Chapter 38: Am I a Miscellaneous Expert?

Lin Sicheng’s jeans had been transformed into shorts. In one hand, he held a dog leash, and in the other, he carried a dog bowl wrapped in the discarded pant legs.

Hao Jun and Guan Xingmin followed close behind, casting glances from the dog to the bowl in Lin’s hand.

"Old Guan, what is that?"
"Looks like an enamel basin?"
Hao Jun rolled his eyes. "Are you kidding me?"

Was an enamel basin worth Lin Sicheng spending two thousand yuan on a dog? Was it worth hacking up his own pants just to carry away a bowl covered in dog feces?

"Then what do you say it is?"

Hao Jun choked on his words. It did look like an enamel basin, but it couldn't be. Lin Sicheng wasn't someone who burned money for fun.

As they speculated, Lin Sicheng stopped and scanned his surroundings. They had just left the North Alley; across the street was the main road, and right beside them was Sa-Jin Bridge. Cars were parked along the curb, ivy clung to the railings, and a sprinkler in the bushes hissed as it sprayed water.

Tying the leash to the railing, Lin Sicheng stepped into the green belt. With a few quick motions, he unwrapped the denim and held the bowl under the sprinkler.

Hao Jun and Guan Xingmin exchanged a look and craned their necks.

The bowl was filthy—not just dirty, but caked in black sludge and all sorts of debris, which washed away in layers. Lin Sicheng didn't seem to mind, gently wiping it with the denim. His movements were slow and meticulous.

Once, twice, three times... the bowl grew cleaner, gradually revealing its true colors.

Hao Jun and Guan Xingmin’s eyes widened, then widened further.

At first, the rim appeared battered, dented, and ragged. Most of the enamel had chipped away, leaving behind the distinct water-drop patterns of shattered glaze, resembling raindrops frozen in the moment of impact. But strangely, the exposed edges weren't the blackened, oxidized low-carbon steel one would expect from damaged enamelware. They were red—a deep, purplish red.

"Is that... copper?"

Hao Jun and Guan Xingmin were jolted. Strictly speaking, any metal object coated in enamel is considered enamelware. However, due to the scarcity of raw materials and the limitations of historical industrial standards, mass-produced copper enamelware had essentially vanished. If it existed at all, it was purely handcrafted, and it had to be old—at least pre-dating the founding of the People’s Republic.

So, was this a copper enamel basin from the Republican era?

*Haha*, he knew Lin Sicheng wouldn't spend two thousand yuan just on a dog. Looking at it now, this basin was easily worth two thousand; it was like getting the dog for free.

As he pondered this, Hao Jun leaned in closer, but then he froze.

*Wait, why is it turning blue?*

Along the rim, as Lin Sicheng rinsed it, the intact outer glaze began to emerge, revealing a stroke of deep, mysterious blue.

Thinking his eyes were playing tricks on him, Hao Jun blinked hard. When he opened them again, his pupils contracted.

*Blue as a furnace fire, clear as the sky, bright as the heavens... Peacock Blue?*

But that wasn't the point. It was the pattern beginning to appear on the bottom of the basin: two three-tailed goldfish. The glaze on the fish bodies had mostly flaked off, leaving only the colors of the tails—one pink, one golden yellow. The aquatic weeds between and around the fish remained mostly intact. At a glance, the pink was pink, the gold was gold, and the green was green—the glaze was even and rich, the colors lush and vibrant.

Most importantly, the craftsmanship visible where the glaze had fallen away showed the clear marks of cloisonné: the copper wires were set, the enamel was filled, fired, polished, refilled, fired again, polished again, and filled once more...

Hao Jun couldn't guess how many times it had been fired, but he was certain this wasn't ordinary copper enamel—it was cloisonné. Officially known as *Jingtailan*, it was monopolized by the Imperial Household during the Ming and early Qing dynasties. It wasn't until the Guangxu era that, due to financial strain and the loss of technical expertise, it shifted to a "government-designed, privately-fired" joint model.

By this logic, even if it were from the Republican era, it would have originated from a prestigious old imperial merchant workshop. If he had to put a price on it, it was worth at least ten Golden Retrievers.

*Tsk, that Lin Sicheng’s luck...*

Just as he was marveling, Guan Xingmin poked him. "Old Hao, look!"
"No need to look, it’s Jingtailan!"
"I know it's Jingtailan! I'm telling you to look at the mark..."
"What mark?"

Hao Jun spun around. Lin Sicheng had finished cleaning the inside and was now washing the exterior. Just like before, the glaze was a deep, crystalline, and rich blue. As the dirt washed away from the bottom, a stamp appeared—about the size of a beer bottle cap, perfectly round, in a deeper, more藏 navy blue.

The characters were in regular script, the ink density uniform, the strokes spaced gracefully, with even thickness.

Unfortunately, only half remained: *Daozuo*... *Daozuo* what?

He had no recollection of it, but that didn't stop the value of the basin from skyrocketing. Without a mark, it was worth ten Golden Retrievers; with a mark, even if it wasn't recorded in history, the price would at least double.

He subconsciously looked at the dog tethered to the railing. *What do you call this? Incredible luck?*

A moment later, after it was mostly clean, Lin Sicheng stepped out from behind the railing. Guan Xingmin reached out. "Let me see!"
Hao Jun chuckled. "Don't you think it's dirty?"
"Dirty? If you threw fifty or eighty thousand into a latrine, you watch if I don't fish it out!"
"Nonsense!"

Hao Jun retorted, but he crowded in as well.

At just one glance, both men were stunned. Seeing it from a distance was one thing; seeing it up close was another.

Looking at the form: the rim was indeed chipped, but the shape was deliberate—seven indentations forming a wavy line, which, combined with the straight lines of the body, made it look exactly like a flower.

So, this wasn't a basin at all; it was a *kui*-mouth plate.

Looking again at the circle of green leaves and the two fish on the base: the copper body was as thin as paper, and the copper wires were as fine as silk, perfectly uniform in thickness. Looking at this exquisite, rigorous craftsmanship, it didn't feel like something a folk workshop could produce.

Then the glaze: it was clearly sky blue, but as the light shifted, it revealed a faint violet halo.

Subconsciously, they both thought of those blue-tinted purple clay teapots. Jingtailan could indeed undergo kiln transformations, but this was definitely not that. The reason for this glaze color was that *Huiqing* (a high-grade cobalt pigment) had been used during the coloring process.

The crucial point was that this material was ridiculously expensive and, throughout the Ming and Qing dynasties, was reserved exclusively for the imperial family. It was impossible for the Republican era; back then, whether firing porcelain or enamel, they used cheaper, imported "foreign blue." Even before the Republican era, by the time of the Tongzhi Emperor, *Huiqing* pigment had essentially vanished.

Combined with the saying "No enamelware was fired after the Qianlong era," this piece could only have come from the mid-Qing period or earlier. But then again, where would a folk workshop come from in the mid-Qing?

Hao Jun’s eyelid twitched as he flipped the plate over. Although only half the mark remained, one could see the double-ring seal. The font was slightly soft, with a hint of cursive style...

Yet, that very softness made it highly identifiable: this was the style of official kiln marks from the early Yongzheng period.

*Damn it all, am I actually an expert on miscellaneous antiques now?*

Hao Jun stared at the Golden Retriever lying lazily under the railing, not knowing what to say.