The allure of beauty certainly begins with a pleasing appearance. The beauty across the table was just that—delicate features complemented by a tightly pulled-back ponytail, radiating vibrant, youthful energy. Or perhaps, given her tender, fair skin, she was barely sixteen or seventeen.

“Strange,”

At the same time, Xing Qiu pondered, “Why haven’t I seen her before?”

“Nonsense,” Wang Guan shook his head. “There are countless beauties in the world. Are you supposed to know every single one? Even if you knew every member of the Huangzhou Calligraphers and Painters Association, isn’t it possible they brought family along?”

“That’s true.” Xing Qiu nodded, returning his attention to admiring the young woman.

Just then, Old Ji, the president of the Huangzhou Calligraphers and Painters Association whom Xing Qiu had just mentioned, took a sip of tea, glanced over at Old Xing, and remarked casually, “The serious business is concluded. Let’s discuss private matters now. Old Xing, I hear you acquired something quite nice yesterday.”

“Your intelligence network is rather sharp.”

Old Xing didn’t deny it, nodding frankly. “We did purchase an item, one we plan to exhibit tomorrow. I presume you’ve also prepared something?”

“Naturally,” Old Ji replied with full confidence. “And what we have is surely superior to yours.”

“Such high confidence.”

Whether Old Xing believed it or not, he certainly wouldn’t concede verbally. “I suspect you’re just boasting.”

“Don’t believe me?” Old Ji snorted, a hint of smugness in his tone. “If you don’t believe me, then fine. But make sure to bring your glasses tomorrow, lest your old eyes fail you and you can’t see clearly.”

“So much certainty.” Old Xing grew curious. “What did you manage to track down? It’s not like last year when you just slapped together some sketch of Dongpo Jushi to pass the time, is it?”

“Pass the time? Last year’s painting was the crystallization of our collective effort—everyone praised it! Only you, Old Xing, are too stubborn to admit it.” Old Ji pouted, then stated with conviction, “But as for this year’s item, unless you remain willfully obtuse, you’ll have no choice but to admit defeat.”

“Oh? Is it really that good?” Old Xing couldn't help probing. “What exactly is it?”

“A fine piece,” Old Ji smiled enigmatically, turning the question back. “And what have you prepared for the Cultural Festival?”

“...That’s classified!”

Old Xing would not easily divulge secrets.

For a moment, the two elders began to glare and bicker, accusing the other of being unnecessarily secretive. The others, long accustomed to this spectacle, merely sipped their tea and enjoyed the show, finding it quite relaxing.

“Alright, alright, stop arguing, you two, or you’ll give everyone a reason to laugh,” Old Tian shook his head. “It’s not some vital state secret, what’s there to hide?”

“Brother Xing is preparing a copy of the Cold Food Observance manuscript, painstakingly rendered by Liu Yong during the Qing Dynasty.”

As he spoke, Old Tian asked, “Brother Ji, what treasure have you brought?”

“A collection of Dongpo’s poetry.”

Giving face to Old Tian, Old Ji revealed proudly, “A Southern Song official edition of Dongpo’s collected poems.”

“Really?”

Old Tian’s eyes immediately lit up. Publishing books in ancient times was no easy feat; there were no copyright royalties. Anyone wishing to publish while alive had to fund it entirely themselves. Of course, if one was famous enough, people might print it voluntarily. But the money from sales afterward wouldn't go to the author; instead, the author had to thank them for publishing it.

Su Dongpo belonged to the latter category. This held true not just during his life but long after his death, as successive generations of booksellers carved and printed his essays and poetry collections to make a profit. However, after several centuries, most of these carved editions had vanished into the river of history, with only a handful surviving by chance.

Scarcity creates value, so one could easily imagine the preciousness of such an engraved edition. Especially a Southern Song carving—its economic value and scholarly significance were enough to deeply move Old Tian.

“Is there any reason to doubt it?”

Old Ji chuckled. “The piece is at my house. If you want to see it, you can come with me.”

“Hmph, showing your true colors now, are you?”

At this, Old Xing glared. “I knew why you all showed up today—you came to poach people!”

“Poach people? What nonsense,” Old Ji retorted. “Where Brother Tian wishes to go is his own freedom. Are you planning to hold him captive? Do you think your house is a police station?”

“You want to intercept him halfway, and you call that reasonable?” Old Xing was clearly infuriated.

Seeing the two start arguing again, Wang Guan was somewhat bewildered and whispered, “What’s going on now?”

“There’s a judging event at the Cultural Festival, to select the best exhibition piece,” Xing Qiu explained with a light laugh. “Old Tian is one of the judges. Due to his prestige and high virtue, the other judges greatly respect his opinion...”

In an instant, Wang Guan understood, feeling both amused and somewhat exasperated. All this fuss was because they were trying to “bribe” Old Tian to lean toward their side during the judging.

In the end, it was all about saving face. If their item won first place, the side exhibiting it would certainly feel honored. Especially for rivals like Old Xing and Old Ji, winning would give them endless bragging rights over the other.

Considering this, Old Tian naturally became the highly sought-after prize, the target of both parties’ endeavors.

“Ah, I shouldn't have spoken up; I’ve just brought trouble upon myself,” Old Tian said with a wry smile, suddenly waving. “Wang Guan, it’s good that you’re back. Come here, let me introduce you to a few people...”

“Coming.”

Wang Guan knew as soon as he heard the call that Old Tian needed him to share the heat. He didn’t shy away and walked directly into the fray. After the introductions, Old Ji and the others naturally showed deference to Old Tian, nodding in friendly acknowledgement.

“I saw you leaving this morning and thought you had already headed back,” Old Tian said, his gaze immediately landing on the long, square box in Wang Guan’s hands. He smiled. “So, you went out shopping.”

“Not just shopping, but also—”

Xing Qiu started to say he’d also tricked a swindler, but Wang Guan, noticing the crowd, quickly cut in, “—also bought our return train tickets.”

“What’s the rush?” Old Tian said casually. “You don’t have urgent business. Why not stay for the Cultural Festival tomorrow? Experience the grandeur of Dongpo’s Red Cliff and immerse yourself in the atmosphere of Dongpo culture before you leave.”

Dongpo’s Red Cliff referred to the Red Nose Rock (Chibi Ji) in Huangzhou. Because Su Dongpo, exiled to Huangzhou back then, mistakenly believed Chibi Ji was the site of the decisive Battle of Red Cliffs in the Three Kingdoms period, he penned the eternally famous Odes to the Red Cliff, Part One and Part Two.

Although later historical research determined that the Three Kingdoms battle did not take place at Huangzhou’s Chibi Ji, Su Dongpo’s odes were so famous that people simply began referring to that location as Dongpo’s Red Cliff. This illustrates the immense, almost irresistible charm that a famous person’s writing can wield over ordinary people.

Wang Guan was indeed swayed by Old Tian’s suggestion.

When he was an intern in Ezhou, his entire focus had been on his career prospects after graduation. Even though Huangzhou was nearby, he had never visited Dongpo’s Red Cliff—a regret he now felt. Since he had the money and the leisure now, making up for that regret seemed worthwhile.

Sensing Wang Guan’s hesitation, Old Tian smiled again. “The Cultural Festival will feature many exhibitions, including many items on par with Liu Yong’s copy of the Cold Food Observance. Aren’t you curious to see them?”

“Alright then, I’ll stay a couple more days.” Wang Guan agreed readily.

“Wonderful!” Old Tian beamed instantly. “Then I won’t have to work so hard.”

“What do you mean?” The others looked confused.

“He can help me look at some items and offer an assessment...” Old Tian chuckled, delighted at having found a free assistant.

“What?” Old Ji was quite surprised. “You want him to be a judge?”

“What’s wrong with that?”

Although Old Ji objected, Old Xing would almost certainly support the decision. Moreover, he was well aware of Wang Guan’s capability, so he expressed strong approval. Then, he sneered, “Don’t look down on people; his discerning eye is far better than yours.”

“It’s normal for young people to have good eyesight,” Old Ji said suspiciously. “But judging things requires insight, not just eyesight.”

Clearly, Old Ji was deliberately conflating insight (yǎnlì) and eyesight (shìlì). Although the two words sound similar, in the antiques trade, they carry distinct meanings. After all, appraisal has always been described using insight, never merely eyesight. By saying this, he was blatantly casting doubt on Wang Guan’s appraisal ability.

Of course, the primary reason for his opposition was that Old Xing supported Wang Guan. He had merely been curious initially, but seeing Old Xing agree galvanized him into outright challenging the decision.

“The old fool is confused,”

At that moment, Old Xing continued his scorn. “It’s because you’re incompetent that you think others are. You’re falling into the trap of empiricism—just because he’s young? You’ve lived that many years only to waste them on dogs...”

“Nonsense!”

Old Ji snorted. “No matter how bad I am, I’m better than you. I wouldn't mistake trash for treasure.”

“Stop always picking on me; you’re not much better,”

Old Xing argued righteously. “I’m new to the trade; misjudging things is normal. In contrast, you’ve been in the business for years and still frequently make blunders, which proves you’re worse.”

Instantly, the two resumed their quarrel, leaving everyone else out of it. Witnessing this, Wang Guan, who had inadvertently become the catalyst, could only shake his head wryly.

However, Old Tian and the other elders exchanged knowing smiles. They realized Old Ji was intentionally stirring up a fight to divert everyone’s attention away from scrutinizing Wang Guan’s abilities.

After all, Old Ji wasn't senile; he was growing sharper with age. Since Old Tian dared to ask Wang Guan for help, it meant Wang Guan’s skills were certainly considerable, and Old Xing’s firm endorsement only reinforced that conclusion.

“Trying to set a trap for me to fall into? Not a chance...” With this thought, Old Ji continued to find ways to argue with Old Xing, completely casting aside the previous topic.

“Ignore them; they’ve been bickering for decades; they won’t change now.” Meanwhile, Old Tian casually asked, “What did you buy? Calligraphy? Or a painting?”

It wasn't surprising that Old Tian made such a guess, as the box’s long, square shape was the standard presentation box for scrolls and paintings; anyone familiar with the trade would naturally assume this. In fact, he had guessed correctly...RS