Chapter 25: The Mansheng Pot

Purple clay is purple clay; it can be less purple, but it must be red.

It can lean toward brown, tan, or even yellow. But no matter the shade, it must be grounded in red; it can never, under any circumstances, lean toward blue.

A blue purple-clay teapot… I have never even heard of such a thing.

Hao Jun’s eyes widened as he circled the object: on the back, in the shadows where the flashlight couldn't reach, the body of the pot was indeed purple. But the moment the angle shifted slightly, the color of the clay veered toward red, and with another shift, it turned blue. Even when viewed upside down, the effect remained.

Old Song was the same, his brow furrowed and his mouth agape. Suddenly, he snatched the flashlight and shone it directly on the pot; the body shimmered with a blue light. As soon as he clicked the light off, it returned to purple. Not giving up, he used a tea tray to carry the pot outside into the sunlight. It was in vain; while it didn’t turn purely blue, it emitted a distinctly blue-tinted red glow.

Old Song’s face turned green as he carried the teapot back inside. "Why wasn't it this blue before?"

Lin Sicheng didn't speak, but pointed to the ceiling. Under this single, tiny lightbulb, dim as a ghost market, it would be a miracle to see anything clearly.

"Could it be that some pigment was added during the molding process?"

The moment the words left his mouth, Old Song wanted to slap himself. The reason purple-clay teapots stand apart from ordinary ceramics is precisely because they are unglazed and unpainted, relying on the natural, vintage texture of the clay. If pigment had been added, it would be worth even less. Of course, it probably wasn't worth much to begin with: a blue purple-clay teapot—anyone in the business would laugh their teeth out upon hearing the name.

"Why is it like this?"

"Excessive copper content."

Old Song blinked. "What?"

"Basic copper carbonate, or copper sulfate." Lin Sicheng explained patiently, "The reason a purple-clay teapot changes color when heated is primarily due to the varying iron content in the clay. The higher the iron, the darker the color, like the classic purple-mud or vermilion-mud pots. The lower the iron, the lighter the color, such as the rare white-mud pots like the pear-skin or duck-white varieties. But it is rare to see a blue hue. If it must lean blue, there is only one reason: the copper content in the clay is quite high. There are few regions that produce clay with such characteristics, and Yixing is definitely not one of them!"

"But why can't we see it normally?"

"Because of spectral neutralization: red and blue neutralize into purple, unless there is interference from a strong light source."

And wasn't it exactly because of that strong light interference that the colors layered?

Old Song’s face turned ashen. *Whose kid is this? How does he seem more seasoned than an expert who has spent decades in the field?*

It would be absurd to claim the boy didn't know what he was talking about. He clung to a final shred of hope. "It’s really not a Yixing pot?"

Lin Sicheng nodded. "One hundred percent!"

"Then what the hell are we even talking about?"

Because over ninety percent of famous teapot masters were born, trained, and worked in Yixing, and became famous there. If it wasn't produced in Yixing, then what kind of "purple-clay" teapot was it?

Old Song was on the verge of tears. Of course, he remained half-skeptical about the copper sulfate talk, but the fact that the pot turned blue was an indisputable reality. He had been in this business for over twenty years, and a "blue purple-clay teapot"... he hadn't heard of such a thing in his life.

If he had to find an explanation: either it wasn't made in Yixing, as Lin Sicheng claimed, or it had been dyed, as he had suspected earlier. But coloring purple-clay pots didn't become common until the late Qing Dynasty or the Republican era, and even then, it wouldn't be as good as a non-Yixing piece from the mid-Qing. After all, it wasn't as if there were absolutely no non-Yixing masters in the mid-Qing era.

He forced himself to rally. "Old Hao, who are the non-Yixing purple-clay masters from the Qing Dynasty?"

Hao Jun thought for a moment. "Early Qing masters like Xu Jinhou and Hui Mengchen were not from Yixing, but this pot is from the mid-Qing period, so that’s clearly impossible. There were two in the mid-Qing: Chen Hanwen and his son Chen Yinqian. Although they were from Yixing, Chen Hanwen had a falling out with his brother, the famous Chen Mingyuan, and fled to Zhejiang. After them, there aren't really any famous names."

Old Song recalled the names. *Chen Yinqian, no reputation to speak of. Even if he did forge it, it would be worth ten thousand at most. Chen Hanwen, Chen Mingyuan's brother... wait, it’s actually possible. No wonder it’s such a good imitation.* But honestly, his fame was mediocre. Still, that was better than nothing.

With a bitter face, he forced a grin. "Old Hao, I won't ask for three hundred thousand, and you don't have to pay one hundred fifty thousand. Let’s split the difference: two hundred thousand!"

Hao Jun jumped up, retreating two steps. "Old Song, do you take me for a fool?"

"You actually believe what the kid says?"

"He may be a kid, but his grandfather is Lin Changqing!"

Hao Jun sighed. "Lin Sicheng, I won't lie to you: Professor Lin is a respected senior, and since he is in the hospital, I didn't want to trouble him, so I thought I’d let you take a look first. To be honest, don't be offended: I figured if you couldn't tell, I’d have an excuse to ask Professor Lin for help once he was discharged. But I never expected you to see this much. Brother, I apologize—I had eyes but failed to recognize Mount Tai..."

Lin Sicheng was caught between laughter and tears. "That’s a bit much!"

Hao Jun shook his head and said nothing more. Old Song stood with his mouth agape for a long time. *Lin Changqing’s grandson... no wonder he knows so much.* But no matter how much he knew, this pot had to be sold.

He forced a smile. "Old Hao, this pot is from the mid-Qing, that much is certain, right? I’ll lower the price again—fifteen thousand, as you said!"

Hao Jun shook his head. "Fine, even if it is a Chen Hanwen pot, is it worth one hundred fifty thousand?"

Old Song opened his mouth, unsure how to respond. Two years ago, a Chen Hanwen straight-bellied pot had been auctioned. It had no lid, but the contemporary master Gu Jingzhou made one for it, and it sold for five hundred ninety thousand. He knew that if that lid were auctioned separately, it would probably fetch over five hundred thousand. At least this one had its lid.

"One hundred twenty thousand, not a cent lower!"

Hao Jun sighed. "Old Song, at this point, it’s not even about the money anymore. The master, the era—none of that matters. You’ve been in this business for so many years; put your hand on your heart: have you ever seen a purple-clay pot that turns blue?"

Old Song’s lips trembled, and he had no reply. It was true, he hadn't. But was he really stuck with it? He gritted his teeth. "One hundred thousand... I really bought it for one hundred thousand. I’ll give it to you at cost!"

Hao Jun had already made up his mind—even if it were ten thousand, he wouldn't take it. Just as he was about to shake his head, Lin Sicheng smiled. "Senior brother, one hundred thousand isn't impossible. After all, natural blue clay is rare; it at least has some research value."

Old Song nodded like a chicken pecking at rice. "Exactly, exactly!"

"Exactly your head... I’m not Professor Lin. I’m just an antique peddler; what would I research?"

Old Song was struck by an idea. "Just because you can't research it doesn't mean others can't. Like Professor Lin... young man, you're right. This is blue clay; it might even be a unique piece... If Old Hao doesn't want it, that’s his loss. I’ll sell it to Professor Lin. It’s not expensive, just one hundred thousand!"

"A unique piece? Old Song, you really know how to blow smoke," Hao Jun sneered. "Besides, Professor Lin is retired. What would he research?"

Old Song was silenced again.

Lin Sicheng had a strange expression. *How did things get to this point? This is a real treasure; I never said it wasn't worth the money. Why are you two pushing it back and forth? Did I go too far?*

But thinking back, aside from explaining why the pot turned blue, he only said two things about its value: it was a very good imitation, and it wasn't made of Yixing clay. He had been balanced, even complimentary.

What was the reason Hao Jun went from eager to fearful, and Old Song went from holding a rare commodity to terrified of being stuck with it? He understood now: it was the blue tint. It was indeed rare—nearly non-existent. Coupled with their back-and-forth, they had essentially talked themselves into a corner: if it wasn't a Yixing pot, it wasn't real purple clay; if it wasn't from a famous master, it wasn't worth anything.

But honestly, if he could buy a pot made by Chen Hongshou and Yang Pengnian for one hundred thousand, he’d wake up laughing in his sleep. *So, Senior Brother Hao, you’re missing out.*

He smiled. "Senior Brother Hao, my grandfather is retired, but there are many research institutions. You have connections, don't you? Like the Western University or the Yaozhou Kiln Research Center... flip it, and you could still make ten or twenty thousand."

Hao Jun shook his head. "Ten or twenty thousand isn't worth the trouble." He paused. "If you really think it has research value, it’s not impossible to buy, but you should ask Professor Lin first!"

*No... I didn't say I wanted to buy it; I wanted you to buy it. Why don't you get it?*

Old Song started nodding again, practically trying to shove the pot into Lin Sicheng’s hands. "Exactly... sell it to a research institution. Professor Lin is the titan of ceramics in our province; he knows so many institutions. Flipping it for thirty or fifty thousand would be easy."

Lin Sicheng sighed. He couldn't persuade Hao Jun any further; if he did, Hao Jun would surely figure it out. But at the same time, Old Song would realize his mistake, and the idea of buying it for one hundred thousand would become a pipe dream.

Of course, he couldn't miss out on this. Since Hao Jun wouldn't take the hint, he would take it himself. Honestly, in two lifetimes, this was the first time he’d seen a buyer and a seller team up to force a "leak" (a bargain) into his own hands.

He thought for a moment. "I only have eighty thousand!"

He really only had eighty thousand—the money from selling that feather duster last time.

Old Song didn't even hesitate. "Eighty thousand is fine, but you can't have the box!"

Before the words were out, he grabbed a slightly larger box, lined it with foam, and shoved the pot inside. With a series of harsh, grating sounds, he wrapped the box in tape three times in the blink of an eye. He pushed it toward Lin Sicheng and pulled out a POS machine, his face full of smiles. "Thank you for your patronage!"

Lin Sicheng was stunned. *Wait... was that even three minutes? Boss Song, just how afraid are you of being stuck with this pot?*

"No, Old Song... you’re bullying a kid, right? Put that POS machine down..." Hao Jun looked as if he had a toothache, staring at Lin Sicheng seriously. "Does this pot really have research value?"

Lin Sicheng nodded. "To some extent!"

"As long as it does!" Hao Jun was still worried. "Otherwise, why don't you ask Professor Lin again?"

Lin Sicheng took out his bank card. "No need!"

Hao Jun didn't say anything more. Lin Sicheng must know his ceramics; otherwise, he wouldn't have spotted the radioactivity in the "reversal pot" at the cultural relics company. Thinking this way, it should be as he said—flipping it would be profitable. *Fine, I’ll buy it.*

In a flash, Lin Sicheng swiped his card, took the receipt, and picked up the pot. Old Song smiled from ear to ear as he escorted them out.

After walking about ten meters, Hao Jun snorted. "That son of a bitch definitely didn't buy it for one hundred thousand, or he wouldn't be smiling like that."

"Probably not!" But for an item like this, a few thousand more or less didn't matter.

Lin Sicheng thought for a moment. "Senior brother, did you ask anyone else to look at this before?"

Of course he had. Hao Jun excelled in miscellaneous items and specialized in religious relics, but he only knew the basics of ceramics, so he had to find an expert. But Rongbaozhai only collected calligraphy, paintings, and stationery treasures and didn't have a ceramics master, so he brought Master Liu, who specialized in calligraphy and painting, to take a look.

"Of course I did. Just the day before yesterday, I had Master Liu look at it."

"Who?"

"Old Liu, Liu Guoyi. You met him when I sold that duster!"

Lin Sicheng remembered—the calligraphy and painting expert at Hao Jun’s shop?

"What did he say?"

"He said the engraving was neat enough, but the craftsmanship felt too 'artisan,' and the seal was just average."

*That shouldn't be right.* Last time, in less than a minute, he had identified that the inscription on the duster was by Pu Xinyu. Compared to that, Chen Mansheng’s fame was even greater. Since it was an imitation, it was understandable that he couldn't recognize the font and seal style—Lin Sicheng himself had pondered for a long time before matching it to Chen Mansheng. But to say the calligraphy was too "artisan" and the seal was "average"... that was impossible. If he didn't even have that level of discernment, he couldn't be the head master at Rongbaozhai.

Subconsciously, two words popped into Lin Sicheng’s mind: *interception, poaching.*

Just as he was guessing wildly, a hearty laugh rang out. "Oh, Boss Wu, what a coincidence!"

Lin Sicheng looked over: a man in his early fifties, pot-bellied, who looked visibly startled upon seeing Hao Jun. But he reacted quickly, reaching out with a forced smile. "General Manager Hao, what a coincidence indeed. What brings you to Xicang today?"

"Had a meeting at the exchange center, nothing to do, just wandering around!"

Without introducing Lin Sicheng, they exchanged pleasantries and parted ways. As he left, Boss Wu glanced at the box in Lin Sicheng’s hand, his expression suspicious and somewhat unnatural.

Lin Sicheng’s heart skipped a beat. "Senior brother, who was that?"

"A professional middleman. He often introduces calligraphy and painting collectors to the shop; sometimes he buys, sometimes he sells."

"Is he close with Master Liu?"

"Yes, they are very good friends."

As the words faded, Lin Sicheng turned his head instinctively. The man was standing in the corridor, seemingly talking to someone. Looking closely: Old Song was leaning against the doorframe, pointing this way.

There was no need for doubt; this man had been sent by Master Liu to poach the deal. If they had arrived ten or twenty minutes later, the pot would have been gone.

*But they are colleagues in the same unit, and Hao Jun is his boss...*

Looking at the bag in his hand, Lin Sicheng sighed. If it weren't for Hao Jun, this item would never have fallen into his hands.

"Senior brother, let me tell you something!"

Hao Jun was wandering along, distracted. "Go ahead!"

"This is a 'Mansheng Pot'!"

Hao Jun didn't seem to hear clearly. "What kind of pot?"

"A Mansheng pot, with the body molded by Yang Pengnian, and the calligraphy, carving, and seal by Chen Mansheng!"

A "buzz" echoed in his ears, and his brain roared with a thunderous sound. Hao Jun was dumbfounded. "Impossible!"

Knowing he wouldn't believe it immediately, Lin Sicheng nodded. "Let's go, to the hospital!"