It was at this very moment, piecing together Curator Wang’s fragmented words, that Wang Guan finally grasped the nature of this so-called grand transaction. While a knot of worry tightened in his stomach, he couldn't help but marvel at Meng Jian’s audacious scope.

This wasn't about selling off one or two artifacts; it was the divestment of an entire museum. Such an undertaking was rare, perhaps even unprecedented, on a global scale. While overseas private museums occasionally changed hands due to poor management—a relatively common occurrence—this situation was drastically different.

The museum Meng Jian intended to sell was not located in mainland China but in another country. More significantly, the buyer had already been secured, and instead of requiring Wang Guan’s team to travel overseas to take possession, the entire collection was being packed up and shipped directly to them.

“To be perfectly honest, when I first heard about this, I thought it was a massive scam.”

Curator Wang sighed, a note of disbelief in his voice. “If he hadn't presented so much evidence, I likely wouldn’t have had the patience to even listen. Even so, I still feel uneasy about it…”

“You’re oscillating between gain and loss, which is naturally causing you anxiety,” Elder Cheng chuckled. “But don’t count that museum as already yours. Didn’t the young man say he’s casting a wide net? Highest bidder takes all. Everyone has a chance; the Palace Museum isn't guaranteed the top spot.”

“That’s right.” Elder Han nodded thoughtfully, a slight smile playing on his lips. “He approached me, Curator Wang. This has nothing to do with the two of you.” His implication was clear, encompassing Elder Cheng as well: don't try to steal business from the Liangyicang Museum owner and me.

Elder Cheng merely offered a faint smile in response, saying nothing. Seeing this, Elder Han felt a touch of resignation. “If I had known this, I shouldn't have asked you over to help appraise things.”

“One must call it fate,” Elder Cheng replied with a light laugh. “Without us, how would you verify if what he said was true or false? You probably wouldn’t even be able to tell if that Qinghua Inner Sanskrit Pomegranate Scroll Foot Bowl he brought was genuine or a forgery.”

“What bowl?”

Setting aside Elder Han’s wry expression, Wang Guan was most intrigued by the mention of the bowl.

“Look, it’s right there on the table. Take a look yourself. That’s a fine piece,” Curator Wang beamed. This eagerness to share exquisite objects was a hallmark of true connoisseurs.

Wang Guan naturally turned his gaze toward the table. There sat a rather large brocade box, presumably containing the bowl in question. He felt a flicker of curiosity, though: if the piece belonged to Meng Jian, why leave it behind?

Sensing Wang Guan’s confusion, Curator Wang explained, “He was quite generous, actually. To demonstrate his sincerity, he left the item here for Elder Han to examine for a few days.”

“Leaving something so precious on display truly shows sincerity,” Elder Cheng agreed. “From that alone, the possibility of him lying seems slim. After all, even if it’s bait, one wouldn’t use something so valuable. Others might not know, but I certainly wouldn't part with it so easily.”

“Exactly,” Curator Wang nodded vigorously, completely in agreement.

This exchange only deepened Wang Guan’s curiosity. With Elder Han’s permission, he immediately flipped open the lid of the brocade box and peered inside. There, resting within, was a bowl.

But this was no ordinary bowl; it was astonishingly large. By Wang Guan’s estimation, the diameter of the rim alone was at least twenty centimeters. It was less a bowl and more a basin for serving soup.

At that moment, Curator Wang chuckled, “Wang Guan, if you didn't look at the foot-rim mark, could you date this piece?”

“That’s hard to say. Let me examine it first…” Wang Guan smiled, carefully lifting the massive bowl out and setting it gently on the table for close scrutiny. It was only now that he fully understood the long, complex name Elder Cheng had mentioned earlier.

Qinghua Inner Sanskrit Pomegranate Scroll Foot Bowl…

First, it was certain that the exterior and interior of this large bowl were adorned with underglaze blue (Qinghua) decorations. The interior featured Sanskrit script, while the exterior bore the pomegranate scroll motif. Overall, the blue color seemed somewhat pale, with significant white space, lending the piece an air of understated elegance.

“Vessels of this scale are quite uncommon,” Wang Guan observed after studying it for a moment. He refrained from immediately checking the foot mark, choosing instead to ponder the implications.

The appraisal of porcelain is a profound field of study. Wares from every dynasty and period possess distinct characteristics. Even within the reign of a single emperor, styles can be categorized into early, middle, and late phases, each with unique traits.

Thus, while porcelain appraisal might seem accessible initially, reaching a high level of expertise demands diligent study and focused research. Wang Guan had never been lax in this area, and with the meticulous guidance of Master Qian and others, his progress had undoubtedly been rapid.

Even without inspecting the base, judging by the coloration of the blue and the shape and paste of the body, Wang Guan’s face registered a hint of astonishment as he mused, “This appears to be from the Chenghua period of the Ming Dynasty…”

“Ha!” Curator Wang laughed, then casually probed, “Are you certain? You know the old saying in the trade: ‘Chenghua produces no great wares.’ That speaks to the defining characteristics of Chenghua porcelain, doesn’t it?”

“Curator Wang is deliberately muddying the waters,” Wang Guan countered with a slight smile. “The saying ‘Chenghua produces no great wares’ is just a conventional phrase, a generalization, not an absolute rule. I recall the Palace Museum houses several large Chenghua pieces, particularly that Qinghua Kylin Plate, whose diameter exceeds thirty centimeters. Is that not large?”

“Heh, let’s stick to this bowl, not the large plate in the Palace Museum,” Curator Wang pressed. “You claim this is Chenghua underglaze blue. What evidence do you have?”

“There is certainly evidence,” Wang Guan replied gently. “The ceramics of every period carry the characteristics of that era, rooted in the cultural background of the time. To discuss Chenghua porcelain, one must discuss the Chenghua Emperor.”

“Frankly, I never understood why the Chenghua Emperor seems to be such a target for scorn, with modern dramas constantly portraying him as a foolish and incompetent ruler. Yet, in real history, apart from favoring Consort Wan, he didn't commit any truly heinous acts.”

“On the contrary, I find the Chenghua Emperor rather pitiable. Before ascending the throne, his position was precarious. His father, Emperor Yingzong, was captured by the Mongols during the Tumu Crisis, leading to the enthronement of Yingzong’s younger brother, the Jingtai Emperor.”

At this point, Wang Guan felt a measure of sympathy. “The Chenghua Emperor was the Crown Prince, but once Jingtai took the throne, he was determined to depose him and install his own son. To achieve this, Jingtai even bribed officials, and succeeded.”

“The Chenghua Emperor lost his status as Crown Prince and was held under close confinement until Emperor Yingzong’s dramatic return via the ‘Door Seizing Coup’ reinstated him as heir apparent, leading eventually to his ascension. While the process sounds simple, the hidden dangers involved are imaginable, and it undoubtedly shaped his character.”

Wang Guan spoke fluently. “As for historical assessments—that during his reign, the emperor favored esoteric arts and indulged too heavily in female companionship, allowing eunuchs to manipulate state affairs—this is pure slander by the literati of the time. They forget that after the Tumu Crisis, imperial authority had plummeted to its nadir, and power was once temporarily usurped by a coalition of ministers.”

“Whether ancient or modern, trusting officials over one’s own judgment is as absurd as believing a sow can climb a tree. To consolidate royal power and counterbalance the increasingly large civilian bureaucracy, whom else could Emperor Chenghua rely on besides the palace eunuchs?”

As he spoke, Wang Guan chuckled. “I’ve strayed off course, but the emperor’s personality both dictated the court’s administration and the style of implements used in the palace.”

“Judging by his experience, Emperor Chenghua must have been a somewhat solitary person, a character molded by his confinement. He wouldn't easily trust anyone, but once his trust was earned, he offered unwavering support.”

“Consort Wan was exactly like that. While he was imprisoned, only her companionship and comfort sustained him. Consequently, even after decades on the throne, he had no sons. During those years, imperial concubines who became pregnant inexplicably suffered miscarriages. Emperor Chenghua could not have been unaware, yet he never showed resentment, even knowing Consort Wan was behind it—a clear indication of his character flaws.”

Wang Guan shook his head. “People with solitary and weak personalities generally do not favor bold or vigorous styles. Therefore, most Chenghua ceramics are characterized by dignified and refined shapes, exquisite and ingenious forms, lightness, elegance, delicacy, roundness, and soft beauty. The prime example is the Chenghua Doucai Chicken Cup, which was precious then and is a rare treasure now.”

“What you are saying isn't entirely wrong,” Curator Wang interjected at this point. “However, this bowl we have here is not a delicate little cup; it is a large piece, which contradicts the features you describe for Chenghua porcelain.”

“No rush, I was about to address that,” Wang Guan smiled. “Because Chenghua underglaze blue wares were mostly small objects, even the occasional small batch of large vessels inevitably retained some stylistic traits of the smaller items.”

“Take this scroll footed large bowl as an example: it is remarkably restrained and elegant, and its paste is finely white and delicate—the characteristics are very distinct. This whiteness is no longer the slightly bluish or pale blue-white of the Yongle or Xuande periods, but a white tinged with yellow, a warm-toned white.”

Wang Guan elaborated slowly. “Especially the glaze texture on the body—dense, fine, the bubbles minute, thick, moist, smooth as jade—it feels incredibly delicate and silky. This is a unique feature of Chenghua underglaze blue porcelain.”

“Of course, the main point is the color of the blue itself. Unlike the imported Sumaliqing cobalt used extensively in the Yongle and Xuande eras, most Chenghua porcelain primarily used the domestically sourced Pingdengqing cobalt. Because this pigment was refined to an extremely high degree, it contained very few impurities. The blue color is subdued and elegant, creating a sense of lively dynamism.”

As he spoke, Wang Guan pointed at the scroll footed bowl and smiled. “It’s precisely this: applying the Qinghua material lightly onto the porcelain surface, creating a pale, soft, and warm feeling…”