"Lin, we've known each other for so many years. Tell me the truth. How much do you want for this painting?" Wang Qingsheng asked.
"Alright, we're not outsiders here, so there's no need to beat around the bush. Here's the number." Elder Lin drew a line on his palm.
"Fifty thousand?"
"That's right. If you like it, you can take it. If you don't like it, we can continue chatting over tea." Lin smiled.
Wang Qingsheng didn't answer. He walked to the desk and took out a magnifying glass to continue looking at the painting.
Lin didn't mind. He wasn't really here to drink tea. The most important thing was to make money from the painting.
Han Bin had nothing to do, so he asked Elder Lin some questions about the antique trade while he was drinking tea.
Old Lin's full name was Lin Zhongqi. His hometown was Xiaogang Village near Qindao. He came to Qindao when he was in his early twenties. He had been in the antique circle for more than 20 years. He had a house and a car in Qindao City.
Wang Qingsheng looked at the painting for more than ten minutes before he put away the magnifying glass and walked over.
Han Bin poured out the cup of tea and poured a new one for Wang Qingsheng.
Wang Qingsheng took a sip and asked, "Lin, can this painting be cheaper?"
"Brother Wang, you should know very well that Han Xuankun is a famous ink painter in Qin Island. His painting is definitely worth this price, and it has great potential to increase in value. If it weren't for the fact that I don't have any spare money, I would also want to keep this painting and hang it in my home as a family heirloom.
"Lin, you have a lot of treasures. This one won't make a difference." Wang Qingsheng smiled.
Lin Zhongqi pondered for a moment. "Fine. Since you've asked, I have to give you face. I'll give you a discount of two thousand. If you like it, you can take it. If not, we can continue drinking tea."
Wang Qingsheng touched his chin and thought for a while. "I can't make up my mind right now. I'll think about it."
"No problem." Lin Zhongqi gulped down another cup of tea.
The three chatted for a while. At noon, Wang Qingsheng invited Lin Zhongqi to have lunch together, but the latter declined.
After leaving the teahouse, Wang Qingsheng couldn't help but ask, "Brother Bin, do you think there's a problem with this painting?"
Han Bin shook his head. "I can't tell."
"What do you think of Lin?"
"I haven't had much contact with him, so it's hard to say what kind of person he is. However, during the time we met today, he didn't show any signs of lying," Han Bin said.
Wang Qingsheng smiled and thought to himself, This brat is still trying to interrogate me like a criminal.
"Uncle, do you want this painting?" Han Bin asked.
Wang Qingsheng frowned. "I'm not sure."
"Is there a problem with the painting?"
"The ink, handwriting, paper, imprints, and decorations are all fine. It's just that I'm not too sure about the inscriptions on the side," Wang Qingsheng said with a frown.
Han Bin recalled and said, "I suddenly heard that the Nine Heavens Mysterious Crane had passed by, dare I ask where the celestial being can be found?"
"Yes, it's these two lines of the poem. They were written in small regular script, which is not Han Xuankun's usual font. Although they are somewhat similar to Han Xuankun's handwriting, there are some differences," Wang Qingsheng explained.
There were many fake antiques and paintings. No matter how similar the other parts were, as long as there was a flaw, no one would dare to accept it easily.
If there was a mistake, it would be a big loss to buy a fake.
"Uncle, you're right. I also don't think the inscription is Han Xuankun's handwriting," Han Bin said.
Wang Qingsheng was a little surprised. "Since when did you study calligraphy?"
"I don't specialize in calligraphy, but I've learned some knowledge about handwriting identification," Han Bin said.
"Tsk tsk, you're good, kid. You're using your criminal investigation skills on calligraphy identification." Wang Qingsheng smiled and said in a testing tone, "Then tell me, what's the difference between these two lines and Han Xuankun's handwriting?"
"Then tell me, what's the difference between these two lines and Han Xuankun's handwriting?"
"As the saying goes, calligraphy is like the person. Everyone's writing style is different. There are several common manifestations, such as the layout of the entire handwriting, the size and structure of the characters, the changes in writing speed and strength, and so on." Han Bin recalled for a moment and continued.
"Compared to Han Xuankun's handwriting, the strength of the two lines of the poem is obviously greater, and the ending is more rounded. The partial connection of the words is more natural."
"According to your evaluation, this person's calligraphy is better than Han Xuankun's?" Wang Qingsheng asked.
"Uncle, have you heard of 'Yujiang Unfettered'?" Han Bin didn't answer the question.
"Yujiang Unfettered, I seem to have some impression of it." Wang Qingsheng muttered, rubbing his chin for a while. "There's a calligrapher in Lingnan, Guo Ziyi, whose nickname is Yujiang Unfettered."
"That's right. I personally feel that these two inscriptions are very similar to Guo Ziyi's handwriting," Han Bin said.
When Han Bin was learning handwriting appraisal skills, he had also instilled in his mind a large number of famous calligraphers' calligraphy and characteristics. These famous calligraphers had their own characteristics, so it was more systematic for him to learn them.
"Tsk tsk, Guo Ziyi is also a famous calligrapher. His calligraphy is rarely sold. If it's really his inscription, the value of this painting will increase." Wang Qingsheng revealed a look of anticipation. This was a pleasant surprise.
"Although I know handwriting appraisal, I'm still a layman. You have to evaluate the value of this painting yourself," Han Bin said.
Wang Qingsheng subconsciously said, "Now it seems that this painting is either a copy, and the inscription is fake, or Lin doesn't know about the inscription. Otherwise, this old man would have offered more than fifty thousand."
Before they knew it, the two had already left the antique street. Han Bin glanced around. "Uncle, what are we having for lunch?"
"What did you say?" Wang Qingsheng didn't seem to hear him clearly.
"I said, what are we having for lunch?"
Wang Qingsheng waved his hand. "I can't care about this now. You go home first. I'll study it again. If it's really Guo Ziyi's inscription, then I'll make a fortune. I have to quickly keep the painting."
"Uncle, don't be impulsive. Study it carefully and think about it. It's not too late to keep the painting." This was the first time that Han Bin had used the handwriting appraisal skill. He couldn't guarantee that it would be 100% effective.
"Don't worry. I've been in the antique business for half my life. I won't be fooled so easily." Wang Qingsheng patted Han Bin's shoulder and turned around to return to the antique street.
Han Bin shook his head and smiled bitterly. "Well, today's feast is ruined."
Han Bin wasn't in a hurry to go home. He found a restaurant to eat at and walked around the beach. Although it was a coastal city, he was busy with work all day and didn't come to the beach often.
The last time he came to the beach was when he was on a date with Tan Jingya. Time passed quickly.
Looking at the endless sea, he felt his own insignificance. The troubles in his heart and the pressure from work dissipated a lot. Han Bin wore headphones and listened to a novel while taking a taxi home.
When he got home, he accompanied his mother to watch Chuangdong for a while. He also told her about what happened this morning. Before he knew it, the sky outside had turned dark.
In the evening, Han Bin personally cooked four dishes and one soup. They were all his parents' favorites. It was also a show of filial piety.
You've already exceeded your reading limit for today. If you want to read more, please log in.
Login
Select text and click 'Report' to let us know about any bad translation.
