A Costly Mistake, Again

As they talked, the group gradually grew familiar with one another.

Cheng Hai had been itching to meet Wu Daorong, a giant in the antiques trade. At last, he struck up a conversation.

"Mr. Wu, I picked up a bargain today—two pieces of antique jade. Sorry to trouble you, but could you take a look and tell me what they're worth? Did I lose money or make some?" Cheng Hai asked with a grin.

Wu Daorong was stunned. Zhang Yang had a keen eye for antiques, so why had Cheng Hai come to him for an appraisal?

Wu Daorong looked at Zhang Yang in surprise. Zhang Yang gave a helpless, wry smile, and Wu Daorong immediately understood. He nodded with a smile.

Cheng Hai set the two pieces of jade on the tea table. Wu Daorong did not pick them up. He saw through them at a glance, then shook his head.

"What did the seller tell you these were?" Wu Daorong asked Cheng Hai.

Cheng Hai froze. Mr. Wu had asked that before even touching the jade. Was something wrong?

"Han-Dynasty Blood-Jade," Cheng Hai answered honestly.

Only then did Mr. Wu pick up a piece. The jade was plain and unadorned, with a dark brown stain that made it look convincing.

"Modern pieces. They aren't worth a tenth of what you paid. A pity about two fine pieces of jade." Wu Daorong set it down again without giving it another glance.

"What?"

Cheng Hai was stunned. Wu Daorong could not have conspired with Zhang Yang to deceive him, so Mr. Wu's judgment still carried authority.

Cheng Hai trembled all over. This meant he had lost nearly a million. The consequences were easy to imagine: Yang Su might skin him alive.

"Mr. Wu, how could that be? The quality of the jade, the patina, the staining..."

Cheng Hai still could not believe it. Judging by his many years of experience getting swindled, the antique jade was genuine. How could Mr. Wu say it was fake?

He refused to believe his discerning eye had failed him. He refused to believe he had been taken in.

"Unless... that fat man switched them," Cheng Hai insisted.

"Impossible. He handed them to you right in front of us, and they weren't even wrapped," Yang Gang said, thinking back over the transaction.

"How could this be? How...?"

Cheng Hai's face turned green. He had paid a hefty price for this lesson. People had tried to stop him at the time, too—more than one of them—but none had succeeded.

The way Cheng Hai had been taken in was almost unbelievable.

Yang Gang looked at Zhang Yang and gave him another thumbs-up. Zhang Yang had never touched the jade, yet he had known from a distance that something was wrong. Cheng Hai simply had not believed his live-in son-in-law.

Cheng Hai's view of Zhang Yang as a good-for-nothing was so deeply ingrained that anything Zhang Yang said might as well have been a fart.

"Dad, let's go find him and get the money back," Cheng Dongxue said. She thought it was like buying a counterfeit or shoddy product at a mall: you could file a consumer complaint or return it to the store. But antique deals did not work that way.

"Xiao Xue, that's not how antique deals work. Once you leave the shop, you're responsible for what you bought," Zhang Yang explained.

"Have some tea." Wu Daorong had watched quietly and now continued inviting them to drink. What did Cheng Hai's loss have to do with him? Cheng Hai was hardly the only fool with money to burn. Things like this happened on Antique Street every day; someone was taken in every day.

"Dad, it's all right..." Seeing that Cheng Hai was almost in a daze, Cheng Dongxue tried to comfort him.

Only after Cheng Dongxue had done all she could to console him did Cheng Hai begin to recover. He had been taken in again, but he still did not think Zhang Yang had a keen eye. In his mind, it was Mr. Wu who had spotted the fake.

"My young friend, there are some fine pieces in the shop. Why not take a look?" Once they had nearly finished their tea, Wu Daorong invited Zhang Yang to browse, eager to make a friend through their shared interest in antiques.

Zhang Yang accepted with a smile, and the group left the tearoom. Cheng Hai was still in a daze.

Cheng Hai had no heart for looking at antiques anymore. First, he needed to come up with a way to face Yang Su's anger.

Zhang Yang examined several antiques in Antique Pavilion. They were all fine pieces that Mr. Wu had already authenticated and ranked among the shop's best.

But Mr. Wu's knowledge of antiques ran deep, and he had already assessed and priced them. They were worth collecting, but there was no chance of making a huge profit from them. Mr. Wu had left almost no margin.

"Mr. Wu, thanks for the excellent tea. We'll keep looking around. Would you like to join us?" Zhang Yang said after he finished browsing and prepared to leave Antique Pavilion.

Mr. Wu walked Antique Street every day. Whenever word of something good reached him, he went to see it at once. There was nothing much for him to browse, so he politely declined.

They continued along Antique Street. With Mr. Wu no longer beside them, Yang Gang could speak freely.

"Zhang Yang, help your brother-in-law pick out an antique worth investing in," Yang Gang said. Knowing Zhang Yang had no money, he added, "If it turns a profit, we'll split it fifty-fifty."

Yang Gang wanted to do right by him. If Zhang Yang was going to appraise something for him, he should not have to lend his sharp eyes for free. So Yang Gang offered him a share of the profits.

Everyone knew Zhang Yang was broke. He needed money.

"Brother-in-law, there's no need to be so formal. If we find something like that, I'll gladly take a look for you," Zhang Yang said. He was not boasting; he had the ability to back it up.

At the street stalls, Zhang Yang did not need to crouch for a closer look. As long as nothing blocked his view, he could tell whether an item was genuine and estimate its value at a glance.

He found nothing suitable at the stalls, so they turned to the antique shops.

"Well?"

Inside one antique shop, Zhang Yang finally picked up a Blue-and-White Porcelain Vase for a closer look. Yang Gang knew at once that it had to be genuine and worth investing in.

"Bargain," Zhang Yang said, leaving the haggling to Yang Gang. That one word made it clear he wanted the vase.

"Boss, how much for the vase?" Yang Gang asked eagerly. The shopkeeper was in his fifties and wore glasses.

The shopkeeper lowered his head and peered at Yang Gang and Zhang Yang over his glasses. Two young men. Hardly anyone their age knew antiques. They were probably just browsing for fun—fools with money to burn.

"Eight hundred thousand." The shopkeeper raised a hand and held up eight fingers.

Zhang Yang grinned. Clearly, he did not agree with the price.

"Too much. Four hundred thousand." Without even examining the vase closely, Yang Gang cut the price in half.

That price was exactly what Zhang Yang had in mind, so he said nothing. His silence told Yang Gang he had bargained well.

The bespectacled shopkeeper was startled. The young man looked like an amateur, but his offer was both ruthless and well judged.

"There aren't many vases like this left. You shouldn't pass one up when you find it. And that's no way to bargain. I can't sell it for that." The shopkeeper shook his head repeatedly.

"The color's a little dull, the glaze lacks luster, the base isn't white, and the painting's rather crude." Zhang Yang made a show of studying the vase and nudged Yang Gang with his elbow.

"Three hundred thousand," Yang Gang said. He had understood Zhang Yang's hint and played along perfectly.

"What? Are you messing with me?" the shopkeeper cried in shock.

Yang Gang had no idea why Zhang Yang wanted him to bargain that way. He only knew that the lower the price, the greater his potential profit.