Chapter 489: Making the Old Look Old, Passing Off the Fake as Genuine

After resting for a moment, the housekeeper served tea again.

Changing locations was a hassle, so Chen Shiquan arranged for Chen Yunqing to order a banquet directly from a nearby hotel.

He even specifically requested that the tableware and servers be sent over together.

After sitting for about half an hour, the food cart arrived at the villa, and the group headed downstairs.

As they passed by, Chen Shiquan took the opportunity to give a brief introduction:

"The first floor is just for display, to keep up appearances. Although there aren't many items, they are quite varied. Of course, the quality is also relatively high..."

"The other half of the third floor is for Calligraphy and Painting, ancient books, and rubbings. There are many guests who enjoy this category, so the quantity is not small—there are about two hundred pieces... Half of the second floor is for Jade and miscellaneous items, such as Bamboo Wood Ivory Horn Carving, ancient coins, etc. This category has the largest quantity, about four or five hundred pieces..." By this calculation, the three floors added up to at least a thousand pieces, already comparable to a medium-sized antique shop in Beijing.

The key point was that the proportion of authentic items was quite high.

Just as they reached the second floor, Wang Qi Zhi paused: "Huh, there are actually Bronze items here too? But why is this half-floor so cluttered?"

It was indeed a bit cluttered, with every category of antique imaginable: ceramics, calligraphy and painting, jade, gold, silver, and bronze ware, stationery treasures, Bamboo Wood Ivory Horn Carving, and even lacquerware, textiles, and furniture.

Especially the latter three categories; unless it was a specialized shop, one rarely saw them in a general antique store.

The reason was simple: they were relatively niche, few people collected them, so they sold less...

Chen Shiquan said nonchalantly: "Oh, these are all left here by collector friends for consignment. There are quite a few items, so I specifically cleared out half a floor to display them..." Seeing a few pieces of enamel, Wang Qi Zhi became interested: "General Manager Chen, may I take a look?"

"Of course!"

Chen Shiquan replied, leading the way, and the group swarmed into the east half of the room.

Zhao Xiuneng followed behind, looking left and right, finding it stranger the more he looked.

He didn't know about the others, but he could at least tell that several of the porcelain pieces here seemed related to the ones they had just seen upstairs. For example, that Guanyin Statue—there was an identical one upstairs: the vessel shape was the same, the glaze was the same, and the patina and surface texture were also the same.

If he wasn't mistaken, the bottom mark should also be the same: all were from the late Ming period, bearing the "Buddha Dharma Sangha Treasure Hall" mark, specifically used for firing altar vessels.

And that pair of porcelain Incense Burners painted with auspicious clouds—although they weren't the same vessel type, looking at the border decorations, they were exactly the same as a Brush Pot upstairs.

It couldn't be that these consignment items were originally sold from Chen Shiquan's place, could it?

Pondering this secretly, Zhao Xiuneng gave Lin Sicheng a wink, and Lin Sicheng nodded slightly.

Zhao Xiuneng was shocked: Good heavens, is he really selling and collecting at the same time?

This meant this business had already been turned into a closed-loop industrial chain; just how much money must he be making?

Zhao Xiuneng really couldn't help himself and cupped his hands: "General Manager Chen, if I may ask, roughly how many pieces do you move here in a year?" "General Manager Zhao is too polite, it's nothing to ask!" Chen Shiquan said indifferently, "Three to five hundred pieces a year is about right."

Three to five hundred pieces?

At first glance, is that all?

But one couldn't ignore that everything they sold was a treasure; since they dared to guarantee authenticity, how low could the price be?

Zhao Xiuneng did a rough calculation and instantly had a general idea: even with small profits and quick turnover, General Manager Chen's annual profit was at least around twenty to thirty million. Of course, the costs of social networking and maintaining relationships were not small either. But no matter how high the costs, earning tens of millions a year was easy.

Suddenly, Zhao Xiuneng's heart grew hot: this business, could he and Senior Brother Lin do it too?

There would certainly be no shortage of supply: having spent so many years in the world, a single shout would bring a crowd of friends willing to help.

Of course, one definitely couldn't take anything shady, but even if one only took items with legitimate origins, gathering a thousand or eight hundred pieces of various categories would be easy. The authenticity would be even more guaranteed.

It wasn't that Zhao Xiuneng was bragging: his status in the world was established; in this Northwest region, the number of people who dared to stir up trouble on his turf and intentionally make things difficult for him was basically zero.

Of course, there were countless items that looked real but were fake, and many sellers and collectors didn't even know their own items were problematic, so forgeries were unavoidable. But with Senior Brother Lin's fiery eyes, he could at least keep this proportion below ten percent, or even lower.

The rest was just sales channels. This couldn't be rushed; they would have to build a reputation slowly.

But slow work yields fine results; as long as the word-of-mouth fermented, it would be hard for the business not to be good...

Zhao Xiuneng planned to find a suitable time to discuss it with Professor Wang.

Why not ask Lin Sicheng directly?

He suspected that Lin Sicheng would look down on it and wouldn't participate. Or even, he wouldn't let him do it either.

It wasn't that he looked down on the money, but that he looked down on this way of doing business: to put it bluntly, Chen Shiquan's identity was actually that of a glove. Just consider this: people who received gifts didn't like to collect, and wanted to cash out as quickly as possible—what could they do?

Going to an auction would take at least half a year or longer, and many people weren't willing to wait.

If you sent it to the market for resale and wanted to sell it quickly, you would have to take at least a thirty or forty percent discount, or even half off. Taking such a big risk to collect such a small amount of money, and still having to lose half—no one would be willing to do that.

This was where Chen Shiquan's role was reflected: he didn't just sell; he also bought.

And it was cash on the spot, ridiculously fast.

It didn't even need to be the original price; even at an eighty percent discount, the seller would be grateful to him.

The gift-giver would be even more grateful to him: because it was effective, things would naturally get done quickly. Next time, they would definitely come to him to buy again—and who knows, they might even buy this same piece.

No matter who bought it, Chen Shiquan would definitely sell it at full price. By this calculation, that was a twenty percent profit on this one piece.

If an item averaged five hundred thousand, he would earn at least one hundred thousand. Selling three to five hundred pieces a year—wouldn't that be thirty to fifty million in profit?

So, the business was getting better and better... This half-floor specifically cleared out, these antiques as cluttered as a general store, were proof. The more he thought about it, the more tempted Zhao Xiuneng became.

Just as he was secretly pondering, Lin Sicheng stopped and stared at a wooden table.

Zhao Xiuneng tilted his head and glanced: "Huanghuali?"

After looking closely, he was suddenly stunned: "Hiss... how does this look... like a Ming-style Flat-headed Table with wedged tenon joints?"

Lin Sicheng praised him inwardly: although Zhao Shixiong's talent was average, he had truly put in the hard work.

Antique furniture was quite niche—so niche that ordinary antique shops didn't sell it at all.

With few items, there were few samples, and naturally, there were fewer opportunities for Appraisal and Research.

The key was that this type of object was extremely difficult to preserve; even if one could find them, most were from the Qing Dynasty.

That Senior Brother could see at a glance that this was a Ming-style piece, and even a relatively unique wedged tenon joint, showed his foundation.

Seeing Lin Sicheng nod, Zhao Xiuneng became interested:

Antique furniture was already rare, and Huanghuali, known as the "King of Wood," was even rarer. Being able to encounter a late Qing or Republic of China piece was already something to call lucky.

Let alone a Ming Dynasty Huanghuali?

So, don't look at the fact that the item wasn't big and the style was simple; if this thing was real, it would be worth at least a million.

If one could establish some connection to a feudal prince or the imperial family, then that would be great; at the very least, the value could double or triple.

Secretly marveling, Zhao Xiuneng examined it carefully from top to bottom.

Of course, compared to a professional Rosewood antique Appraiser, Zhao Xiuneng definitely counted as a layman, knowing at most a little bit of the surface.

However, he at least knew how to look for signs of aging and patina: like this piece, whether it was the table surface, the legs, or the edges, all had very obvious signs of wear.

In the recessed grooves of the corners and the table surface, there was a relatively consistent patina. This included the ox-hair patterns and weathering marks, which followed a natural progression and were consistent inside and out. Therefore, if he were to appraise it, he would lean toward it being authentic. But Zhao Xiuneng had self-awareness: since he didn't understand, he should speak less.

After watching for a good while, Zhao Xiuneng raised his head and looked at Lin Sicheng: "Junior Brother, how is it?"

As if he hadn't heard, Lin Sicheng neither spoke nor expressed an opinion, just staring at the wooden table.

At first glance, it looked like he was too absorbed and had momentarily lost focus. It looked even more like he hadn't figured it out yet and was finding it hard to reach a conclusion.

Chen Shiquan didn't pay it any mind, assuming Lin Sicheng hadn't finished looking.

The logic was simple: even if one were a genius, it was impossible to be proficient in everything, right?

But Zhao Xiuneng had known Lin Sicheng for so long that he was clear on some of his habits: no matter how absorbed Lin Sicheng was, he would never be so focused that he would lose focus.

Regardless of whether he had finished looking or whether he could judge it accurately, he would say so directly.

If he didn't express an opinion, it only meant one thing: Zhao Shixiong, this item has a problem.

Then why didn't Lin Sicheng say it directly?

Thinking about it, this item wasn't Chen Shiquan's, but was being sold on consignment. Heaven knows which leader sent it, and what kind of relationships were involved behind it? Or perhaps, like just now upstairs, Chen Shiquan himself knew that this item had a problem?

Zhao Xiuneng went through a whole mental exercise, but in reality, he wasn't on the same wavelength as Lin Sicheng at all.

Lin Sicheng was just too astonished, too shocked, and for a moment didn't know how to put it into words.

If Zhao Xiuneng asked: Junior Brother, is this an antique? Of course it is.

Is it from the Ming Dynasty?

Of course it is: Ming Dynasty wood, Ming Dynasty craftsmanship, a genuine, naturally aged old object that had been around for at least four hundred years. But there was only one point: it wasn't Hainan Yellow Rosewood. To be precise: it wasn't the traditional so-called Yellow Rosewood represented by Hainan Yellow Rosewood, but Vietnam Huanghuali.

Both were Yellow Rosewood, even of the same family and genus, but the difference between the two was a hundred thousand miles apart.

Ignoring everything else, just looking at the price: the former was a million per ton, the latter a hundred thousand per ton, a tenfold difference. But in the Ming Dynasty, this gap would have to have another zero added: a hundredfold.

But what Lin Sicheng was focused on wasn't this, but the simulation technique reflected by this Flat-headed Table.

He dared to guarantee: sixty or seventy years ago, at most no more than eighty years, this wooden table was still Vietnam Huanghuali. But someone had a special method to imitate it into Hainan Yellow Rosewood.

Without making it look old, without changing the shape of the object, without even moving a knife or a plane, without changing any structure, yet being able to turn a piece of furniture from several hundred years ago into a different material, to the point where it couldn't be seen with the naked eye—had anyone ever heard of such a technique?

Truly, it was just a pity that the head of the table-makers, Yang Ashui, had already passed away; if he were still here, Lin Sicheng would definitely pay a visit and bow to him.

What is called "making old look old" and "deceiving the heavens"?

This was it...

Looking at it again to confirm there were no mistakes, Lin Sicheng spoke bluntly: "General Manager Chen, was this piece sold from your place?"

Chen Shiquan was stunned for a moment: "No, it was sent by a friend for consignment!"

"What is the asking price?"

"The floor price is one million!"

Lin Sicheng nodded: "Not high!"

Hearing Lin Sicheng say "not high," Zhao Xiuneng was a bit confused: didn't he say there was a problem?

One million, that was just the market price...

Just as he was feeling suspicious, Wang Qi Zhi finished looking at the Bronze and walked over.

Seeing the Flat-headed Table, his eyes lit up: "Ming style?"

It was no wonder he found it rare; in truth, Yellow Rosewood antiques were not common. Except for the Forbidden City and a few Wangfu, one could almost never see them outside.

Let alone the even rarer Ming-style furniture?

After taking a rough look, he looked at Lin Sicheng: "Sicheng, does this thing have a problem?"

Before he even finished speaking, Zhao Xiuneng was stunned, blinking his eyes: since when did Professor Wang have such a high level of discernment?

If one had to make a comparison: apart from Bronze, for other categories of antiques, Wang Qi Zhi's discernment could only be considered average. Even a bit worse than Zhao Xiuneng's...

This wasn't something Zhao Xiuneng said, but something Lin Sicheng had said. Of course, it hadn't been said so directly.

But today, Wang Qi Zhi just took a casual look and dared to draw a conclusion?

Just as he was feeling suspicious, Wang Qi Zhi gestured with his chin, and Zhao Xiuneng suddenly realized: Professor Wang daring to say that wasn't a matter of his discernment being high or low at all, but that he understood Lin Sicheng.

When Lin Sicheng looked at things, he rarely did this "just looking": not touching, not tapping, not smelling, not even moving, just staring. The key was, he had been looking for so long?

Sure enough, Lin Sicheng nodded: "Teacher, this Flat-headed Table indeed has a bit of a problem..."

Before the words had faded, Chen Shiquan's eyelids jumped, and a hint of suspicion appeared on his face.

This item was sent for consignment by the child of a high-ranking leader; the origin wasn't mentioned, and Chen Shiquan hadn't asked, but he could guess.

Given that person's status, how much courage would a gift-giver need to dare to send a fake?

The key was, he was afraid of misunderstandings, so he specifically had someone look at it: one hundred percent a Ming Dynasty Yellow Rosewood Flat-headed Table.

But when it came to Lin Sicheng, this thing actually had a problem?

Peng Yanzhi had gone to the restroom and happened to return just in time to hear this sentence. He instinctively stood on tiptoe to take a look, and his expression changed. After returning last night, Yao Qiming had specifically called him to talk about the trip to Nanmu Wood Wood Studio.

At the time, he had been a bit skeptical: there is a specialty in every trade, and professions are separated by mountains; if it were porcelain, Lin Sicheng definitely wouldn't have misjudged it. But Nanmu Wood Wood Studio sold Rosewood furniture, which was relatively niche and extremely experience-dependent.

Furthermore, as a decades-old brand, its reputation had always been very good, and there had basically never been any transaction disputes; how could it be that they had always been selling fakes? So Peng Yanzhi felt that perhaps Lin Sicheng was being a bit presumptuous?

But this morning, an old senior in the industry suddenly called him, asking him to arrange a meeting with Yao Qiming and Gao Wen, saying there was a small matter he needed help with.

Only then did Peng Yanzhi realize belatedly: the old General Manager of Nanmu Wood Wood Studio had been a close friend of this old senior before he passed away. So, this was aimed at Lin Sicheng. Then what about those pieces of furniture in Nanmu Wood Wood Studio?