"After returning, I cross-referenced materials and compared them with Zheng Banqiao's bamboo paintings, only then realizing how vastly different the style of the leaves on this scroll was from his," the portly middle-aged man sighed, clearly troubled. "One leans towards realism, the other emphasizes expressive freedom—they don't look like they were painted by the same hand at all."

"Mmm."

Wang Guan nodded in understanding. This often happened when buying things; an impulse purchase made without thinking, followed by deep regret once cool-headedness returned.

Especially among antique collecting experts, there was a principle: strike when the iron is hot. Hesitate, and the piece might be snatched up by someone else the next day. This very pressure often led people to buy items without properly verifying their authenticity, resulting in repeated losses and deceptions.

Clearly, the portly man's actions were a textbook example.

"Uncle, you are absolutely right. This piece is definitely not a genuine bamboo painting by Zheng Banqiao."

At this point, Yu Feibai shook his head and spoke frankly. "Bamboo painting originated in the Tang Dynasty and saw excellent inheritance and development during the Northern Song period. The great man of letters, Su Dongpo, once said, 'I can do without meat for a meal, but I cannot do without bamboo in my dwelling; without meat, one grows thin, but without bamboo, one becomes vulgar.' After this poem became famous, bamboo painting was highly revered."

"Then, the Ming and Qing dynasties can be considered the zenith of bamboo painting's prosperity. Especially Master Xu Wei of the mid-Ming, known as Qingteng, who pioneered the grand xieyi (freehand) style of ink bamboo painting. His ink bamboo works were bold and sweeping, his brushwork unrestrained, merging seamlessly with poetic inscriptions to forge a new paradigm in bamboo art."

Yu Feibai elaborated smoothly. "Following Xu Qingteng, a host of masters from the ink painting world—including Shi Tao, Bada Shanren, Zheng Banqiao, Wu Changshuo, Qi Baishi, and others—were deeply influenced. Zheng Banqiao was a standout among them; within the grand xieyi style, he developed a more restrained, small xieyi approach. His ink bamboo paintings are characterized by their slender vigor and distant purity, exuding an air of stern integrity."

"To put it plainly, when you look at Zheng Banqiao's bamboo paintings, you know he is painting bamboo. But the branches and leaves depicted are completely different from actual bamboo leaves. Yet, upon careful viewing, one can sense that thin, lofty, and soaringly heroic spirit," Yu Feibai chuckled. "That kind of demeanor contrasts too sharply with the style of the ink bamboo scroll you possess. Anyone with even a passing familiarity with Zheng Banqiao's work would see it immediately."

After this speech, the portly middle-aged man’s face flushed crimson, and he fidgeted uncomfortably.

"Ahem!"

Wang Guan cleared his throat subtly, signaling Yu Feibai to stop before he offended the man further.

Then, Wang Guan subtly shifted his position, nudging Yu Feibai aside, and smiled kindly. "Uncle, don't be discouraged. I think this painting is quite nice. Even if it isn't a genuine work by Zheng Banqiao, that doesn't mean it isn't an antique."

"You must understand, there have been countless painters throughout history. Setting aside those whose fame endures forever, there were still many scholars and literati who were moderately famous or entirely unknown. The bamboo they painted, even if not quite reaching Zheng Banqiao's level, should still be quite good."

As Wang Guan offered continuous comfort, he lowered his head to examine the scroll on the table and suddenly noticed with surprise that aside from a single bamboo stalk and relatively dense foliage, there was nothing else on the painting.

"Huh? Why are there no inscriptions, signatures, or seals on the painting?" Wang Guan asked, puzzled.

It was generally understood that any treasured calligraphy or painting, especially one cherished by an owner or collected by a literatus, would certainly bear the original owner's seal or a collector’s qínyìn (seals of ownership).

These seals, in a sense, provided crucial evidence for authenticating the work, mapping its journey—when it was where, and in whose hands—creating a complete lineage. This was what was meant by 'orderly succession.'

But here, aside from the ink bamboo drawing, not a single seal or inscription was present, which was quite unusual.

"What?"

At this moment, Yu Feibai and Elder Yang also noticed this glaring omission.

"Uncle, what's going on?" Wang Guan asked, surprised. "When you acquired it, you didn't notice this?"

"I asked," the portly man replied, his face turning beet red as he stammered, "But the seller claimed it was Zheng Banqiao's discarded draft. He said Zheng Banqiao felt dissatisfied while painting it back then, tossed it out as trash, but someone picked it up, carefully preserved it, and it has been passed down until now..."

Well, Wang Guan and Yu Feibai instantly recognized the source of the story—it had to be pulled straight from Stephen Chow's Flirting Scholar. The scene of a crowd scrambling to grab garbage was indeed iconic.

Could it be that this Uncle actually believed the plot from a movie? While not entirely impossible, the probability was infinitesimally small.

For a moment, Wang Guan and Yu Feibai were speechless, and even Elder Yang couldn't help but shake his head, feeling the portly man must have been utterly bewitched to believe such a tale.

"Alright, Little Yu, put the item away," Elder Yang said, his voice tinged with resignation.

The portly man also felt embarrassed and hastily stood up, scrambling to roll up the scroll. He struggled several times in his haste, unable to manage it properly.

"Uncle, let me help you."

Wang Guan stepped forward to assist. As they rolled the painting, he suddenly sensed that the paper felt somewhat special—slightly thicker than the paper used for the Da Qian calligraphy and painting he had just examined earlier.

Noticing this detail, Wang Guan casually ran his fingers over the paper again, feeling its texture—it was quite fine and smooth, unlike ordinary paper.

"Strange..."

At this moment, a thought sparked in Wang Guan's mind. He slowed his rolling motion, lowering his head as if tidying up, but in reality, he had activated his special ability, allowing him to see through the ink bamboo scroll in his hands.

Instantly, Wang Guan perceived a dazzling, purple precious light emanating from the ink bamboo scroll, brilliant as a sunset glow, rising and burning like flames.

"I nearly missed something good," Wang Guan thought, filled with a mixture of surprise and relief.

"Wang Guan, what is it?" Meanwhile, Yu Feibai noticed Wang Guan stop moving and asked, confused. "What are you staring blankly at now for no reason?"

"Uh..."

Wang Guan's thoughts spun rapidly for a long moment before he let out a long breath and sighed. "Feibai, I almost misjudged this entirely."

"What do you mean?" Yu Feibai was utterly astonished.

Under everyone's gaze, Wang Guan held up the scroll, forcing a wry smile. "Just now, I was focused only on the painting itself and failed to notice that the paper of the scroll seems far from ordinary."

Actually, Wang Guan had just been considering taking advantage of the situation—since everyone believed the scroll was a fake, he could quietly acquire it for a very low price.

However, after weighing the options, Wang Guan realized he could not do that.

In other circumstances, if others had already judged a painting a fake, and Wang Guan subsequently bought it, others would only admire his sharp eye for finding a bargain.

But now, he was the one who had initially appraised it. If he knew it was genuine and still insisted it was fake to purchase it cheaply, it would cease to be finding a bargain and would instead be the despicable action of a morally bankrupt person.

........................ Thanks to book friend "Broken Sword Life" for the reward. Still soliciting collections and recommendations; please support actively. C