Chapter 13: The True and False "Early Spring Painting"

“No, I didn’t see the person clearly... I only knew that someone fired a gun, and it was aimed at Blackie. Perhaps you should look into why every single one of their group ended up dead. At that time, Blackie seemed to have told me that someone was after him—for his goods, he said.”

“Of course, whether you believe it or not is up to you.” Sui Yi turned away, no longer glancing at Lin Quan.

Lin Quan watched her retreating figure for a moment, then quickly turned to leave with Zhang Xiao and the others who had finished questioning Old Tang. Old Tang folded his hands behind his back, watching Lin Quan and his men depart, his face full of sighs.

“This Lin Quan is a real man, but it’s a pity he lacks connections and can only be a captain...”

“Still, he rids the world of evil,” Sui Yi replied indifferently.

He was a good man; otherwise, she might not have escaped so many times. Only because he was law-abiding, principled, and upright.

At the core, she was grateful to him for being a good public servant, even though he always tried to arrest her and throw her in jail.

“The salary’s too low!” Old Tang sighed earnestly.

And that, after all, was the difference between a crafty merchant and a straightforward man.

“My salary seems too low too... Hand me the money, I have to pay my tuition at school.”

Standing in the hall, waiting for Old Tang to fetch the money, Sui Yi mused that when it came to giving out money, he always dawdled, so she might as well find something to pass the time...

—Of course, not by chatting with Zhou Ran, the sunny handsome guy, who, to be honest, was a bit too talkative today, even more than usual.

Instead, Sui Yi began to study some antiques in the shop. Strangely, she’d never cared much for these things before. Porcelain, to her, was just a jar if it was a jar, a vase for flowers if it was a vase, and of course, a chamber pot was exactly that.

After a while, her gaze fell upon a painting.

A massive stone and ancient pine dominated the foreground, the midground linked by twisting rocks, and through the mist, two peaks rose abruptly in the distance, standing tall above a deep abyss, with grand palaces and pavilions nestled in the remote mountains. The gentle slope to the left stretched endlessly, evoking a sense of depth and vastness.

Majestic and imposing, the scene evoked a feeling of awe.

Below, a red square seal: “Early Spring, painted by Guo Xi in the Renzi year.”

“Sui Yi, are you interested in Guo Xi’s paintings?” Zhou Ran asked.

The seal below made it clear this was a piece by Guo Xi. Sui Yi was only curious about the painting, but since Zhou Ran had always treated her well, she couldn’t just turn away, so she replied lightly, “I’m not very familiar with this subject.”

Zhou Ran sneaked a few glances at her, cleared his throat, and smiled.

“This is ‘Early Spring’ by the Northern Song painter Guo Xi, painted in the fifth year of Emperor Shenzong’s Xining era. It depicts the world transforming as the auspicious snow melts, nature reviving, trees budding, everything brimming with life—it’s an early spring scene, rendered in ink wash, bold and atmospheric, leaving a lasting impression.”

He spoke with cheerful confidence, and seeing Sui Yi listening with rare focus, he became a little elated and grew even more eloquent.

In fact, Zhou Ran didn’t know that Sui Yi, due to changes in her own body, had begun to see her present and future differently, and so had developed a rare patience for these things.

But every painting must be talked through eventually. When Zhou Ran finally ran out of words and his mouth felt dry, someone clapped him hard on the shoulder.

“Hey, kid, you’re making progress... You’ve been reading my treasures lately, haven’t you?”

Old Tang approached with a small black pouch, his yellowed teeth flashing as he grinned at Zhou Ran.

“Ah, you flatter me, sir...” Zhou Ran said, a little embarrassed, glancing at Sui Yi. “It’s just that Sui Yi showed some interest today, otherwise I’d have no one to share this with.”

As they spoke, Sui Yi’s hand was already reaching for the worn painting. Old Tang jumped, exclaiming, “Hey, girl, don’t touch that... Careful, careful!”

Sui Yi’s hand had already touched it, but as a young woman, her movements were gentle, her slender, elegant fingers tracing the ancient paper, bringing a sense of lingering grace and fragrance to the moment.

Old Tang was somewhat reassured; if it had been a burly man poking at his treasure with rough hands, he might have grabbed a saber and fought him off.

Both Zhou Ran and Old Tang waited for Sui Yi to withdraw her hand.

Though the moment was brief, Sui Yi felt a coolness at her fingertips, a sensation that made her soul tremble, but it lasted only an instant.

Old Tang noticed Sui Yi’s delicate brows knit slightly, then smooth again, as she withdrew her hand as if nothing had happened.

This girl was always guarded with her emotions, but just now she seemed somehow different. Could it be...?

“Is there something odd about this painting?” Old Tang didn’t know why he asked, especially since he was asking a girl who had no knowledge of antiques.

Pulled back from her thoughts, Sui Yi gave a soft “ah,” focused her gaze, and glanced at the price tag in the lower right corner of the frame.

Five hundred and eighty thousand?

So expensive.

“Is it a fake?” It was Sui Yi’s voice. Zhou Ran was startled and blurted out, “What do you mean fake, Sui Yi, don’t talk nonsense...”

Old Tang was surprised too, but his face stayed serious as he stared at Sui Yi. Zhou Ran broke into a cold sweat, staring at her in confusion.

Strange, she was usually so cautious and reserved—why speak so recklessly now?

Could the painting really be a fake?

Would Old Tang, who cared so much about his shop’s reputation, hang a forgery for all his customers to see?

After only a short pause, Old Tang tightened his grip on the black pouch, his mustache twitching as he smiled. “And why do you say it’s a fake? Go on, let’s hear it...”

Something was off with his tone!

Zhou Ran looked at Sui Yi, signaling her to apologize quickly, but Sui Yi met Old Tang’s eyes for a moment, then gently massaged her brow, her voice calm and even.

“I guessed.”

“You guessed?” Old Tang was skeptical. “Then tell us why you guessed that.”

A guess requires a reason? Sui Yi knew this was just Old Tang being stubborn again. She thought for a moment, then pointed at the label below.

“The price is wrong.”

Of course, she couldn’t say that the writing and the ink on the painting told her so!

The magnetic sense she’d developed only hinted that the cultural aura of this painting was faint.

She didn’t know exactly how recent it was, but compared to the hand-copied “Three Hundred Poems” on Mr. Yi’s bookshelf, this painting felt even less steeped in history...

So it probably wasn’t an ancient masterpiece—

At least, not an authentic one!

“The price?” Old Tang stared at her for a long moment. Suddenly, his gloomy expression brightened and he laughed. “I thought you’d learned how to tell real from fake...”

He paused, then turned to the shocked Zhou Ran and scolded him, “You—yes, you! You remember the history, but you can’t tell a fake? Really?”

Zhou Ran felt wronged. After all, this was Old Tang’s shop, he was just working here—how could he doubt the painting’s authenticity?

“You must be thinking, ‘If it’s a fake, why hang it here and cheat people?’”

“Sir, I wouldn’t dare...”

“Wouldn’t dare or not, that’s what you’re thinking!” Old Tang glared, then relented with a sigh. “I’ll leave the painting up for sale—nobody can say a thing. It’s worth what it’s worth...”

He paused, then looked at Sui Yi. “Though the painting is indeed a fake.”

Fifty-eight thousand for a fake, and so brazenly displayed?

Sui Yi’s eyes flickered in surprise.

Was the world out of order, or had everyone in it gone mad?