But both Wang Guan and Gao Dequan could somewhat understand Hao Baolai’s feelings. After all, this was an xieyi ink-wash flower-and-bird painting by Xu Qingteng; anyone who acquired it would treasure it carefully and naturally be reluctant to part with it.

Xu Qingteng was none other than Xu Wei, styled Tianchi Shanren or Qing Teng Daoren. Modern critics rate him as an outstanding literary artist and rank him among the top ten ancient Chinese painters.

However, whether judged by modern or ancient standards, Xu Wei was truly versatile, achieving profound mastery in calligraphy, painting, poetry, prose, and drama, always managing to carve out his own unique path. He once evaluated himself, saying his calligraphy was first, poetry second, prose third, and painting fourth…

It is a great pity, however, that there is a strange phenomenon in this land of China. Whether in ancient times or the present, officials of high rank rarely possess much artistic talent, while those with exceptional talent invariably fail to become high officials. Or perhaps, once they attain high office, their inherent, prodigious talents gradually vanish.

No one knows who first said it, but the history of Chinese literature and art is essentially the history of the fallen scholar.

Wang Guan found this rather insightful. It seemed that only when thwarted in their ambitions did scholars unleash immense creative power, penning verses and masterpieces that would be celebrated for generations.

Xu Wei's situation was much the same. Naturally intelligent and talented, he gained fame in his teens and became a Xiucai (licentiate) by age twenty. But he failed the provincial examinations eight subsequent times, remaining unsuccessful throughout his life. His entire existence was filled with hardship, danger, and pain, ultimately leading him to die in poverty and destitution.

Given such a tragic fate, and possessing comparable genius, perhaps the only predecessor who matched him was the illustrious, romantic talent of the Jiangnan region, Tang Bohu. Yet, the two men also differed in some ways. For instance, while Tang Bohu suffered, his brilliance was universally acknowledged, and he was famous even in his own time.

Xu Wei, conversely, was much like Van Gogh; only after his death were his works appreciated by a select few discerning individuals. His followers grew later, including Zhu Da (Bada Shanren) and Zheng Banqiao of the Yangzhou Eccentrics.

Zheng Banqiao was an ardent devotee. He once carved a seal whose inscription read: Qingteng Menxia Niu Ma Zou—which, translated into modern vernacular, means he wished to be Xu Wei’s errand boy or dog.

Furthermore, the modern master Qi Baishi often lamented that he wished he had been born three hundred years earlier to grind ink and prepare paper for Qing Teng…

To this day, buoyed by the adoration of his fervent fans, Xu Wei has gradually been placed upon a pedestal.

Inevitably, Hao Baolai was influenced by this sentiment. Even though the hanging flower-and-bird painting on the wall was priced lower than Fu Baoshi’s landscape, in his subconscious, he still felt Xu Wei’s painting was more precious.

After all, in Hao Baolai’s view, the high price of Fu Baoshi’s works was largely due to market hype—a bubble that could burst at any time. However, Xu Wei’s calligraphy and paintings had historical validation; their value would only appreciate steadily, with absolutely no possibility of a decline.

Relatively speaking, Wang Guan naturally valued Xu Wei’s works more highly.

“Xu Qingteng’s xieyi ink-wash flower-and-bird painting style employs bold, unrestrained brushwork, vivid, flowing ink, elegant and ethereal, yet suffused with a deep sense of indignation and boundless melancholy.”

At this moment, Gao Dequan admired it for a moment before breaking into a broad smile: “Truly a fine painting. Wang Guan, trading your Tortoiseshell Scale for this painting wouldn't really be a loss for you.”

But I feel like I’m the one taking the loss, Hao Baolai added silently to himself.

However, Wang Guan clearly wasn't ready to decide immediately and continued to defer: “Let me look a bit longer…”

Glancing briefly, he turned back with a smile: “Beiye, do you see anything you like?”

“I don't understand this area; you pick whatever you like,” Bei Ye replied with a gentle smile.

Wang Guan nodded slightly, then gestured, “There are jade carvings and jewelry over there; let’s go take a look.”

As he spoke, he led Bei Ye to a glass counter in the corner, where numerous jade carvings were displayed: jade mountains (yushanzi), jade locks, jade rings, jade cups, jade thumb rings, and so on.

However, while there were many items, their quality was uneven. Some jade pieces appeared to be the work of modern masters, exquisitely detailed and beautiful on the surface; others were ancient jades, mottled with earth deposits and rust stains, naturally looking less appealing.

Gao Dequan and Hao Baolai also possessed discerning eyes. Seeing the young couple together, they tactfully kept their distance, instead examining other items at another end.

“How about this jade lock?”

Simultaneously, Wang Guan pointed to an exquisite jade piece in the counter and smiled: “This looks quite nice. We could have the characters Yong Jie Tong Xin (Forever United in Heart) engraved on the lock later; it could serve as a family heirloom.”

Of course, this was merely sweet talk. He possessed too many treasures worthy of being passed down for this small jade lock to rank highly. But Bei Ye genuinely liked such delicate trinkets, frequently asking him to explain the carving techniques and the quality of the jade material.

Wang Guan commented on each one, which was also a learning process for him. A master is called a master because their workmanship is undoubtedly extraordinary; every jade carving possessed its own unique characteristics, whether in form or concept. It also could not be denied that jade ware carved from new jade was indeed strikingly bright and beautiful, possessing an inherent, magnificent spiritual quality.

In contrast, apart from the carving technique, ancient jade lost out significantly in terms of appearance, which explained why their prices did not climb higher.

Take the jade thumb rings, for example. Modern jade carvings had treated the thumb ring with openwork designs; while they certainly lacked much practical use, their value lay in being extremely delicate and exquisite, making them excellent objects for viewing.

As for ancient jade thumb rings, well…

“Hmm?”

Just then, Wang Guan happened to glance over and, upon seeing an ancient jade thumb ring, felt a sudden, inexplicable sensation. It was this feeling that caused him to subconsciously reach into the cabinet and gently pick up the object.

Examining it closely, Wang Guan discovered that the shape of this ancient jade thumb ring was somewhat unusual. Unlike the typical cylindrical shape, this one was sloped. If placed flat, viewed from the side, it resembled a trapezoid, high on one end and low on the other.

However, Wang Guan knew very well that this particular shape of thumb ring was typical of Han Chinese artifacts.

Perhaps when people mention thumb rings (banzhi), they generally think they are exclusive to the Manchu Qing dynasty. In reality, that is a rather laughable notion; thumb rings were extremely popular as far back as the Shang Dynasty and the Spring and Autumn and Warring States periods.

Back then, the thumb ring was not called banzhi, but shè (homophone for the character for 'to shoot an arrow'). Simply put, this item was originally used for archery—a hand protector to safeguard the finger used for drawing the bowstring, allowing for a firm grip on the string.

Over thousands of years, the form of the thumb ring evolved through many styles, the two main types being the sloped-form ring and the barrel-form ring. In the central plains region, the sloped-form thumb ring continued in use until the Ming Dynasty, whereas the Mongols and Manchus generally favored the cylindrical barrel-form ring.

After the Qing forces entered the Pass, this barrel-form thumb ring gradually replaced the sloped-form ring, becoming the new standard. However, due to the idleness and increasing extravagance of the Eight Banners nobility, the thumb ring lost its practical function, devolving into a purely ornamental accessory.

As the saying goes: The Beile’s Three Treasures in hand—the thumb ring, the walnut, and the caged bird. The thumb ring ranks first, illustrating its prevalence. It is no wonder that most people today assume the thumb ring was invented by the Manchu Qing, unaware that this object is merely a branch of Central Plains civilization.

At this moment, Wang Guan repeatedly examined the sloped-form thumb ring in his hand. Although it was jade, perhaps due to long burial, its surface was covered in earthy rust, having long lost its lustrous jade sheen, turning it into an object that was generally overlooked.

Well, perhaps not completely overlooked; the fact that Hao Baolai placed it in the counter suggested the ancient jade thumb ring had some redeeming qualities. For instance, the ring was intact, and faint carvings could still be discerned on the surface, though the heavy patina made the patterns blurry and indistinct.

After studying it for a while, Wang Guan had a hunch that this ancient jade thumb ring was far from simple. After a moment of consideration, he decided to use his extraordinary ability, concentrating his vision upon it. He saw a flicker of golden, radiant light floating in the air—its brilliant glow confirmed everything.

Seeing this, Wang Guan hesitated no longer. He gathered his five fingers and intended to take the object.

“What?”

A moment later, upon seeing the jade thumb ring in Wang Guan’s hand, Hao Baolai was astonished: “You want this thing?”

“Yes.”

Wang Guan nodded with a smile: “Now, Uncle Hao should be relieved, right?”

“Relieved, I’ve always been relieved…” Hao Baolai’s old face flushed, then he said sheepishly: “Wang Guan, you really don't need to have any reservations, nor do you need to feign modesty. If you truly fancy Xu We’s flower-and-bird painting, just take it.”

Hao Baolai was an open-hearted man by nature. Since Wang Guan was showing him such respect, he let go of his inner reluctance and resolutely walked toward the wall to take down the painting.

“Uncle Hao, really, you don't need to,” Wang Guan quickly stopped him. “I just want this jade thumb ring.”

“What, you look down on me?”

Suddenly, Hao Baolai’s expression changed: “I said this was an exchange of objects. Even if you don’t take something of equal value, you should at least choose something close in price. Now you pick this broken thing; you are clearly trying to make me lose face.”

“Uncle Hao, it’s not that serious…” Wang Guan shook his head and laughed. “The key to an exchange between friends is whether it suits the heart. I think this thumb ring is very good, so I chose it.”

“No, I disagree,” Hao Baolai shook his head. “Pick something else, or I’ll pick one for you.”

“What you pick, the other person might not like.”

At the same time, Gao Dequan pondered thoughtfully, then smiled: “Just let him be, and perhaps he isn’t the one losing out.”

“What do you mean?” Hao Baolai was stunned, looking utterly bewildered.

“Uncle Hao, I’ll take this item,” Wang Guan said at the right moment with a smile. “You said it yourself: whatever I fancy, I can take directly. You can’t go back on your word.”

“Of course not.” Hao Baolai still felt awkward and continued to persuade him: “But you need to think clearly. If you don’t like Xu Wei’s flower-and-bird painting, the landscape by Fu Baoshi, or even the Doucai chicken cup from the Kangxi reign, those are fine too…”

“No need. Out of the three thousand waters, I only take one scoop.”

Wang Guan smiled gently. “Besides, just as Uncle De said, taking this item, perhaps I am not the one losing out…”