The old man shook his head gently. "You must have been misled. In fact, most agarwood trees have almost no scent under normal conditions. Only when they are burned does the rich fragrance diffuse. Those agarwood objects you see on the market, which give off a strong aroma, are basically forgeries."

"Those inferior imitations on the market now are made by adding artificial scents or other chemical substances. When you smell them, there's a stinging sensation as the fragrance pierces your nose."

The old man's eyes were filled with disgust, and he sighed with feeling. "Good agarwood generally takes at least several decades to form. People nowadays are overly eager for quick success and instant benefits; they can't wait that long, yet they're obsessed with buying it. It is precisely this demand that leads to the prevalence of fakes on the market today."

"Take this agarwood bracelet, for instance—it’s also a product of that hasty desire."

The old man analyzed it carefully. "For good agarwood, the darker the color, the better. Different varieties of agarwood have different hues, but whether it's black, yellow, or crimson, the darker the color, the better it is; the paler it is, the worse the quality."

"Look at this bracelet; the color of the agarwood is very light. Someone must have hurriedly collected the wood before it was fully formed and fashioned it into a bracelet."

The old man was highly displeased by such practices, a hint of disdain coloring his face. He admitted helplessly, "That's why this bracelet's fragrance is so faint; you can't detect any trace of true agarwood aroma at all."

"If it were mature agarwood fashioned into beads for a bracelet, you could clearly feel the texture of the agarwood—a slightly greasy and cool sensation upon touch." Pausing, the old man continued, "If it were a top-grade agarwood object, under normal circumstances, it would naturally possess a faint, elegant, and clear scent, perhaps with a hint of honey. Even if there were no overt fragrance, one could still perceive its deep-seated, enduring, and pure essence."

"This agarwood bracelet is truly a pity."

The old man sighed, falling silent for a moment before suddenly chuckling. "Ah, without realizing it, I've ended up saying so much. I've spilled all my old secrets just because of this young fellow."

"That is because you are kind-hearted, Old Sir, and took the opportunity to instruct us," Wang Guan said sincerely. "Thank you for your guidance."

"Indeed."

Yu Feibai heartily agreed and quickly called for the teahouse attendant to bring fresh water and a better pot of tea.

The old man happened to be feeling thirsty and showed no intention of refusing. After the attendant served the fine tea, he took a small sip of the rich brew and then smiled again. "In any case, agarwood is agarwood; it is ultimately a good thing. Even if it's not fully mature, the longer you wear the bracelet and handle it, the more character it develops. Moreover, it can stimulate the nerves in the hand and promote blood circulation, benefiting both physical and mental health."

"Young man, for buying this bracelet for five hundred yuan, you absolutely got a huge bargain."

The old man looked slightly envious. "This find, you didn't miss it by a small margin. You just said you'd sell it for fifty thousand; in my view, that price is a bit too low."

Wang Guan and Yu Feibai nodded slightly, beginning to understand the old man's meaning. It was common knowledge that the market price for prime agarwood today could range from ten thousand to several tens of thousands per gram. Even if this bracelet were only ordinary quality agarwood, the fifteen beads combined weighed a significant amount. Fifty thousand yuan was indeed far too cheap.

"My name is Wang Guan, and this is Yu Feibai. We are visiting relatives and friends in Shudu."

Since he had encountered such a kind-hearted person, Wang Guan became even more courteous. He personally poured a cup of tea and brought it to the old man, first introducing himself and then asking, "May I ask, Old Sir, what should we call you?"

Judging by the old man's demeanor, even if he wasn't part of the antiques circle, he possessed vast knowledge. Building a good relationship with him certainly couldn't hurt. Perhaps in the future, when encountering difficulties in this area, they might need to seek his advice.

"My surname is Yang. I am just a poor carpenter," the old man chuckled. "You can just call me Old Man Yang."

"Old Yang!"

Wang Guan and Yu Feibai naturally omitted the suffix "Old Man." At the same time, the two dared not look down upon the title of 'carpenter.' After all, times had changed; items made purely by hand now cost several times more than machine-produced goods. A highly skilled carpenter who earned a living by their craft was welcome everywhere. Furthermore, the fact that Old Yang could afford to play with Zitan and Huanghuali meant he certainly wasn't poor.

Sensing their respect, Old Yang was quite pleased, his face breaking into a wide smile. "I've seen many young people like yourselves in the antiques market. Some were greedy for a bargain and ended up buying fakes, while others believed everything in the market was counterfeit and refused to buy anything at all. But people like you, who can spot the genuine article among a pile of fakes, are truly rare. When I was young, I certainly didn't have eyes as sharp as yours."

"Old Yang!"

At this moment, Yu Feibai said with a wry smile, "It's fine if you praise him, but don't drag me into it. I can't see anything at all."

"Don't be discouraged," Old Yang comforted him. "Knowing your shortcomings is the first step toward improvement. When I was learning carpentry in my teens, I was so slow-witted that I didn't truly master it until I was over thirty. During that time, my master even thought I was too clumsy and wanted to kick me out. But I persevered. After decades of hard work, I’ve achieved something small."

"Old Yang is being modest again," interjected a slightly portly middle-aged man approaching, holding a long box. A broad smile covered his face as he revealed Old Yang’s true standing. "Everyone in Shu knows Old Yang is a State-level master of wood craftsmanship. For more than three hundred and sixty days a year, practically every day, people invite you to help create furnishings."

"Little Yu, you've arrived," Old Yang smiled with reserved pride, waving his hand. "What you're talking about happened many years ago; why bring it up now? I'm old now, I can barely lift my tools, let alone make furniture."

"Look at what you're saying. We wouldn't let you do those heavy tasks. You have vast experience; just guiding us from the side is enough. For instance, last year, even the Palace Museum requested your expertise to restore damaged Ming and Qing dynasty furniture," the middle-aged man said with a smile as he approached, his words containing a touch of flattery, but the admiration in his eyes was genuine.

Wang Guan and Yu Feibai felt the same way, struck with quiet awe. They fully understood that a master craftsman of Old Yang's caliber was much like a great master of traditional Chinese medicine: they no longer needed to perform the tedious tasks of boiling decoctions but instead provided diagnoses, wrote prescriptions, and offered solutions to problems.

"Let's not talk about that," Old Yang said, waving the topic away, as many elders disliked boasting. He then asked, "Little Yu, what's in the box? Are those the two paintings you mentioned?"

.......................... Thanks to book friends "Luoyang Fu Bingyi 88, koufuye008, Fei Yao Wo Shen Ji" for their rewards. The sun rises as usual; votes are no longer useful, please cast them all for me. Hehe, seeking collections and recommendations. C