18: Chapter 18 Zhou Fuding, the Master Forger

Old Zhou stared at the three tripod legs for a long time. The more he looked, the more alarmed he became. He could not help but gasp, feeling a chill shoot straight up his spine to the top of his head, as if someone had poured a basin of ice water over him in the dead of winter, freezing him to the bone.

It was indeed as Hu Tian had said; such "industrial-grade" perfection was absolutely impossible under conditions of natural use and preservation.

Nature never pursues perfection; only humans do. And a perfect antique is often the biggest flaw of all.

"There is one more crucial point."

Hu Tian lowered his voice, his tone as steady as a deep pool, yet his gaze was as sharp as a torch, delivering the final verdict: "Old Zhou, look at the inner wall of the tripod. Warring States tripods were used for cooking food, so the inner walls should have smoke stains from long-term use, or carbonized spots from food residue. That is the 'smell of life,' the flavor of time. But the inner wall of this tripod is too clean. Although it has artificial rust, it lacks the traces of real-life usage. It is so clean that it is almost 'sterile.' This proves it has never actually been used; it is merely an artifact created for the sake of forgery, a cold, soulless imitation!"

Upon hearing this, the seven or eight parts of doubt in Old Zhou's heart instantly transformed into ten parts of certainty, like the final puzzle piece falling into place, revealing the truth.

He had been struggling in the antique world for decades and was certainly experienced, priding himself on his sharp eye. Yet, he had just been deceived by the appearance of this high-quality imitation and had almost fallen into the trap, becoming a laughingstock for others.

Now, after Hu Tian's meticulous and incisive guidance, those previously ignored details instantly became crystal clear, like clouds parting to reveal the sun, with the fog dissipating.

His complexion shifted from red to white, then from white to green, finally settling into a complex grayish-white.

His eyes were filled with lingering fear and shock. Cold sweat seeped from his forehead, slowly sliding down his wrinkles, while a glimmer of deep relief flickered in the depths of his eyes.

That was close!

Truly too close!

If not for Hu Tian's reminder, I would have almost started praising it just now, maybe even joining the chorus of approval.

That would have truly been a massive joke. A lifetime of reputation would have been ruined in an instant; how would I ever survive in this circle again?

This Boss Wang almost ruined me!

"Good lad, your eye is truly formidable! The younger generation is indeed to be feared! You have a god-like eye!"

Old Zhou could not help but exclaim in a low voice, his voice trembling slightly with excitement.

He gripped Hu Tian's hand tightly, with a force that was somewhat unseemly, his knuckles turning white. His eyes were filled with admiration, gratitude, and the wild joy of meeting a kindred spirit: "In your opinion, what is the origin of this? To be able to make it so realistic that even I almost misjudged it—this is definitely not the work of an ordinary craftsman. There must be a master behind it!"

"If I'm not mistaken, this should be the work of the Republican-era master forger, Zhou Fuding."

Hu Tian analyzed, his tone as calm as if he were discussing a trivial daily matter. "There were only a handful of people in the Republican era who could imitate bronze ware to this level of authenticity. I suspect this is the work of 'Zhou the Half-Fake,' Zhou Fuding. His family spent three generations making bronze imitations; their craftsmanship was brilliant and cunning, and their secret techniques have long been lost. Even some famous great collectors of that time were deceived, even treating their imitations as national treasures."

Old Zhou gasped, looking at the display stand with a complex expression. He secretly rejoiced in his heart: It is fortunate that Hu Tian was here; otherwise, the Antique Association would have lost all face today, and I would have capsized in the gutter.

At this moment, Li Wenbo and several appraisers had finished their preliminary assessment and were preparing to give their final evaluation, all wearing satisfied smiles.

Just then, Boss Wang glanced sideways toward Old Zhou. Seeing Old Zhou whispering with a grave expression, the smile on his lips grew even wider. That look of a petty man gloating was nauseating, as if he had already seen the scene of Old Zhou making a fool of himself.

He deliberately raised his voice, mocking bitingly: "Oh, Boss Zhou, surely the item you brought isn't inferior to this one, is it? If you can't bring anything worth showing, you'd better go home and hold your grandkids early. Don't occupy the latrine without doing anything here, wasting everyone's time!"

Just as Boss Wang finished speaking, Old Zhou slowly stood up from his seat.

He adjusted his lapels with unhurried movements, his gaze sweeping over the bronze tripod before turning to Li Wenbo and the others. His tone was calm yet carried an unquestionable authority, as if a great mountain were pressing down: "President Li, fellow experts, I'm afraid this tripod needs to be examined again; we cannot rush to a conclusion. In the antique business, a tiny difference can lead to a massive error."

Li Wenbo was just about to give his "treasure" evaluation when he was taken aback. He pushed up his gold-rimmed glasses and looked at Old Zhou: "Old Zhou, what do you mean by that? Did you spot something suspicious? This is Boss Wang's grand finale treasure, after all."

"I just feel that some places aren't quite right and are worth discussing."

Old Zhou spoke subtly, not directly pointing out that it was a fake. He just gave Boss Wang a meaningful look and said calmly, "Since this is an association appraisal exchange, we naturally must be responsible for the collections. We cannot be careless, lest we let the fellow collectors here misjudge and hurt our harmony."

Boss Wang's expression changed slightly, then he sneered. His goat beard trembled violently with anger, like a cat with its fur standing on end.

He pointed at Old Zhou and raged: "Boss Zhou, what do you mean by this? Are you suspecting my item has issues? This is a Warring States heavy treasure I spent a huge price to acquire. Do you even know the trade? Don't tell me you are just splashing dirty water here to cover up the fact that you don't have good goods! If you can't afford to lose, don't play!"

Old Zhou did not directly respond to his provocation, only calmly saying to Li Wenbo: "President Li, why not have the experts take another careful look at the layered distribution of the bronze rust, the carving marks on the inscriptions, and... the wear on the tripod legs. These three points are crucial; please be sure to examine them carefully."

He stopped at the point, not elaborating further. He left enough room while pointing out the direction, fully displaying the sense of propriety of an old hand.

Li Wenbo was a perceptive man. Hearing these specific hints from Old Zhou, his heart immediately tightened, realizing the severity of the problem.

He immediately waved his hand to call the several appraisers: "Everyone, pause for a moment. We will re-examine this carefully, especially the parts Old Zhou mentioned. Be rigorous! There can be no carelessness!"

The several appraisers looked at each other. Although they were a bit hesitant—after all, everyone had misjudged it earlier and felt embarrassed—they still picked up their magnifying glasses and high-intensity flashlights again, carefully examining the bronze tripod.

This time, their attention was completely focused on the details Old Zhou mentioned. Their expressions were unprecedentedly focused, and they even lightened their breathing, afraid of missing anything.

Time ticked by second by second. The exhibition hall was so quiet that one could only hear the heavy breathing of the crowd and the rustling of clothing; one could hear a pin drop.

The air seemed to have solidified, so oppressive that it made people breathless. Everyone's heart was in their throat.

A moment later, an old expert with gray hair suddenly gave a soft "huh," breaking the silence, his voice filled with a hint of shock and doubt.

He brought the magnifying glass close to the tripod leg to observe it carefully. His brows locked tighter and tighter, forming a deep " river" shape, and fine beads of sweat seeped from his forehead, sliding down his cheeks.

After a few more minutes, this old expert straightened up, took off his glasses to rub his brow, and let out a long sigh.

He looked at Li Wenbo with a grave expression and slowly shook his head, his eyes filled with annoyance and helplessness.

Li Wenbo's heart sank, and he looked at the other several appraisers.

Those few also successively put down the tools in their hands, their faces all bearing a hint of complex expressions—some embarrassed, some annoyed, some deeply ashamed.

They exchanged glances with each other, seemingly reaching a consensus. The atmosphere was heavy to the extreme.

"Everyone, what is the result?"

Li Wenbo asked in a deep voice, his voice somewhat dry, his throat tight.

The old expert with gray hair cleared his throat and spoke in a low, difficult voice: "President Li, after re-examination, we must regretfully announce... this tripod is likely a fake, and a highly sophisticated imitation at that, enough to pass for the real thing."

As soon as these words were spoken, the exhibition hall was in an uproar. Exclamations and discussions rose one after another, as if a pot had exploded, filled with clamor.

"It's actually fake? Even President Li and the others misjudged it?"

"This Boss Wang has really taken a huge fall this time!"

"Millions! It's all gone down the drain now!"

Boss Wang's face instantly turned iron-blue, then immediately shifted to ghastly pale, and finally flushed to a liver-purple, looking as ugly as a pig's liver.

He stood up abruptly, his chair knocked backward, emitting a jarring scraping sound that was exceptionally piercing in the quiet exhibition hall.

His voice was slightly distorted as he roared hysterically, veins popping: "What did you say?! How could this be fake?! Did you make a mistake?! I spent over eight million buying this! Can you afford to compensate me?! I'm going to sue you!"

"Boss Wang, please calm down."

The old expert said patiently, though his tone was unquestionable, carrying professional sternness, "We just carefully examined it again and found that the wear marks on the three tripod legs are almost completely identical, which is absolutely impossible under conditions of natural use and preservation. Furthermore, the layering of the bronze rust is indeed too uniform, lacking the natural sense of sedimentation that real antiques should have; it is more like the result of chemical agents ripening it, floating on the surface. Also, the inscriptions—although they look very realistic at first glance, if you carefully observe the turning points of the strokes, the lines are too smooth, lacking the subtle flaws and flow that should exist during casting. This was likely carved on with modern tools, not ancient mold-casting craftsmanship."

Another appraiser also added, his tone carrying a hint of regret: "That's right, the inner wall also has no traces of use; it is abnormally clean. This is a very exquisite modern craft piece, but it is not a Warring States cultural relic. Its value is likely not even a fraction of what you paid."

Boss Wang's complexion changed from iron-blue to deathly gray. His lips trembled, and he couldn't speak for a long time, as if his soul had been drained from him.

He suppressed the rage about to erupt in his chest, his hands tightly clenched into fists, his nails digging deep into his palms, drawing blood, yet he was completely unaware of it.

That suppressed anger made his whole body tremble slightly. The resentment in his eyes was fixed firmly on Old Zhou, as if he wanted to devour him alive and cut him into a thousand pieces.

He knew that this time he hadn't just lost face, but likely lost his entire fortune, becoming the laughingstock of the whole circle, never able to hold his head high again.

Old Zhou glanced at him indifferently, not saying much more, and certainly not kicking him while he was down, just a flash of pity in his eyes.

He just calmly sat back in his seat, picked up his teacup, and took a gentle sip, his posture very elegant, as if everything that had just happened had nothing to do with him, completely unperturbed.

Li Wenbo gave a light cough, breaking the extremely awkward atmosphere: "Boss Wang, this time everyone truly misjudged it, including the inspection process of our association, which had lapses. But there is no need to take it too much to heart; such high-quality imitations are indeed very easy to deceive people, and even experts have times when they misjudge. You live and you learn; just consider it buying a lesson."

Although Li Wenbo was trying to smooth things over and salvage the situation, the humiliation and anger in Boss Wang's heart were surging like a tide, and he couldn't listen to a word of it.

He glared viciously at Old Zhou and sat down, gritting his teeth. His entire face was twisted in a somewhat frightening way, his features all squeezed together.

Boss Wang sat down with a gloomy face, his complexion as dark as the bottom of a pot, radiating a chill that kept people at a distance.

He knew this was the Antique Association's territory. If he acted out in front of everyone, it would only make it look like he couldn't afford to lose, making him even more of a laughingstock.

He could only force himself to swallow this bitter pill. It felt as if he had swallowed a piece of red-hot charcoal; his throat burned, his internal organs were convulsing, and he was in unbearable pain.