Chapter 296: The Unused Snuff Bottle

After a rough look, Lin Sicheng placed it back on the stall: "Boss, how much?"

The man with the goat-beard didn't speak, holding up three fingers.

Again?

You want me to guess, right?

"Three hundred?" Lin Sicheng made a move to take out his wallet: "That's fine, not too expensive!"

The goat-beard was stunned for a moment: "Boss, look properly. This is a Shi teapot? After the three hundred, you need to add a 'ten thousand'..."

"A Shi teapot?" Lin Sicheng laughed, "If a Shi teapot were placed here today, it would be four hundred years old if not five hundred. The tea scale would have crystallized into a layer at least half a millimeter thick. Look at this one of yours; the tea stain has barely seeped into the pot wall, at most 0.2, it can only be considered a layer of skin."

"A four or five-hundred-year-old teapot, having been subjected to hot water for a long time, would have already formed heavy crystallization in the clay, making the pot body as dense as stoneware. Even if you threw it in a water vat to soak for three days, it would still bead water when pulled out. Look at this one of yours again; it smears into a patch just by touching a bit of morning dew. How high is its breathability?"

"Look at the patina again. The characters on the pot body are almost filled in, yet the bottom edge is sharp enough to prick the hand? It must have been rubbed with pigskin every day and then wiped with a rice husk ball, but only the body was wiped, not the bottom..."

With every sentence Lin Sicheng spoke, the goat-beard's eyes widened a fraction, and a "Holy crap" got stuck in his throat.

It's all tea scale, what's the difference between a half-millimeter layer and a 0.2-millimeter skin?

Machines could certainly measure it, but to say you can see it with your eyes... that's total bullshit.

What "heavy crystallization," he certainly didn't understand. What "beading water" or "smearing patches" were things he was hearing for the first time. But he couldn't blame that on himself: a four or five-hundred-year-old Purple Clay Teapot wouldn't reach this place, and he had never seen one, so how would he know what a clay body as dense as gravel looked like?

What made the goat-beard most suspicious was the last sentence: rubbing with pigskin and wiping with a rice husk ball—this was his own secret technique?

Damn it, did he run into an expert?

After being stunned for a good while, he put the teapot away.

"Don't be in such a hurry to put it away!" Lin Sicheng smiled and gestured with his hand: "Six thousand!"

The goat-beard bared his teeth and grimaced, looking quite uncomfortable.

It wasn't that the price wasn't right; it was a matter of mutual consent, and if it weren't right, he would have chased the person away.

It was that this offer was too vicious: it was just enough for him to make a little profit, but not too much, maybe just a thousand or eight hundred.

That was why he felt uncomfortable.

After hesitating for a moment, he cupped his hands: "Please enlighten me!"

Lin Sicheng's lips moved slightly: "Cheng Shouzhen!"

What else was there to say?

He nimbly wrapped the Purple Clay Teapot in a cloth, shoved it into a box, and then solemnly bowed to Lin Sicheng.

Lin Sicheng smiled: "Good, may your business flourish!"

"Flourish... flourish!" The boss hunched his back, his face piled with smiles, "Take your time!"

Jing Zeyang and Fang Jin were completely bewildered.

Lin Sicheng just asked for a price, so why did the boss's attitude suddenly do a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree turn?

Especially at the end, nodding and bowing with a fawning smile.

The three of them walked more than ten meters away, and Jing Zeyang looked back: the goat-beard was still standing respectfully by the stall, like a eunuch seeing off the Empress Dowager.

"Cousin Lin, what's the situation with that boss?"

"Nothing much, he thought the price I offered was too low!"

"That's not all, right?"

Lin Sicheng didn't speak again, just smiled.

The reason the boss was so respectful was, first, he respected his sharp eye and accurate judgment. Second, he was afraid he would expose the origin of the teapot.

As the saying goes, peers are enemies; if the vendors on either side heard even a word or two, he wouldn't be able to sell that teapot at all.

Of course, he could still sell it for five or six thousand. But rather than selling it for five or six thousand, he would rather leave it on the stall to attract more customers.

Since the item couldn't be sold and he needed something from the other party, he could only be respectful and well-behaved, sending Lin Sicheng away like a plague god.

Lin Sicheng didn't explain too much, and Jing Zeyang didn't ask in detail; the three of them walked and browsed.

As they walked, Jing Zeyang stopped, a curious expression on his face.

It was a small stall, displaying nothing but Snuff Bottles. Copper, porcelain, jade, glass—they were made of every material.

There were new ones and old ones, good ones and bad ones, and no shortage of those covered in patina, as dirty as if they had just been soaked in a pile of grime.

There was also no lack of artificially aged modern products: machine-pressed copper bottles, gas-kiln-fired porcelain bottles, and even dyed Quartz jade.

"Cousin Lin, look at that one: the one with the flowers painted on it." Jing Zeyang pointed to one of them, "That should be for the Eight Banners descendants to smoke opium, right?"

Lin Sicheng looked back: a glass body with an Inner Painting of a cluster of flowers, colorful, delicate, and bright.

At first glance, it looked like a blooming chrysanthemum. Actually, it wasn't; it was a poppy. Looking closer, there were black-brown smoke stains remaining on the bottom of the bottle.

If you picked it up and opened the lid, you would surely smell the stale, urine-like odor unique to opium.

But there was no need to doubt: it was a modern craft. The opium stains on the bottom of the bottle were all glued on.

After taking two looks, Lin Sicheng shook his head.

Jing Zeyang was stunned: Fake?

The stall owner was in his thirties, busy wiping things down. Hearing the movement, he stood up: "You want this crystal opium bottle, right? It's not expensive, eight thousand yuan!"

Jing Zeyang shook his head: "What kind of thing is eight thousand yuan?"

"If eight thousand is too expensive, why are you browsing Panjiayuan?" The stall owner raised his head, looking askance, "The glass factory ones are cheap, eighty cents each!"

The words were harsh, and the look in his eyes was even more piercing.

"Hey~"

Jing Zeyang let out a strange cry and started rolling up his sleeves: "Who are you calling a poor ghost?"

The stall owner stood up unhurriedly, took a step back, and looked askance again: "It's fine, I have several imperial wares on this stall, feel free to smash them!"

His hand was already clenched into a fist, but Jing Zeyang paused: he had forgotten for a moment that this was Panjiayuan.

"Fine, you're awesome!" Suddenly, he lost his temper and gave a thumbs up, "You just wait for me!"

"Wait if you want to wait!"

Lin Sicheng couldn't help but want to laugh.

From this, it was evident that although Jing Zeyang was a bit of a slacker, he hadn't picked up many habits of a second-generation rich kid; otherwise, why would he waste breath on you? He would have moved to smash it long ago.

That said: with this quality, even if it really were a late Qing Dynasty Snuff Bottle, it wouldn't be worth eight thousand, unless it had been used by a prince or a Beile.

It was normal for Jing Zeyang to think it was expensive, but the stall owner had been abrasive the moment he opened his mouth; he didn't seem like someone doing business, but rather someone looking for trouble.

"Are you just watching the stall for someone?" Lin Sicheng glanced at him a few times. "Did you get scolded by the boss?"

The stall owner rolled his eyes: "What business is it of yours what I do?"

Lin Sicheng didn't mind. "Just looking is fine, right?"

The stall owner didn't speak, but let out a cold snort through his nose.

Lin Sicheng squatted down, looked around, and picked up a Blue and White Porcelain Snuff Bottle.

It wasn't fired porcelain, but carved porcelain: carved first, then fired. This technique had a relatively high level of difficulty: because the carved porcelain body varied in thickness, the tension and stress intensity were uneven; it would either crack in the firing or the glaze would flake off, so finished products were extremely rare.

Looking at this one again: the entire body was a creamy white, and the bottle was carved with scrolling lotus patterns, the petals layered and lifelike.

At first glance, it was quite exquisite, but there was one point: it was too new.

The bottle body, no more than seven centimeters high, had a texture so fine it lacked a single impurity, and the glaze was bright enough to reflect a person's image. Looking closer, one could even see extremely fine parallel lines at the mouth of the bottle, like traces left by sandpaper polishing.

The Brass clasp of the bottle cap had regular edges and was as shiny as new; one couldn't find any of the patina that an old object should have.

The most conspicuous part was the scrolling lotus on the belly of the bottle; the lines of the petals were too smooth, and even the veins on the leaves were carved identically. It didn't look like the style of hand-carving at all, but rather the product of a modern mold pressing followed by simple trimming.

Overall, it didn't have a shred of the aura of an old object.

Including the bottom mark "Made in the Jiaqing Reign of the Great Qing," which was carved just like a laser marking.

Now that was strange.

The item wasn't expensive, just a few tens of thousands. Compared to the "leaks" he had picked up before, it wasn't even a drop in the bucket.

But an object that "is clearly real" yet "looks like a fake" was truly rare.

Lin Sicheng reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a Magnifying Glass. Shining it on the object, the edge of the bottle mouth showed a slight circular arc, and the minute traces of wear were visible at a glance.

It was very regular, with the direction basically following the same path; no matter how Lin Sicheng looked at it, it didn't look like it was formed by long-term use and repeated rubbing, but rather initial polishing marks.

He looked at the lotus pattern again; although the lines were smooth, one could see tiny concave points at the base of every petal. These were marks left by the uneven force of the Craftsman's wrist when carving by hand with an engraving knife. If it were a modern machine carving the body and trimming the clay, it would be impossible to imitate these subtle differences.

He took out a Flashlight and held it against the bottom of the bottle; the interior of the bottle body vaguely revealed a dense "Sticky Rice Body" texture.

This type of body was unique to the Qing Dynasty Official Kiln; after the Kaolin from Jingdezhen was repeatedly washed, it would form a granular texture similar to sticky rice porridge after firing.

Even if modern imitations could create a similar body, they lacked this warmth that radiated from within, instead exuding a stiff "porcelain-like" quality.

He tapped the bottle body with his finger again; the crisp sound carried a trace of heavy resonance, like the echo after an ancient bell is struck. This was the unique sound of old porcelain after long-term aging had loosened the body; the sound of new porcelain, while crisp, was piercing and lacked this sense of weight.

Tsk, good luck; it really was a genuine item.

Lin Sicheng put away the Magnifying Glass and was just about to ask the price when he paused.

Jing Zeyang was grinning, laughing with schadenfreude. Opposite them, the stall owner from before was standing to the side with his head hanging low, replaced by an old man of about sixty. The two looked very similar; one could tell at a glance they were father and son.

Looking further back, behind the pair was a rather large storefront with a plaque hanging above the door: Jin Gu Zhai.

He understood; the stall and the shop were one and the same. He didn't know how Jing Zeyang had discovered it, but he had called the old man out while he was busy looking at the porcelain bottle.

Nine times out of ten, he had also filed a complaint.

It was better now that someone else was there.

Lin Sicheng picked up the porcelain bottle: "Boss, has this bottle been smoked?"

The boss was stunned for a moment, as if asking: How did you know?

"Acquired it two years ago; it had already been smoked when it arrived. The seller tried to fool me, but I saw through it at a glance, and in the end, they ran off without even taking the item."

"I washed it afterward and realized it was a new object. But it doesn't matter; machine-carved, fired in modern times. If you want it: one hundred yuan."

So it really was Panjiayuan?

If it were a modern machine-carved craft, it would cost at most ten yuan outside.

Lin Sicheng paid the money readily and weighed it in his hand: "Brother Jing, do you like it? If you do, pick one out?"

Jing Zeyang shook his head: "I don't smoke, and I don't like these kinds of things."

Lin Sicheng casually put it into his pocket: "If you don't like it, then forget it!"

He just assumed Lin Sicheng had taken a fancy to it and bought a little trinket. Jing Zeyang didn't think it was worth it, but he didn't say anything.

One hundred yuan, just for fun.

But Fan Qiang was an Assistant after all, and having followed him for over half a year, he understood a little: if the item wasn't right, there was no way Lin Sicheng would have looked at it for so long.

However, he held back and didn't ask.

As they kept walking forward, Jing Zeyang noticed something wrong: weren't they supposed to be browsing the stalls? Why did it feel like they were rushing somewhere?

"Cousin Lin, where are we going?"

"Looking for some meal money."

What the hell?

Just as he was completely confused, Lin Sicheng stepped onto the stairs of a storefront.

Looking up, Jing Zeyang's eyes bulged: Tian Hui Zhai?

He had grown up in Beijing, after all; no matter how ignorant he was, he knew what Tian Hui Zhai was: a two-hundred-year-old brand starting from the Daoguang era, specializing in snuff and snuff bottles.

The four great masters of Qing Dynasty Inner Painting (snuff bottles)—Ye Zhongsan, Zhou Leyuan, Ma Shaoxuan, and Ding Erzhong—along with opera greats like Yang Xiaolou, Yu Shuyan, and Mei Lanfang, were all guests of honor at Tian Hui Zhai.

After the founding of the nation, it became a joint venture, closed in the sixties, and resumed business in the late nineties. After tobacco control, they obviously couldn't sell tobacco, so they could only sell bottles; it was considered one of the state-run old brands.

It was said they had already applied to the city to prepare for the construction of a "Snuff Bottle Culture Museum."

Could Lin Sicheng be coming here just because he had bought one snuff bottle and wanted to buy another to make a pair?

In a flash, the three of them entered the door, and a beautiful greeter walked up: "Three distinguished guests, what would you like?"

"I don't want anything else, you should accept this item, right?" Lin Sicheng took out the porcelain pot, "Could you please ask the Manager to come over and take a look?"

The girl was stunned for a long while: after all that, he came to sell a Snuff Bottle?

It was also rare: she had worked here for several years, and this was the first time a customer came to sell a pot instead of buying one?

It was only because Lin Sicheng was good-looking, otherwise she would have thought he was here to find fault?

"No... Sir, we only sell items here, we don't buy them?"

Lin Sicheng smiled and pointed at the counter: "If you don't buy items, where did those come from?"

"Those were collected!"

Isn't that still buying?

Lin Sicheng couldn't be bothered to argue: "How about this, let the Manager take a look; if you don't buy it, I'll leave!"

"I can take a look, but there is an appraisal fee!" Looking at the porcelain pot in Lin Sicheng's hand that looked new no matter how one viewed it, the receptionist hesitated: "It's five hundred for one time!"

Lin Sicheng didn't care at all: "That's fine, five hundred it is!"

Seeing the receptionist looking bewildered, her eyes darting between the porcelain pot and Lin Sicheng's face, Jing Zeyang almost laughed out loud: Cousin Lin, you've made a fool of yourself, haven't you?

You insist on selling white rice to a rice shop, isn't this just being difficult?

After asking one more time to confirm that Lin Sicheng would pay the appraisal fee, the receptionist walked into the back office with a strange expression.

Before long, she brought back a man around forty years old, who also had a strange expression on his face.

After standing still, he looked him up and down, a few traces of mockery appearing on his face: "You folks, selling a pot?"

Lin Sicheng nodded: "Selling a pot!"

It really is?

Strange things happen every year, but this year there are especially many?

The Manager held back his laughter and found a seat by the window.

Lin Sicheng didn't waste words and put the item on the table. The Manager likewise didn't waste words, picked it up, and looked at it.

After about a minute, he put it down again: "The Engraving is stiff, there isn't a shred of spirit. The glaze color is too white, whiter than modern bone china. To cover up the Fire Qi of the new porcelain, it was deliberately smoked, but the smoking wasn't done thoroughly..."

"How about this, I'll be blunt: this is a modern handicraft!" After a slight pause, he reached out his hand, "Thank you for your patronage, two hundred!"

Lin Sicheng nodded and took out his wallet: "Excuse me, Manager, could you please ask the one who charges five hundred to come out and take a look?"

Jing Zeyang couldn't hold it in and let out a "pfft" laugh.

Looking at the seven red banknotes on the table, and then looking at the imitation carved porcelain pot, the Manager didn't know what to say.

He had seen plenty of the National Treasure Gang; if you stood on the roof of Panjiayuan and threw ten bricks down, hitting ten people, five of them would be from that group.

But to be this young, and look this striking, it really was his first time seeing one?

But it didn't matter, just consider it as offering cigarette money to the teacher...

He nodded, handed the money to the receptionist, and told her to enter it into the ledger at the cash register. Then he stood up and went into the back office.

He returned in an instant, followed by an old man around sixty years old.

After a brief introduction, the old man sat down. At first, he didn't pay much attention, thinking it was just another layman who thought he had struck gold and was dreaming of getting rich.

But as soon as the item was in his hands, he suddenly froze, his neck subconsciously stretching forward.

Something's wrong?

The body of this item is wrong.

His heart skipped a beat, and he turned the pot over.

Lin Sicheng nodded inwardly: as the saying goes, once an expert makes a move, you know if they have the skills. Anyone who truly understands porcelain knows the moment they touch the base of this pot that it is a genuine Sticky Rice Body from the Jingdezhen kilns of the Qing Dynasty.

To put it simply: the porcelain clay for modern porcelain is all pulverized by machines to a micron-level degree, whereas in ancient times it was ground by hand and washed repeatedly.

Modern imitations look delicate, but they lack the granular texture of the Qing Dynasty Sticky Rice Body.

Secondly, gas kilns control temperature much more stably than a Chai Kiln, which generates more glassy substances inside the porcelain body, significantly increasing the density of the body.

To put it simply: for the same size and volume, the imitation is heavier, and the genuine article is lighter.

Sure enough, after taking two looks and weighing it in his hand twice, the old man's eyes lit up: "Sticky Rice Body?"

Lin Sicheng nodded: "Yes, Sticky Rice Body!"

"Glasses, Magnifying Glass!" The old man straightened his back all at once, "And a Flashlight!"

Seeing his apprentice still looking dazed, the old man tapped the table: "What are you standing there for? Go get the things."

The middle-aged man finally reacted, his eyes bulging out: this thing, is it real?

No... it's so new, and it's clearly been artificially aged?

He didn't believe it at all in his heart, but he didn't dare to talk back, so the Manager obediently brought the old man's equipment.

When looking at porcelain, first look at the base.

After looking at it carefully, the old man looked at the belly of the bottle. The more he looked, the brighter his eyes became, and the more serious he grew.

Jing Zeyang and Fang Jin looked at each other, and the Manager had an expression like he had seen a ghost.

Lin Sicheng, however, was as steady as Mount Tai, taking the tea brought by the receptionist and sipping it slowly.

At first glance, this thing looks fake everywhere, but in reality, it couldn't be more real.

The belly of the bottle has no patterns, only some hair-thin lines remaining at the mouth, and they are extremely regular. At first glance, it looks like the cow-hair patterns imitated during artificial aging.

Actually, that is not the case: this was due to insufficient heat when it came out of the kiln; smoke was produced in the kiln, leaving a layer of smoke rust at the spout, which was then left behind after being polished by hand with fine linen and cowhide.

Therefore, the layer vaguely covering the body of the pot is not something that was smoked on later at all, but smoke rust that was there from the start, though not as obvious as at the spout.

The lines of the lotus pattern on the belly of the pot are too fluid; this is because this thing was carved by a Craftsman who could paint, could apply Enamel, and could even carve jade, using the 'carving-painting' technique: first tracing the pattern on the porcelain body, then carving it with a knife.

Jade is stone, but when this thing was carved, it was only a semi-dry mud body, so the Craftsman naturally carved it with ease and skill: the size of the patterns is the same, the shape is the same, and even the depth of the lines is the same, so of course it looks like a machine-made product.

It wasn't until the very end, when it was being glazed, that slight differences in the lines were produced due to the varying thickness of the glaze.

But it is extremely subtle, invisible to the naked eye, and requires a high-magnification Magnifying Glass.

It was just like the old man was doing now: glasses facing the mirror, mirror facing the pot body, almost inch by inch.

Finally, he turned the pot over again, but this time he was not looking at the bottom, but at the mark.

Looking at those six characters again: "Made in the Jiaqing Era of the Great Qing," they were indeed neat, as if they had been traced on. But as long as one was careful, one could discover a trace of subtle blurring at the end of the horizontal stroke of the character "Nian."

To put it bluntly, these six characters were not written on; they were first traced then carved, then filled level with Glaze Paste before entering the kiln—naturally, they could not be more standard.

That blurring was a mark formed after the Glaze Material permeated the porcelain body, which modern machines simply could not imitate.

The old man looked for a long time, unable to fathom it: "Everything else is easy to explain, but why can this ornamentation and this character mark be carved so neatly and yet be so three-dimensional?"

Lin Sicheng set down his Tea Cup and said unhurriedly: "Zha Dao!"

The old man paused, then suddenly realized.

The so-called Zha Dao is the use of the boneless technique from traditional China painting methods to decorate porcelain; the craft is extremely similar to the Kingfisher Feather Inlay of Copper-body Painted Enamel:

Using a tool shaped like a sewing Needle, one scratches patterns as fine as hair onto the plain body, then gathers them into the lines required for the decorative pattern.

Its characteristic is that the yin and yang are prominent and the three-dimensional effect is strong; its disadvantage is that it is extremely labor-intensive: a simple stroke often requires carving hundreds of times with the Needle, so it would be strange if it were not regular.

"Young man, you have a good eye and know a lot!"

The old man stared at Lin Sicheng and praised him sincerely.

He had worked in this trade for half a lifetime; he dared not say how formidable he was, but at least in Beijing, he had a name that carried weight.

Looking at the person before him, his face was so tender it could drip water, not many years older than his own grandson.

Sighing inwardly, the old man put down his Flashlight and Magnifying Glass, then took off his glasses: "It is indeed a good item. How about this: if you feel this price is appropriate, I will take it!"

The old man held up an "eight," and Lin Sicheng smiled: "Please be generous, add a little more and round it up!"

"Very well!" The old man nodded, "Then one hundred thousand!"

As the words fell, the three people beside them were all stunned: what on earth?

What kind of thing is worth one hundred thousand?

The manager opened his mouth, and seeing the receptionist go to call the finance department, he finally reacted: "No... Master, has this pot been smoked with tobacco?"

"That is because your eye is not good enough!" The old man sighed, "That was a lack of Fire Qi when it came out of the kiln, so it soaked up smoke! Including the wear marks, they were polished with cowhide at the time to grind away the smoke rust..."

The manager was stunned; he looked for a long time but could not make heads or tails of it.

But it was still wrong, wasn't it?

"Master, this pot is too new, and the patterns are carved too neatly, and the character mark on the bottom is carved even more regularly?"

"Fool, idiot!"

Being questioned by his apprentice time and again, the old man flared up with Fire Qi: "That is the Zha Dao process; every flower and leaf, every character has to be carved with thousands of cuts—how could it not be regular, damn it?"

"When it came out of the kiln, it lacked Fire Qi and soaked up smoke; it couldn't even be polished off, so it became a defective product. How could it enter the palace? If it didn't enter the palace, who would dare use such a thing? Since no one has used it, naturally there is no patina. Without a patina, doesn't it look like a new item?"

The old man grew angrier as he scolded, his eyes widening: "Get out of here..."

(End of chapter)