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墨書 Inktalez
After that, Fatty treated this place like his own home and became very interested in the line of work I was in, often helping out in the shop.
I had no issues with Fatty staying here. We were so close during school that we once shared a bed and got laughed at for tearing a pair of pants. However, I couldn't understand or tolerate his enthusiasm for this business. The main purpose of running this shop was to keep up appearances, providing a cover for what I was really doing; otherwise, I had no reason to engage in large-scale archaeology investigations. Additionally, it allowed me to communicate and connect with various archaeological institutions and individuals both domestically and internationally to gather information. Lastly, it was a way to earn a living.
In contrast, Fatty was completely dedicated to treating the trade of cultural relics as a career. When he found out that there were no genuine items in my shop, he immediately flew into a rage and ran off to source some goods. There were several antique markets around here, but most of them sold fakes, with even fewer high-quality replicas available. Genuine items were rarely offered.
Fatty, being an outsider, would only end up getting ripped off in such places. I figured he didn't have much spare cash anyway, so I decided to ignore him and let him learn the hard way—consider it tuition fees. The sooner he got disillusioned, the better; I had neither the time nor energy to waste on this. To my surprise, he wasn't that naive; instead of learning his lesson, he brought the seller back to the shop.
The seller looked at my expression and said incredulously, "Qiangzi, what are you doing? This isn't how you play the game."
I realized that Fatty had brought everything from the seller's shop over. There was no choice but for me to apologize profusely and ask him to take everything back. In our city, about thirty percent of the antiques on the market had been appraised by me; I knew all the antique shop owners personally. Fatty's actions could easily tarnish my reputation—who knew what they would say about me behind my back?
I couldn't afford to lose face like this. Reluctantly, I laid down some ground rules with Fatty: he couldn't bring any cultural relics for appraisal and definitely shouldn't bring sellers into the shop. Fatty agreed readily but insisted that I teach him how to appraise antiques.
Wasn't that just asking for trouble? Appraisal relied purely on experience; without handling enough items, one couldn't develop any skills. Since I didn't have any genuine items for him to practice on, it would be utterly pointless. Seeing his determination, I figured it would be better to spend a year or so teaching him properly rather than getting stuck with him indefinitely.
Most antique shops here primarily dealt in fakes, but there were still genuine items available, including shops that specialized in authentic pieces. I knew three such shops; one of them had a good relationship with me—the owner’s surname was Wen—and he often came to me for appraisals when he was unsure about something. I decided to teach Fatty there so he could get familiar with real goods. Personally, I wasn't keen on forming close ties with these antique dealers; most of their items had unclear origins and often came from dubious sources.
I willingly shared my knowledge with Fatty, which made him settle down, and life gradually took on a new rhythm—though it completely disrupted my own routine.
Every morning, Fatty and I would go to Wen's shop to learn; in reality, it was just me helping him sort through inventory. This was part of the transaction—a price I had to pay every time I took Fatty along. Wen was pleased about this arrangement; my eye for detail was sharper than his, and he didn't have to pay appraisal fees.
In the afternoons, Fatty would wander around the antique market by himself since it was filled with fakes anyway; it was good for him to experience the difference firsthand. Meanwhile, I returned to my shop to work on my sand table model—a meticulous task that required great attention to detail and one I wouldn't entrust to anyone else.
The reason for creating a panoramic model of the Yadan Landform lies in an ancient legend of a local ethnic group. This tale is now known by very few, even among the people themselves, but it casts a shadow in a song celebrating a national hero known as the Long Song. After gathering and organizing information, I have roughly recreated this legend.
The exact age of the legend is unknown, but in the Long Song, it speaks of an era filled with countless suns and moons, where the brave Deep Water Prince triumphed over a dragon that had taken residence in its lair. The dragon could attain Eternal Life in its domain and was indestructible. The Deep Water Prince sacrificed his Rib to create a cage to imprison the dragon, preventing it from escaping and wreaking havoc on the world. Similarly, the Deep Water Prince was destined to remain there forever to suppress the dragon. This Yadan Landform Group is said to be the dragon's lair from the legend.
Another reason for creating this panoramic model stems from my own speculation or imagination.
Two months later, Fatty returned, bringing with him the first item he had set his sights on. I nearly spat at him and solemnly warned him not to go around introducing me.
It was so embarrassing; he moved back with a Manger and insisted it was from before the Ming Dynasty.
I didn’t step any closer; that massive stone Manger took up a large portion of the shop. When I told Fatty to move it out immediately, he acted as if he hadn’t heard me. From that point on, I never entered or exited through the front door again; I simply couldn’t deal with this fool.
After a few days with that thing in the shop, he felt uncomfortable; it took up too much space, and being stout, he had to turn sideways just to get around it. After he tripped over the Manger once, I seized the opportunity to suggest he get rid of it. With a large bump on his head, he immediately went out to find a buyer and had the Manger moved away, lamenting at the end, “My first deal ended in a loss.”
Curious, I asked how much he lost. He replied it wasn’t much; he hadn’t lost money on the Manger itself—just on the shipping costs. I thought to myself that this Manger probably wasn’t worth much for shipping either; what kind of situation was this?
Just after that incident passed, Fatty acquired another item—a scroll of ancient texts that was said to be a rare edition.
He insisted I appraise this ancient text for him. He nagged me until I finally took a glance and told him, “The paper shows signs of age.”
Upon hearing this, Fatty beamed with pride, feeling well-versed in antiques and ready to stand on his own.
Seeing his attitude, I realized some things needed to be made clear to him; otherwise, he would surely suffer significant losses.
"I have a long history with you, but that doesn't mean this item is genuine. Things that are a thousand years old are considered historical, and so are those that are five hundred years old. There is a lot of knowledge involved here. I don't specialize in ancient texts or calligraphy, but that doesn't mean I lack relevant knowledge; I just haven't delved deeply into it. In your eyes, I may seem to understand more than you do, but to a true expert, we are both the same—mere amateurs."
Fatty asked in confusion, "But at least you can tell it's an old item."
"Let's set aside the methods of faking items for now. Even early forgeries can be indistinguishable from the real thing," I explained carefully. "Take Tang Yin's paintings, for example. Since the Tang Dynasty, there have been countless copies and forgeries, continuing all the way to the Republic of China and even today. The forgeries from the Song Dynasty may be old items, but can you really claim they are genuine? There are very few people in all of China who can accurately discern authenticity. You've only encountered a few; do you really think you can tell?"
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