Having received the affirmative answer, Old Huang was greatly pleased, even going so far as to issue an eviction notice: "Since that is the case, you all should leave first. The painting has been revealed, but it must also be re-mounted immediately. Otherwise, once this protective liquid dries, the paper will be damaged."

"There are still many more steps to follow; it will take at least a day or two to complete the mounting process," Old Huang waved his hand, adding, "Just leave your phone number. I will notify you once the painting is properly mounted."

Was this what they called crossing the bridge and tearing it down?

At this point, both Wang Guan, the owner of the Ink Bamboo Scroll, and Old Yang, a friend of Old Huang, could only offer wry smiles before dutifully withdrawing from the studio and heading out.

Simultaneously, Old Yang explained, "Young brother, please don't take offense. That's just his temperament; once he starts working, he gets completely immersed. He's much better now; in the past, he truly neglected food and sleep, working day and night."

"This just shows that Old Huang's singular focus is what has led to his current achievements," Wang Guan chuckled, understanding that anyone who succeeds in a particular field is bound to be obsessed with certain aspects. Never mind Old Huang's work mounting calligraphy and paintings; Old Yang must be just as dedicated when crafting wood, oblivious to anything outside his immediate task.

"It's good that you understand," Old Yang nodded with a slight smile.

Afterward, the group lingered in the main hall for a short while, sharing two cups of tea. Seeing that dusk was setting in, they eventually parted ways.

On the ride back to the hotel, Wang Guan laughed wryly, "It seems the matter of visiting Uncle De's friend will have to wait until tomorrow."

"It doesn't matter; I plan to keep browsing the antiques market tomorrow anyway," Yu Feibai clenched his fist. "I refuse to believe that in such a massive antiques market, there are no more hidden treasures to uncover."

"Handsome, you have a call coming in..."

Just as Wang Guan was about to offer some comforting words to Yu Feibai, he heard his goofy phone ringtone blare out, immediately causing silence to fall between them.

Yu Feibai pulled out his phone, and a frown crossed his face as he checked the caller ID: "It's that Tang Qinghua kid. If he's calling at this hour, it's surely not for any good news."

Despite his words, Yu Feibai pressed the answer button. Simultaneously, the other party's voice drifted out from the speaker: "Hello, is this Calligraphy Brush?"

Originally, a private phone conversation was, of course, a private matter, and Wang Guan had no intention of eavesdropping.

However, Yu Feibai’s phone had excellent sound quality, and since they were both seated on the back seat of the taxi, the relatively confined space meant that whether he intended to listen or not, he couldn't avoid hearing it.

Calligraphy Brush...

In an instant, Wang Guan could barely suppress a smile. He immediately realized that this must be Yu Feibai’s nickname. After all, Feibai () refers to the "flying white" style in calligraphy, an extension of the brushwork itself.

Sitting right next to him, Yu Feibai instantly noticed the amusement flickering across Wang Guan’s face. He immediately became furious, grinding his teeth, "Tang Qinghua, I told you not to use that nickname! You better have a damn good reason, or don't blame me if I stop being polite and come teach you a lesson in Sijiu City."

"You're using it too..."

After a moment of silence, the voice on the other end suddenly grew louder, commanding, "You are doing it deliberately! I told you before, the pronunciation must be correct—it’s Táng Qīnghuá, like the Tsinghua University, not Qinghua porcelain!"

"Got it, Qīng...huá..."

Yu Feibai’s tone rose and fell erratically, drawing out the final syllable in a long, drawn-out whine.

"You absolute scoundrel!"

Tang Qinghua muttered under his breath, annoyed. "I won't waste time arguing with you. I heard your friend acquired an authentic Wen Tong Ink Bamboo Scroll. Is that true?"

Yu Feibai didn't answer, instead throwing a question back: "Did your subordinate, the one surnamed Zhao, tell you about this?"

"Zhao Qian, yes," Tang Qinghua admitted. "He described it quite dramatically—paintings within paintings, unmounting and re-mounting, all sorts of things. I was skeptical, so I figured I should call you directly to confirm."

"No benefit, no early rise," Yu Feibai scoffed. "We left Old Huang’s residence barely ten minutes ago, and you’re already calling me in such a hurry. I doubt this is just about confirming a rumor."

"Heh heh, you guessed right."

Tang Qinghua chuckled. "If it is true, can you perhaps persuade your friend to let Zhengya Xuan auction off the Ink Bamboo Scroll? Of course, we certainly won't let him suffer any losses. We can completely waive the auction service fees, and we might even consider offering an authorization fee."

It was clear that Young Master Tang was not cut out for business. What kind of person reveals all their bottom cards during negotiations? However, it also indicated that his relationship with Yu Feibai was close enough that he wasn't afraid to disclose everything.

Unaware that Wang Guan was right beside Yu Feibai, listening in, Tang Qinghua continued, "By the way, do I know your friend? Zhao Qian was vague on the phone; I still don't know who your friend is."

"Oh, you definitely know him. You’ve even done business with him before."

Yu Feibai said with a light laugh, "Remember that celadon small bowl by Tang Yin? He’s the one who sold it to you."

"Ah, it was him! What a coincidence," Tang Qinghua sounded surprised, yet pleased. "First time meeting is a coincidence, second time makes us familiar. Could you ask him if he has any intention of selling that Ink Bamboo Scroll?"

"No need to ask; he’s right here listening," Yu Feibai said with a smile.

"Cough..."

Instantly, a series of heavy coughs erupted through the phone speaker. A moment later, Tang Qinghua's clear, magnetic voice returned: "Haha, my friend next to you, hello! I am Tang Qinghua."

"Mr. Tang, hello!"

Wang Guan gave a slight smile, leaning closer to Yu Feibai's phone to offer his greeting.

"I won't interfere with this matter; you two can discuss it yourselves," Yu Feibai said, promptly shoving the phone toward Wang Guan and turning to watch the scenery outside the window.

"My dear brother, there's no need to be so formal. Since you are Feibai's friend, then you are our friend too," Tang Qinghua said with a warm smile. "Since we are all friends, let me be direct. Our Zhengya Xuan desperately needs the Ink Bamboo Scroll you possess to serve as the centerpiece of our auction. This is crucial for building momentum, breaking into the Chengdu market, and expanding Zhengya Xuan’s influence. I just wonder, brother, if you would be willing to part with it?"

"This..."

Wang Guan frowned slightly, sounding hesitant. "Mr. Tang, it’s just an Ink Bamboo Scroll. Even an authentic piece by Wen Tong would only be worth a few million at most. Isn't that a bit rash for a centerpiece at an auction?"

"Heh heh, you think so too, brother? What a coincidence, I think so as well," Tang Qinghua sighed. "But Zhao Qian mentioned that this Wen Tong was a renowned local scholar in Sichuan, someone who could evoke strong feelings of recognition among the local people. His Ink Bamboo Scrolls are exceedingly rare in circulation, possessing unparalleled appeal for the people of Sichuan. Therefore, for an auction held in Chengdu, using Wen Tong's scroll as the finale piece couldn't be more appropriate."

"That sounds quite reasonable. Anyway, the higher-ups have already agreed; all we're missing is your painting, brother."

At this point, Tang Qinghua pleaded, "Brother, please, do me a favor. Consider it a personal debt I owe you."

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