Chapter 128: Things of the Same Kind

The old man was cursing and swearing, snorting heavily through his nose, and repeatedly inquiring after the family members of a certain Calligraphy and Painting Association Chairman.

As soon as Lin Sicheng heard this, he knew he was cursing Ding Liang.

The very one who said Lin Zhangqing was crazy with poverty and that the Ma teacher who gave the Qianlong Iron Seal to Lin Sicheng was a good friend of his.

The young man was slightly better; seeing people come to the stall, he whispered a reminder: "Dad!"

The old man lifted his eyelids.

Two adults and one child: the man was handsome, the woman was beautiful, and a half-grown little chubby boy followed behind.

They were dressed quite brightly, but they were too young, which meant they had no eye for quality. At the same time, it also meant they had no purchasing power.

The old man only glanced at them and ignored them thereafter.

The young man was quite enthusiastic and hurried to greet them: "Would the two of you like to take a look? Authentic Southern Song Dynasty Ma Lin, guaranteed genuine!"

Lin Sicheng smiled and looked at the old man: "Didn't Chairman Ding of the City Calligraphy and Painting Association just appraise it?"

The young man's expression stiffened: his old man had been cursing the whole way, so whatever there was to hear, he had heard long ago. So, how could he still guarantee it was genuine?

He gave a sheepish smile: "Chairman Ding's eye for quality is lacking!"

Lin Sicheng was noncommittal: "Do you have a flashlight and a magnifying glass? May I borrow them?"

"Yes, we do!"

The young man nodded hurriedly and rummaged through his father's bag; the old man curled his lip but didn't say a word.

The items were handed over; Lin Sicheng took the magnifying glass, and Ye Anning took the initiative to take the flashlight.

Both paintings were ink on silk, with vacuum film on the surface, roughly the same technology as the kind used for laminating advertising cards. However, it was much thinner than that.

One was a hilly water village, with minimalist composition and elegant brushwork; in the painting, the hills were high and the forests dense, with lush vegetation and a misty wind and rain.

The image had extreme depth, from far to near: distant hills, dense forests, sturdy grass, ponds, thatched cottages, as well as slanting wind and fine rain.

There was a great deal of scenery, yet the layout was harmonious; it possessed both the height and breadth of a landscape and the vitality of vegetation, and amidst the wind and rain, it revealed a sense of tranquility and detachment.

The artistic conception was extremely high and also extremely wonderful.

Looking at the composition again: it was the typical "Residual Mountains and Remaining Waters" layout pioneered by Ma Yuan of the Southern Song Dynasty, which only took a corner of the hills and, through the rendering of a massive forest, formed a highly contrasting linear expansion with the still life or figures occupying a tiny fraction of the opposite corner.

Looking at the brushwork again: first, the hills were drawn with the vigorous "Big Axe Cleave Texture," then the dense forests, river water, and still life were swept out with fine, fragmented brushstrokes. The lines were thick when they needed to be thick and thin when they needed to be thin; there was softness within the strength, and strength within the softness.

Then, it was rendered with the Accumulated Ink Method; the ink color went from dark to light, and the gloomy Jiangnan sky at dusk leaped onto the paper.

Lin Sicheng counted carefully; it had been rendered at least seven times.

Stepping back to look again, the entire painting faintly transmitted light: clouds and mist flowed in the blank spaces, and waves surged in the heart of the river; there were both rolling clouds and curling waves, and at a hurried glance, it was as if ten thousand miles were within reach.

In later generations, famous masters called Ma Yuan "Ma One Corner" and Ma Lin "Ma Small Scenery," meaning "a small scene in one corner, and you see the ends of the earth."

So, just looking at the craftsmanship and brushwork, was this painting really a work by Ma Lin?

After pondering for a moment, Lin Sicheng raised the magnifying glass again to look at the seals: one was "Yu Chi Sheng," one was "Ma Lin," and one was "Ma Family Collection."

The engraving was exquisite, the depth was uniform, but there was one point: it was too new; all three seals were exactly the same kind of new.

In the middle, there were two more, one "Jia Dongnan" and one "Shanghu Gaoren," which should be collector's seals. But Lin Sicheng recalled them and had no impression.

However, just looking at the highly evocative painting style and the extremely unique craftsmanship, Lin Sicheng still felt that this painting looked like an authentic Ma Lin.

Seeing Lin Sicheng's eyes getting brighter and brighter, Ye Anning's voice was extremely low: "It feels too new!"

"It is very new!" Lin Sicheng thought for a moment, "But looking only at the craftsmanship, you have been to the Calligraphy and Painting Museum with your teacher's wife; you should have seen similar paintings, right?"

Ye Anning paused and nodded.

In the Forbidden City, there were collections of paintings by the father and son Ma Yuan and Ma Lin, such as Ma Yuan's "Stepping on Songs" and "Mountain Path Spring Travel," and Ma Lin's "Layered Ice Silk" and "Quietly Listening to Pine Wind."

Recalling those two paintings, they had many similarities with the two before them, especially the "small scene freehand" composition method and the "axe cut texture and fine strokes" craftsmanship in the latter two, which were identical to the one before them.

But it was still that same point: it was too new... no, one could say it this way: there wasn't a single place that wasn't new.

First was the silk; although it appeared light yellow, this was the color tone that painting silk should naturally present after being dyed with plant materials like Amur cork tree and acorn cups.

If stored for eight or nine hundred years, the real silk would inevitably age, and the silk color would have turned dark yellow and completely lost its luster; it would never have the "new and shiny" visual sensation before them.

Second was the ink: in any ink rendering, the dark corners between hills and under tree roots must be dark ink, close to pure black. But after eight or nine hundred years, the ink color would inevitably fade, tending toward a "blackish-gray" color. But this one was still pure black.

Third were the seals; the seals on this painting were exactly like freshly bought seal paste, redder than the lipstick in her bag.

Additionally, there was the mounting: the silk borders, the scroll, the backing paper... in any case, there wasn't a single place that wasn't new.

Ye Anning didn't speak, only signaled with her eyes, and Lin Sicheng nodded repeatedly.

It was indeed quite new, but Lin Sicheng believed that even if it were new, it didn't necessarily prove that the painting was fake.

Secretly changing his train of thought, he raised his head: "How much for this painting?"

The young man's eyes lit up: "Five hundred thousand!"

Lin Sicheng nodded, "Oh, let me look some more!"

The old man sitting on the square stool paused and gave another look. The young man suddenly understood: "It can be lower, but not too much!"

Lin Sicheng understood immediately: at a glance, this father and son were novices at collecting. Of course, it was also possible they were in a hurry for money and anxious to offload it.

Lin Sicheng smiled again: "Don't be in a hurry, I haven't finished looking!"

He was truly looking, not just turning to leave.

He picked up the magnifying glass again and aimed it at the other painting.

A single reed on the river, a boat in the reeds, and a chubby old man on the boat, curled up and sleeping soundly at the bow.

The reeds were light and airy, the cloth clothes had wrinkles, the autumn wind was desolate, and the water rippled.

It imitated Ma Yuan's "Autumn River Fishing Hermit," treasured in the Taipei Palace Museum: the reed branches were outlined using the "Iron Money Silver Hook" method, the reed leaves were depicted with focal points, the water waves were laid out with scattered points, and the ink color had a five-stage transition.

It could be said to have embodied Ma Yuan's "one-corner intercepted scene" and Ma Lin's "small scene viewing the large" to the fullest.

Besides the poem on Ma Yuan's original work, there was also Wang Wei's "Mountain Residence Autumn Evening":

Empty mountain after new rain, the weather is autumn in the evening.

The bright moon shines among the pines, the clear spring flows over the stones.

Bamboo rustles as the washer-women return, lotus stirs as the fishing boat descends.

At will, the spring fragrance fades, yet the noble son may well remain.

The handwriting is exactly the same as the poem on the previous piece, not like a forgery. Therefore, Lin Sicheng suspects that this was very likely inscribed by Ma Yuan.

Besides this, in addition to the few seals on the previous painting, two more have been added: one reads "Ma Yuan," and the other "Yao Fu."

These two, both are the seals of Ma Yuan, the father of Ma Lin.

It is exactly the same as the previous piece: looking at the brushwork and the artistic conception, it looks authentic at first glance.

Looking at the silk quality, ink color, seals, and mounting, it looks fake at first glance.

But Lin Sicheng still leans toward the possibility of it being an authentic work, and by at least eighty percent...

After a rough look, Lin Sicheng looked at the edges: a corner of the film at the bottom of the painting silk was slightly curled up, and there was even a hole the size of a match head drilled into it.

He reached out to touch it, then leaned in to smell it; a faint bitterness was mixed within the sweet fragrance.

His eyelids jumped suddenly: beeswax mixed with cinnabar... his certainty increased by another ten percent, to ninety percent!

But it was fleeting; Lin Sicheng straightened his back calmly: "How much for this one?"

"This one is a bit more expensive, seven hundred thousand, but it can be a little lower... but rest assured, these two are definitely authentic works by Ma Lin..."

The young man was somewhat impatient, rummaged through his bag again, and pulled out a laminated piece of paper: "If you don't believe me, look!"

Lin Sicheng glanced at it, and his eyelids jumped again:

At the very top is the agency: Cultural Relics Export Appraisal Committee. Below it is the content: Both works are authentic works by the Southern Song Dynasty court painter Ma Lin... export prohibited.

Below that are the signatures: Xu Senyu (first Dean of the Palace Museum), Zhang Hang (Calligraphy and Painting expert), Xie Zhiliu (Calligraphy and Painting Expert)... a full six people.

Then there is the date and the official seal: July 18, 1950, "Tianjin Appraisal Station of the Cultural Relics Export Appraisal Committee."

This is an institution established only after the founding of the country, with the core task of reviewing applications for the export of Cultural Relics, prohibiting First-Class Cultural Relics and Cultural Relics of significant historical or artistic value from leaving the country.

It does not appraise authenticity, but its conclusion is more authentic than institutions that do appraise authenticity.

But unfortunately, it is a photocopy.

Lin Sicheng sighed: "Where is the original?"

The young man paused: "Lost!"

"Then you dare to ask for one million two hundred thousand?"

The young man twitched his lips, speechless.

If the original still existed, these two paintings would not have fallen into his father's hands, let alone here.

Nor would they have encountered an Expert who said: fake, newly faked, faked so poorly it's neither fish nor fowl.

And it would be even more impossible to sell them for only one million two hundred thousand.

He sighed: "Eight hundred thousand, for both... I'm really not lying to you, back in ninety, my dad bought them for one hundred eighty thousand!"

With the purchasing power around ninety, one hundred eighty thousand is roughly equivalent to two million today; it's like discounting it to the knees and then taking another slash.

And judging by the current value of these two paintings, even at a lower price, they are worth three million.

If considered from the perspective of "Artifact Research" and "Craft Restoration," the value is even higher.

Lin Sicheng, however, shook his head: "Too high!"

Ye Anning's eyes darted, and appearing unintentional, she pointed to the curled corner of the film and the small hole: "What is this?"

The young man was stunned, then gritted his teeth: "Nothing, five hundred thousand!"

Naturally, it could not be nothing: that small hole was clearly left after sampling for testing.

He figured these two young men certainly didn't understand, but they would definitely find someone to ask. Therefore, he lowered the price by three hundred thousand directly.

His father was just about to say something, but he turned his head and glared: "Why don't you do it then?"

His father sat back down, and the young man turned his head: "Really can't go any lower!"

It really couldn't go any lower; any lower, and this pair of father and son would have an internal conflict, and today's bargain would be ruined regardless.

Just at the right moment, Lin Sicheng revealed a hint of hesitation, then nodded: "Go to the east corner of the main gate, there's a service point there!"

The father and son were relieved.

Five hundred thousand is, of course, a big loss, but looking at it from another angle: they'd been selling for seventeen years, everyone who saw them said they were fake, and they were sick of it.

Losing a little is better than losing everything.

Almost without stopping, the pair packed up their poles and scrolls.

The bank was closed for the holiday on the eleventh, but at the request of the Cultural Relics Center and the district, a service point was specially kept at the corner of the Museum, serving large-transaction clients of the Cultural Relics Fair.

But no one had entered it at all, and the two tellers were almost asleep, so the processing was extremely fast.

When the transfer was completed, the father and son felt a sudden relief in their hearts: after holding onto them for more than ten years, they finally sold them.

The pair looked at each other and hurriedly said goodbye, as if afraid Lin Sicheng would go back on his word.

Just as they reached the door, the young man turned his neck again: "There is another painting, 'Pine and Crane Longevity' by Dai Jin of the Ming Dynasty; would you like to take a look?"

Lin Sicheng's eyes brightened slightly: "Where is the painting?"

"At home, but it's very expensive, at least two million..." the young man gestured, "but if you want to see it, by tomorrow at the latest... we are going to Shanghai the day after."

"Where should we meet?"

"Still here, other places' banks aren't open!"

"Good!" Lin Sicheng took out his phone: "Leave a number!"

They exchanged phone numbers, and the father and son hurried out of the bank.

Lin Sicheng, clutching the two long boxes, followed behind at a leisurely pace.

Just as he reached the bottom of the steps, he couldn't help but be startled: Hao Jun and Guan Xingmin were standing by the side of the road, presumably just off work.

But their expressions were very strange, their four eyes blinking, looking back and forth.

They looked at the father and son, who were running faster and faster like thieves, and then looked at Lin Sicheng, who was standing at the bank entrance clutching the scroll boxes.

Suddenly, Hao Jun gave a start and pointed to the long box under his arm: "Ma Lin's 'Autumn Mound Painting', and a copy of Ma Yuan's 'Fisherman in Autumn River'?"

Caught red-handed, Lin Sicheng did not deny it: "Correct!"

"How much did you spend?"

"Five hundred thousand!"

Hao Jun and Guan Xingmin exchanged a look and breathed a collective sigh of relief: "Not much of a loss!"

A loss?

Lin Sicheng smiled: "Director Guan, is the Shijian open for business as usual tomorrow?"

"Of course, 365 days a year, on call 24 hours a day; otherwise, how could it be called a public security agency?"

Guan Xingmin smacked his lips, "You want to run some tests, right? But Sicheng, I advise you not to test..."

Hao Jun gritted his teeth and chuckled, "Heh, heh, heh."

If Lin Sicheng had lost two or three million, the two of them would certainly be anxious, but at only five hundred thousand, it was painless...

Lin Sicheng could earn that back just by repairing two porcelain bowls; as bad friends, they naturally had to gloat.

It was also because Lin Sicheng had no track record in Calligraphy and Painting, just a Chicken Feather Duster and a piece of calligraphy by Dong Qichang.

But the former was bamboo carving and the latter was Sanskrit, which successfully led these two astray: they assumed that for those two items, Lin Sicheng had relied on something other than his skill in Calligraphy and Painting.

Furthermore, these two paintings had too long a history, even longer than that Sanskrit Heart Sutra of Ma Lan's. The famous Calligraphy and Painting Experts in the city had basically all seen them, and everyone who saw them called them fake.

The key was that every test that could be done had been done, and not a single one was correct.

Of course, there were still some doubts: what if all the experts had misjudged, and the instruments had also erred, and Lin Sicheng alone had picked up a bargain?

For example, the Iron Seal of Qianlong, or that bronze Incense Burner at the Shijian.

Hao Jun reined in his smile: "Lao Guan is right, don't rush to test it yet, go eat first. And while you're at it, let us feast our eyes..."

"Another day, tomorrow works too!" Lin Sicheng shook his head with a smile, "I have things to do today!"

What things, accompanying Ye Anning?

That's right, by comparison, five hundred thousand wasn't even worth a fart.

Five million wouldn't even be a thing...

The two of them gave knowing smiles: "Alright, alright, another day!"

After saying goodbye, Hao Jun and Guan Xingmin took their leave first.

Seeing no one was around, Ye Anning lowered her voice, but her eyes shone with excitement: "A genuine Ma Lin?"

Look, Ye Anning didn't doubt it!

Lin Sicheng nodded: "Correct, a genuine one!"

"But why is it so new?"

"The process is very complicated; I need to re-test it before I can draw a conclusion!"

Ye Anning's eyes grew even brighter: "What about that piece of calligraphy by Dai Jin?"

Lin Sicheng thought for a moment: "Hard to say, but the possibility is very high!"

A painting by Dai Jin, the founder of the Zhe School and a representative figure of the Ming dynasty court painting school, only sold for two million?

It would need to be multiplied by three to be about right.

Thinking back to the expressions of the father and son when they left while talking about the Dai Jin painting: regret mixed with pain, hope mixed with expectation... it was exactly the same as when they sold these two: afraid of losing too much, yet afraid Lin Sicheng wouldn't buy.

Could it be that they were the same type of thing?

I must go take a look tomorrow...