It was a pity that Rennais didn't have much time. He had to send the contract back to California and become the agent of Beauty of the World as soon as possible.
Qin Guan, on the other hand, held the lifeline of supply tightly in his hands. Commercial art in China was really cheap.
How could it not be cheap? Even though they were all non-leftover works, they were sold to Chinese people for only 30 yuan each.
She was going to be mocked to death by many housewives, but the Americans liked it.
...
As the store was gradually filled up, more and more people gathered around the entrance. If Guo Nuoyan hadn't blocked the door with a "Opening Tomorrow" sign, they would have rushed in and fought for the goods.
Pieces of small Su Embroidery ornaments were placed on the purple painted shelves. The golden sunlight shone on them, making the furry kitten playing with a hydrangea look even more lifelike.
Inside the green, yellow, and white custom-made Tang Sancai rouge box with lid was Yangzhou's Xie Fuchun's duck egg powder made from bean flour and rice flour.
Inside the transparent glass bottles were ice musk oil, which could blacken hair, remove dirt, stop itching and detoxify.
All of them carried the mysterious heritage of ancient China.
The Americans outside burst into exclamations. The more they looked at the goods, the more excited they became. This is a store for artists! It's a high-end custom-made store for the rich!
Just by looking at the value of these works of art, one could tell that this young Asian shop owner was cunning. He sold the most ordinary collections in bulk, and the real good things, the exquisite goods, were all taken out at the end.
Qin Guan opened the second last box. Under the gaze of the onlookers, he took out a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the dirt off his hands with it. Then he put the handkerchief on the box.
He picked up the objects inside and read slowly with an infatuated expression, "What is there to take from the world's jewels? How can the sun envy a ball of mud?"
The Asian boy was sweating a little because of his work, but it didn't affect his face. He was reading a poem in Chinese that most of the people present couldn't understand. His slightly closed eyes and gently shaking head showed that he was in a leisurely and happy mood at the moment.
He was like a scholar in a green robe. The bamboo forest rustled and the breeze caressed his face. He used the light-colored purple sand in his hand to pour himself a cup of tea called Garden.
Clap clap clap! Clap! Clap! Outside the door.
The Americans did not understand purple sand, poetry, or feelings. They only understood that the person in front of them was like a painting, so beautiful.
Qin Guan smiled at the people outside the door and placed the purple sand in the center of the room. Everyone's eyes followed the movements of Qin Guan's slender fingers.
In the compartment where the sunlight couldn't reach, the pocket-sized pot that looked like a lotus flower revealed its true appearance.
The pot was round and smooth, and the pattern was clear. The lid and the body of the pot fit together perfectly. The elegant handle was like the stem of a lotus leaf, making it look playful in summer.
The most mysterious thing was that in the shaded corner, the whole body of this purple clay teapot reflected a dazzling light, like specks of golden sand. It was simply noble and elegant to the extreme.
White English teapots were like mud under one's feet in front of it. The teapot on the shelf didn't disappoint the king of teapots.
The shock waves came one after another. Everyone was stunned for less than two minutes. When Cong Nianwei opened the last box, she went completely crazy and broke out.
Nanjing Cloud Brocade! With one brocade in hand, the world is mine!
That was not an exaggeration.
Even in a modern society with advanced textile technology, Nanjing Cloud Brocade still maintained its traditional characteristics and unique techniques.
Cloud Brocade got its name because of its bright color, which was as beautiful as the rosy clouds in the sky.
It was the first of the four famous brocades in China.
The brocade in Cong Nianwei's arms had been custom-made by a special manufacturer. It was hard to find in the world.
At the bottom of the brocade was a bright red silk satin. Through the special weaving method of Nanjing brocade, gold, silver, copper, silk, spun silk, and feathers of various birds and beasts were woven into a whole piece of brocade.
Because of the complicated craftsmanship, the two-meter-wide and five-meter-long piece of Nanjing brocade was the most expensive among all the artworks.
"Make way, let us in!"
"Miss! Can you show us the cloth in your hands? We are from Dior Design Studio! "
Guo Nuoyan, who was standing at the door, was almost swallowed alive by the group of crazy women. His nostrils were being dug out, his cheeks were being pulled, and his shoes were being crushed. The crazy women were about to break through the last barrier.
Qin Guan's words silenced the crowd. "It's not for sale. It will be auctioned at the designer's top materials auction."
Damn it! If you do that, then you're going too far. When the time comes, will those top big shots let a group of small designers succeed? Are you kidding?
Qin Guan gave Cong Nianwei a look. She opened a box carefully and put the brocade into it.
"But that piece just now is not for sale. You should know that some of the smaller ones can still be sold."
Qin Guan took the last item out of the box. There were five beautifully sealed paper tubes, which looked like the shells of kaleidoscopes that he had loved as a child.
Two beautiful fingers slowly pulled out the object from the paper tube, and a beautiful scarf with natural silk pieces appeared in front of the crazy designers.
The scarf was as thin as a cicada's wing. Sunlight shone through the fine threads without hesitation. The color was as bright as nature's gift.
The patterns were different from the rich and noble red brocade. The scarf carried the melancholy of the Jiangnan River and the feelings of thousands of years.
Everyone quietened down. Their eyes shone with determination. Everyone around them was their enemy.
Clap, clap, clap.
The tubes were opened one by one, and the five scarves were revealed. They looked like young ladies who had finally reached the age of marriage.
Spring orchids and autumn chrysanthemums each had their own merits. European and American people's love for silk was suppressed in their bones.
The products of the Vermont Embroidery Workshop were not as good as those of the real aristocratic families.
The voices of the spectators were trembling from the cold, but the fire in their hearts was surging nonstop.
"My dear boss, no! He is an art collector! What's the price of the scarf? "
Qin Guan's white teeth and the silk scarf swayed in front of their eyes. They were dazzling as well.
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