Seeing the square pedestal rising from the center of the room floor, Wang Guan finally understood, and his focus sharpened as he observed, eager to know what Hao Baolai’s most prized possession was.

Frankly speaking, this item was hidden so secretly that if Hao Baolai hadn't mentioned it, few people would have ever known about it, yet he chose to tell Wang Guan, clearly intending to show off.

Since he dared to flaunt it, it fully demonstrated Hao Baolai’s confidence in his own possession. Otherwise, knowing that Wang Guan had something as fine as the Black Ding Tea Cup, he certainly wouldn't have subjected himself to humiliation.

A short while later, the square pedestal slowly stopped rising. On top of it rested a sealed tempered glass cover, completely obscuring the object within. However, the glass was highly transparent, allowing everyone to clearly see what it looked like.

“Oh.”

After a glance, Wang Guan felt a measure of surprise. Before the square pedestal emerged, he had indeed speculated about Hao Baolai’s prized treasure—whether it was jade and jewels, or porcelain, calligraphy, or painting—all were within his guesses.

Yet, seeing the object clearly now, Wang Guan realized all his conjectures were wrong. At the same time, Hao Baolai looked exceptionally smug: “How about it? Didn’t expect that at all, did you?”

“Truly unexpected,” Gao Dequan clicked his tongue. “I remember clearly, the last time you showed me your treasure, it was a thumb-sized black pearl. How did it change to a xiuqi?”

The term xiuqi simply means lacquerware. In ancient times, red and black lacquer were referred to as xiu, and the art of xiu lacquer was a traditional craft.

“The black pearl was sold long ago,” Hao Baolai said, waving his hand with a smile. “The money from that sale was just enough to purchase this piece: a Yongle period carved red lacquer box with a lid, decorated with chasing pearl and cloud-dragon motifs…”

“Nonsense,” Gao Dequan walked lightly toward the pedestal, scrutinizing it closely as he spoke. “Your black pearl was worth a few million at most, but a genuine Yongle tihong piece is easily worth close to ten million.”

“Hehe, your estimation is quite accurate.” Hao Baolai chuckled. “A very auspicious number: nine-nine-eight!”

Since it was partially obscured, Gao Dequan looked for a moment before immediately turning back. “Hurry up and get that casing off; it’s getting in the way.”

“You step aside…” Hao Baolai stepped forward and keyed a few numbers into the digital keypad beneath the pedestal. The tempered glass cover automatically sprang open.

At that moment, Wang Guan unconsciously moved closer to examine the red-carved lidded box in detail.

Tihong (carving through red lacquer) is also a very unique craft. Depending on the color of the lacquer, it is classified as tihong (red), tihuang (yellow), tihu (green), tihui (black), tucai (polychrome), or tixi (rhino horn style). Among these, tihong wares are the most common.

The process of this craft sounds simple, but it is extremely difficult to execute. First, dozens to one or two hundred layers of vermilion lacquer are applied to the body of the object. After layering to a substantial thickness, while the lacquer is semi-soft and semi-hard, the desired decorative pattern is carved through in one continuous motion.

The reason it is called ti (to carve through) and not diao (to sculpt) has a specific nuance. This shows how meticulous the ancient Chinese were with their terminology. Only when carving against a hard material can it be called diao; when working against something semi-soft, it is called ti.

When the lacquer is half-dry, it is still soft, and then a sharp knife is used to carve out the magnificent and rich patterns. The difficulty is absolutely no less than carving stone or jade. Moreover, strictly speaking, the technical skill required for tihong is even higher.

After all, the time window for the lacquer to transition from semi-soft to completely dry is limited. If the task cannot be finished within this period, the piece is ruined, all previous effort lost, with virtually no possibility of salvage or remedy.

The difficulty of the tihong process also exponentially increases the value of such items. Take this Yongle carved red lacquer box before them, for example. The entire surface is carved with ruyi cloud patterns, and the front features a flying dragon symbolizing royalty. Its whiskers flare up as if moving swiftly in the wind. The dragon's body is powerful and coiled, its four claws sharp. As it turns its head, it exudes an aura of looking down upon all things—the very essence of imperial majesty.

The carving is delicate and fluid; the composition is full and opulent, permeated with an air of extravagance. Without a doubt, this must be an imperial artifact. Common households or even high officials would not dare to use such items privately.

In fact, whether in ancient or modern times, anything associated with the imperial court implies superior quality and guaranteed craftsmanship, making a corresponding surge in price entirely natural.

“If this is authentic, your nine-nine-eight wasn’t wasted,” Gao Dequan said with a smile, taking the lidded box to carefully examine the knife work and the color of the lacquer, lightly touching the surface texture with his finger.

A moment later, Hao Baolai urgently asked, “How is it?”

Although he had hired experts to appraise the piece after buying it—all confirming its authenticity—he still feared the off chance that Gao Dequan might utter the word "fake."

Fortunately, Hao Baolai’s worries were unfounded. After examining the piece for a while, Gao Dequan broke into an appreciative smile: “Not bad, an exquisite Yongle tihong. The carving technique is smooth, the patterns are balanced, and especially the direction of the polishing aligns with the characteristics of that era. It is definitely authentic.”

“It’s real, that’s great…” Hao Baolai nodded repeatedly, secretly sighing in relief, then asked with curiosity, “Ah De, what do you mean by the polishing direction?”

“After carving the required pattern onto the box surface, once the lacquer has completely dried, the surface is polished again. This makes the object appear very lustrous, with a shimmering glow.”

Gao Dequan explained, “In ancient times, they didn't have sandpaper. To polish objects, they needed to use a type of horsetail reed grass (cuicao). This grass becomes quite rough when wet, and artisans used it to carefully polish the tihong surface. Moreover, the direction of polishing was not horizontal back-and-forth like sandpaper today, but rather vertical, up and down friction.”

“Many people don’t understand this principle. They often engrave Ming Yongle or Xuande reign marks on late Qing lacquerware, thinking that solves everything, but to an expert, it’s just a joke.”

Gao Dequan continued with a smile, “Because in the Qing Dynasty, they didn't emphasize finishing work as much as the Ming. Not only was it neglected, sometimes they even felt that carved items, left unpolished, possessed a different kind of charm. So, by comparing the grinding marks on the tihong surface, you can instantly tell the difference between Ming and Qing lacquerware.”

“I see,” Hao Baolai exclaimed, finally understanding, and naturally committed it to memory.

Meanwhile, Wang Guan took the red-carved lidded box from Gao Dequan’s hand, admiring it as he remarked, “It’s strange, but among so many lacquerwares, it seems only Yongle and Xuande period tihong pieces can break the ten-million price barrier; lacquerware from other dynasties lags slightly behind.”

“That’s quite normal.”

Gao Dequan smiled. “It’s actually related to national strength. Although the tihong technique matured during the Song and Yuan dynasties, it only reached its peak after development in the Ming and Qing. Especially during the Yongle and Xuande reigns, after decades of recovery and peace, the Ming Dynasty’s comprehensive national power was at its zenith—the era known as the Reign of Yongle and Xuande.”

“Remember, artistic objects represent national strength to a certain extent. Only when a country is powerful can it mobilize the vast financial and material resources needed to create exquisite works of art. Like the Yongle ‘Sweet White’ porcelain, the Xuande censers, the sacrificial red and blue-and-white porcelains, and so on. Of course, this isn't limited to the Ming; the Qing Dynasty was the same, with the official kiln porcelains of the Three Reigns of Kangxi, Yongzheng, and Qianlong serving as further proof…”

After providing examples, Gao Dequan smiled slightly. “So, it doesn't matter if your connoisseurship is lacking; as long as you recognize this principle, whatever you buy won't be too bad.”

“Exactly,” Hao Baolai wholeheartedly agreed.

Suddenly, Gao Dequan shifted his tone and expressed disdain: “However, it’s precisely because people like you exist that art prices are polarized: the truly good ones get exponentially more expensive, while slightly lesser pieces can never raise their prices.”

“Yes, yes…”

Wang Guan immediately nodded in agreement. After all, one's stance determines one's perspective. Now that he was an antique shop owner, he deeply resented customers who only bought items based on the dynasty mark.

“Say whatever you want,” Hao Baolai said proudly. “So, what do you think of my prized treasure?”

“It’s just so-so.”

Gao Dequan shrugged his shoulders and kindly reminded him, “But you need to be careful; lacquerware is quite troublesome to preserve. It’s extremely sensitive to humidity—too dry, and it cracks; too damp, and it grows mildew. If improperly maintained, the piece can easily be damaged, and you’ll probably weep buckets then.”

“I understand that,” Hao Baolai nodded. “That’s why it’s kept under the glass dome; the temperature inside can be regulated.”

“That’s good then.” Gao Dequan smiled, then turned to Wang Guan. “Wang Guan, don't be shy. You've come to the treasure vault; you can't leave empty-handed. See anything you like, hurry up and take it.”

“I’m looking. There are so many things, it’s dazzling…”

After returning the tihong lidded box to Hao Baolai, Wang Guan’s gaze began to wander, searching for an item that appealed to him.

“If nothing else…” At this point, Gao Dequan suddenly pointed to a painting hanging on the wall and smiled broadly. “Fu Baoshi’s landscape painting is actually quite nice too.”

Hearing this, although Hao Baolai said nothing, the corner of his mouth twitched, clearly showing nervousness.

Wang Guan noticed and waved his hand with a chuckle. “Hehe, no rush, let’s look around first.”

Hao Baolai visibly relaxed upon hearing this and seemed a bit embarrassed. “Wang Guan, if you truly like it, just take it. At worst, I’ll buy another one later…”

Pretentious, absolutely pretentious. Everyone knew that Fu Baoshi’s works commanded high prices on the market; the cheapest would likely be several million, with tens of millions not uncommon. Although he didn't know the exact price of this particular landscape, judging by Hao Baolai’s tense expression, if Wang Guan actually took it, it would certainly cause him considerable heartache.

“Oh, there’s also an ink wash, freehand flower-and-bird painting by Xu Qingteng.” Gao Dequan’s eyes shifted, and he showed a hint of pleasant surprise. “Don’t even think about it, I want this one…”

“Ah… De!”

In an instant, Hao Baolai gritted his teeth and glared fiercely at Gao Dequan. If one listened closely enough, they could discern that he first let out an exclamation of surprise before quickly correcting himself to call out Gao Dequan's name.

Such a lapse in composure fully demonstrated his high regard for this painting, even exceeding his feeling for the Fu Baoshi landscape… (To be continued. If you like this work, you are welcome to come to Qidian (. com) to cast recommendation votes and monthly tickets. Your support is my greatest motivation.) No Pop-up Novel Network www.RT