Chapter 17: Do You See the Way?

After leaving Treasure Hall, Jiang Feng and Wang Yunan went into a shop named Hanmo Studio.

A middle‑aged man with a cropped haircut was hunched behind the counter sorting the ledger; when he heard the curtain move, he immediately looked up.

"Two honored guests, please come inside! What would you like to buy? Calligraphy and paintings, fan scrolls, ink slabs—we have them all, all genuine old items!"

This is the shopkeeper of Hanmo Studio, Shopkeeper Zhao.

Shopkeeper Zhao gave Jiang Feng and Wang Yunan a quick once‑over, seeing Jiang Feng dressed plainly, Wang Yunan a young girl, and his smile grew broader.

He was certain the two knew nothing about the trade, and perhaps he could earn an extra profit today.

Wang Yunan stared curiously at the calligraphy and paintings on the wall, a hint of admiration appearing on her face.

She had seen the world before, and at first glance thought the shop's items were indeed fine.

Shopkeeper Zhao promptly pointed to a painting hanging in the center, enthusiastically promoting it.

"Please take a look at this! It's a work by a disciple of the famous Republic‑era painter Zhang Daqian. Look at the peony's color—so vivid, the petals have such depth, the ink is old ink, and it's preserved so well; such pieces are rare on the market!"

Wang Yunan leaned over to look, and indeed found it attractive.

"This painting looks quite nice; could it be a gift for my grandfather?"

Shopkeeper Zhao, hearing this, quickly replied, "Miss, you have great taste! This painting has an auspicious meaning—wealth and good fortune—perfect for a senior. Moreover the price is reasonable, only 88,000, absolutely worth it!"

Jiang Feng, however, didn't look at the peony painting; his gaze swept across the wall, and he shook his head.

"This painting is a replica. A disciple of Zhang Daqian paints in a refined, elegant style; the peony wouldn't be rendered in such garish colors, and look at the petal edges—the brushwork is too deliberate, it's a later copy."

Shopkeeper Zhao's smile froze for a moment.

"Sir, you're joking! This Hanmo Studio has been open for twenty years; how could we sell replicas? Perhaps you're mistaken? Shall we look at something else?"

He led the two to another painting titled Landscape Painting.

"Take a look at this! It's a Qing‑dynasty landscape depicting the clouds and seas of Huangshan. Observe the mountain‑rock texture—so authentic—and the mist, rendered with a negative‑space technique, the craftsmanship of our ancestors! This one is pricier, 160,000, but gifting it to a senior brings great face!"

Wang Yunan this time dared not speak recklessly, only silently watched Jiang Feng's expression.

Jiang Feng reached out and brushed the edge of the painting: "This paper is artificially aged; look at the fibers—they're too uniform. Qing‑dynasty Xuan paper wasn't this fine. Moreover, the seal's color is too fresh, as if it was just stamped, also a replica."

Shopkeeper Zhao's complexion darkened a bit; he muttered to himself how this man still knew something about the trade, yet he didn't give up, and pointed to a fan painting on the counter.

"Now take a look at this! It's a fan painting of a Bamboo and Rock scene, a Qing‑dynasty scholar's work—compact, exquisite, portable, and practical as a gift for a senior, only 32,000!"

"The bamboo joints on the fan are drawn too straight, lacking Spiritual Energy, and the inscription's calligraphy is wrong; it's a modern imitation."

Jiang Feng's words remained blunt, leaving no room for Shopkeeper Zhao.

Shopkeeper Zhao now completely lost patience; his enthusiastic expression faded, and his tone became somewhat perfunctory.

"Then what exactly are you looking for? I've shown you all the good items here, and you call them replicas; do you expect authentic Tang or Song originals? We don't have those."

He also realized Jiang Feng truly was an expert.

Wang Yunan couldn't stand Shopkeeper Zhao's attitude and couldn't help speaking up.

"How can you speak like that? We never said we wouldn't buy; it's your recommendations that are false, how dare you talk to us?"

"Miss, you can't speak like that!"

"All the items in my shop have been appraised; if you don't understand, don't jump to conclusions!"

Jiang Feng shifted his gaze to the corner of the counter, where several unframed paintings were stacked, wrapped in old newspapers, looking dull and gray.

"I'll just take that one."

Shopkeeper Zhao looked in the direction Jiang Feng pointed, froze for a moment, then smiled.

"The one you mentioned? I just happened to pick it up a few days ago while collecting scrap; I don't know who painted it, the paper has yellowed, it's useless, I was planning to sell it as waste paper!"

Wang Yunan also leaned over to look and saw that the unframed painting depicted a few plum blossoms, with faint ink and simple brushstrokes; it indeed looked plain, incomparable to the vivid paintings on the wall.

"Jiang Feng, this painting… doesn't look very good; would it be too shabby to give to grandpa?"

Shopkeeper Zhao echoed in agreement.

"Exactly, sir, this painting truly has nothing good about it. If you really want a cheap one, I can find another for you; don't take this one."

He thought to himself, this man couldn't be picking a fight on purpose, passing up the good ones and choosing a painting as good as waste paper.

But Jiang Feng shook his head, bent down, and lifted that painting.

"This one then, how much?"

Shopkeeper Zhao, seeing his persistence, began to calculate again in his mind.

Since the painting was a free find, whatever price he could get was fine; perhaps he could even swindle him.

He cleared his throat, deliberately furrowing his brow: "Sir, this painting may not be valuable, but it is old paper, and I did put some effort into acquiring it… How about this: if you are sincere, 20,000 will do!"

"What? Twenty thousand?"

Wang Yunan's eyes widened: "You're extorting money! This painting looks worth only a few dozen bucks, and you want twenty thousand?"

Shopkeeper Zhao stiffened his neck: "Miss, this is an old item; you can't judge by the surface! Old paper is worth that price!"

The two were arguing when an elderly voice suddenly came from the doorway.

"Little Zhao, that's not fair; a ordinary old paper painting, and you dare ask for twenty thousand?"

Everyone turned to see an elderly man in a dark‑blue Tang suit walk in through the door, his hair silver‑white and neatly combed, holding a magnifying glass, with a young attendant behind him.

The old man was spry and sharp‑eyed, glanced around the shop, and finally fixed his gaze on Shopkeeper Zhao.

When Shopkeeper Zhao saw the old man, his complexion changed instantly, the earlier hard‑spiritedness vanished, and he hurriedly bowed his head and waist to greet him.

"President Dong! What brings you here? How did you find time to visit my little shop today?"

It turned out the elderly man was President Dong of the Jiangcheng Antiquities Association, Dong Zhenhai.

Everyone in Jiangcheng who deals in antiquities knows him; not only is he knowledgeable, but he also has extensive connections. Shopkeeper Zhao usually can't curry favor with him, yet today he was caught red‑handed.

Dong Zhenhai ignored his flattery and pointed at the painting in Jiang Feng's hand.

"I heard you demanding twenty thousand at the door; I just looked at this painting—it's an ordinary Republic‑era old paper, the workmanship is average, it's worth at most two hundred, and you ask for twenty thousand; are you bullying someone who doesn't know the trade?"

Shopkeeper Zhao's forehead broke into sweat, and he hurriedly explained, "President Dong, I—I didn't mean it, I was just joking with this gentleman! I'll lower the price right away, lower it!"

"Sir, don't listen to my nonsense just now! This painting is just a worthless trinket; if you want it, just give—give two thousand. No, one thousand! One thousand yuan!"

He now only wants to sell this painting quickly, lest President Dong find any more faults with him.

"No need, two thousand then."

Jiang Feng took a phone out of his pocket.

"Wrap the painting for me."

Shopkeeper Zhao was startled for a moment, not expecting Jiang Feng to still be willing to pay two thousand, and quickly nodded: "Alright! I'll wrap it for you right away! I guarantee it'll be wrapped nicely!"

He deftly fetched a clean sheet of xuan paper, carefully wrapped the painting, and handed it to Jiang Feng.

Jiang Feng paid, took the painting, and just as he was about to leave with Wang Yunan, Dong Zhenhai called out to him.

"Young man, wait a moment."

Jiang Feng stopped in his tracks, looked at Dong Zhenhai: "Does the old gentleman have something?"

Just now Dong Zhenhai spoke out righteously, and his impression of the old man was also good.

Dong Zhenhai walked to his side, his gaze falling on the wrapped painting, and asked curiously.

"Young man, I don't think you're someone who doesn't understand the trade; you could tell the imitations that little Zhao recommended earlier, so why did you pick such an ordinary painting? Did you see some hidden value?"