17: Chapter 17 There's something wrong with that cauldron.

"Everyone, what I have brought this time is a finale treasure, enough to stun the entire audience!"

Boss Wang said, lifting his chin triumphantly, his goatee shaking violently with the movement.

He waved his hand to signal his entourage to lift a heavy mahogany box onto the display stand, his movements as exaggerated as if he were displaying the Imperial Jade Seal.

The moment the lid was opened, a deliberately cultivated aura of antiquity rushed towards them, as if traversing a thousand years of time, carrying the fishy scent of soil and the weight of history.

Inside lay a bronze tripod quietly, its body covered in mottled patina, glowing with a dim historical luster. It had a simple and solemn shape, standing on three legs, as if it had just been unearthed from a Warring States tomb, exuding a breathtaking majesty.

Boss Wang stroked his goatee, his eyes full of pride, his voice raised by an octave: "This is a bronze tripod from the Warring States period! The vessel shape is regular, the decorations are exquisite, and the inscriptions are clear—it is a rare masterpiece! If it were authentic, it would be worth at least ten million!"

Once these words were spoken, a gasp of amazement erupted in the exhibition hall. Everyone's gaze was instantly drawn over, and the buzzing of discussion sounded like a pot that had just boiled over.

"Ten million? This is a huge bargain!"

"Boss Wang is indeed extraordinary; the moment he makes a move, it's a major treasure!"

Li Wenbo stepped forward to examine it, and other appraisers also crowded around, their expressions serious, not daring to be the slightest bit negligent. They took out professional tools like magnifying glasses and flashlights, preparing to inspect it carefully, for fear of missing any details.

Hu Tian sat in his seat, his gaze landing on the bronze tripod, but his brows gradually knit together, forming a small " river" shape.

Judging from the shape, the rim of this tripod flared outward, the two ears stood upright, and the three legs were thick and sturdy, which indeed matched the characteristics of Warring States bronze ware; no major flaws could be picked out.

The decorations on the tripod body were also standard coiled dragon patterns, with smooth lines and rigorous layout. At first glance, it was impeccable, and could even be called perfect.

Looking at the patina again, it was layered, varied in depth, and mottled naturally, indeed giving the feeling of great age, enough to fool quite a few experts and make them willingly open their wallets.

Logically speaking, this should be an "undeniably authentic" old object, leaving no room for doubt.

But Hu Tian always felt something was wrong. An instinctive sense of dissonance welled up in his heart, like a thorn pricking his heart, aching faintly.

No, it's too perfect.

Perfect things are often the biggest flaws.

He recalled the antique knowledge he had painstakingly studied in the Museum and books over the past half month, searching rapidly in his mind. Countless knowledge points flashed by like a data stream: the body of Warring States bronze ware should be dense and solid, and the copper color, after a thousand years of oxidation, should present a restrained and deep brass luster, not a bright color floating on the surface.

That kind of luster is the warmth settled by the years, the stability after the fire has completely faded.

Although this tripod's copper color had a brass hue, it seemed to lack the sense of stability that comes from a thousand years of settling. Instead, it exuded a "thief's light"—that restless aura unique to new copper made to look old, as if it had just come out of the kiln and the fire had not yet faded.

And the inscriptions—although the strokes were clear, the depth and thickness of the lines were too uniform, which instead seemed deliberate, lacking the natural flow and spontaneity of ancient casting.

True Warring States inscriptions, due to the limitations of mold casting technology and the erosion of time, should have subtle differences in the depth of the strokes. They would never be so perfectly uniform, like something carved by a machine—stiff and rigid.

The more Hu Tian looked, the more suspicious he felt, and the doubts in his heart grew heavier, expanding like a snowball.

No, this definitely has issues!

This is not just a replica; this is a masterpiece among high-end imitations, a trap specifically designed to scam people!

He silently activated his Treasure Hunting Radar scan in his heart. An invisible ripple instantly enveloped the bronze tripod, penetrating its appearance like an X-ray.

A moment later, the information fed back by the radar made him raise an eyebrow. His initially expectant expression instantly turned into a cold sneer, and a trace of undisguised mockery flashed in the depths of his eyes.

In his field of vision, the Warring States bronze tripod, which seemed incomparably precious and drew everyone's pursuit, was actually shrouded in a glaring gray-white halo!

This represented—a complete and utter fake!

Heh, Boss Wang, is this your finale treasure?

A Warring States tripod worth over ten million?

I'm afraid it's a modern handicraft worth a few thousand!

I'll see how you clean up this mess later!

On the radar screen, data streams flashed by rapidly, and detailed information about the forgery unfolded like a scroll, stripping this "treasure" down to its bare essentials: [Item: Imitation Warring States Coiled Dragon Pattern Bronze Tripod] [Production Year: 1952 (Error range ±3 years)] [Craftsmanship Features: Lost-wax casting, surface antiquing treatment.]

[Detailed Antiquing Methods: The body was produced using precision lost-wax casting. The mold was fine-tuned by a master craftsman scanning an authentic piece, so the shape is extremely realistic. However, the copper material is modern electrolytic copper, with a density slightly lower than ancient bronze; the tapping sound is crisp but lacks dullness. Chemical Antiquing: The patina composition was not generated by natural oxidation but artificially attached using copper sulfate mixed with rust powder, glue, and acidic solution. First, hydrochloric acid was used to corrode the surface to form a base rust layer, then a glue solution mixed with soil and mineral pigments was applied, and finally, it was placed in a constant temperature and humidity chamber for catalytic reaction to simulate a thousand years of corrosion. Camouflage Marks: To imitate excavation marks, the forger deliberately attached real tomb soil from the Warring States period to the bottom of the tripod legs, thereby confusing the senses and fooling carbon-14 testing and some experts' eyes. Inscription Treatment: The inscriptions were refined later using an electric carving knife, then corroded with acid to cover the knife marks, hence the strokes are too uniform and lack ancient charm.]

[Forger Profile: Zhou Fuding (Fake Craftsman)] [Biography: Born in 1910, a native of Suzhou. Started learning bronze restoration at twelve, set up his own business in the 24th year of the Republic of China, specializing in high-end antique imitations. This person's craftsmanship is sinister; he is especially skilled at imitating bronze ware from the Warring States to the Han Dynasty. He has fooled several well-known collectors, and is known in the industry as "Half-Fake Zhou." His works once flowed into overseas Museums in the 1950s, only being exposed after technological detection methods improved.]

Hu Tian stared at the lines of small text, his gaze narrowing. He sneered internally, and a playful arc curled at the corner of his mouth.

So that's how it is!

No wonder it always felt awkward to look at; it turns out it came from the hands of this "legendary" fake craftsman.

This Zhou Fuding's craftsmanship is indeed superb. If not for the system's help, I'm afraid even those senior appraisers would have been fooled and obediently paid up.

Boss Wang took this thing out as a treasure—he's probably also being kept in the dark, thinking he picked up a bargain; or...

Does he know it's fake and wants to use this opportunity to set a trap and scam someone, finding a scapegoat to take over?

Regardless of which one it is, the play today is ruined.

Hu Tian moved his mind slightly to call up the file, his fingers gently rubbing in his sleeves under the table to hide the system operation. His face remained calm, but the arc of mockery at the corner of his mouth became more obvious, and his eyes revealed a playfulness like a cat toying with a mouse.

This play is getting more and more exciting.

He can make new bronze ware develop a thousand-year patina by relying on a lost ancestral secret recipe: mixing high-quality honey with aged yellow clay in proportion, applying it evenly to the surface of the object, and then burying it in a specially made underground cellar for three months, using ground temperature and microbial fermentation to initially form a skin.

After coming out of the kiln, it is soaked in aged sour plum juice for half a year. The acidic substances react subtly with the copper body, generating a warm and thick "matured-pit" patina that is hard to distinguish from the real thing with the naked eye.

As for the patina, that's an even greater specialty.

Real rust is naturally corroded by time, layered and deep to the bone; while Zhou Fuding's fake rust relies entirely on precise chemical formulas.

The concentration of the copper sulfate solution he mixes is precise to three decimal places—one part too much and the color is too bright and fake; one part too little and the color is pale and lifeless.

After spraying, it must be baked with charcoal fire in a constant temperature sealed room. A one-degree difference in temperature won't do; the oxidation speed must be strictly controlled.

Finally, the object is buried in special yellow soil mixed with iron filings and crushed brick powder, turned over every ten days to let the rust spread naturally.

After tossing and turning like this for three years, even a retired old master from the Palace Museum wouldn't necessarily be able to spot the flaws with a magnifying glass when it's dug up.

"Zhou Fuding only made three pieces in that batch in 1952."

Hu Tian scanned the detailed information fed back by the system and couldn't help but laugh inwardly, "This tripod ranks second. It was sold to a big antique dealer in Hong Kong back then, then changed hands three times, and after going around in circles, it finally flowed back to the mainland. Unexpectedly, it became Boss Wang's 'finale treasure.' It's truly ironic—flaunting a fake as a national treasure. Don't cry when your face gets slapped later."

"Old Zhou."

Hu Tian lowered his voice, leaned his body slightly forward, and whispered into Old Zhou's ear, his tone carrying a hint of imperceptible urgency.

Old Zhou was staring intently at the bronze tripod on the display stand, his eyes full of gravity and thought. Hearing Hu Tian call him, he turned his head and asked in confusion, his brows slightly furrowed: "What is it? Did you find something? Did you see something too?"

"That tripod has issues."

Hu Tian's tone was firm, his eyes as clear as a mirror, without the slightest hesitation, as if he were not talking about an antique worth ten million, but an ordinary fake.

Old Zhou was stunned, his pupils instantly dilating, and he subconsciously retorted, his voice slightly off-key: "Impossible, right? It looks quite authentic to me. Although this Boss Wang isn't much of a person and is narrow-minded, he still has an eye for things. He wouldn't bring out a fake to embarrass himself; that would be smashing his own signboard! Something worth ten million—would he dare to mess around?"

His face was written with disbelief, and the veins on his forehead were slightly pulsing.

"Take another careful look at the patina."

Hu Tian guided him patiently, his voice soft but every word a gem, as precise as a scalpel, "True Warring States bronze ware should have a rich sense of layering in the rust layer. In some places, it's as tight as iron; in others, it's as loose as powder. That is the result of thousands of years of natural oxidation; it has 'roots.' But the rust layer on this tripod is too uniform, so tight that it's somewhat deliberate, as if it 'grew' on top rather than being 'born' from it—it floats on the surface without roots. This is a typical characteristic of antiquing accelerated by chemical solutions, what is known in the trade as 'floating rust'."

Hearing this, Old Zhou's initially relaxed eyes instantly became as sharp as an eagle's. He squinted his eyes to re-examine the bronze tripod on the display stand, his body leaning forward involuntarily, wishing he could press himself against the glass cover.

A moment later, his pupils shrank slightly, his breathing stalled, as if he had caught some detail that wasn't right. The expression on his face turned from confusion to shock.

"And the inscriptions."

Hu Tian continued to guide him, his speaking speed calm but full of power, "Look at the turns of the strokes; the lines are too smooth and sleek, the depth and thickness are almost identical, as if carved by a computer—it's full of mechanical feel. True Warring States period mold casting technology, due to the shrinkage of the clay molds and the flow of the molten copper, would have natural differences in the inscription strokes, especially at the turns where there are often subtle marks or adhesions left by the casting—that is 'alive.' But the inscriptions on this tripod were clearly carved later using modern electric tools and then covered up by acid etching to hide the knife marks—they are 'dead'."

The more Old Zhou listened, the more he felt it made sense. His gaze swept rapidly over the bronze tripod, his face began to become grave, and a layer of fine beads of sweat even seeped out on his forehead, slowly sliding down his wrinkles.

His hands gripped the armrests unconsciously, his knuckles turning white.

"Take a look at the tripod legs."

Hu Tian delivered the final blow, his voice low but like thunder, "The wear on these three tripod legs is almost exactly the same, with the smoothness not differing by a hair. But true ancient objects, because of their different placement positions over thousands of years and uneven force, must have differences in the degree of wear; it's impossible for them to be this 'perfect.' This completely consistent wear can only be the marks of artificial antiquing with sandpaper; it's a product of industrial mass production, not the marks of time."

A poem says:

Copper rust layer by layer hides the old traces, a thousand years of royal aura—the fake becomes real.

If not for divine eyes piercing through the vanity, who would recognize the fake craftsman's heart within?