At this moment, Expert Cen gasped in astonishment, "If I hadn't watched Brother Gao retrieve those pieces from the kiln myself, and seen the lingering warmth in the bowls, along with that raw, fiery sheen, I would genuinely suspect the items were planted inside beforehand just for Brother Gao to use in fooling me."

After all, objects fresh from the kiln were bound to possess that raw fiery light. Moreover, it was likely this fiery glow would accompany the porcelain for a long time—perhaps decades—before it finally subsided and gave way to a gentle, mellow, precious luminescence. By that time, distinguishing the genuine from the imitation would be even more challenging.

"Brother Cen flatters me. This is not solely my achievement; it is the crystallization of the efforts of many people," Gao Dequan chuckled, not feigning humility, but stating a fact.

A person must know their own limitations. Gao Dequan was keenly aware that without the Su Group investing heavily to hire a team of experts to fill in his knowledge gaps, he would hardly have the confidence to attempt the immensely difficult task of replicating Mao porcelain. If the endeavor had been simple, he wouldn't have spent nearly a year in preparation, only achieving success now.

It could only be called a success, not a perfect success.

Because the body of Mao porcelain was relatively thin, there was a significant risk of expansion and cracking during the high-temperature firing process. Furthermore, this occurrence wasn't isolated but happened with a certain frequency. What everyone was most eager to discover now was precisely how many pieces in this particular firing had been lost.

The higher the loss rate, the greater the perceived cost for everyone involved.

At this juncture, upon a signal from Gao Dequan, the assembled personnel sprang into action, carefully transporting the mountain of saggers piled in the kiln to a designated storage room for individual counting and recording.

The storage room was well-lit and clean, with bright lamps illuminating the space. Gao Dequan refused to delegate the task, personally handling each piece of porcelain and carefully placing it onto the expansive, long tabletop.

The table was layered with several sheets of soft, red silk cloth. Upon this surface, the crystalline, jade-white porcelain rested, bathed in ample light, which accentuated the incredibly fine luster of the body, dazzling the eye.

These pieces were diverse, broadly categorized based on their intended use—such as tableware, tea sets, and wine sets—and their shapes naturally varied accordingly. However, the pure white luster, akin to fine jade, and the delicate, brilliant decorations—like water-dotting peach blossoms, plum blossoms, and hibiscus flowers—were inherited across the board, each piece exquisite, beautiful, and gracefully executed.

Counting and appreciating these magnificent artifacts was, in itself, a kind of enjoyment.

Yet, the mood was not entirely joyous. Upon seeing the shattered porcelain, not only did Gao Dequan's face twitch with momentary heartache, but everyone else also felt a profound sense of regret.

The cause of the breakage was twofold: the excessively thin body walls, and the uncontrolled movement of water vapor within the confined space during the high-temperature cooling process, squeezing and jostling relentlessly. These damaged vessels were simply unlucky; after enduring repeated compressions, they succumbed to the pressure and shattered completely.

However, even knowing the cause offered no control over the human element. From ancient times, countless master potters dedicated their lives to research, only managing to grasp the general knack of 'watching the fire'; no one has ever dared claim mastery over the unpredictable nature of the kiln's heat. Even modern gas or electric kilns can only regulate temperature magnitude, not pinpoint a precise critical threshold.

Otherwise, why would Gao Dequan have appointed the 'Kiln Warming God' and paid homage to the 'Fire Immortal Master'? When human effort falls short, one naturally resorts to worshipping ethereal deities for the sake of psychological comfort.

Whether divine protection was granted or not was unknown, but after meticulous accounting, the final loss rate was determined.

"About thirty percent!" Gao Dequan announced the figure, gazing at the pile of broken fragments on the floor with a deeply complex expression, uncertain whether to feel relieved or grieved.

A thirty percent loss rate was neither excessively high nor insignificantly low.

For ordinary ceramics, this would undoubtedly be an extremely high rate. However, these were the finest Mao porcelain, and rumor suggested that in their original production, the highest successful output rate never exceeded fifty percent. Considering this, the fact that Gao Dequan and his team managed to raise the yield rate to seventy percent represented no small improvement.

Furthermore, not all rejected pieces were completely shattered; some had warped due to various factors, or their glaze colors and decorative motifs were blurred. This situation has a specific term: Yaobian, or kiln transformation.

Yaobian primarily refers to the unpredictable, natural changes occurring in the surface glaze color due to temperature fluctuations within the kiln during firing. Ancient definitions of Yaobian were broader, even encompassing variations in the vessel's shape.

In summary, Yaobian generally falls into categories such as deformation, discoloration, or deterioration. However, the ultimate result of Yaobian has only two possible outcomes: either a 'Kiln Sickness' (Yaobing) or a 'Kiln Treasure' (Yaobao).

These two conditions were already summarized in the ancient text, Nan Yao Biji (Notes on Southern Kilns):

"The hue of the glaze, the full vigor of the kiln fire, or perhaps rain and gloom, damp earth exhalations—when the glaze darkens, yellows, and cracks, all such flaws are Yaobing. Only when the heat and the glaze are precisely balanced can seven or eight out of ten pieces be perfect."

This implies that climate and firing conditions led to Yaobing. As for Yaobao, it results from the essence of the kiln fire concentrating and granting accidental favor, creating naturally strange colors, wondrous and endearing—this is Yaobao, supremely rare. The representative of Yaobao is naturally Jun porcelain from the Song Dynasty's Five Great Kilns. Even now, the saying persists: Jun porcelain has no equal, and its Yaobian is unrivaled.

However, it was a great pity that what Gao Dequan was firing now was Mao porcelain, not Jun. Thus, only the Yaobing phenomenon occurred. Even the pieces whose glazes had turned dull yellow, despite not being broken, were counted towards the loss rate.

Seeing these rejected items that weren't quite waste, everyone felt a pang of heartache.

Still, the current era was relatively lenient. In the imperial kilns of ancient times, such pieces wouldn't even have been displayed; the kiln workers likely would have smashed them on the spot. But now, these items still held potential value. Since their quality wasn't entirely poor, they could be displayed in the shop as crafts and might still fetch a price.

But after a brief moment of lament, no one paid further attention to the flawed pieces. Because once the counting and tallying were complete, the main event arrived: the division of the spoils. The 'everyone' in question actually comprised only three individuals. However, Wang Guan and Gao Dequan were exceedingly deferential, letting Su Wenyi choose first, with the agreement that they would divide the remainder afterward.

The process of selection need not be elaborated. After eliminating the flawed pieces, all the remaining porcelain was flawless, making it difficult to discern any clear superiority among them. Moreover, anticipating the issue of loss, Gao Dequan had deliberately produced many sets of identically styled pieces, ensuring that there was nothing truly unique in this batch.

After the allocation, everyone left satisfied.

Subsequently, Su Wenyi fulfilled his promise by booking the entire Crystal City Hotel for a lavish banquet, inviting all related personnel. It served not only as thanks for their hard work over the past half-year but also as a celebration. Furthermore, after the feast, he handed out generous red envelopes to everyone—in short, he was extravagant and magnificent!

Yet, all feasts must end. As lively as the banquet was, it eventually concluded.

Such is life. The next morning, Su Wenyi bade farewell to the group. After shaking hands with Gao Dequan and exchanging pleasantries about future collaborations, he departed with a shipment of Mao porcelain.

Thus, the Mao porcelain affair concluded with a beginning and an end, aptly described as a complete success.

After seeing Su Wen to his departure, everyone immediately drove back to Wang Guan's villa and gathered in the living room, where Wang Guan personally began the slow, deliberate process of heating the water to brew tea.

Moments later, the scalding water poured into the cups, releasing wisps of clear, fragrant steam. Simultaneously, everyone instinctively reached for their teacups and broke into appreciative smiles.

"Truly high-temperature resistant; there isn't the slightest feeling of scalding," Yu Feibai laughed. "Not only is the tactile sensation comfortable, but they are also more visually pleasing. Worthy of being called 'Red Official Ware.'"

One of the greatest characteristics of this porcelain was its low thermal conductivity; even when filled with boiling water, gripping the cup body—which was less than a millimeter thick—caused no sensation of burning the hand.

Of course, with modern ceramic firing technology, achieving thin bodies that withstand high temperatures is not an incredibly difficult feat. High-end porcelain, for instance, generally possesses this capability. However, such items lack cultural depth. In the world of collecting, the preference for the old over the new is absolute; the reverse—liking the new while dismissing the old—is antithetical.

Although this batch of porcelain was new, it imitated the most classic Red Official Ware, possessing supreme quality and astonishing verisimilitude, serving as a tribute to the classic. Consequently, in everyone's minds, these pieces were seen as substitutes for a classic, rather than being viewed purely as new objects.

Once anything connects with cultural significance, it is elevated. This subtle psychological aspect is certainly worthy of study. At the moment, however, everyone preferred to savor the comfort of drinking tea from precious porcelain, feeling immensely pleased.

At the appropriate time, Yu Feibai made his request without hesitation: "I want two sets—one wine set and one tea set! As for the tableware, I'll pass; I wouldn't dare use it for fear of chipping a piece and suffering heartache."

"Fine, they're in the study; go grab them yourself," Wang Guan nodded casually, then smiled. "I certainly won't be using the tableware either. I'll occasionally bring them out to show off and maintain appearances, but for daily use, appreciation is best."

"That's very true."

Gao Dequan heartily agreed. "And when you're showing off, you need to be selective about your audience. Display them to fellow experts who understand the craftsmanship and will handle them carefully, earning you much face with their praise. But if you try to impress the uninitiated, they won't recognize quality. If they carelessly set one down and nick the rim, you'll be furious, but have nowhere to vent your anger."

"This isn't a joke. I remember a collector, new to the field a few years ago, who spent a fortune acquiring a Yongle-Xuande blue-and-white tea set—a Yongle teapot with Xuande cups, the blue-and-white patterns matched perfectly, making a handsome set."

At this point, Gao Dequan chuckled, "But this man had a personality similar to Feibai’s—a bit fond of showing off. He used this tea set to entertain every guest who visited. Experts knew the rarity and handled the pieces with reverence, leading to high praise and satisfying his need for admiration. However, one who walks too many dark roads will eventually meet a ghost..."