Chapter 27: Kiln-Transformed Porcelain

Guan Xingmin scoffed, "If I could tell, I’d be a CEO, not a public security officer."

He was basing his judgment on logic: with the inscription, the signature, and the seal—all such distinct features—if it were truly authentic, how could it ever be bought for eighty thousand?

"Old Hao, why don't you ask Professor Lin?"

"If Professor Lin couldn't tell, he’d be a public security officer too!"

Guan Xingmin was both annoyed and amused, pointing a finger at him.

Lin Changqing smiled. "The shape of the pot is an extremely close imitation, but the calligraphy and carving of Chen Mingyuan are better than this... Wait?"

He paused, "Hold on, the calligraphy is wrong!"

With a soft exclamation, Lin Changqing picked up the pot and examined it from every angle. He looked for a while, then tilted his head back to ponder. Then he looked again, and pondered again.

After doing this three times, he cradled the pot in one arm and closed his eyes, tracing patterns in the air with his free hand. It looked just like someone drawing a talisman, even more so than Lin Sicheng.

Hao Jun wore a strange expression: was Lin Sicheng doing this too when they were at the shop? Could this be some sort of secret technique of the Lin family?

No one spoke. After three or four minutes, Lin Changqing opened his eyes, a gleam in his pupils. "Chen Mansheng!"

Hao Jun was thoroughly impressed and gave a thumbs up: truly, they are grandfather and grandson.

Director Guan didn't seem to hear clearly. "Who?"

"Chen Mansheng of the 'Mansheng Eighteen Styles,' but there are strong traces of the Yang-style Mansheng pot. It must be a collaborative imitation by him and Yang Pengnian!" Lin Changqing stroked the body of the pot, unable to put it down. "A masterpiece!"

Mansheng pots are hardly obscure. On the contrary, anyone with a bit of common knowledge about Yixing purple clay knows the value of a Mansheng pot.

Guan Xingmin swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. "Eighty thousand?"

"It’s the real deal, but I didn't buy it—my junior, Lin Sicheng, did!" Hao Jun pointed proudly at Lin Sicheng. "How about that? Sharp eyes, right? I was the one who took him there..."

*Old Hao, you’re joking, right? This is worth millions! And you’re making such jokes in front of Professor Lin? Wait, that expression... it doesn't look like a joke.*

Guan Xingmin’s heart skipped a beat as his brows shot up, the furrows deepening. Was this pot really found by Lin Sicheng?

"Did young Lin know this was a Mansheng pot?"

"He did, otherwise he wouldn't have dared to spend eighty thousand!"

"Old Hao, I wasn't asking you!"

"Young people are thin-skinned, how could he brag about himself?"

Lin Sicheng just smiled. Guan Xingmin’s eyes narrowed: it seems it's true? *Not bad, Old Lin...*

***

He turned back, only to be stunned again. *Wait... Old Lin, what is that look on your face? That’s your own grandson. But looking at you, why do you look even more shocked than I am?*

Lin Sicheng naturally understood porcelain; after all, he had been immersed in it since childhood, and he had been so obedient and studious before entering university. But this pot was an imitation—and such a convincing one—that its shape, craftsmanship, and style alone could not point directly to Chen Mansheng and Yang Pengnian.

One would have to rely on the style of the calligraphy, the carving techniques, the style of the seal, or other specific features.

He didn't recall when Lin Sicheng had studied calligraphy or painting. But perhaps he had. The feather duster he sold to Hao Jun—wasn't that based on his knowledge of calligraphy and painting?

Lin Changqing set the purple clay pot down, lost in thought. "How did you judge it at the time?"

Lin Sicheng was brief and to the point: "The clay!"

*Hmm, the material?* Lin Changqing raised an eyebrow and weighed the pot in his hand. It was very light. He tapped it twice. The sound from the exterior was crisp, but the echo inside the belly was slightly muffled, which meant the walls were not thin.

So why was it so light? There was only one possibility: the density of the clay was low, much lower than standard Yixing clay.

"Low kaolin content; this isn't Yixing clay." Lin Changqing flipped the pot to look at the base. "Yet it's a typical sedimentary clay-based siltstone with a very high hematite content. It must belong to the same geological unit as the Yixing Huanglong Mountain mineral veins..."

After a moment of thought, Lin Changqing’s eyes lit up. "Changxing, Liyang... no, it's Liyang: Chen Mansheng served as a magistrate in Liyang..."

Guan Xingmin suddenly realized. To put it simply, the clay used for this pot didn't originate too far from Yixing—for instance, in the neighboring Liyang. And as it happened, Chen Mansheng served as a magistrate in Liyang, where he met Yang Pengnian and fired the very first Mansheng pot. Lin Sicheng must have used this to deduce that it was a Mansheng pot.

"But that reason doesn't seem sufficient!" Guan Xingmin shook his head. "For instance, why couldn't it be Changxing? Changxing is closer to Huanglong Mountain, its clay composition is more similar to Yixing clay, and there are records of purple clay pots being fired there as early as the mid-Ming Dynasty. Liyang, on the other hand, is obscure..."

"It’s precisely because Changxing clay is too similar to Yixing clay that it proves this isn't a Changxing pot!" Hao Jun, eager to show off what he had just learned, pulled out a flashlight. A blue gleam reflected off the surface. "Old Guan, look at this. This pot contains copper. There are no copper mines in Changxing, nor in Yixing—only in neighboring Liyang..."

Guan Xingmin stared, his neck craning forward. *What on earth is this?*

***

A purple clay pot that reflects blue light... now that’s a new one!

He was a public security officer, yes, but that didn't mean he was ignorant; at the very least, he was a graduate of a legitimate cultural relic preservation program. He had just been specially recruited right after graduation. Thus, his experience was extensive, and in some areas, perhaps even greater than Hao Jun's.

But honestly, he had never seen a purple clay pot that shimmered blue. What should one call this: a purple-blue clay pot, or a blue-purple clay pot?

Seeing Guan Xingmin stunned, Hao Jun leaned in. "Old Guan, if it were you, and you didn't know it was a Mansheng pot, would you buy it?"

*How could I?* Forget eighty thousand; even if it were eight thousand, he would have to think twice. *Wait, something’s not right.*

Hao Jun said he was the one who took Lin Sicheng there. That meant he had seen the pot long ago. But why was it Lin Sicheng who picked up the bargain, and not Old Hao?

Guan Xingmin looked up suspiciously, observing their expressions: one was calm and composed, the other looked slightly sheepish.

*Haha... Old Hao missed it.*

Nine times out of ten, Lin Sicheng had tipped him off, perhaps more than once, but he hadn't listened—or perhaps he hadn't believed him. But to be fair, if it were him, he probably wouldn't have believed it either: he was just too young. That was why Old Hao was trying to preempt him, as if to say, "Don't mock me, Brother, it would have been the same if it were you!"

Director Guan held back a laugh. "So you didn't buy it?"

Hao Jun nodded sheepishly.

"Lin Sicheng didn't give you a hint?"

"He did!"

"How many times?"

Hao Jun stayed silent, like a clam.

"Haha... then you deserve it!"

Just as he was enjoying the moment, Lin Changqing set the pot down and looked at Hao Jun, then at Lin Sicheng. His expression was one of great surprise, tinged with solemnity.

Hao Jun understood vaguely and smiled nonchalantly. "Professor Lin, Lin Sicheng said this pot is likely a one-of-a-kind piece. If it sits for two years and goes to auction, it could fetch at least five or six million... I didn't let him finish, so you don't need to feel bad about it..."

Old Hao was magnanimous, and Lin Sicheng was even more so. If it were Guan Xingmin, he would definitely have hesitated: this was six million, what if Old Hao wanted half?

"It's certainly not a low estimate," Lin Changqing nodded. "After all, it is a kiln-transmutation piece!"

Guan Xingmin and Hao Jun were both stunned, their scalps tingling: *What was that?*