Yu Feibai nodded, his gaze shifting to the shelf displaying ceramics. After only a moment's inspection, he sighed with feeling, “These things scream 'new reproduction' the moment you look at them. Why couldn't I see it back then? How could I have been so easily duped.”
“That just shows your eye has improved,” Wang Guan chuckled. “If it were me, I wouldn't be able to judge these pieces as new forgeries right away.”
“Who are you trying to fool?” Yu Feibai shook his head, utterly unconvinced.
“Believe what you want,” Wang Guan smiled. Sometimes the truth in this world is so strange that no one believes it when it's spoken plainly.
As they spoke, the two slowly browsed the shop. A short while later, Yu Feibai sighed again, “Songxianqiao is truly worthy of its reputation as one of the top ten antique markets in the country.”
“Why the sudden remark?” Wang Guan asked, curious.
“You were right; it was because I didn't understand before. But after studying under Elder Qian and Uncle De for two years, my appraisal ability has indeed improved significantly,” Yu Feibai admitted with a soft laugh. “I don't believe you can’t see it—maybe one out of every ten items in this shop is genuine. Compared to other places where the entire inventory might be fakes, the probability of finding real antiques here is comparatively high.”
“Heh, that sounds quite reasonable,” Wang Wang considered for a moment, finding himself in complete agreement.
At the same time, Wang Guan also felt that it was precisely because Songxianqiao Antique Market contained a relatively high number of genuine artifacts that it attracted so many bargain hunters.
More people naturally led to more excitement, which in turn attracted wider attention, further boosting its popularity. High popularity meant business opportunities, which certainly drew in a large number of antique dealers to set up shop. With more antique stores, the chance of finding real antiques naturally increased again.
It was this kind of virtuous cycle that kept the Songxianqiao Antique Market so vibrant and full of life.
After his moment of reflection, Wang Guan smiled and suggested, “You’ve seen enough. Go grab a mix of genuine and fake items and test the shop owner’s skill. You might just pull one over on him.”
“That’s a great idea.” Yu Feibai’s eyes lit up, and he swiftly put the plan into action. He selected four or five forgeries from the shelves, mixed in one genuine antique, and then headed to the counter to negotiate a price with the proprietor.
“Boss, how much for these items?”
Approaching the counter, Yu Feibai took the initiative, “Just some trinkets, nothing too expensive, I assume. Boss, I’m a returning customer, so you mustn’t try to pull a fast one on me.”
“Oh, it’s the young man! I thought you looked familiar,” the shop owner’s smile grew warmer, and he said cheerfully, “Then I thank you for your continued patronage. Since you visit often, you must know that our antique shop has always maintained fair prices, dealing honestly with everyone, and never deceiving our customers.”
Wang Guan watched the exchange with keen interest. Yu Feibai claimed to be a repeat customer but acted like a total novice, clearly playing dumb. Yet, the owner was no slouch either; whether he actually remembered Yu Feibai or not, he seamlessly played along.
Sometimes, buying antiques was a battle of wits, where victory belonged to the sharpest eye. If you bought correctly, it proved your unique insight and skill. If you bought wrong, you couldn't blame anyone else; after all, you knew the antique market was deep water, yet you chose to wade in, so you should have been mentally prepared for that outcome.
“Boss, give me a straight price—how much for this piece?”
After a brief volley of pleasantries, Yu Feibai picked up an item to inquire about. It was a small, exquisite curiosity walnut, carved with the image of Maitreya Buddha—its charmingly naive expression quite delicate.
“This much!” The shop owner smiled even more heartily and slowly held up five fingers.
“Fifty?” Yu Feibai decided to maintain his facade of ignorance.
“I said five hundred yuan.” The owner remained unperturbed, chuckling instead. “Young man, we run a modest business; you can’t bargain too harshly. If you genuinely wish to buy, I can let it go for fifty—off the asking price, that is.”
Wang Guan covertly gasped. This walnut pattern was clearly stamped by a machine; in any ordinary craft store, it wouldn't cost more than five yuan apiece, yet here they were asking five hundred and claiming it wasn't expensive.
“Four hundred and fifty? Too much,” Yu Feibai feigned dissatisfaction, shaking his head. He then picked up another item. “What about this brush pot?”
The brush pot looked old and simple, decorated with paintings of figures and birds, giving the impression of something truly ancient.
However, Wang Guan could tell this pot wasn't even from the modern era, let alone ancient times. It was likely only a few weeks old; the slight greenish tint suggested that the moisture inside the clay hadn't even fully evaporated yet.
Yet, when the owner described it, the brush pot became a masterpiece by a master from the Republican era, opening with a price tag of twenty thousand.
Yu Feibai didn't commit to a stance immediately, continuing to ask about item after item, until finally, he revealed his primary target: a small piece of desk stationery, a blue-and-white porcelain brush rest shaped like a mountain.
“Boss, how much for this one?” Yu Feibai asked, adopting an air of complete nonchalance.
“I say, young man…”
But at this moment, a faint hint of amusement appeared in the owner’s eyes. He slowly picked up his cup, took a sip of tea, and then spoke languidly, “You’ve been circling around for so long, you’ve actually set your heart on this brush rest, haven't you?”
“Uh…”
Both Yu Feibai and Wang Guan froze. Then, they simultaneously cursed under their breath—a true old fox.
The shop owner was middle-aged, perhaps not truly old, and wore a gentle smile from start to finish. But to Wang Guan and Yu Feibai, that expression clearly symbolized a cunning fox.
“I can see you’re a connoisseur, young man, so let’s speak plainly.”
Simultaneously, the owner picked up the brush rest and smiled. “This is an item fired in the official kiln during the Guangxu period of the Qing Dynasty. The texture is solid and fine, and its condition is excellent—truly a fine piece. Starting the price at ten thousand isn't excessive, is it?”
“This…” Yu Feibai’s mood was complicated.
He had intended to bluff his way through, but to be seen through by the owner was truly embarrassing.
“Can we do two thousand?”
Wang Guan, standing nearby, was much more pragmatic. The original plan was only to test the owner’s level. Since they had confirmed he possessed real skill, now it was time to haggle.
Reaching out, he pulled Yu Feibai aside, sat down in front of the owner, and chuckled lightly, “This brush rest looks good, but it’s not worth ten thousand. Furthermore, judging by the way the blue and white glaze color has diffused, I doubt it reaches the Guangxu period. I suspect it’s from the Republican era. Two thousand yuan is very fair.”
“Heh, so you truly are an expert,” the owner smiled. He wasn't afraid of haggling; the counteroffer meant the buyer was serious. Otherwise, why waste everyone's time?
Wang Guan waved his hand modestly. “Not an expert, not really; I’ve just learned a few things. If I’ve said anything inaccurate, please don’t laugh at me, Boss.”
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