Illustration: Liu Rui/GT

More than a month ago, Chinese movie star Jackie Chan announced his decision on Weibo that he would donate four Hui-style sandalwood houses, built between 200 and 400 years ago, from his private collection to Singapore.

The decision sparked huge controversy, since these houses were estimated to be worth 500 million yuan ($81.5 million) and Chan was slated for not returning them to the mainland.

After a CCTV interview to clarify his position, Chan was forced to announce he would donate another six of the houses to Beijing.

This controversial donation reminds me of another similar event about the return of two bronze animal heads which were looted from the Old Summer Palace in the second Opium War (1856-60).

The Chinese public was flattered when the French Pinault family decided to donate these two historic relics back to where they had been. The family once suggested they would give back the looted relics when the Dalai Lama was allowed to return to Tibet, but they were even applauded for their courtliness this time.

These two bronze heads, which were part of a fountain in the Old Summer Palace, were originally designed by a French priest. Chen Lüsheng, deputy curator of the National Museum of China and a well-known conservative-nationalist critic, said they were just "taps manufactured by a foreigner" and did not deserve the title of national treasure.

Nonetheless, his xenophobic comments won little praise online.

China has been striving to restore the confidence it once enjoyed before the "century of humiliation." For many Chinese, the loss of these relics is a reminder of the time when the country could be easily bullied. Seeing them in a foreign museum is like sprinkling a handful of salt on the wound of their broken and vulnerable confidence.

The artistic value, whether superb, as most critics believe, or secondary, as Chen's bigoted comments claim, is of minor importance anyway.

Now let's come back to Chan's donation.

Chan was criticized by a lot of people on Weibo, some of them cursing him as a "race traitor." But more facts were revealed in the interview. Chan's original plan was to donate these historic houses to some local governments. However, his enthusiasm was only met by refusal or attempts to profit from his name.

His frustration and helplessness lasted for years until Singapore offered a sincere attempt to preserve and display the artifacts.

This is a normal state when it comes to relics preservation in China. People's attention has rarely been focused on how to preserve and develop the historic and artistic value of these relics to the utmost, but on the profit they can produce.

Chan's donation was just another sign of the Chinese better-death-than-dishonor philosophy. It unfortunately touched a raw nerve for many Chinese who would rather let these ancient sandalwood houses rot in a warehouse than allow so-called outside forces to look after them.

Compared with the well-preserved Chinese relics in foreign museums, many historical relics end up in poor conditions at home, including improper temperatures, damage by insects and inadequate expertise of some local museum staff. This partly explains why relics preservation is quite a controversial topic among Chinese historians.

Some argue that it would be much better if the Chinese could have a more international vision about the preservation of relics. Actually, such relics could be a perfect embodiment of Chinese culture and history, even when their beauty is showcased in a foreign museum or university campus.

Preserving relics is a serious undertaking which requires commitment and professionalism. The priority should never be how much money we can make by making use of them, but on how much value we can derive from their historic and artistic heritage. What really matters is appreciation, not appropriation.