In the 1990s, Tengchong was gripped by a frenzy that consumed the entire city: digging for jadeite. Old jadeite was being pulled from the ground everywhere—tear down a house, and there was Qing dynasty and Republican-era jadeite; dig up a road, and there was old jadeite; plant a tree and dig a hole, and there was old jadeite; even reach into the riverbed and feel around, and there was old jadeite. Many people became rich overnight.
The frenzy infected every working person. Whenever jadeite appeared, construction workers abandoned their sites, road crews stopped repairing roads and started tearing them apart instead, scouring the ground for jadeite.
The odds of finding something were genuinely high. Of course, not all the old jadeite dug up was valuable—much of it was genuinely the scrap it had been discarded as. But quite a few finds were worth serious money: some were raw stones with a window rubbed open, some were cut pieces of confirmed material—colorless ice-grade, black jadeite, blue-water, and so on. These types of jadeite, precious by modern standards, had been considered worthless by the old-timers and casually tossed aside. Finding them now was a massive bargain.
This was young Wells's fourth year in Ruili.
In his first three years, he'd made a living carving jadeite, established himself in Ruili, and won some minor awards at competitions. Entering competitions was really about the network—getting to know jade carvers from all over, from the judges to the other contestants. That was how he'd met young Garrett.
Young Garrett was a born-and-bred Guangdong man, from Yangmei Village south of Meizhou in Jieyang. Yangmei Village had been in the jade-carving trade for generations—starting as small workshops, then growing into small factories, until in the late 1980s the Yangmei Jade Market emerged. In just a few years, it had become one of Guangdong's most famous jadeite trading hubs.
That was where young Garrett carved jadeite.
The two had met at a jade-carving competition. As junior entrants, they'd both won only silver awards—which was more or less predictable before the competition even began. But it also represented recognition: among the younger generation, they were both rising stars.
Their styles were evident from their work.
Young Wells's style was wildly imaginative. He'd used gray jadeite, the least valuable material at the time. In the 1990s, jadeite raw material wasn't scarce, and gray base material was unwanted. But his piece had hints of red and yellow, so the price was still extremely low. This was where young Wells's ingenuity shone: using these limited colors, he carved the red into a cape and helmet, the yellow into a weapon, and used the gray portions for the body and face. The result was "The Five Tiger Generals"—magnificent and fierce. Huang Zhong drawing a golden bow, Zhao Yun's spear tip a flash of bright yellow, cloaked in flowing red robes—it truly was "turning dross into gold"!
Young Garrett's style was steady and precise. Born and raised in Yangmei, he was effectively third-generation jade—a "jade scion." His family's safe held who knows how many world-class jadeite pieces. His elders hadn't yet let him touch the best material, but even their mid-grade scraps were impressive enough on the market to merit a master carver. Many young jade carvers got nervous working with expensive material for fear of ruining it—not young Garrett. He'd grown up around top-grade jade and worked with it endlessly.
His competition piece was a dragon pendant carved from green-tinged glass-grade jadeite.
A dragon pendant sounds straightforward, almost lacking in creativity, but his execution was flawless. The dragon was vividly alive, the design classical and composed, exuding a sense of effortless perfection—like someone who's elevated scrambled eggs to Michelin-star quality. Everyone knows the dish, but nobody's tasted it made this well.
The year after that competition, old-town renovation in Tengchong began unearthing old jadeite with increasing frequency. Stories of sudden wealth came one after another, shocking the entire jadeite and jade-carving world. Merchants chasing profit, jade carvers seeking material, speculators dreaming of overnight riches—all converged on Tengchong. The ancient town bustled with newcomers riding donkey carts through the streets, searching for opportunity.
Young Garrett traveled from Guangzhou to Tengchong to hunt for jadeite, and he contacted young Wells to come along. Young Wells eagerly agreed. The two set out together in Tengchong, asking around about where the old jadeite could be found.
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Among all the people drawn to Tengchong by the old jadeite, the most famous was a man known as Don Quinton. Don Quinton was the first person in Tengchong to open an antique shop, but his real money came not from selling antiques—it came from selling old jadeite. Whenever Don Quinton led his team to a dig, their finds were always accurate and abundant. Everyone else wondered: how was he so lucky?
As the old saying goes, behind every "luck" lies real ability.
The rumors said Don Quinton's family worked in the city construction committee. When he was young, his parents were always too busy, so after school he'd wander the construction sites, waiting for them to finish work and pick him up. Gradually, Don Quinton memorized every street and alley in Tengchong, which neighborhood had which families, which shortcuts and hidden drainage channels existed, and he absorbed every old-timer's story about the historic jadeite merchants of Tengchong.
When the great demolition wave of the 1990s began, Don Quinton was in his element. The old jade carvers' residences—from homes to workshops—when torn down, always yielded buried jadeite beneath. But digging it up required experience and manpower. Don Quinton had the experience, and he had a large crew of loyal workers.
Don Quinton's crew cut an impressive figure. In the '90s, Tengchong's streets were full of homemade donkey carts welded together by their owners. Don Quinton drove a Yunnan "Blue Sword" pickup truck. Its blue paint gleamed, and it was far bigger than any motorcycle or horse cart—quite the spectacle. But its deafening *clack-clack* engine noise was genuinely obnoxious. Driving that truck through a demolition zone, there was no way anyone wouldn't notice you.
But Don Quinton always made arrangements with the foreman of each site in advance, so he came and went openly and legitimately. Every night, he'd stride through the rubble with a flashlight, boldly scavenging.
It wasn't exactly a glorious occupation, but Don Quinton's expertise was undeniable: ornate carved beams in Dian-nan style, white marble carvings, patterned roof tiles, iron hooks and bronze bells, wooden lattice windows—nothing that could appreciate in value at the antiques market escaped his eye. But what he was really searching for was jadeite.
Young Garrett and young Wells stayed in Tengchong for about a month before they finally heard the news: the next old building scheduled for demolition included the former residence of Dominic Sterling, the jadeite legend.
Young Wells was thrilled: "Sterling Legacy Jade! Garrett, let's go check out the site! We might find something big!"
Young Garrett was more cautious: "They probably won't let us in."
"Of course they won't let us in! We'll go at night when no one's around."
"Is that really okay?"
"Fortune favors the bold! What if we find Sterling Legacy Jade?"
Young Wells and young Garrett waited until midnight, when the streets were dark and empty. They slipped past the guards and crept into the demolition zone. The old house had already been torn apart—it was a mess. Navigating in the dark was genuinely difficult. They turned on their flashlights and continued searching the ground, sweeping the beams carefully.
Suddenly, a deafening *BANG* erupted. They both jumped.
Young Garrett hissed, "Turn off the flashlight!"
Young Wells said, "Looks like someone else is here moving stuff too. We're not the only ones. Let's hurry up and search!"
"But we need to turn off the light—they'll see us!"
"We can't see without the light, Zhang."
"True... but—"
"I'll cover it with my hand!"
Young Wells cupped his hand over the flashlight. The light turned orange-red, filtering through his fingers to illuminate the broken bricks and rubble below. Young Garrett squinted and searched even more carefully. Suddenly, several bright flashlight beams surrounded them!
"What are you doing!" a voice behind the beams barked.
Young Wells stammered, "Nothing—just looking for something."
"They're thieves!" More flashlight beams converged on them.
"No, no!" Young Garrett quickly protested. "Listen to us explain!"
"Bring them over!"
And just like that, young Wells and young Garrett were unceremoniously "invited" by several burly men into a temporary tent at the demolition site. This was Don Quinton's tent, and it was clear he'd seen plenty of these "competitors"—and had no warmth for them.
"You two little punks, what are you doing here?" Don Quinton sat with his legs crossed, yawning, interrogating them.
Young Wells blurted out, "I'm here to... observe... cultural artifacts."
"What?"
"Me too... protecting cultural heritage, protecting heritage." Young Garrett offered awkwardly.
"Bullshit!" Don Quinton cursed. "You came to steal my jadeite!"
Don Quinton stood up, walked a few paces across the tent, found a hammer, and handed it to his man: "Break one hand on each of them, then kick them out!"
Young Garrett and young Wells were terrified. They cried out in unison, "You can't! Please, no!"
"The hammer's in my hand—why can't I?"
Young Wells blurted, "These hands are for carving jade!"