02] the Anshun Caves. Just imagine. Guiyang
[15:07] was already remote enough, and then
[15:09] they moved them further to the suburbs,
[15:10] where they stayed for a very long time.
[15:16] Years later, in 1944, these items were
[15:18] moved to a remote rural area in Sichuan
[15:20] , a village known for its difficult,
[15:22] mountainous terrain. To seek refuge.
[15:27] Then there was another batch of items
[15:29] —the artifacts were divided into
[15:32] several groups—and in 1937, another
[15:34] 9,331 boxes were sent by waterway.
[15:38] Moving artifacts by water was a last
[15:40] resort. If a shipwreck occurred while
[15:44] transporting artifacts by water,
[15:46] everything would be utterly destroyed
[15:48] and submerged. So at that time, you
[15:52] have to consider this specific point in
[15:54] 1937. Traveling upstream along the
[15:59] Yangtze River, they were temporarily
[16:01] housed in Chongqing for a while, and
[16:04] two years later, in 1939, they were
[16:05] moved again by water to Leshan, in
[16:07] Sichuan. Now, as for land transport, it
[16:12] had one advantage: despite the high
[16:14] risks, water transport could carry much
[16:16] more; you know, a ship's capacity is
[16:18] far greater than that of a vehicle.
[16:21] Think of a giant container ship today
[16:22] —if you tried to move that cargo by
[16:24] train, you'd need so many, and if you
[16:26] used trucks, it would completely
[16:28] exhaust them. So, how many boxes were
[16:32] moved by land? There were 7,280 boxes;
[16:35] they were moved from Nanjing to Xuzhou,
[16:38] and then reached Baoji in Shaanxi. Look
[16:42] at all this tossing and turning. If you
[16:46] were to map it out, it would basically
[16:47] cover the whole page, but they couldn't
[16:49] stay there; Shaanxi couldn't hold them,
[16:51] so they went by land again and returned
[16:53] to Meishan, Sichuan. So, by the time
[16:56] the Japanese surrendered in 1945, the
[16:58] artifacts evacuated to Baxian and
[17:00] Leshan in Sichuan were all temporarily
[17:03] gathered in Chongqing. Then they
[17:08] traveled by water, down the Yangtze
[17:10] River, and returned to Nanjing in 1946.
[17:12] After all this turmoil, Chinese
[17:14] artifacts proved truly resilient;
[17:16] despite the war-torn environment and
[17:18] such long-distance land and water
[17:20] transport, nothing went wrong. Nothing
[17:25] was lost, and nothing was damaged.
[17:27] Later, over 2,800 crates were left in a
[17:30] warehouse in Nanjing. To this day,
[17:32] these items remain in the Nanjing
[17:34] warehouse, untouched and unopened. It
[17:37] is said that the year before last, with
[17:39] state approval, a few crates were
[17:41] opened for inspection and then sealed
[17:42] up again; they cannot be moved. If this
[17:48] collection were opened today, I believe
[17:50] it would be more than enough to fill
[17:51] eight to ten museums. Back then, we
[17:56] were especially looking forward to
[17:58] their return. These artifacts had been
[18:00] away since the 1930 s—from 1933 until
[18:03] 1949, a span of just 16 years. If they
[18:07] could have returned smoothly to our
[18:08] Forbidden City, that would have been
[18:09] the best thing possible. However, we
[18:17] are all very clear about this period of
[18:19] history; after the War of Resistance
[18:21] against Japan ended, the displaced
[18:22] Palace Museum artifacts were originally
[18:24] intended to be shipped to Taiwan in
[18:26] seven batches. After the Nationalist
[18:33] government was defeated, they retreated
[18:35] and fled to Taiwan, intending to ship
[18:37] the items in several stages. But it
[18:40] wasn't that easy; you need enough time.
[18:43] In the end, only three batches were
[18:45] shipped. How much did they transport in
[18:47] total? They shipped 2,972 crates, which
[18:51] was roughly out of the 19,000-plus
[18:53] crates originally transported. That
[18:57] accounts for about one-seventh or
[18:58] one-eighth of them. At that time, they
[19:02] used warships and merchant vessels to
[19:04] transport these national treasure-level
[19:06] artifacts across the Taiwan Strait.
[19:14] When I think about this, it's about how
[19:16] we took so many important artifacts and
[19:18] , due to the war—and then the civil
[19:20] war after the victory over Japan—
[19:21] risked so much to ship them to Taiwan.
[19:29] Transporting them by ship at a time
[19:31] when the war had not yet ceased meant
[19:32] there could still be sea mines drifting
[19:34] in the water. If a ship had hit a mine
[19:40] or been attacked, the artifacts would
[19:41] have been destroyed. That would have
[19:46] been a cultural catastrophe for the
[19:47] Chinese nation. The remainder, about
[19:50] 10,000 crates, was shipped back to
[19:52] Beijing. Of course, when the
[19:54] Nationalist government was shipping
[19:55] these artifacts, they undoubtedly
[19:57] prioritized the best pieces first.
[19:59] Everyone thinks the same way: if I
[20:01] can't take everything, I'll at least
[20:03] take my own valuables. In the past,
[20:05] when war broke out and you had to pack
[20:07] your bags and run, you would definitely
[20:09] pack up your family's valuables first.
[20:11] Why does the Chinese language have the
[20:13] term "valuable portable items"? It
[20:15] means taking high-value items with you
[20:17] when you flee. In the strict sense,
[20:23] every artifact in the Palace Museum is
[20:25] a national treasure, and their
[20:27] evacuation during wartime is a miracle
[20:28] in the history of human cultural
[20:30] heritage migration. So, how did this
[20:35] miracle come about? It had a lot to do
[20:39] with the people at the time. A large
[20:42] number of staff at the Palace Museum
[20:44] had to pack these items. Packing is a
[20:49] real skill; you can't just do it
[20:50] because you're patient. Packing
[20:54] artifacts, in particular, requires
[20:56] expertise. Since the Palace Museum
[21:00] staff were scholars and researchers,
[21:02] they weren't very familiar with
[21:04] commercial packing. So, they turned to
[21:10] Beijing's Liulichang, where the antique
[21:12] industry was highly developed during
[21:14] the late Qing and early Republic eras.
[21:20] They hired experienced antique dealers
[21:22] to demonstrate how to pack porcelain,
[21:24] jade, and bronze. Right, were there
[21:28] specific things to keep in mind
[21:29] regarding binding methods or padding
[21:31] techniques? So every national treasure
[21:34] had to be wrapped in paper first. If
[21:37] you ever have the chance to buy
[21:38] artifacts abroad, notice that the first
[21:40] thing foreigners do when packing them
[21:42] is to use paper. They use a type of
[21:45] soft paper to wrap the item. In the
[21:48] past, they would bind it tightly with
[21:50] straw ropes, but today, they don't even
[21:52] need elaborate boxes; stuffing them
[21:54] with cotton is enough before sealing
[21:56] them. Why is paper used to wrap
[22:00] everything—be it porcelain, jade, or
[22:03] bronze—first? It is to prevent any
[22:08] direct reaction between the artifact
[22:09] and the packing material. For some
[22:13] artifacts, if you apply packing
[22:15] materials directly and they happen to
[22:17] be corrosive, it could damage the
[22:18] artifact, so they place clean paper in
[22:20] between. Packing is a real technique;
[22:22] if you ever get the chance, look at how
[22:24] fine china was packed in the past. I
[22:27] have seen the primitive packing method:
[22:29] they would bundle it with straw,
[22:30] scatter rice grains inside, and tie it
[22:32] tight with rope. Once sprayed with
[22:35] water, the grain would sprout and
[22:37] expand, locking everything in place. A
[22:40] bowl packed in that straw bundle could
[22:42] be thrown around and wouldn't break.
[22:44] Now, that is a real skill. Due to the
[22:49] meticulous efforts of the staff and the
[22:51] guidance of professionals, there were
[22:53] no issues with the packaging process
[22:54] throughout the entire transportation
[22:56] journey. Over the more than 11 years of
[23:00] the Palace Museum treasures 'southward
[23:02] migration, hundreds of thousands of
[23:03] artifacts faced numerous hardships yet
[23:05] remained almost entirely undamaged.
[23:06] After the victory in the War of
[23:08] Resistance, the government compiled
[23:10] statistics showing that China suffered
[23:12] heavy losses of cultural relics during
[23:14] the Japanese invasion; because
[23:15] everything was disregarded during the
[23:17] war, only the Palace Museum collection
[23:19] saw minimal losses. In this legendary
[23:25] migration of artifacts, the Palace
[23:26] Museum staff and everyone in the places
[23:28] these items passed through made
[23:30] indelible contributions to preserving
[23:32] these national treasures. These vast
[23:38] numbers of artifacts were displaced and
[23:40] scattered across many locations, such
[23:42] as Anshun and Mount Emei, as we
[23:44] mentioned earlier. They were all
[23:47] dispersed and only finally brought back
[23:49] together at the end. So, did any
[23:52] problems occur during this time? There
[23:56] was a minor incident involving the Siku
[23:58] Quanshu. As we know, the Siku Quanshu
[24:01] is a vital treasure of Chinese culture.
[24:05] When it was transported to the Palace
[24:07] Museum in Taiwan, it was stored in a
[24:10] cave in Taichung—a place called
[24:11] Beigou, I believe. It was actually an
[24:15] old building at first, not a cave; they
[24:17] were only moved into the cave later on.
[24:21] Since Taiwan experiences frequent and
[24:23] heavy downpours, during a routine
[24:25] inspection in 1974, it was discovered
[24:27] that some ancient books had water
[24:29] stains. Upon opening the crates for
[24:36] inspection, it was found that nine
[24:37] volumes of the Siku Quanshu in one of
[24:39] the crates had been soaked by rainwater
[24:41] . Although restoration experts can
[24:47] easily restore such ancient books
[24:48] through professional mending, after all
[24:50] , this is the Siku Quanshu, China's
[24:52] most important collection of ancient
[24:54] texts. Therefore, this was considered a
[24:58] significant blow and a major loss at
[25:00] the time. Many staff members were
[25:03] deeply distressed, and in the end, some
[25:05] even resigned to take responsibility.
[25:09] Today, when we discuss the two Palace
[25:11] Museums, we cannot avoid talking about
[25:13] this southward migration. The reason
[25:20] this southward migration of artifacts
[25:22] left such a significant mark on the
[25:24] history of the Chinese nation and its
[25:26] cultural relics—ensuring so many
[25:27] items remained undamaged during the
[25:29] move—is: what did it rely on? What it
[25:36] relied on is something of great
[25:38] importance. First and foremost, it
[25:42] relied on the morality that we have
[25:44] nurtured internally since the Zhou
[25:46] Dynasty. The Chinese moral system was
[25:51] once very powerful; it served primarily
[25:53] as an internal constraint. Morality
[25:56] governs the heart, while the law
[25:58] governs your behavior. The law is the
[26:02] bottom line—you cannot touch or move
[26:04] it—but morality prevents you from
[26:05] even wanting to be greedy. If people
[26:09] back then had been greedy, they would
[26:11] have found every possible way to siphon
[26:13] off these items along the journey,
[26:14] right? If I were tasked with escorting
[26:16] national treasures, not to mention
[26:18] anything else, I could get rich just by
[26:20] skimming off a tiny bit, but nobody
[26:21] thought that way. So, what is the
[26:23] second condition we rely on? It is the
[26:25] sense of responsibility and duty of all
[26:27] participating personnel. We talk about
[26:29] responsibility all the time today, but
[26:31] what exactly is it? It is a feeling; if
[26:34] you fail to do a task well, and you
[26:36] feel the weight of that responsibility,
[26:38] only then can you do it right. If you
[26:42] feel you haven't done it well, that is
[26:44] a reflection of your inner self. Can we
[26:50] imagine today, if we had so many long
[26:52] routes and so many cultural relics that
[26:54] still needed to be relocated, do we
[26:56] think the events of the past could
[26:58] happen again? Today, when we go to the
[27:07] Palace Museum, whether in Beijing or
[27:09] Taipei, we all want to see some
[27:11] important artifacts. At the Taipei
[27:18] Palace Museum, two supposedly minor
[27:20] artifacts have become popular national
[27:22] treasures; everyone who visits wants to
[27:24] see them. Every time I go to the Taipei
[27:27] Palace Museum, I am always amazed.
[27:29] There is a huge crowd around them. Tour
[27:32] groups and guides with little flags are
[27:33] calling out. "Go see the Pork Belly, go
[27:36] see the Pork Belly, go see the Jade
[27:38] Cabbage, go see the Jade Cabbage."
[27:40] Everyone rushes over to take a look,
[27:41] and upon seeing the cabbage—the jade.
[27:43] Looking at this cabbage, they say, "Oh,
[27:46] why is this thing so small? How is it
[27:48] so tiny?" Then, when they get to the
[27:51] Pork Belly and see it, they say, "Oh,
[27:53] it looks so real!" You see, their
[27:57] judgment of art is nothing more than
[27:59] size and how lifelike it appears. Today
[28:03] , if we want to go to the Forbidden
[28:04] City, we just buy a ticket at the gate
[28:06] and walk in. It's even more convenient
[28:09] now, as you can buy tickets online. But
[28:12] less than a hundred years ago, the
[28:14] Forbidden City was off-limits. The
[28:17] Beijing Palace Museum officially opened
[28:20] to the public on October 10, 1925.
[28:22] Newspapers at the time reported that "
[28:24] ten thousand people emptied the streets
[28:27] ." Why did they empty the streets?
[28:30] Because everyone wanted to go and see
[28:32] it. Before that day, as an ordinary
[28:35] person, you had no chance to enter the
[28:37] Forbidden City. You couldn't get in,
[28:41] right? You weren't allowed inside.
[28:43] Other than the Emperor and his
[28:45] associates, no one else could enter.
[28:48] But on October 10, 1925, the Forbidden
[28:50] City was renamed the Palace Museum and
[28:52] opened to the public. So, how many
[28:55] people went? They predicted that
[28:57] 100,000 people would visit over those
[28:59] two days. Even today, 100,000 is a huge
[29:01] number, so back in the Republican era,
[29:03] that was incredible—the crowds were
[29:05] simply overwhelming. Over 20,000 people
[29:07] went in on the first day, and over
[29:09] 30,000 on the second, totaling more
[29:11] than 50,000 visitors. After the Palace
[29:13] Museum opened, Chiang Kai-shek even
[29:15] went inside. After Chiang Kai-shek went
[29:17] in, he became the first individual to
[29:19] donate to the museum. Once Chiang
[29:21] Kai-shek was inside, Yi Peiji, who was
[29:23] accompanying him, heard him ask why the
[29:25] museum looked so dilapidated. Yi then
[29:29] explained that it hadn't been repaired
[29:31] for years and the palaces needed
[29:32] maintenance, but there was no money.
[29:36] Chiang then said, "I'll donate some."
[29:39] When he said he would donate, he
[29:41] immediately offered 100,000 silver
[29:43] dollars. Then, as the museum director,
[29:49] Yi didn't take it as just an offhand
[29:51] remark; he took it seriously and went
[29:53] straight to Chiang's residence at
[29:54] Houyuan Temple to collect it. He told
[29:59] the secretary that the Chairman wanted
[30:01] to donate 100,000 silver dollars. The
[30:04] steward replied, "The Chairman doesn't
[30:06] have that much money; why would he say
[30:08] that? There's only 40,000 left in the
[30:10] account." Yi Peiji said, "40,000 is
[30:13] fine, just give me what you have." That
[30:15] is how Chiang Kai-shek became the first
[30:17] person to donate to the Palace Museum.
[30:20] You know, the Palace Museum has been
[30:23] established for over 90 years; in seven
[30:25] years, it will be 100. There will
[30:27] surely be big events for the centenary.
[30:32] In these nearly 100 years, there have
[30:34] been some interesting milestones. The
[30:39] first is the Xinhai Revolution; we all
[30:41] know the imperial system was overthrown
[30:43] after that. So, what is the second
[30:48] milestone? It was October 10, 1925,
[30:51] when it opened to the public as a
[30:53] museum, and it has remained open ever
[30:56] since. The third milestone, strictly
[31:03] speaking, is October 1, 1949. After the
[31:06] founding of the People's Republic of
[31:08] China, the new government continued to
[31:10] recognize and accept the history of the
[31:13] Palace Museum. There were many things
[31:19] they didn't accept, but they uniquely
[31:21] accepted the existence of the Palace
[31:23] Museum. Between the two Palace Museums,
[31:25] I have certainly visited the one in
[31:27] Beijing more often. How many times have
[31:29] I been to the Beijing Palace Museum? I
[31:31] honestly can't remember. I’ve been
[31:34] going since I was very young; there was
[31:36] even a period when I went two or three
[31:38] times a week. The best thing about
[31:41] going to the Beijing Palace Museum back
[31:43] then was that there were very few
[31:44] people. The Palace Museum gets more
[31:47] crowded year by year. When I was young,
[31:50] I loved photography. With my camera in
[31:54] hand, I especially liked visiting the
[31:56] Palace Museum when there were fewer
[31:58] people. When I first started visiting
[32:00] the Palace Museum, tickets were only
[32:02] two or five mao; I can't quite remember
[32:04] now. Back then, even that small amount
[32:05] felt like something I didn't want to
[32:06] spend, so I’d look for people I knew.
[32:08] People would ask, "How do you have so
[32:09] many acquaintances?" Let me tell you.
[32:11] It’s simple—strangers become
[32:12] acquaintances, and acquaintances become
[32:14] friends. If you just chat with people,
[32:16] don't you get to know them? Once we
[32:17] were on good terms, I knew people in
[32:19] many departments at the Palace Museum.
[32:21] I’d go and look for them. Once I
[32:22] mentioned who I was visiting, I’d
[32:24] fill out a visitor slip at the entrance
[32:25] , and then I’d get in—though I
[32:27] wouldn't actually go find that person.
[32:30] At first, I’d wander around the
[32:31] Palace Museum, find my acquaintance to
[32:33] sign the slip, and then leave. Later, I
[32:36] realized I could forge the signature
[32:38] myself, so I'd just walk around and
[32:40] sign it on my own before heading out.
[32:44] Back then, since there were so few
[32:46] visitors to the Palace Museum, the
[32:47] management was quite loose. I remember
[32:52] I usually went in the afternoon. When I
[32:56] entered at that time, many of the
[32:58] places I wanted to see were completely
[33:00] empty. I’ve mentioned this before;
[33:05] for instance, in the bronzeware or jade
[33:07] galleries, there would be nobody else
[33:08] there—just me. The lighting wasn't
[33:12] very bright, unlike the great display
[33:13] effects they have now, which at least
[33:15] create an atmosphere. There wasn't any
[33:17] atmosphere back then; the lights were
[33:19] just flickering on and off. Some lights
[33:22] would just blink away, which was
[33:24] annoying, but I couldn't stop. I loved
[33:28] those objects, so I would stare at each
[33:30] one intently, forcing myself to train
[33:32] my memory. When you look at something
[33:36] and consciously try to remember it, and
[33:38] then when you leave and find your
[33:40] memory a bit fuzzy, the next time you
[33:41] go back, you look at those specific
[33:43] details again. Eventually, you become
[33:47] very familiar with many of them. So,
[33:51] those years are long gone, and at my
[33:53] age now, I realize I was truly young
[33:55] back then. I could spend a whole day in
[34:00] the Palace Museum and be so happy,
[34:01] staying until they kicked me out. I’d
[34:05] sit in some quiet corner, looking at
[34:07] the entire palace and just soaking in
[34:09] that atmosphere. When there’s no one
[34:12] in the Palace Museum, sitting there
[34:14] alone, you can truly communicate with
[34:15] the ancients. But Taipei’s Palace
[34:18] Museum is different; when you go there,
[34:20] it goes without saying that people are
[34:22] going specifically for the artifacts.
[34:24] They aren't going for the artifacts
[34:26] themselves; they are going to see the
[34:27] artifacts. Going for the artifacts is
[34:29] problematic. For example, when they
[34:32] display Ru ware, we know that the
[34:34] Taipei Palace Museum has the largest
[34:36] collection of Ru ware in the world—21
[34:38] pieces. They are all concentrated there
[34:41] , with a clear provenance, and they
[34:43] look truly extraordinary. For the
[34:46] average tourist, the best part of the
[34:48] Taipei Palace Museum is definitely
[34:49] their shop. First, it’s quite large,
[34:53] and second, the service is very
[34:55] thorough; they even provide shopping
[34:57] baskets like those in a supermarket, so
[34:59] crowds of people go and pick out all
[35:01] sorts of little goods and souvenirs.
[35:05] What sells the best, you ask? It’s
[35:08] that tape, the adhesive tape. Why that,
[35:11] I don’t know. I really don’t know
[35:14] why these people buy so much tape. Do
[35:16] they have that many things to glue at
[35:18] home? I have no idea what they're
[35:20] sticking together. Regardless of
[35:23] individual motives, when you visit a
[35:25] museum, you are inevitably influenced
[35:27] by Chinese culture. We know that Taiwan
[35:31] is an inseparable part of our
[35:32] motherland's territory. When you have
[35:35] the chance to visit the Palace Museums
[35:37] on both sides of the strait, the
[35:38] feelings you get are quite different.
[35:46] We have a small wish: we hope the two
[35:48] Palace Museums will hold a joint
[35:49] exhibition every year, allowing us to
[35:51] see how these scattered "brothers" feel
[35:53] when they are together. We’ve talked
[36:01] for a while now, and we should see what
[36:03] kind of cultural relic we can use to
[36:05] embody the connection between the two
[36:06] museums. In 2009, there was a
[36:13] collaboration between the two sides,
[36:15] which was a grand exhibition of the
[36:17] Qing Dynasty's Shizong, Emperor
[36:19] Yongzheng, commonly known as the "
[36:21] Yongzheng Exhibition." For that
[36:27] exhibition, a very beautiful vase from
[36:29] the Beijing Palace Museum was
[36:30] transported to the Taipei Palace Museum
[36:32] . The painting on that vase was done by
[36:39] the same hand as the painting on this
[36:41] plate. Then you might ask me, "Hey, you
[36:46] weren't alive back then, how do you
[36:48] know it was done by the same person?"
[36:51] Well, let me ask you this: if you have
[36:53] two letters and you weren't there to
[36:54] see them written, how do you know they
[36:56] were written by the same person? It’s
[36:59] because the brushwork is the same.
[37:01] Painting also has brushwork, so at a
[37:02] glance, you can tell that both pieces
[37:04] were created by the same person. Back
[37:10] then, when the artifacts were moved
[37:11] south to the Taipei Palace Museum, they
[37:13] looked down upon the portraits of Qing
[37:15] emperors, so we had to borrow portraits
[37:17] of Yongzheng, including his dragon
[37:19] robes, from the Beijing Palace Museum,
[37:21] as we didn't have any. There are many
[37:27] important artifacts there, and one of
[37:28] them is a seal, which is engraved with
[37:30] the character "Wei." He was saying, "
[37:34] Don't think your lives are the only
[37:36] ones that are hard, worrying every day
[37:38] about your basic necessities; I am a
[37:40] monarch, yet my life is even harder
[37:42] than yours, so I made myself a seal
[37:44] that says' The Monarch's Difficulty '."
[37:46] He would stamp it everywhere, using it
[37:48] as a constant reminder of how difficult
[37:50] his job was. Now, we can look at this
[37:56] Yongzheng famille-rose piece—or "
[37:58] Yangcai" as it was called back then—a
[38:00] porcelain plate with peony patterns. An
[38:06] expert can tell at a glance that this
[38:08] is from the Yongzheng period. It is
[38:13] painted so exquisitely that it’s
[38:15] impossible to describe. When we Chinese
[38:20] can't find words to describe how well a
[38:22] painter has captured something, we use
[38:24] four rather blunt words: "subtle and
[38:26] marvelous." There is nothing subtle or
[38:30] marvelous about it; it’s simply vivid
[38:32] , actually looking quite different from
[38:34] the peonies you see in real life. We
[38:38] will provide you with details on the
[38:39] texture of the leaves and the two
[38:41] colors, as well as the painting
[38:42] techniques for the peony blossoms. If
[38:44] you look at the painting technique on
[38:46] the vase from the Yongzheng exhibition,
[38:48] you can see that every detail is
[38:49] exactly the same. You might look at
[38:54] this plate and say it looks different
[38:56] from the olive vase in the museum
[38:57] because the layout seems distinct, but
[38:59] if you look closely, the layouts are
[39:01] identical. Look at the layout; it
[39:06] leaves a space blank here, and the vase
[39:08] leaves a blank space in the
[39:09] corresponding position, which is what
[39:11] Chinese painting is all about. If you
[39:15] want to learn more about this knowledge
[39:17] , go ahead and download the Guan App.
[39:20] There are many opportunities for
[39:22] learning and participation on the Guan
[39:23] App; once you get involved, you will
[39:25] find endless joy. This piece has a
[39:29] rather painful history. What do I mean
[39:33] by a painful history? Turn it over and
[39:35] you will see. Let us show you the back.
[39:41] It’s quite tragic. Originally, there
[39:47] were six characters here reading "Made
[39:48] in the Yongzheng Period of the Great
[39:50] Qing," but those six characters have
[39:52] been ground off. How do I know they
[39:54] were ground off? Because I am an expert
[39:57] , and I can tell it was ground off at a
[39:59] single glance. Because when porcelain
[40:03] is fired, whether it is glazed or not,
[40:05] once you grind it, it will show fine,
[40:07] dense pores. This part was ground off.
[40:12] When was it ground off? Why would
[40:14] someone with nothing better to do grind
[40:16] it down? I once told the story of the "
[40:18] troubled official kilns." When the
[40:22] Eight-Nation Alliance entered Beijing
[40:24] in 1900, Empress Dowager Cixi fled to
[40:26] the west. At that time, a large amount
[40:31] of porcelain was lost from the
[40:32] Forbidden City; officials, ministers,
[40:35] eunuchs, and subordinates all took
[40:36] advantage of the national crisis to
[40:38] profit, leading to the loss of many
[40:40] artifacts. After Empress Dowager Cixi
[40:45] returned, she was very angry and
[40:46] ordered an investigation to find the
[40:48] items and bring them back. Some
[40:51] ministers told her that it wouldn't
[40:53] work, that people definitely wouldn't
[40:54] return them, and the only way was to
[40:56] redeem them by spending money to buy
[40:58] them back. But some people were still
[41:01] unwilling to return the official kiln
[41:03] pieces they had obtained, so what could
[41:05] they do? They simply ground off the
[41:07] markings. With no evidence left, it’s
[41:10] a bit like tearing up your own passport
[41:12] , so no one knows which country you're
[41:14] from. It took a lot of effort to grind
[41:18] off this mark back then because the
[41:19] porcelain is very thin. You couldn't
[41:23] rush it, or you'd break it; they didn't
[41:25] have modern power tools, it was all
[41:27] done by hand. So this piece had its
[41:32] identity erased 100 years ago and then
[41:35] traveled across the sea to Japan. This
[41:41] piece was bought back from Japan. This
[41:44] period of history is truly unbearable
[41:46] to look back on. But history that is
[41:48] unbearable to look back on is still
[41:49] history. We had a series discussing the
[41:52] five famous kilns of the Song Dynasty,
[41:54] which are actually the five famous
[41:56] kilns of ancient China. We have
[41:59] successively discussed Ru, Guan, Ge,
[42:02] and Jun; today is the final episode,
[42:04] which is Ding. In the past, there have
[42:07] been various ways to rank these five
[42:09] famous kilns, but I am more used to
[42:11] saying Ru, Guan, Ge, Jun, and Ding.
[42:14] That is why Ding is left for last.
[42:18] Compared to the previous kilns, Ding
[42:20] kiln is relatively easier to discuss. A
[42:24] few years ago, about five years ago, I
[42:27] think. Sotheby's in New York auctioned
[42:30] a small bowl. It was 13.4 centimeters,
[42:35] just about this big. Inside that box is
[42:38] a small Ding kiln bowl; it’s less
[42:40] than two centimeters larger than that
[42:43] 13.4-centimeter bowl. That one is 15.3;
[42:45] you'll see how big it is in a moment.
[42:48] What was the estimated price at the
[42:49] time? It was 200,000 US dollars. As a
[42:53] result, this small Ding kiln piece was
[42:55] finally bought by the largest antique
[42:57] dealer in Europe five years ago for
[42:59] 225,000 US dollars. This is quite a
[43:05] remarkable story. Five years ago, a man
[43:08] bought this at a New York flea market
[43:10] for three dollars. After buying it, he
[43:13] kept it on display at home for five
[43:15] years. Because the international market
[43:18] for Chinese antiques was booming,
[43:20] setting world records day after day a
[43:22] couple of years ago. The owner couldn't
[43:27] suppress his curiosity, so he sent the
[43:29] bowl to Sotheby's to try his luck. You
[43:34] might ask, what does it mean to have a
[43:36] stroke of good fortune in life? I
[43:38] reckon if you asked this guy, he could
[43:40] tell you exactly what it means, since
[43:42] he bought something for three dollars.
[43:45] It eventually sold for 225,000 dollars.
[43:51] That amount could buy a very nice
[43:52] apartment in New York. So we ask, how
[43:57] can such an ordinary white bowl today
[43:59] be worth so much? Why is it so
[44:02] expensive? I'll tell you: it's because
[44:07] a thousand years ago, it represented
[44:08] the pinnacle of global technology. Back
[44:15] then, both the emperor and commoners
[44:17] could use such pristine white bowls. In
[44:22] Europe, they didn't have such fine
[44:24] natural ceramic glazes—we mean
[44:26] ceramics fired to that quality. Do you
[44:31] know why Europeans love to wipe their
[44:33] plates with bread when you dine with
[44:34] them? Originally, bread served as their
[44:38] plates; they'd put food on it, and
[44:40] after eating, they'd finish the "plate"
[44:43] itself. Their tableware wasn't up to
[44:45] par back then; Europeans have only had
[44:47] a 300-year history of truly firing
[44:49] porcelain. Ding ware is not uncommon in
[44:53] the antiques market; there is actually
[44:55] quite a lot of it. The reproductions
[45:00] are also very well made, so many people
[45:02] are wary and afraid to buy, seeing how
[45:04] identical the fakes are. So today, many
[45:08] Ding pieces on the market are a gamble.
[45:12] They are difficult to authenticate and
[45:14] are perhaps the hardest among the five
[45:16] famous kilns. Our society is obsessed
[45:19] with all sorts of gossip. You take a
[45:22] small bowl that was already valued high
[45:24] , only for it to sell for over ten
[45:26] times that amount, with all these
[45:28] legendary tales attached. These things
[45:31] really just add a bit of spice to our
[45:33] lives. What is the truth behind it all?
[45:37] We don't really know. Maybe it's a
[45:40] happy occasion for the seller, but for
[45:42] the buyer, it might be a bitter one.
[45:45] Why bitter? Because they overpaid,
[45:48] right? Got a bit carried away in the
[45:51] moment and bid too high. But how do the
[45:54] bystanders feel? Onlookers feel neither
[45:57] sweet nor bitter; most of them just
[45:59] feel sour. Many in this industry say, "
[46:02] Oh, that was bought too expensively,
[46:04] it’s not worth it." That’s a very
[46:07] sour sentiment. As for the auction
[46:11] houses, their feelings are more complex
[46:13] ; it’s a bitterness mixed with
[46:14] sweetness. What is the bitterness?
[46:19] Auction houses have to chase payments
[46:20] from both sides. First, they struggle
[46:23] to find items, and after selling them,
[46:25] they struggle to get people to pay.
[46:27] Once paid...They then pass the bulk of
[46:29] the money to the seller. So, auction
[46:31] houses find joy in bitterness. It’s
[46:33] what you might call bittersweet. It has
[46:35] that sourness. That slippery feeling,
[46:37] like "We put in so much effort to sell
[46:39] it for such a high price, but the main
[46:41] beneficiaries are the sellers." Or is
[46:44] it that auctions are just a "
[46:45] get-rich-quick" scheme? They don't
[46:48] invest money, just handle items and
[46:50] take cuts from both ends—there’s no
[46:52] better business under the sun. Later, I
[46:55] became curious and gossipy about this,
[46:57] so I started asking around. When I
[47:01] asked, people said the story sounds
[47:03] moving, but it’s not how it happened
[47:05] at all. The story has a kernel of truth
[47:08] , but it was embellished along the way
[47:11] until it became "true." People would
[47:14] rather believe this "false truth" than
[47:16] the actual reality. Now, let’s talk
[47:19] about whether there are real stories in
[47:21] auctions. There are real stories,
[47:24] plenty of them. Some records are very
[47:26] clear. For example, in the 2014
[47:28] Sotheby’s spring auction, Japanese
[47:30] antiques dealer Saburo Sakamoto
[47:32] auctioned off a Ding ware bowl with a
[47:34] flower design. How much did this bowl
[47:36] sell for? It might make you dizzy. It
[47:39] sold for 146.8 million HKD—146.8
[47:42] million HKD, a massive figure. At the
[47:48] time, this price was second only to
[47:50] that Ru ware piece that was sold, that
[47:52] high-end antique porcelain. Among
[47:56] antique porcelains, others like Guan
[47:58] ware or Ge ware couldn't compare to
[48:00] that. So, where did Saburo Sakamoto get
[48:04] this bowl? He certainly didn't fire it
[48:07] himself. Back in 1971, during our
[48:11] Cultural Revolution—let me think back
[48:13] —I had just returned from Northeast
[48:15] China. I was 16, wandering around at
[48:20] home and preparing to join the army. In
[48:25] those days, Sakamoto bought it at
[48:27] Sotheby’s in London for 40,000 pounds
[48:29] , just a little under 50,000 pounds.
[48:35] Enough. 50,000 pounds. You might hear "
[48:37] 50,000 pounds" now and think, isn't
[48:39] that just a small amount of money? So
[48:41] 500,000, 500,000 isn't expensive. You
[48:45] know, 40-some years ago, this amount in
[48:52] pounds was an astronomical figure. Back
[48:54] then, I think it would have been hard
[48:56] for the national bank to even produce
[48:57] that kind of money. At the time of the
[49:00] auction, there was also a Ming Dynasty
[49:02] Chenghua doucai chicken cup—we've
[49:04] talked about chicken cups before—that
[49:06] sold for 21.8 million; back then, that
[49:08] chicken cup only sold for 14,000 pounds
[49:10] . In other words, the bowl bought by
[49:14] Banban Wulang could have bought nearly
[49:16] four of those doucai chicken cups. This
[49:22] shows the changes in the international
[49:24] art market and aesthetic trends over
[49:25] these decades. Aesthetics years ago—
[49:30] that is, decades ago—international
[49:32] standards for art were high-level.
[49:35] Aesthetics of high taste. In recent
[49:37] years, because there are more and more
[49:39] nouveau riche, these wealthy buyers
[49:40] purchase based on intuition. They see
[49:43] things as simple and pretty, and they
[49:45] like simple and pretty. Therefore, in
[49:48] the international market these years,
[49:50] the prettiest things—what is commonly
[49:52] called the prettiest, the kind of
[49:53] beauty that ordinary people can
[49:55] understand—will sell for a lot.
[50:01] China's five great ancient kilns, like
[50:03] Ru, Guan, Ge, Jun, and Ding—these
[50:05] famous kilns all have various issues,
[50:08] for example, some kiln sites haven't
[50:10] been discovered. Some have
[50:15] controversial firing dates. However,
[50:19] the least controversial one is Ding,
[50:21] because both the kiln site and firing
[50:23] date of Ding are undisputed. Where is
[50:27] the Ding kiln site? It is in today's
[50:29] Quyang, Hebei. Lingshan Town in Quyang,
[50:32] Hebei. Quyang is also the hometown of
[50:34] stone carving. Because Quyang was under
[50:37] the administration of Dingzhou during
[50:39] the Tang Dynasty, the Five Dynasties,
[50:41] and the Northern Song Dynasty, it was
[50:43] called Ding Kiln. Our ancient kilns of
[50:47] the Tang and Song periods were
[50:48] generally named after prefectures. For
[50:51] example, what we call Ding Kiln can be
[50:53] fully referred to as Dingzhou Kiln. The
[50:56] kiln name is just the full name. For
[50:58] instance, Yue Kiln can also be called
[51:00] Yuezhou Kiln, and Xing can also be
[51:02] called Xingzhou Kiln; that is what it
[51:04] means. So, the firing of Ding certainly
[51:06] started in the late Tang Dynasty, then
[51:08] went through the Five Dynasties to
[51:10] reach prosperity in the Northern Song,
[51:12] and gradually declined after the Yuan
[51:14] Dynasty. Why did it decline? It was
[51:17] because Jingdezhen rose up. The use of
[51:21] kaolin meant other porcelains...from a
[51:23] chronological perspective, Ding Kiln is
[51:25] earlier than the other four famous
[51:27] kilns we mentioned, like Ru and Jun; it
[51:29] is the eldest. Ding ware isn't just
[51:34] limited to white porcelain; it also
[51:36] includes black, brown, and patterned
[51:38] varieties. Kilns like Ru, Guan, Ge, and
[51:41] Jun are essentially based on celadon
[51:44] glazes, but Ding ware belongs to the
[51:46] white porcelain tradition. White
[51:50] porcelain represents a major milestone
[51:52] in Chinese ceramic history; firing
[51:54] ceramics to be white was the primary
[51:56] goal our ancestors pursued, and during
[51:58] the Tang Dynasty, Xing ware was the
[52:00] benchmark. As the saying goes, "
[52:04] Southern celadon, Northern white," with
[52:06] the northern white porcelain produced
[52:08] by the Xing kilns. It was truly
[52:12] world-renowned. What about Ding, then?
[52:15] It was actually influenced by Xing ware
[52:17] , as both were fired in Hebei, with the
[52:20] kiln sites less than 200 kilometers
[52:21] apart. Consequently, there is a
[52:25] category of white porcelain—
[52:26] especially from the Five Dynasties
[52:28] period—where it is difficult to
[52:30] distinguish between Xing and Ding. Why
[52:34] is it hard to tell them apart? Because
[52:36] they are both white porcelain. To a
[52:39] layperson, there is no difference, but
[52:41] an expert can clearly see the distinct
[52:43] characteristics of Xing and Ding.
[52:46] However, some pieces possess a blend of
[52:48] features from both kilns. So even the
[52:51] most renowned experts find them
[52:52] difficult to judge. White porcelain
[52:55] involves advanced technology, largely
[52:57] because its visual appeal is so
[52:59] significant. We use white bowls to eat
[53:02] today and don't think much of it, but
[53:03] if I asked you to eat from a black bowl
[53:05] , you’d appreciate the white one much
[53:07] more. Ding was the most important kiln
[53:10] in the north during the Five Dynasties
[53:12] and early Northern Song, representing
[53:13] the highest level of quality. Later,
[53:18] because of Ding ware's unshakeable
[53:20] status, various imitations began to
[53:22] emerge. For instance, there is Southern
[53:29] Ding, Fendin (powdered Ding), and other
[53:31] local kilns that were not Ding, such as
[53:33] Cizhou ware, which also fired white
[53:35] bowls. Of course, Yaozhou also produced
[53:39] white porcelain; they all did. "
[53:41] Southern Ding" refers to Ding-style
[53:42] porcelain imitated by potters in the
[53:44] south, south of the Yangtze River.
[53:47] There were quite a few of these,
[53:48] including imitations from Jingdezhen
[53:50] and kilns in Anhui, which all saw the
[53:52] emergence of white porcelain. They
[53:55] strived to fire them as white as
[53:56] possible. It wasn't that they couldn't
[53:58] fire them into that shadow-blue celadon
[53:59] , but they wanted to make them white
[54:01] because white porcelain was more
[54:02] valuable. Actually, these white,
[54:04] celadon, and black porcelains—all the
[54:06] colored ones I've mentioned—use
[54:07] metals as coloring agents. These white,
[54:09] celadon, and black porcelains all
[54:11] contain iron, just in different
[54:13] compositions. For white porcelain, the
[54:16] iron content in the clay and glaze must
[54:18] be reduced to below 1%; notice how
[54:20] thicker, glazed areas often have a
[54:22] greenish tint, which is due to trace
[54:24] iron. Celadon typically has an iron
[54:29] content between 1%and 3%. The higher
[54:32] the content, the darker the color.
[54:33] Black porcelain reaches an iron content
[54:36] as high as 8%, causing it to turn black
[54:38] . So, simply put, all these porcelains
[54:41] are related to iron, as iron is a very
[54:43] common metallic element. It is even
[54:45] more prevalent in the south; if you
[54:47] look at the soil in the south, it's all
[54:49] red. Why is it red? It contains iron.
[54:51] Ding ware, in addition to firing white
[54:54] porcelain, also fired black, brown, and
[54:56] green varieties, though these were
[54:58] rarer. Black and brown are both
[55:00] recorded in literature quite clearly,
[55:02] such as "black Ding" and "ink Ding"—
[55:04] black and ink are the same thing—as
[55:07] well as red Ding and purple Ding. Red
[55:11] Ding and purple Ding generally refer to
[55:13] brownish-red colors, though some
[55:15] believe purple Ding is truly purple;
[55:17] regardless of the type, it simply comes
[55:19] in various colors. The earliest book on
[55:22] antiques we've discussed is the "Ge Yao
[55:24] Lun," written by Cao Zhao at the
[55:26] beginning of the Hongwu era in the Ming
[55:28] Dynasty. Cao Zhao lived during the
[55:29] transition from the Yuan to the Ming,
[55:31] so much of what he recorded relates to
[55:33] the Yuan Dynasty. He stated there is
[55:35] purple Ding and ink Ding, which is as
[55:37] black as lacquer with pure white clay,
[55:39] priced higher than white Ding, and
[55:40] originating from Dingzhou. He stated
[55:43] very clearly that for purple or ink
[55:45] Ding, regardless of the type, the body
[55:47] clay is always white. At that time, in
[55:52] the early Ming Dynasty, the price was
[55:54] already higher than standard white Ding
[55:56] . He mentioned it originated from
[56:01] Dingzhou, which means these wares
[56:03] weren't only valued in the Ming Dynasty
[56:05] ; they were actually highly prized as
[56:06] early as the Song Dynasty. A Northern
[56:10] Song figure named Shao Wen recorded
[56:12] this in his "Shao Shi Wen Jian Lu."
[56:14] Records of Northern Song affairs by a
[56:16] Northern Song person are quite
[56:17] authentic; he mentioned that during the
[56:19] reign of Emperor Renzong of Song—the
[56:21] same Renzong from the "Civet Cat for
[56:22] Crown Prince" legend. The fourth
[56:24] emperor of the Song Dynasty, Emperor
[56:26] Renzong, was known for being very
[56:28] frugal among the Song emperors. One
[56:31] time, while visiting his favorite
[56:33] consort, Lady Zhang, he saw a Ding ware
[56:35] porcelain piece and asked, "Where did
[56:37] you get this?" She told him it was a
[56:40] gift from an official named Wang
[56:41] Gongchen. The Emperor became unhappy
[56:44] and said, "I have often told you not to
[56:46] accept gifts from officials. Do you
[56:48] know why he gave it to you?""He isn't
[56:50] trying to please you; he is trying to
[56:52] please me!" He said, "Why don't you
[56:53] listen to what I say?" and he grabbed a
[56:56] candle holder and smashed the porcelain
[56:58] piece. Just imagine that scene. When he
[57:01] smashed it, the Consort would surely
[57:03] have been terrified, wouldn't she? His
[57:08] point in smashing the piece wasn't that
[57:09] he didn't care about the porcelain; it
[57:11] was to warn her. Lady Zhang felt very
[57:15] guilty. Although Emperor Renzong doted
[57:20] on her, he demanded that his high
[57:22] standards for the court must start with
[57:23] those closest to him, not with others.
[57:29] This hints at a broader issue, which is
[57:31] that red Ding—or what some call Ding
[57:33] ware—was highly valued. It was
[57:36] expensive at the time and difficult to
[57:38] fire, otherwise the Emperor wouldn't
[57:40] have gotten so angry and lost his
[57:41] temper. Since this account comes from a
[57:45] Northern Song record, it is relatively
[57:46] authentic. So, when we look at Ding
[57:50] ware, we ask: what kind of decorations
[57:53] does it have? Beyond its white color,
[57:55] does it have any ornamentation? The
[58:00] four famous kilns—Ru, Guan, Ge, and
[58:02] Jun—rely primarily on their glazes
[58:05] and colors to win the public's favor.
[58:10] Ding ware is not just about the glaze;
[58:12] it also features patterns. It has
[58:14] incised and printed designs. In early
[58:17] Ding ware, specifically from the Five
[58:19] Dynasties period, you can see raised
[58:21] patterns, which are known as relief.
[58:25] Why does it feature relief? I believe
[58:29] it was influenced by the stone carving
[58:30] traditions in the Quyang region at that
[58:32] time. Quyang produces white marble—
[58:39] the marble used for the Monument to the
[58:41] People's Heroes in Tiananmen Square
[58:43] came from Quyang craftsmen—and the
[58:45] initial form of Ding ware's decoration
[58:47] was directly related to its very thin
[58:49] glaze. You know, with this glaze, its
[58:55] coverage is quite uniform everywhere,
[58:57] so its patterns are relatively easy to
[58:59] display. Take Jun ware, for instance;
[59:01] it’s thick, and at the curves and
[59:03] corners, the glaze accumulates, so any
[59:05] carved patterns would be obscured.
[59:07] That’s why Jun ware is generally not
[59:09] carved, except for the occasional messy
[59:11] carving by Yuan Dynasty craftsmen;
[59:13] usually, it’s left plain. So, Ding
[59:15] ware is not only beautiful for its
[59:17] glaze color but also for its decorative
[59:19] beauty. Later, in the late Song Dynasty
[59:24] , and especially during the Jin Dynasty
[59:26] , due to a massive increase in demand
[59:28] for Ding ware, molding techniques were
[59:30] used to boost production. Now we can
[59:35] see that the origin, firing time, and
[59:37] products of Ding ware are all very
[59:39] clear, right? Everything is very clear,
[59:41] as if there are no unsolved mysteries
[59:43] at all. Actually, history is always
[59:47] full of mysteries; we often say these
[59:49] historical puzzles can't be cleared up,
[59:51] but we try our best to explain them.
[59:54] Ding ware, in particular, exhibits a
[59:56] very unique phenomenon. Unlike other
[59:59] kilns, it has a large number of pieces
[60:01] with engraved patterns. We’ve
[60:03] discussed Ru, Guan, and Ge wares; aside
[60:05] from rare exceptions, most of the
[60:07] characters on them were carved later.
[60:09] Many of the numbers one, two, three,
[60:11] and four on Jun ware were also carved
[60:14] later. The content is relatively simple
[60:16] . Ge ware rarely has carvings, and any
[60:18] characters found on Guan or Ge wares
[60:19] were mostly carved by the Qianlong
[60:21] Emperor, which doesn't count. Only Ding
[60:23] ware frequently features carved
[60:24] characters. What do they say? For
[60:27] example, there are "Shangshiju" and "
[60:29] Shangyaoju," which were part of the six
[60:31] imperial offices within the Song
[60:33] Dynasty palace. The History of Song
[60:36] records this clearly, stating that
[60:38] among the six offices, the Shangshi is
[60:39] in charge of food and beverages, and
[60:41] the Shangyao is in charge of medicine
[60:43] and the health of the Emperor and
[60:45] Empress. What does that mean? Simply
[60:49] put, the Shangshi Bureau managed your
[60:51] meals, while the Shangyao Bureau
[60:52] managed your medicine and medical
[60:54] treatments. For example, a few years
[60:57] ago, we loved watching those Korean
[60:59] historical dramas. For instance, the
[61:02] one that had the biggest impact at the
[61:04] time—I even watched a few episodes—
[61:06] was*Dae Jang Geum*. The actress in*Dae
[61:08] Jang Geum*was really quite pretty. In
[61:10] those shows, there are references to "
[61:12] Shang-gong" everywhere. For example,
[61:15] the Han Shanggong or Cui Shanggong—
[61:17] Cui Shanggong seems to be a rather
[61:19] malicious figure—these Shanggong
[61:21] positions correspond to the Shangshi
[61:23] Bureau or Shangyao Bureau; they are
[61:25] simply specific job titles. In the
[61:31] white porcelain of Ding ware, pieces
[61:33] specifically commissioned for the
[61:35] imperial court's culinary or medicinal
[61:37] needs were inscribed directly with fine
[61:39] tools, featuring characters like "
[61:41] Shangshi Ju" or "Shang Ju." What we see
[61:48] most commonly today is something else,
[61:50] what is it? It’s inscribed with "Guan
[61:52] ," just the single character for "
[61:54] official." There are also those
[61:56] inscribed with "Xin Guan"; I have seen
[61:58] pieces with both "Guan" and "Xin Guan."
[62:00] Most people would interpret this as "
[62:02] Guan"(official) kiln ware. They say
[62:04] that, just as Tang dynasty official
[62:06] kilns inscribed one character, or the
[62:08] Baibao Dayin Treasury marked Song
[62:10] dynasty official wares with a "Guan,"
[62:12] others followed suit. But this is
[62:14] problematic; some call these local "
[62:16] official kilns." What does a local
[62:19] official kiln even mean? Some also say
[62:21] it refers to official status, but in
[62:23] reality, this "Guan" character didn't
[62:24] have such a clear-cut concept back then
[62:26] . We should discuss history in its own
[62:28] context; looking at history means not
[62:30] projecting today's affairs onto the
[62:31] past, nor using Qing dynasty customs to
[62:33] explain the Ming, or Ming customs to
[62:35] explain the Song. The marks on the
[62:36] bottom of Ming and Qing dynasty
[62:38] official kiln wares primarily state the
[62:39] reign year. Right? "Made in the Xuande
[62:41] reign of the Great Ming,""Made in the
[62:43] Chenghua reign of the Great Ming,""Made
[62:44] in the Kangxi reign of the Great Qing,"
[62:46] "Made in the Qianlong reign of the
[62:47] Great Qing." They all follow this
[62:49] format of inscribing the reign title.
[62:51] So, what does it mean to just write "
[62:53] Guan"? This "Guan"(official) is
[62:54] relative to "Min"(civilian). Yes. Why
[62:57] didn't they write "Min"(civilian) on
[62:59] them instead of "Guan"(official)?
[63:03] According to our modern understanding,
[63:05] this "Guan" means public, or
[63:07] state-owned. In years past, at least in
[63:13] my youth, wherever you went in any
[63:15] county town, the guest houses would all
[63:17] be marked "for public use." Thermoses
[63:22] in workplaces were also labeled "for
[63:24] public use." This is actually how we
[63:27] should understand "Guan"—it means
[63:29] official or for public use, and has
[63:31] nothing to do with an "official kiln."
[63:33] So when you see a large number of
[63:35] pieces inscribed with "Guan" today,
[63:37] such as "Xin Guan," what does "Xin Guan
[63:40] " mean? Right? "Xin Guan" surely
[63:42] doesn't mean you'd call this kiln a "
[63:43] New Official Kiln," does it? That's not
[63:45] it either; it's still just for public
[63:47] use. The interpretation of "Xin-Guan"
[63:49] remains somewhat vague. To this day, we
[63:52] lack a definitive explanation. Compared
[63:55] to all ceramics bearing the "Guan"(
[63:57] official) mark, these "Xin-Guan" pieces
[63:59] likely account for less than 1%,
[64:01] certainly a very small amount. Some
[64:05] pieces have inscriptions like "Dingzhou
[64:07] " written on them, which is quite clear
[64:09] —they were for public use, likely by
[64:11] the Dingzhou prefectural government for
[64:13] everyone to use. You can find such
[64:16] ceramics in museums. In ancient China,
[64:21] a key feature of the official system
[64:23] was the courier station—a place for
[64:25] delivering official mail and goods,
[64:27] much like our modern logistics system.
[64:32] These courier stations were part of the
[64:33] official system. The items used within
[64:35] this network were not related to the
[64:37] imperial court, but rather to the
[64:39] government administration. Therefore, "
[64:41] Guan" simply means official. The
[64:43] official system was vast, just as it is
[64:45] today. Since the ancient bureaucratic
[64:49] system was also quite extensive,
[64:50] looking at it from this perspective
[64:52] helps explain why there are so many
[64:54] ceramics marked with "Guan." Right? In
[64:59] recent years, quite a few "Guan"-marked
[65:01] ceramics have been unearthed, sometimes
[65:03] found in entire batches featuring the "
[65:05] Guan" inscription. For instance, in
[65:08] Xi'an a couple of years ago, several
[65:10] dozen pieces were excavated in the
[65:12] suburbs, many of which bore the "Guan"
[65:14] mark, and some even had "Xin-Guan"
[65:16] written on them. The discovery of these
[65:19] ceramics in such large batches
[65:20] highlights the importance of these
[65:22] items at the time. As we’ve discussed
[65:25] , why would people bury them? This is
[65:27] what we call a "hoard." Ah, it’s not
[65:29] the kind used for burial objects. They
[65:31] are often found in large jars—I have
[65:33] seen this more than once—just a
[65:35] simple earthen jar. The jar itself is
[65:37] not particularly special, also dating
[65:38] from that era, but it is packed full of
[65:40] ceramics. If you have the chance, visit
[65:42] the Shaanxi History Museum. Look at the
[65:45] Hejiacun hoard; those two large vessels
[65:47] held over a thousand items. You
[65:50] wouldn't think it possible for them to
[65:52] fit, yet they did. So, whenever these
[65:55] ancient hoards are discovered, they are
[65:57] massive in quantity and often of
[65:59] excellent quality. Now, there is still
[66:02] one issue to resolve regarding these "
[66:04] Ding" vessels, which is also a
[66:06] historical... "Ding vessels have flaws
[66:10] and are not fit for use." That is why
[66:13] many historical documents mention this
[66:15] phrase.