Chapter Six: Unveiling the Painting

Old Su gave another awkward smile, pointed to a customer by the counter, and said, "Xiao Zhang, have a seat. Let me take a look at this customer's item, and we'll have tea in a bit..."

Zhang Can's heart was burning with rage. At this moment, Old Su seemed to be riddled with flaws. Thinking about the trap he had set for him, Zhang Can could hardly hold back the urge to pounce on him and kill him!

But Zhang Can restrained himself. At this point, let alone killing Old Su, even just beating him up would only end badly for himself—he might even end up spending time in jail. He had no evidence or proof. Besides, in this trade, if you fall into a trap or make a costly mistake, it's always blamed on your lack of skill or poor eye for things, and seldom do people talk about such things openly—doing so would only tarnish their own reputation.

Zhang Can thought it best to leave for now. If he stayed any longer, he just might lose control at the sight of Old Su. He had never realized how repulsive Old Su's face could be. But as he turned his head and saw Old Su examining the customer's item, a thought suddenly struck him!

He paused for a few seconds, then calmed himself, quietly sitting down on the guest chair beside the counter. He poured himself a cup of tea and began to sip it slowly.

The customer was a man in his late twenties, his face haggard and drawn, looking every bit the picture of destitution. He was loudly insisting, "This is a family heirloom! My grandfather said it's a painting by Yu Ji—a genuine Yu Ji!"

The object he brought was an ancient painting, the scroll about a meter wide and thirty centimeters tall, with a pale yellow scroll rod that showed some age at the patina.

Old Su was examining the painting. To his experienced eye, it was clear: the scroll and the patina were quite well done, likely from the Qing dynasty, but the painting itself was mediocre. Of course, it took a trained eye to see this; an ordinary person would think the painting was decent—simple and old-fashioned. But Old Su could tell at a glance that it was a fake.

Yu Ji's paintings were known for their distant charm, graceful landscapes, and the ethereal quality of "mountain light in the palm, cloud-like aura in the robes." In his later years, he painted only orchids and bamboo, never figures, and his style grew even more refined. He was known for never painting lightly for others, so his works are extremely rare.

This painting, however, was clearly of ordinary workmanship. Even the scroll and mounting were rather clumsily done; anyone who knew the trade could easily tell.

Old Su looked it over, then shook his head and said, "Sir, I think you should try somewhere else..."

In antique shops and pawn shops, the appraisers or shopkeepers, even if they can tell an item is fake, will never bluntly say so—it's an unspoken rule of the trade. What they always say is, "You'd better take it somewhere else for a look."

This phrase is a tacit way of saying the item is worthless or fake, just without making it explicit.

The man immediately looked disappointed, but stubbornly insisted, "You... you really don't want it? My grandfather always said this is a family heirloom, really, it's been handed down for generations. You... the price can be... negotiated..."

Old Su spread his hands. "Sorry, sir. You'd better try your luck elsewhere."

"Wait!"

Zhang Can waited until Old Su had definitively refused, then stood up and blocked the way, saying, "Old Su, this is Laoshizhai's shop. When a customer comes in, it's your business, so I didn't want to interject. But are you really sure you don't want it?"

His words caught Old Su off guard. The owner, Zhu Senlin, and a few assistants nearby were also stunned. They trusted Old Su's expertise completely—even if he made mistakes, he was surely better than Zhang Can.

In the collectibles trade, there are many rules. In someone else's shop, only the owner can decide whether to buy or sell an item brought in by a customer; others can't poach the business. Even at street stalls, if someone is already negotiating, no one else can cut in—they must wait until the deal falls through, or negotiate afterward to buy from the first buyer.

Zhang Can's question to Old Su was strictly by the rules. This was Zhu Senlin's Laoshizhai; it was their business. Only if they passed on it could he make an offer.

Old Su was puzzled. "Xiao Zhang, do you... really want this painting? But it's obviously..."

He paused, swallowing the rest of his words. Zhang Can wasn't stupid; surely he could read between the lines.

Yet Zhang Can seemed oblivious, smiling, "Perhaps I'm just being pretentious, but I really do want a painting like this to hang up and cultivate my taste... Sir, how much do you want for this painting? What price would you accept?"

The man, seeing that Old Su didn't want it, was already disheartened. Antique shops are all alike—if one doesn't want something, the others probably won't either. Even if it's a family heirloom, that doesn't guarantee value.

He hesitated, then said, "Boss, you want it?... Well, how much... how much can you offer?"

He fumbled for words, still hoping to sell it for tens of thousands, but Old Su's rejection had shaken his confidence, leaving him stammering.

Without hesitation, Zhang Can reached into his pocket and pulled out his last and only savings: five thousand yuan in cash. He placed it on the table and said blandly, "I have only five thousand yuan. It's up to you. If you want to sell, take the money and leave the painting. If not, take your painting and go. I have no more money."

The man was dumbfounded, staring at the stack of hundred-yuan bills on the table. His eyes grew hot, and he couldn't help but put the painting in front of Zhang Can and eagerly grab the money, ready to dash off.

Zhang Can stopped him. "Sir, wait. We need to sign a bill of sale. For things like this, we can't have anyone accusing us of theft or robbery later!"

In all his years in the business, Zhang Can had only ever done small deals and never bothered with paperwork.

Old Su and Zhu Senlin stared in astonishment, then snapped out of it, wondering if Zhang Can had truly lost his mind.

Old Su had wanted to stop Zhang Can, to keep him from being duped again. He himself had tricked Zhang Can, which already made him uneasy. Besides, Zhang Can was acting so strangely today—not the angry figure he'd expected. Had he really lost his senses?

But Zhang Can was neither addled nor confused. He was simply focused. He had used his unique "black-and-white eye" ability for just a few seconds, and that brief moment had brought him a pleasant surprise!

Life is full of opportunities, but most pass by unnoticed. If it weren't for his black-and-white sight, this opportunity would have slipped by like so many others—even Old Su hadn't noticed a thing. The realization struck Zhang Can in an instant, and a plan formed in his mind!

Had Old Su not set him up, and if Zhang Can had this ability, his usual approach would be to bargain the price down as low as possible to get the painting for a pittance.

But now, that wasn't his goal. He wanted to attract the attention of everyone in Laoshizhai, especially the owner, Zhu Senlin.

The seller had hoped for a big sale, but Old Su's reaction told him the painting wasn't worth much. Disappointed, he was suddenly cheered by Zhang Can's unexpected interest. Though five thousand was far below his hopes, it was better than nothing!

"Could you... maybe offer a bit more?" The man's hands were already clutching the cash, but he said, "This really is a family heirloom—aren't you offering a bit too little?"

Zhang Can replied coolly, "If you think it's too low, forget it—take it elsewhere." He reached to take back the money.

The man panicked, quickly snatching the five thousand and said sheepishly, "Fine, fine—five thousand it is. I'll sell!"

Zhang Can smiled faintly. "Good, let's sign a sales agreement. And with all these witnesses!"

The procedure was simple. Zhang Can wrote up a bill of sale, signed it, had the man sign as well, and then asked Zhu Senlin to witness it.

Only then did the man pocket the money and leave, beaming.

Inside the shop, Zhu Senlin and Old Su stared at Zhang Can, bewildered. Zhu Senlin trusted Old Su's expertise, and he himself was no novice—just not as sharp as Old Su. He knew the painting wasn't worth a hundred yuan.

Zhang Can smiled, then said to Old Su, "Old Su, I think there's something odd about this painting. You're the expert—try spraying some water and see if it's a 'hidden painting.'"

Old Su was visibly startled. The term "hidden painting" refers to a painting-within-a-painting—an outer layer of paper covering a genuine work underneath, usually to conceal the real treasure. Could this be a genuine piece?

But a glance at the painting suggested it wasn't thick enough. If this was a "hidden painting," the person who mounted it was a true master!

Seeing Zhang Can smiling and gesturing for him to proceed, and considering that Zhang Can now owned the painting outright, Old Su didn't object. He nodded, laid the painting flat on the table, poured a cup of clear water, took a mouthful and sprayed it onto the painting, then repeated several times to thoroughly moisten the surface.

He sprayed just enough water—no more, no less—and waited about two minutes for it to soak in. Then Old Su carefully used tweezers to work at the corner of the painting. To his surprise, after a bit of gentle coaxing, the corner did indeed start to lift—the papers separated, revealing a double layer at the edge!