Family hidden treasure [My great grandfather is mean]

So last night, it was once again the combined treat of mother's day and Sb's birthday. Every May I am ridiculously poor.

Anyway we were sitting around snarfling up angus beef [my treat. I am so. poor.] when the subject of ancestors came up, and my aunty started talking about her granddad aka my great-granddad and what he used to do in China. I was surprised to find he was a judge/bureaucrat of some sort and apparently the old man was rolling in the moolah, if you know what I'm saying [what? I'm not saying he was corrupt... the rich bureaucrat...]

Well there was a war on at the time and the whole family had to leave the compound [compound!] for a while but he didn't really think it was a good idea to take so much jewellery/gold bars/faberge eggs with them so he decided to hoard all the treasure together and bury them in a cement pole in the compound. When they left, he swore that he would tell his eldest daughter which pole he hid it in on his death bed.

The problem with this is, he DIDN'T tell his daughter [my now dead grandmother] he croaked before he could tell her [WHAT?!] and now there's a whole booty of jewels sitting in a pole in a village in China somewhere. Or feeding the family of the luckiest construction worker that ever lived. Who knows?*

*I don't mean to sound flip but actually I'm extremely anguished about this, I mean to torment my grandchildren with stories of hidden treasure . I would look at them thoughtfully and tell them "I've buried some jewellery......." pause meaningfully then die of a heart attack.