The King Sent Me to Patrol the Mountain, Great Sage Skewers Takes a Stroll

There weren't many people in the hall, and even fewer were paying attention to this side. But Fu Qiang was about to suffocate. Holding up two fingers meant two million? Your IQ was really something.

Song Shaoqing gave him a look. This was what they called having money and being willful. Sour bile rose to Qin Fen's throat. Three million for Qin Fen's painting? He felt like the world had gone mad.

Suppressing his laughter, he asked again, "Are you sure?"

Seeing the strange expressions on their faces, President Chen had no idea what was going on. Had these two gone stir-crazy lately? Was buying a painting that strange? This was an ancient painting. There was no need to go into the paper, and the ink was equally exquisite. Although, although the damned thing hadn't even been mounted and its author was unknown, those two points alone were enough to make a judgment.

Tang Dynasty rice paper had long since vanished. Find me a blank sheet and take a look, then paint on it yourself. That wasn't messing around. The paper was valuable. What the hell was your painting worth? Weren't you afraid of ruining it? And looking at this painting, it had the bearing of a master. The mountains and rivers were magnificent and imposing. Although no one knew who painted it, perhaps he had stumbled upon a bargain.

As for forgery, never mind that the techniques had already been lost—just making a high-quality imitation would cost a fortune. Besides, those two guys couldn't possibly know the right channels.

President Chen was certain. Lan Yibing, standing to one side, was equally certain of his own judgment. This was his line of work; he was an expert. There was no problem with the materials, though the painting itself was a