Chapter 213: The Emperor's Image

Daoist Jing is a regular at the bank; it is said he has millions in savings, so the manager opened a VIP room specifically for him.

Just as things were arranged, the group of four entered the lobby. Squinting his eyes to take a look, Daoist Jing gave a start:

He was the one who invited Hao Jun, so why had he come together with the buyer?

Though suspicious at heart, the old Daoist was not slow in his movements and hurried to greet them.

The two shook hands, and Hao Jun smiled as he introduced, "Daoist Priest Jing, what a coincidence. I suppose you don't know yet, this is the worthy grandson of Professor Lin Zhangqing..."

The old Daoist was stunned, his heart skipping a beat: No wonder these two had come together?

Dongwang Temple often held folk activities and frequently organized fasting and offering rituals, which the old Daoist often went to assist with.

He hadn't spoken much with them, but he knew: Hao Jun, Lin Zhangqing, and a certain director from the Public Security Bureau were all Consultants for the City Cultural Relics Center, the Folk Museum, and Dongwang Temple (a trinity).

The three had an excellent relationship: eight times out of ten, if you saw one of them, you would see the other two.

But the problem was, back then, it was Museum Curator Wan of the Folk Museum who had asked Hao Jun to look at the Incense Burner, and the 300,000 valuation had also come from him.

With a relationship this close, could he just watch as Lin Zhangqing's grandson spent one million to buy an Incense Burner worth only three or four hundred thousand?

If things went wrong, today's business might fall through...

Pondering this, the old Daoist invited them into the VIP room.

Once everyone was seated, Lin Sicheng got straight to the point: "Daoist Priest, did you bring the item?"

"Of course!"

The old Daoist felt suspicious, but he still took out the Incense Burner.

As it was placed on the table, Zhao Xiuneng leaned forward.

The shape was extremely simple: circular, no handles, a hollowed-out knob on the lid, and three breast-shaped feet.

But it felt slightly strange: sloping shoulders, a constricted neck, and a bulging belly. At first glance, it looked like a tripod-style furnace, but the shoulder line was extremely sharp, as if carved by a knife or split by an axe.

Recalling further, neither the "Xuanhe Bogu Tupu" (compiled by imperial order of Song Huizong and edited by Wangfu, specifically recording Bronze from the Shang to Tang dynasties) nor the "Xuande Dingyi Tupu" (a catalog of ritual vessels from the Ming imperial household) contained any record of this furnace type.

The craftsmanship was quite good, made of red copper, with a symmetrical shape and a smooth body showing no casting marks. Touching it with one's hand, there was a slight, subtle matte texture.

Although the patterns were simple, they were all executed with the gold-inlay engraving technique: the front was decorated with double cranes, the back with an ancient pine, and the edges were embellished with sea waves and auspicious clouds.

Looking at the patina: the entire body presented a rustic Black Glaze feel, very bright and moist, looking brand new at first glance.

If it were before, Zhao Xiuneng would only have known that this was caused by years of burning incense in the furnace, but he wouldn't have known exactly how it was formed.

But having spent so much time with Lin Sicheng, he could actually explain it now: long-term high temperatures caused elements like potassium, sodium, and carbon in the incense ash to permeate the furnace, forming a dense copper compound and a carbon deposit layer.

This meant the furnace had been in constant use, with incense burning basically without interruption, and it was quite old, at least two hundred years or more.

Looking at the bottom mark: "Lay Buddhist Pochen."

Zhao Xiuneng tried hard to recall, but he really had no impression of it.

Just like that, looking back and forth, Zhao Xiuneng frowned: "Secretary-General Hao, what kind of furnace is this?"

"A gold-inlaid Double Crane Furnace!"

"And this furnace shape?"

Hao Jun paused: "Don't know?"

"Looking at the patina and burn marks, it should be around the mid-Qing Dynasty!" Zhao Xiuneng examined the bottom mark, "Lay Buddhist Pochen... Secretary-General Hao, who is this?"

Hao Jun didn't make a sound, glancing at him: Manager Zhao, are you doing this on purpose?

If I knew who this was, would this furnace have a chance to be picked up as a bargain by Lin Sicheng?

The two exchanged a look, and Zhao Xiuneng understood: it wasn't that his eye for antiques was lacking, but that this item was too obscure; even Hao Jun, who specialized in miscellaneous items, only had a superficial understanding.

Looking at it from another angle, precisely because the shape was strange and the origin unknown, even though the craftsmanship was excellent and it featured extremely rare gold-inlaid patterns, the valuation was only three or four hundred thousand.

Yet Lin Sicheng dared to buy it for one million; there must be some reason for it.

Just as he was thinking this, Lin Sicheng pointed a finger, and Zhao Da opened his bag, taking things out one by one: bank card, Contract, ink paste...

Daoist Jing's pupils constricted slightly: How was this different from what he had imagined?

Looking at Hao Jun, his eyes were filled with suspicion and his expression carried doubt; it was clear that, just like before, he felt this furnace was only worth three or four hundred thousand.

But he didn't even offer a reminder, let alone say more than a few words?

That kid was also quite casual, just glancing at it twice without looking any closer. He hadn't even looked at it much yesterday, and hadn't even handled it?

If you haven't eaten pork, haven't you seen a pig run? No matter how little Daoist Jing understood, he at least knew what a normal antique transaction looked like.

In any case, it was definitely not like this.

But as the old saying goes: if you miss this village, where will you find this shop?

One million—how many years would he have to live in fear and trembling to swindle that much?

After only a moment of hesitation, the Daoist opened the Contract. A quick glance, and his heart eased.

Since the deal was final, he certainly wouldn't go back on his word; what he feared was Lin Sicheng going back on his.

He signed his name in a few strokes, and the bank manager brought a teller to transfer the funds on the spot.

With a "ding-dong," the text message arrived. Digit by digit, he counted it three times: 1,095,000, down to the last cent, clear and accurate.

There was no trap as he had imagined, nor were there any twists and turns; from beginning to end, it proceeded step-by-step, just like buying vegetables at the market—you pack the vegetables, I pay the money.

While he was still suspicious, Zhao Da packed away the Incense Burner and the Contract, and Lin Sicheng put away his card: "Daoist Priest, we shall part ways here!"

Still that same expression, neither sad nor happy, without a ripple. It felt as if he hadn't just spent one million, but one hundred...

Suddenly, the old Daoist's mind became active again: such a generous patron, how many years would it take to meet another one?

Since he was idle anyway, he might as well take a shot at it; what if it worked?

Pondering secretly, the Daoist shook hands with Lin Sicheng and smiled again: "To tell the truth, Lay Buddhist, there are a few more pieces in the temple, all remains of past masters. I originally wanted to ask Secretary-General Hao to take a look; if it is convenient, let's go see them together!"

There are more?

And several pieces at that...

Lin Sicheng's eyes brightened slightly, and he nodded: "Good, let's go see them together!"

It is called a Daoist temple, but it is actually just that quiet hall. It is right across from the Jiaoda school gate, just around the corner.

Not driving, the few of them walked straight across the road.

There was someone guarding the shop, a young man of about twenty-six or twenty-seven, also dressed in the attire of a Daoist.

Daoist Jing said he was his apprentice, had him pour tea, and then he ducked into the back room to retrieve some items.

In just two or three minutes, Daoist Jing walked out holding a pile of boxes.

Long ones, short ones, square ones, flat ones; there were at least five or six pieces.

The boxes were new and wiped quite clean, but after they were opened, everyone's brows furrowed.

A short scroll with pine wood rollers, but the original color could no longer be distinguished; it was pitch black all over, oily and shiny like ink.

Looking at the backing, the color was yellow with a hint of black, as if it had been roasted by fire.

Untying the silk ribbon binding the painting, as soon as it was unfurled, a thick, smoky fragrance rushed toward them.

The composition was very neat: a stream at the feet, a stone under the sword, and a pine tree on the bank. But it was not well preserved; it had turned yellow all over, and several places had been discolored by smoke.

So, how many years had this been hanging in a temple being smoked?

Looking at the painting surface: silk-based color painting, an ascetic in tattered clothes with a headband stood barefoot in the water. He held a sword with both hands, sharpening it on a stone.

"A gourd hanging at the waist, a crutch by the feet; is this Tieguai Li?"

"The painting is not bad; the lines are fluid, the composition is neat, the still life layers are distinct, and the figure is floating and vivid..."

"Twelfth year of Yongzheng, Fan Zhengze of Gansu Lanzhou Prefecture, imitating... Fan Zhengze... no impression?"

"Secretary-General Hao, which piece is this imitating?"

"I don't know... There are many painters who paint the Eight Immortals, but I don't seem to have heard of one painting Tieguai Li sharpening a sword?"

Hao Jun and Zhao Xiuneng spoke one after another, looking extremely carefully.

Lin Sicheng took a rough glance, his eyes moving slightly: *Fang Huang Ji Lichan Tu*?

Huang Ji was a Ming dynasty court painter who reached the rank of Imperial Guard Vice Commander (a nominal title). During the Jiajing era, he received an imperial decree to paint, creating the Eight Immortals paintings, one of which was the *Tieguai Li Sharpening Sword to Exterminate Demons*, also known as the *Painting of Li the Cripple*.

Looking at this one before them, one wouldn't dare say it was exactly the same, but at least it was eighty or ninety percent similar; it was definitely a fine copy made by following the original painting.

But the problem was, Huang Ji's *Lichan Tu* had been passed down from the Ming to the Qing, and then to the present, and had never left the Forbidden City. So where was this one copied from?

Looking at the seal again, Fan Zhengze... After a moment of thought, Lin Sicheng suddenly realized: this painting and that incense burner, nine times out of ten, came together.

It couldn't be counted as a famous work, and its value was average, but it could be used to corroborate the origin of the bronze incense burner...

Pondering in his heart, Lin Sicheng pointed with his finger: "Daoist Priest, how much for this one?"

The old Daoist did not hesitate: "Eight hundred thousand!"

"How much?"

"Eight hundred thousand!"

Lin Sicheng was stunned for a moment, and Hao Jun and Zhao Xiuneng raised their heads in unison: No way... did this old Daoist really take Lin Sicheng for a sucker?

Hao Jun and Zhao Xiuneng each had their own specialties; they were just not proficient in calligraphy and painting, not ignorant. Let alone eight hundred thousand, even if it were only worth eighty thousand, it would certainly be a somewhat famous artist, and it would be impossible for them to have no impression.

Looking at this Fan Zhengze again, they had never heard of him at all.

Seeing the two staring straight at him, the Daoist smiled and pressed his palms together toward the shrine: "My sect's founding master was named Fan, given name Zheng, courtesy name Zhengze, titled Kanggu Zhenren."

Hao Jun and Zhao Xiuneng turned their heads in unison: So that was it, it was the old Daoist's founding master.

But Lin Sicheng did not understand Daoism, and looking at this painting again, to say how good it was, it was actually just average.

They just felt that even eight thousand was too much...

Lin Sicheng pointed to the painting surface: "This painting has been repaired!"

After a pause, Zhao Xiuneng and Hao Jun leaned forward.

Lin Sicheng was pointing at the gourd at Tieguai's waist; the two of them took several looks and looked at each other in dismay.

If Lin Sicheng hadn't reminded them, they really wouldn't have noticed: the mouth of the gourd had been eaten by insects and then touched up with color.

Lin Sicheng smiled: "Daoist Priest, look carefully, has it been repaired?"

The Daoist remained calm: "This old Daoist doesn't know much!"

"Which famous master is it imitating?"

"This old Daoist doesn't know, but it must be a famous master!"

You don't understand painting, and you don't know which piece it is imitating, yet you dare to ask for eight hundred thousand?

Lin Sicheng gestured: "Fifty thousand!"

The Daoist shook his head without thinking: "Lay Buddhist, please forgive me!"

Lin Sicheng smiled again: "Fine!"

At the word "fine," the Daoist was instead stunned: Was the price offered too high?

Of course he knew this painting wasn't worth eight hundred thousand, and even fifty thousand was high. But the Daoist thought: to each their own, these were all things passed down by the founding master; the incense burner sold for over a million, this painting should be worth half that, right?

Fifty thousand, the gap was truly a bit large...

The Daoist put away the scroll and unfurled the second one:

It was also a silk-based color painting; a high-minded scholar wearing Daoist robes was riding on a raft boat, traveling between the sky and the sea.

Looking carefully again, whether it was the composition, lines, atmosphere, or artistic conception, it was all stronger than the previous one.

Likewise, there was no seal, only a line of inscription: Tenth year of Yongzheng, Fan Zhengze of Gansu Lanzhou Prefecture, imitating!

Lin Sicheng took a rough look and smiled again: "Daoist Priest, still eight hundred thousand?"

Even though the old Daoist had a very thick skin, the corners of his mouth couldn't help but twitch.

He thought for a long while and held up two fingers: "Two hundred thousand!"

Lin Sicheng shook his head: "Hmm, Daoist Priest, roll it up first!"

The Daoist stared at him: "Lay Buddhist, how much do you think is appropriate?"

"Fifty thousand!"

Fifty thousand again?

The Daoist shook his head and rolled up the scroll.

Lin Sicheng did not mind and had the Daoist unfold the third one.

It was also silk-based color painting; beneath an ancient pine and beside a sea of clouds, two Daoists sat facing each other, one leaning back leisurely, the other sitting upright and humble, with a gourd wreathed in immortal mist placed between them.

Compared to the previous two, the composition was even more rigorous, the lines more delicate, and the scenery more vivid.

Even the artistic conception was much higher than the previous two.

It was still the same author, and besides the inscription, there was a postscript:

In the human world and in heaven, the brilliant silver clouds shine through clearly.

Just like the Gu She immortal, with natural grace and spiritual beauty, and a spirit that is lofty and pure.

Who can understand the myriad transformations, not ranked with the common flowers.

With noble spirit and pure brilliance, an immortal talent so outstanding, it is hard to distinguish in the world below.

Below that, another postscript was left: Celebrating the birthday of Perfected Person Changchun, in the thirteenth year of Yongzheng, the year of Yiyou and Renchen, respectfully presented by disciple Fan Zheng.

After taking a rough look, Hao Jun suddenly realized.

He had an impression of these four lines of verse; they were the second half of "No Vulgar Thoughts" written by Qiu Chuji, the leader of the Quanzhen Sect during the Southern Song Dynasty.

It originated from "Zhuangzi: Free and Easy Wandering": On the mountain of Miao Gu She, there lived a divine person, whose skin was like ice and snow, and whose grace was like that of a young maiden.

It implies that a high-minded person is untainted by dust, as clear as ice in a jade pot.

After Qiu Chuji retired to Longmen Cave in Liupan Mountain (at the border of Shaanxi and Gansu), he founded the Longmen Sect. Since the Yuan Dynasty, it had stood on equal footing with Longhu Mountain, controlling half of the Daoist world.

Looking again at the line at the very bottom, "Celebrating the birthday of Changchun Zhenren," it should have been written by the master of the Daoist priest Jing during Qiu Chuji's birthday.

After taking another look, Hao Jun raised his head: "Does Daoist Priest Jing come from the Longmen Sect?"

"Exactly!" The Daoist priest Jing performed a salute, "My grandmaster was the tenth-generation grandmaster of the Longmen Sect, who practiced in seclusion at Qiyun Mountain (Gansu) and founded the Zizai Sect..."

Zizai Sect, never heard of it?

Hao Jun was noncommittal and looked at Lin Sicheng again: "What do you think of this one?"

"It's alright!"

Lin Sicheng nodded slightly, but his heart felt indescribably strange.

All three were imitations; in terms of composition, brushwork, coloring, and even artistic conception, they were still some distance from the masters, staying at a medium-to-high level.

The key was the figures painted inside:

The previous one, that is, the "High Person Riding a Raft" painting, was an imitation of "Yinzhen's Leisurely Life Album: Riding a Raft to Become an Immortal."

The Daoist riding the raft on the sea in the painting was Yongzheng.

The latter one was an imitation of "Yinzhen's Leisurely Life Album: Daoist Attire Two Circles One Qi Painting."

Looking at the inscription again: Celebrating the birthday of Perfected Person Changchun, in the thirteenth year of Yongzheng, the year of Yiyou and Renchen, respectfully presented by disciple Fan Zheng.

The Changchun Zhenren here was not Qiu Chuji, but the Daoist title bestowed upon Qianlong after Yongzheng ascended the throne.

And below that, the thirteenth year of Yongzheng, the year of Yiyou and Renchen, calculated according to the Heavenly Stems and Earthly Branches, should be the thirteenth day of the eighth lunar month of 1735.

It just so happened that this was Qianlong's birthday. Therefore, the male Daoist leaning back in the painting was Qianlong.

The key point was that it was still a fine-brush color painting; what did this mean?

These were two portraits of Qing Dynasty emperors...