Wang Guan spoke with absolute certainty; after all, Pei Shimin was Pei Hongquan’s grandfather.
It would have been truly bizarre if his collection room lacked any works by the master, Pei Shimin.
As expected, upon hearing this, Pei Hongquan chuckled lightly, “It’s this way…” Guided by Pei Hongquan’s hint, Wang Guan followed his gaze and saw a Zisha teapot placed squarely on one of the shelves.
The body of the pot was exquisitely crafted, shaped ambiguously like a peach.
One side featured flowing branches and leaves, sculpted with five longevity peaches and two bats; the other was adorned with a pair of bats, while the lid bore a peach branch studded with three small peaches.
The entire teapot possessed a dark red color, almost golden, revealing itself to be the Five-Bat Peach Pot, created during the absolute zenith of Master Pei Shimin’s artistry.
Following the founding of the PRC, in the early 1950s, Master Pei Shimin’s potting skills had already reached perfection.
Masterpieces that would become legendary heirlooms, such as the Five-Bat Peach Pot, the Lotus Seed Pot with a Cow Lid, the Three-Legged Ding Pot, and the Qin Bell Pot with a Stringed Top, were all introduced during this period.
Because the designs of these Zisha teapots were so renowned, Wang Guan recognized the Five-Bat Peach Pot with just a brief glance.
While captivated by its appearance, he couldn't help but ask, “Master Pei, may I handle it?” Pei Hongquan hesitated slightly before nodding gently, “No problem, just be careful.” At this moment, Wang Guan, filled with a sense of elation, carefully lifted the Five-Bat Peach Pot, placed it gently on a nearby table, and proceeded to examine it in detail, even inspecting the lid separately.
He first set the lid aside to scrutinize the body of the pot, immediately sensing the profound subtlety of this Five-Bat Peach Pot.
Legend has it that in the 1960s, when conceptualizing the appearance of Sun Wukong for the animated film Havoc in Heaven, a group of veteran artists were so frustrated they nearly pulled out all their hair.
Eventually, they conceived the idea of basing the Monkey King’s facial features on the peaches that monkeys love most.
This inspired the universally recognized, most classic image of Sun Wukong.
This Five-Bat Peach Pot was similar in concept; its shape resembled a large peach.
It featured an inlaid lid with a line pattern circling the rim.
The spout, or liú, was skillfully pinched from a three-curved peach branch.
As for the handle, it mirrored a coiled peach branch, the joints looking seasoned and clean, devoid of any forced artistry.
It felt comfortable to the touch and poured tea easily.
Crucially, it never slipped in the hand.
In short, the entire pot possessed an innovative form yet radiated an ancient, natural essence—truly a classic work deserving of its fame.
“Beautiful, absolutely beautiful.” Wang Guan marveled, finding it difficult to put down.
“Do you like it?” At the same time, Pei Hongquan apologized, “However, this piece is an heirloom from my ancestor.
I only have this last one left, and I have no intention of selling it, so I’m afraid I must disappoint you, young friend.” “Is that so.” Wang Guan sighed with a touch of regret upon hearing this.
“Wang Guan, actually, I think this pot is quite nice too.” Just then, Xing Qiu pointed to another Zisha teapot nearby, shaped like a carrying vessel, and chuckled, “Look.
The entire body of the pot is painted.” “Oh?” Wang Guan glanced over and was immediately struck with surprise: “The Fuchun Mountain Residence scroll.” “Exactly, it is indeed the Fuchun Mountain Residence.” Seeing their sudden interest, Pei Hongquan immediately introduced it: “And you two must look closely.
This isn't one pot, but two.” As he spoke, Pei Hongquan stepped forward and lifted it; the full-moon shaped round pot indeed separated, dividing into two half-moon shaped Zisha teapots.
Wang Guan could now see very clearly.
Once separated, the body of the Zisha pot revealed two distinct paintings, allowing him to grasp the unique symbolism of the two semi-circular pots.
One round pot divided into two halves: one depicted the remaining mountains of the mainland (Shèng Shān Tú), and the other featured the Wú Yòng Shī Juǎn scroll housed in the Taipei Palace Museum.
When the two half-pots were rejoined to form one round pot, it naturally symbolized completeness and reunion.
The handle of the pot utilized rattan and white jade, and the lid was inlaid with jade, fully embodying the shared heritage and inseparable blood ties between the people on both sides of the strait.
This explanation from Pei Hongquan confirmed Wang Guan’s initial speculation.
Pei Hongquan then smiled lightly, “This is a work by a friend of mine.
If you both genuinely like it, you are welcome to take it.” “Let’s reserve it for now and look at the other items first,” Wang Guan smiled, moving on to admire other Zisha teapots.
At that moment, Wang Guan’s eyes lit up.
He quickly walked over to another shelf where a spherical Zisha teapot sat, topped with a crouching lion on the lid.
Needless to say, this was the famous Lion Ball Pot.
Wang Guan examined it closely, noting its pure purplish-red glaze, a full and well-proportioned body with graceful curves, a high and straight neck that matched the lid’s chrysanthemum shape.
The knob on the lid was molded into a reclining lion clutching a silk ball—what folklore calls the "Joyful Lion"—exuding deep charm.
Additionally, there was an inscription on the pot, rendered in Wei Dynasty style calligraphy.
The four characters, Yù Dī Yī Yàn (Jade Drop Swallows Once), were strikingly noticeable.
The character for ‘one’ (yī) was not written with a single stroke, but as Yì (), an archaic variant of the character.
From such a small detail, one could tell the maker put immense thought into it.
After all, among the four characters, the stroke count for Yì was the simplest, creating an asymmetry with the other three.
Yet, using the formal capital Yī () would have been too cumbersome, hence the choice of Yì ().
Yù Dī Yī Yàn, written this way, was aesthetically pleasing.
The adage that details determine success was not exaggerated; the workmanship of this Lion Ball Pot was already exquisite, and pairing it with such a visually satisfying inscription made it entirely describable as flawless.
After appreciating it for a moment, Wang Guan turned back and smiled, “This is your work, Master?” “It is,” Pei Hongquan nodded gently, smiling modestly, “But this is a piece made in imitation of antiquity, mimicking the Lion Ball Pot crafted by my ancestral master, Jiang Anqing.
Unfortunately, it only achieves about seventy to eighty percent similarity; it falls far short of my ancestor’s.” “Master is being too humble…” Perhaps Pei Hongquan was telling the truth, but Wang Guan certainly would not agree outright.
Instead, he offered praise.
Furthermore, the piece itself was genuinely excellent, the craftsmanship superb—a rare and fine pot.
Noted down—this was the second choice...
After nodding, Wang Guan continued to view the other Zisha teapots.
Pei Hongquan showed no impatience, as Wang Guan offered commentary while observing.
He could articulate precisely what made a Zisha pot fine and the state of its technique, making Pei Hongquan feel he had met a true connoisseur.
The joy of collecting lay not just in the value of the objects, nor solely in personal handling, but most importantly, in the sense of achievement and satisfaction derived from sharing the pieces and witnessing others’ astonishment and admiration.
Pei Hongquan felt the same way; he considered Wang Guan a true expert.
Unlike certain others who entered radiating the smell of money, asking only about authenticity, whether it was a master’s work, and how much it was worth, completely ignorant of the deeper meaning of potting artistry.
With this thought in mind, Pei Hongquan not only tolerated Wang Guan’s methodical inspection of each teapot but even enthusiastically provided detailed explanations, much to the envious chagrin of Xing Qiu standing nearby.
He wanted to interject, but his limited knowledge of Zisha artistry made him fear looking foolish, so he opted to remain silent.
“Huh, what is this?” After some time, Wang Guan completed a general survey of all the Zisha teapots in the room.
Suddenly, he noticed an object on a shelf in the corner that was decidedly “out of the ordinary.” The reason it stood out was that the item was not a Zisha teapot, but a cup-like vessel.
More importantly, compared to the surrounding teapots, which were either dazzlingly bright or possessed a profound, enduring spirit, this object had significantly poorer aesthetics.
Its color resembled dark mud, the surface looked extremely rough, completely lacking any luster.
It appeared lifeless and devoid of any vibrant energy.
It was worth noting that the cup stood about six or seven centimeters tall, yet its mouth diameter approached ten centimeters.
If it weren't for the handle confirming its function as a cup, it could easily have been mistaken for a small bowl.
However, what perplexed Wang Guan even more was why such a poor-looking item was displayed so prominently among Pei Hongquan’s collection?
Given that most pieces in the room adhered to a principle of collecting nothing less than the finest specimens, why the sudden exception?
Wang Guan would never suspect it was misplaced by accident; even tucked away in the corner, this object was too jarring against the Zisha teapots beside it, like a single red dot among thousands of green leaves—highly conspicuous.
Otherwise, Wang Guan wouldn't have spotted it at first glance.
At that moment, upon seeing the object, Pei Hongquan’s brow furrowed almost imperceptibly before he smiled and explained, “This is something passed down from my ancestor.
It might be Xiang Shengsi’s Peach Cup.” “Hmm?” Upon hearing this, Wang Guan immediately composed himself and began to observe earnestly.
Xiang Shengsi was no ordinary figure; he was a master potter from the late Ming and early Qing dynasties, whose skill some believed could rival that of Gong Chun or Shi Dabin.
However, it was a great pity that he was rumored to be a Daoist recluse rather than a professional potter, resulting in extremely few surviving works.
His sole recognized heirloom was a peach-shaped cup, widely regarded as a divine piece of Zisha ware.
Inspecting it closely, Wang Guan confirmed that the object was indeed a peach cup.
The body resembled a plump, large peach cut open with its branch attached, and the rim formed a perfect peach shape.
The design was good, yet the presentation was too lackluster, easily causing observers to overlook the craftsmanship within.
But then again, the object’s color was intrinsically part of its artistry.
For instance, the Zisha ware collected in this room included square, round, square-round, melon-lobed, eggshell shapes, and countless others—there was virtually no form a Zisha master couldn't achieve if one could imagine it.
As for color, the variations were manifold.
After firing at high temperatures, they exhibited various magnificent hues: cinnabar red, jujube red, purple-copper, begonia red, iron-gray lead, sunflower yellow, inky green, azure, and so on.
Although Zisha teapots were unglazed, their colors were superior to glaze, displaying bizarre and rich chromatic changes.
Among these, the best tones were described as purple but not garish, red but not overly seductive, green but not tender, yellow but not frivolous, gray but not dull, and black but not absolute ink.
In summary, shape and color were interdependent, yet this Peach Cup before him lacked any discernible, appealing color, appearing dull and lifeless, robbing one of the urge to admire or handle it...
(To be continued) 8RT
For more novels, visit storyread.net.