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Chapter 105: Zhao Ming

~7 min read 1,382 words

Hearing this, Zhao Ming's face turned instantly pale.

All the effort he had poured into setting up this dead trap.

Was effortlessly shattered by this young man who had appeared out of nowhere, using a method utterly incomprehensible.

After hearing the appraisal result, Qian Laoban's eyes lit up immediately.

Merchants naturally fixate on profit.

Zhao Ming's promise was indeed quite generous.

But this restored Tang-dynasty silk painting, if sold at auction, could earn far, far more.

"Excellent! Lin Laoban, your craftsmanship is nothing short of divine!" Qian Laoban laughed loudly and yanked open the briefcase zipper.

He pulled out a checkbook and withdrew the pen clipped beside it.

In a few swift strokes, he wrote down a string of numbers.

He tore off the filled-out check and slapped it onto the tea table.

"Fifty thousand. The agreed restoration fee—none of it will be shortchanged."

Then he eagerly reached out both hands to grasp Lin Xuan's, shaking them vigorously several times.

"If I ever have another damaged item in the future, I'll definitely come back to you, Lin Laoban."

Lin Xuan yanked his hand free, picked up the check, and flicked its edge.

"Zhao Laoban's scheme took considerable planning."

"Too bad—even if you understand modern chemistry, you can't fathom the secrets left by the ancients."

Zhao Ming snorted coldly and said nothing.

He knew clearly that he had been utterly defeated this time.

In the antiques trade, true skill is what matters. Lin Xuan's display today—the extraordinary skill of restoring a ruined painting through re-lining—

Was enough to make this studio famous within the circle.

Zhao Ming also realized he had lost; staying any longer would only invite humiliation, so he quickly slunk away.

Qian Laoban repeatedly explained to Lin Xuan that he was not actually familiar with Zhao Ming.

Then he packed up the scroll and left, his bodyguards satisfied.

Lin Xuan immediately took the fifty-thousand-yuan check to the bank and obtained a tax certificate.

He printed another copy using the printer.

Then he took out the Adoption Eligibility Reassessment Notice sent by the Civil Affairs Bureau.

He neatly inserted the printed copy into the appendix page of the notice.

He pressed down the stapler—click—and secured it firmly.

A legal, high-amount proof of single-business income was enough to plug every gap in the review process.

Rewind the timeline seven days back.

Tang Dynasty, Zheng Tang of the Ministry of Works.

The Sky Screen did not broadcast the bustling street crowds; the image remained fixed on Lin Xuan's restoration room.

Grand Artisan Yan Lide and his brother Yan Liben, along with over a hundred imperial painters and veteran mounters, sat cross-legged on the courtyard's blue stone slabs.

Day after day passed, these finest craftsmen of the Tang Dynasty stared at the Sky Screen for seven full days.

On the night Lin Xuan brought out the high-power Industrial Microscope.

The Sky Screen's image switched synchronously to the eyepiece's perspective.

It magnified the fine structure of Tang-dynasty silk.

Threads of varying thickness intertwined.

Transparent gel-like substances hidden within the warp and weft, as thick as an adult's arm.

Even the reflective edges were clearly visible.

Yan Liben leaned forward, his eyes bulging wide.

"That Glazed Ware tube… can it see things as tiny as a hair's breadth?"

Tang painters relied entirely on their naked eyes.

When older, their qi and blood weakened, their vision blurred, and their brushstrokes grew faint; veteran mounters peeling off backing paper.

Relied entirely on fingertip sensation, leaving it to luck.

Later generations' visual acuity depended on that metal tube with the ring light.

Easily surpassing human physical limits.

The image shifted—Lin Xuan turned on the medical Shadowless Lamp.

Several blindingly bright white beams descended straight down.

The large worktable was illuminated as brightly as daytime.

Every damage on the scroll was clearly visible.

The most terrifying part: Lin Xuan's hands moved back and forth under the light, yet not a single shadow remained on the table.

An old mounter, his hair completely white, trembled as he rose from his seat, his legs too weak to hold him.

"Master, under this lamp, not even a shadow appears on the back of the hand!"

The old artisan gripped Yan Lide's sleeve, his voice trembling with excitement.

When they received urgent imperial orders and had to work late at night,

Even with dozens of ox-tallow candles, as thick as an adult's arm, their own hand and head shadows would block their view.

If the blade slipped even slightly, the entire painting would be ruined.

Later generations' lamps made shadows impossible to exist.

Such a good thing that can help with work is no less than a miracle.

Taiji Hall, morning court.

A Sky Screen hung outside the hall.

In the Sky Screen's image, Xiao Sizi carried a wooden chair and climbed onto the workbench.

She extended her finger and pointed through the air at the clothing fold lines on that tattered scroll.

Yan Liben stood in the line of court officials, his cheeks burning fiercely.

He recognized the brushwork of that painting at just one glance.

That was in the early years of Zhenguan, when the Emperor had ordered him to draft the portraits of meritorious officials for Lingyan Pavilion.

He had spent all day practicing inside the Inner Court's Music Bureau; this was the Shi Nu Fu Qin Tu he had carelessly painted and discarded at the time.

When painting the clothing folds, he felt the Malachite wash was not blending smoothly.

The lines were also not smooth, so he crumpled it into a ball and threw it into the wastepaper basket.

Afterwards, that painting drifted into the common folk, crossing over a thousand years.

That ball of discarded paper from back then was later placed in a red sandalwood box and treated as a rare treasure.

Xiao Sizi's clear child's voice came through the Sky Screen.

"Thirty percent fish glue boiled from top-grade cowhide, seventy percent white alum..."

The secret formula for the alum-sealing layer, which the Tang Inner Court required with extreme strictness, was recited by Xiao Sizi word for word.

Li Shimin, leaning against the dragon throne's backrest, slammed heavily on the carved dragon armrest, letting out a loud burst of laughter.

"Good! What a memory!"

Li Shimin laughed until his teeth showed, his face flushed with red radiance.

He leaned forward, pointing his finger vaguely at the crowd of officials standing below.

"Did you see clearly? My Sizi, in later generations, not only did not lose face for Great Tang, but can even act as a teacher to those modern people and teach them things!"

Li Shimin's entire face was written with an old father's pride and delight; "Those resin chemical glues, even the powerful figures of later generations could not deal with them."

"Didn't they have to rely on a few formulas passed down from the palace that my daughter memorized in her brain to solve the problem!"

The atmosphere in the great hall slowly became relaxed.

Zhangsun Wuji stepped forward, clasped his hands, and spoke in agreement.

"The Princess was naturally exceptionally intelligent, with a good memory and learned much since childhood."

"This time, she not only helped Young Master Lin resolve a dangerous situation, but also allowed Great Tang's prestige to spread even further."

"Old methods can still deal with the new things coming from later generations."

Li Shimin rolled his eyes, his gaze falling on Yan Liben, carrying a hint of mockery.

"Minister Yan, if your ruined painting had not had Sizi help think of a formula, I fear it would have ruined the livelihood of later generations."

Yan Liben hurriedly walked out from the line, knelt on both knees, lowered his head, and bowed his head to the ground in a kowtow.

"Your subject is truly terrified; Your subject did not paint well in the past, leaving a mistake for later people to laugh at."

"It all relied on Her Highness the Princess, with her vast knowledge and experience, helping Your subject fill in this error and omission."

The crowd of officials all let out a low burst of laughter filled with goodwill.

Lock on three hundred milliliters, lock on Kele Novel, lock on every update of "Sickly and Weak Sizi Knocking on the Door, I Became the God of Ten Thousand Dynasties".

◈

End of Chapter

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