Chapter Eight: Estrangement

Old Su had indeed grown suspicious, but Zhang Can’s few sentences dispelled his doubts. It seemed Zhang Can really was just lucky, as if a pie had fallen from the sky and landed on his head. The only odd thing was, even he had failed to notice the painting was double-layered—how had Zhang Can seen through it?

Pausing, Old Su glanced at Zhu Senlin, who was glaring at him with his ox-like eyes.

Zhu Senlin was always known as the Smiling Maitreya, a man with a tiger’s grin. But while his smile could disarm, when he didn’t smile, he was truly frightening.

In that instant, Old Su suddenly felt a rift had opened between him and Zhu Senlin. Never before had Zhu Senlin looked at him that way. But it made sense—Zhu Senlin had been watching the entire time. The original plan was to acquire the genuine Yu Ji at only a few hundred or a thousand yuan, but Old Su’s oversight had cost Zhu Senlin a million. A million! How many people could claim such a sum?

Even for their shop, Old Stone Studio, a million was no small amount. With business as lukewarm as it was, monthly profits averaged just over two hundred thousand, and that was with relentless effort. One mistake, one loss, could wipe out profits from ten successful deals.

But now, nothing could be done to salvage the situation. The only thing left was to secure the painting for as little as possible. Any price below a million meant a bit more profit. As for his relationship with Zhu Senlin, it would need mending over time. After all these years, even if he hadn’t done much good, he’d at least worked hard.

“Xiao Zhang, a million… cough… isn’t that a bit… cough… a bit much?”

After so many years together, Zhu Senlin knew exactly what Old Su’s expression meant. It was clear as day: he believed the painting was worth every cent of a million.

At this moment, Zhang Can felt more composed than ever. The Old Su he once regarded as a towering master now seemed diminished, his authority suppressed. Revenge was no longer impossible. Most importantly, this genuine Yu Ji, acquired so easily, would not only embarrass Old Su in front of Zhu Senlin, breaking their bond of trust, but would also lift Zhang Can out of his financial straits. A million in cash! He had never dared to dream of such a sum. Once, his greatest wish was to earn three to five hundred thousand, build a house in his hometown, and marry a wife. Speaking of wives, what had become of the class beauty he secretly loved in high school?

Six or seven years had passed since then. Perhaps she was already a mother.

“Xiao Zhang, what do you say? A million is a bit steep, can you lower it?”

Old Su had lost his usual composure. Under Zhang Can and Zhu Senlin’s combined pressure, he was thoroughly unsettled. Zhang Can only smiled quietly, showing no sign of yielding. Such confidence! Perhaps Zhang Can really was an expert on Yu Ji’s work, otherwise how could he be so sure? Unable to contain himself, Old Su spoke again, his tone even tinged with pleading—so unlike his usual self.

Little did he know, Zhang Can’s thoughts were miles away, lost not in the painting before him, but in memories of his high school crush.

Zhu Senlin grew anxious when he saw Zhang Can wasn’t paying attention. Discreetly, he signaled to Old Su with a single finger—one million, was the painting worth that much?

Old Su nodded, then flashed one finger from one hand and five fingers from the other, signaling one and a half million. Zhu Senlin understood instantly. Though he was far less skilled than Old Su at appraising antiques, he excelled in maneuvering capital within the trade.

There were plenty of tricks at auctions nowadays—ringers, shills, fake bidding, and so on. If a genuine antique was worth a million, say, this Yu Ji painting, then with Zhu Senlin and the auction house working together, they could easily drive the price to two million, perhaps even higher.

Their shills—people hired to bid as instructed—would keep the action lively. Sometimes, an item would be bid on exclusively by their own people from start to finish. If a real buyer was interested, they’d drive up the price; if not, they’d simply buy it themselves and pay a small penalty.

For this painting, Old Su estimated a real value of one and a half million. After expenses and the original one million cost, there’d be over two hundred thousand in profit. But with Zhu Senlin at the helm, he was confident he could push the price to three million, or at least over two, netting at least a million in profit.

In today’s business, the problem wasn’t raising prices—it was having good items to auction in the first place. As the saying goes, a skillful woman can’t cook without rice. Without genuine treasures, how could they make money from big collectors? Fakes rarely entered reputable auctions, and every item required authentication and certification by a national-level expert before it could go under the hammer. As long as it was the real thing, the sky was the limit—someone was always willing to pay, and as the saying goes, both sides get what they want.

“Fine. One million. I’ll pay one million!” Zhu Senlin clapped his hands decisively, his words ringing out. “Xiao Zhang, let this be a token of our friendship!”

Old Su’s heart skipped a beat. Zhu Senlin’s words made him nervous. As an employee, nothing was more frightening than losing the boss’s trust. If the boss didn’t trust you, how could you keep your job?

It was the same in any field. If you were fired, your value plummeted. Being poached by a rival was entirely different—the initiative was theirs, and they’d pay handsomely. But if you had to beg for a job, it was another story.

Zhu Senlin laughed heartily, pulled Zhang Can over to the coffee table, ordered drinks for everyone, and wrote out a check for one million with a broad smile, handing it to Zhang Can.

“Here you go, Xiao Zhang, one million. Cash it at the bank today, and it’ll clear by tomorrow!”

Zhang Can smiled as he accepted the check, slipping it into his pocket without even glancing at it. Inside, he was elated. No matter how prepared he was, a sum like this was overwhelming. Outwardly, he strove to remain calm.

Zhu Senlin couldn’t see through Zhang Can, but Old Su was deeply anxious. Ordinarily, with his shrewdness and composure, Zhang Can would be no match for him. But it never occurred to Zhu Senlin that Zhang Can now possessed the power of clairvoyant sight. Treating the new Zhang Can like the old one would only ensure his defeat.

Awkwardly, Old Su forced a smile, glanced at his watch, and said, “Xiao Zhang, you’ve made a fortune today. I’m happy for you. It’s almost five o’clock, the bank’s about to close. Better cash that check, and you owe us a meal tomorrow!”

At that moment, Old Su’s greatest worry was that Zhang Can would linger. The more he talked with Zhu Senlin, the worse for Old Su. He wanted him gone, so he could talk privately with Zhu Senlin and smooth things over.

But Zhang Can replied coolly, “No hurry. Tomorrow’s fine. As for the meal, of course—I’ll let you pick the place. Let’s all get together tomorrow evening.”

Zhu Senlin gave him a thumbs up, approvingly. “Good! Xiao Zhang has real style. Tell you what, dinner’s on me tomorrow. Let’s all gather together!”

The shop assistants were overjoyed. The boss only treated everyone during holidays, and to do so for an outsider was almost unheard of!

Old Su was frustrated—he couldn’t get rid of Zhang Can. All he could do was hope nothing else went wrong.

But Old Su could never have guessed what Zhu Senlin was thinking; it was as if fate was determined to bring about exactly what he feared.

Zhu Senlin chuckled, pointing at the Yu Ji painting. “Xiao Zhang, now that everything’s settled and we’re among friends, may I ask you something, if you’re willing to answer?”

Old Su’s heart skipped another beat.

Zhang Can, knowing what was coming, smiled lightly, “Please, Mr. Zhu.”

“I just want to know, how did you figure out that painting was a painting within a painting?” Zhu Senlin asked, smiling amiably. “I just can’t understand it. Old Su’s an old hand, yet he didn’t see it—how did you know?”

Here was his chance!

Zhang Can cast a sidelong glance at the sullen Old Su, then replied carelessly, “Mr. Zhu, are you sure Old Su didn’t notice? That surprises me. After all, he’s my teacher—everything I know, I learned from him. The mounting was too tight, and the back of the painting bore obvious marks from wrapping. The craftsmanship was extraordinary. So I thought, for a painting handed down through the family, quite ordinary in value, why go to such lengths to hire a master craftsman to forge it?”

Zhu Senlin slapped his thigh with a resounding smack. “Exactly! Even today, hiring a top craftsman to mount a painting is expensive. To spend so much—there must be something up!”

Zhu Senlin’s face lit with sudden realization, while Old Su was bitter and full of regret. Why hadn’t he noticed that at the time?

Truth be told, Zhang Can’s reasoning was a bit forced. But victory goes to the winner. Having made a fortune out of thin air, his status had changed, and now his words carried weight. The assistants at Old Stone Studio were all green with envy.

Even Old Su envied him. His own salary was ten thousand a month plus a year-end bonus, but even so, his annual income never exceeded two hundred thousand. After expenses, he was left with about a hundred thousand a year. Decades of saving had only netted him a little over two million. To spare three hundred thousand for Zhang Can was nothing—no one ever thinks they have too much money, especially when they don’t have much to begin with.

In the world of antiques, Old Su was hardly a major player, and Old Zhu’s shop wasn’t among the biggest in the city. Old Stone Studio was only medium-sized at best, so Old Su’s salary was middling, and he’d get no better elsewhere.

Zhu Senlin glanced at the regretful Old Su and then at the composed Zhang Can. The fact that the latter could receive a million without showing much excitement was astonishing. Anyone else of similar background would have been beside themselves with joy.

“Xiao Zhang!” Zhu Senlin clapped him on the shoulder, laughing. “Come on, if you’re not busy, let me treat you to dinner. A man needs his strength—let’s fill our bellies first!”