Chapter 981: A One-Yuan Tang Bohu Genuine Work

Fu Xinping was sitting in his office drinking tea when he received Peng Xianjun's phone call.

After listening to Peng Xianjun's complaints.

Fu Xinping replied meaningfully: "Peng Boss, your nephew's misdeed is no small matter; in principle it won't work." Then he hung up.

Because Peng Xianjun had not yet shown enough sincerity.

Over the years, he had helped Peng Xianjun settle many thorny matters. Peng Xianjun is also someone who understands the rules, and he believes this time will be no exception.

Fu Xinping set down his teacup, picked up the documents on the desk, and turned them slowly, taking it easy.

Now Cao Shaozhen is detained in the detention center, and the one who should be anxious is Peng Xianjun.

As expected.

The next day, Peng Xianjun called again, everything was within Fu Xinping's expectations.

Peng Xianjun said on the phone:

"Chief, today my calligraphy and painting collection has received a new batch of items. There are a few nice paintings; I'd like you to come appraise them. You're an expert in this field, help me give them a look."

Fu Xinping laughed: "Old Peng, you're just flattering me."

Peng Xianjun also spoke easily: "I'm telling the truth. Your eyesight is far better than those so-called experts. I'll send a car to pick you up tomorrow morning at ten."

"That works; I happen to be free tomorrow morning."

After hanging up, Fu Xinping leaned back in his chair, a hint of a contented smile appearing at the corner of his mouth.

Peng Xianjun's greatest strength is that he understands the rules, is meticulous in his work, and knows how to help leaders dispel their worries; that is also the main reason Fu Xinping is willing to deal with him.

The next morning at ten, Peng Xianjun's calligraphy and painting collection hall.

The collection hall is located in a quiet lane in the southern part of the city; the storefront is small, but inside it's another world.

A three-courtyard compound with blue bricks and gray tiles, a few stalks of verdant bamboo planted in the yard, a large water vat in the corner—supposedly it gathers wealth, and inside are kept several koi.

The overall arrangement is very elegant, resembling a private residence of an old-time scholar.

Fu Xinping's car stopped at the entrance.

Peng Xianjun personally came out to greet him, his face beaming with enthusiasm: "Chief, it's truly an honor to have you, this veritable Mount Tai, please come in."

"You flatter me; I dare not accept the title of the pinnacle of the calligraphy and painting world—it's just a hobby of mine."

Fu Xinping was modest in words, yet his bearing carried the air of a master. He got out of the car, adjusted his collar, strode forward with steady official steps, and followed Peng Xianjun inside.

Passing through the front hall, he entered the central hall.

The walls hung with several calligraphic works, the table set with the four treasures of the study, and the air faintly scented with sandalwood.

"Old Peng, this place of yours is getting more and more flavorful." Fu Xinping looked around and praised.

Peng Xianjun laughed: "It's all thanks to your support; without your patronage these years, I couldn't have afforded to open this collection hall."

Fu Xinping smiled but didn't respond, his gaze falling on a painting.

It was a vertical landscape scroll, the brushwork vigorous and ink forceful, the momentum grand; the signature faintly showed the two characters "Tang Yin". Fu Xinping's eyes lit up briefly, then quickly returned to calm.

Peng Xianjun noticed the change in Fu Xinping's eyes and had a sense of it.

He stepped forward, pointed at the painting, and said: "Chief, this painting I recently acquired from a collector; it's said to be a genuine work of Tang Bohu. You're an expert, please take a look and see if I've been mistaken."

"Really? Let me have a look."

Fu Xinping walked up to the painting and examined it carefully.

He looked for Along time, from brushstrokes to ink color, from composition to signature, missing no detail. His hand lightly brushed the surface, as if caressing a precious piece of porcelain.

At the end.

Fu Xinping, however, suddenly shook his head regretfully: "Old Peng, I'm afraid you've been mistaken this time. What era is this now? How could there be so many genuine Tang Bohu works on the market?"

Upon hearing this, Peng Xianjun exclaimed in shock: "Mistaken? You mean... this is a forgery?"

"Isn't it just a forgery? A fake can't become real."

Fu Xinping pointed to a spot on the painting, adopting an expert's pose: "Look at the ink usage—Tang Bohu's paintings have clear, moist ink with distinct layers. Here it's somewhat sluggish, lacking a bit of fiery spirit. And look at the signature: in a genuine work, the 'Yin' character should flow smoothly, done in one breath. But here it's stiff, obviously a later imitation."

Upon hearing Fu Xinping say that, many calligraphy and painting enthusiasts nearby gathered to learn.

Peng Xianjun's face was embarrassed, but he secretly smiled without speaking.

Seeing Fu Xinping's attitude, he knew the Chief had understood—this is indeed a genuine Tang Yin work! The Chief's apparent regret is actually delight.

Things like pointing at a deer and calling it a horse, or picking bones out of an egg—those are the Chief's forte.

"Alas, it seems my skill is still insufficient." Peng Xianjun let out a light sigh, cooperating with the Chief, putting on an ashamed expression: "I originally wanted to acquire a genuine piece to anchor the collection, but I didn't expect to still be mistaken."

Fu Xinping patted his shoulder: "In the collecting business, you won't become a big player without making a few mistakes. Take it slow, don't rush."

"That's true."

Peng Xianjun nodded, suddenly enlightened.

Suddenly he clapped his hands, calling to the onlookers around: "Everyone, today you're all here, please do me a favor and show up. I plan to auction this forgery on the spot, starting bid one yuan. Whoever is interested can bid. The proceeds will all go to the welfare home, which also counts as a good deed."

The dozen or so people present were all members of Wuzhou's calligraphy and painting circle—some ran galleries, some were collectors, some were well-versed enthusiasts.

In the antiquities circle, who isn't a sharp operator?

They glanced at the painting, then at the newly appointed official Fu Xinping, and knew in their hearts as clear as a mirror. Even thinking with their buttocks, they knew Old Peng had summoned them just to make up the numbers.

"I have no interest in forgeries; if you want to auction, go ahead."

"Heh, who would spend money on fake goods? That would just make you a sucker."

"Old Peng, you'd better keep it yourself and enjoy it slowly."

……

Everyone chattered, no one bid, seemingly having agreed not to give Peng Xianjun face.

Peng Xianjun gave a wry smile: "Looks like no one wants this forgery. I said you all are really something—starting bid is only one yuan. What can one yuan do? You can't buy a loss, nor can you buy being taken in."

"Old Peng is right." Fu Xinping smiled: "Since it's for a good cause, I'll bid one yuan to give you a floor."

Peng Xianjun gave an embarrassed laugh: "Chief, how can I let you incur expense?"

Fu Xinping chatted and laughed animatedly: "It's just one yuan, not exactly a waste; consider it as supporting your good deed. I hope you keep up the effort and roll this charity snowball bigger."

"Thank you, Bureau Chief, for helping to backstop." Peng Xianjun clasped his hands in salute, and asked the people around: "The Bureau Chief has already bid one yuan; is anyone else willing to help roll the snowball?"

"Haha, Old Peng, you roll this snowball yourself." A big shot in the calligraphy/painting world joked: "The one yuan goes to you, this fake painting goes to the Bureau Chief. But when you donate to the welfare institution, how can you feel good donating that one yuan? You have no choice but to dig into your own pocket and add a bit more; we won't help you fill this gap."

"Hehe, you really like to bring up the sore spot."

A bunch of drama queens, each pretending to be confused while knowing the truth; in the midst of chatting and laughing, Fu Xinping secured Tang Bohu's genuine work for the price of one yuan.