Sha'er Street was an old street, its lamps not very bright, stretching people's shadows long and casting a faint glow on their smiling faces. Ji Shenyu's smile was unnatural; his white teeth showed, but the curve of his lips was different from usual.

He and Ding Hanbai walked back side by side, meter by meter, step by step, ascending the stairs at the main gate, passing through the Front Courtyard to the small courtyard, walking along the corridor to a stop outside the bedroom, where they simultaneously halted and turned to meet each other's eyes.

There was no wind, and the fragrance of lilac was locked in the air, masking the smell of alcohol on Ding Hanbai. "Go to bed early. I'll consider the gift given," Ding Hanbai said. "Am I not thoughtful?"

Ji Shenyu had already pushed the door open, replying, "Thoughtful... Thank you, Senior Brother."

Unexpectedly, Ding Hanbai added, "No need. Just argue with me less in the future."

Each returned to their room. Ding Hanbai still had no idea what Ji Shenyu had been doing in seclusion, nor did he know the reason for his despondency today. But Ji Shenyu had softened and even said good night. In short, they had temporarily buried the hatchet.

The moon set and the sun rose. Ding Hanbai was almost late, wolfing down his breakfast. His large movements knocked over Ji Shenyu's steamed bun again. He was still late when he got to work. So what if he was late? At worst, he would just get a few words from Zhang Yin.

Ding Hanbai prepared himself for a scolding, but instead, Zhang Yin was strolling around the office with his teacup, then stood by the window enjoying the breeze, looking as if there was happy news at home. He bent over his desk to work. A moment later, a hand landed heavily on his shoulder. He looked up to meet Zhang Yin's smiling face.

"What's up?" Ding Hanbai wondered, 'This guy is acting so abnormally today.'

Zhang Yin asked him, "Didn't you brag that you could step into the antiques circle with one foot? Have you been to any of the city's Antiques Markets?"

"What a strange question," Ding Hanbai said. "I have. It's not like they charge admission."

Zhang Yin had a naturally provocative face that got on people's nerves. "Then have you found any treasures?"

Ding Hanbai replied, "There's nothing genuine in there." He understood now. The man had come with a question in mind, probably because he had found a good deal himself. Sure enough, Zhang Yin patted his shoulder and beckoned for him to follow.

Once the door to the director's office was closed, Ding Hanbai saw a Celadon Vase placed in the center of the desk. Zhang Yin's face was full of smugness, waiting to hear him say "I'm impressed." He bent over the desk, examining it from all angles. Zhang Yin even handed him a UV flashlight, saying with complete confidence, "Stop bragging all day. Let a real piece do the talking."

Ding Hanbai stared intently, forgetting even to trade barbs.

"How about it?" Zhang Yin pressed. "Can you tell if it's real or fake?"

Ding Hanbai could tell. The form, the inscription, everything was perfect. The dirt on it was even more compelling evidence, proving that this was a marine-salvaged artifact, a Qing dynasty Celadon Vase. But he was torn. It felt inexplicably familiar, as if he had seen it somewhere before.

Of course he had seen it. It was the pile of shards he had thrown away.

And yet, of course he hadn't seen it, because Ji Shenyu had kept it tightly under wraps, not letting a whisper out before selling it.

Having shown off enough, Zhang Yin shooed him out. Ding Hanbai straightened up and walked toward the door, then pulled it open and turned back to ask, "Which Antiques Market did you find it at? What did the seller look like?"

"Daimao," Zhang Yin said. "The seller was a spendthrift son. He probably won't be back after getting his pocket money, so you've missed your chance."

Until the end of the workday, Ding Hanbai's mind remained fixed on that vase, not letting go for a second. How did Zhang Yin of all people get so lucky? He was frustrated, so frustrated he almost ran a red light on the way home.

But a doubt lingered in his heart. 'Is it really a good piece?' He wanted to look at it again, an itching, scratching desire.

In contrast, Zhang Yin was practically walking on air. He headed for the Chongshui Old District and wandered through a stretch of dilapidated one-story houses. Mottled gray walls, narrow hutongs, and a layer of rust on the nameplates by each door. At the entrance of No. 57 was a handcart piled high with scrap. There was nowhere to step inside the door, and the small courtyard was also filled with scrap, making it feel incredibly cramped.

The cotton curtain hung in winter hadn't been taken down yet. Zhang Yin lifted it and went in. "Anyone home?"

There were only two rooms. An old man in an undershirt came out from the inner room. Without a word or a look, he first turned back to lock the door. Zhang Yin found a chair and sat down, saying sarcastically, "Guarding against your own son like he's a thief. Aren't you tired?"

The old man turned around. He wasn't actually that old, sixty at most. His hair stood on end, a perfect picture of bristling rage. His skin wasn't slack either, and he looked strong and powerful, but his left eye was clouded and half-closed, blind.

People called him Blind Zhang. No one knew his real name was Zhang Sinian.

"Coming all the way here after work, aren't you tired?" Zhang Sinian finally replied, washing his hands at the washbasin as he asked, "What's your business? Selling scrap?"

The word "scrap" set Zhang Yin off. Forgetting his original purpose, he stood up and retorted, "Hiding in this nook collecting junk, where do you expect me to show my face? Scrap piled up outside, fakes hoarded inside. What are you going to do when you're eighty and can't push that cart anymore?!"

Zhang Sinian raised his thick brows, the outline of his blind eye twitching. "Do nothing. When I kick the bucket, if you're so inclined, you can just use that cart to push me to the foot of some wild mountain and bury me. All settled."

Just as they were about to argue, Zhang Yin called a truce. He took the Celadon Vase out of his bag and, under the dim light of the room, changed the subject. "Settled or not, take a look at this."

Zhang Sinian stood his ground. "Just a look?"

Zhang Yin smiled. "I want to trade for the Ge Ware Small Incense Burner."

He was determined to get it. He had come three times in a year and a half, spending four or five years of savings on three items, only to be sent away each time with the word "fake." This time was different. He was confident. He had to make the old man open the door to the inner room without a single protest.

Sure enough, Zhang Sinian didn't say a word. He took out his key and went to unlock the door. Watching that back, Zhang Yin felt an endless fire rise within him, and he said hatefully, "You can tell real from fake with just one blind eye. Anyone else would have become a millionaire by now, but you? You collect scrap!"

The lock opened. Zhang Yin got up and went to the doorway. Inside was a single bed, a table and a chair, and besides that, nothing but antiques. His eyes widened, but they also reddened with anger. He couldn't tell the real from the fake; he thought Zhang Sinian was like a madman.

Zhang Sinian opened a drawer and took out a small, ten-centimeter-tall incense burner. As they exchanged items, he asked, "Where did you get this?"

Zhang Yin replied and then left. "It's up to you whether you sell it or keep it."

The curtain was lifted and dropped, letting light in and then shutting it out. Zhang Sinian walked to the table and casually placed the Celadon Vase down, as casually as setting down a cup or a pair of chopsticks. He closed his eyes, and you couldn't tell he was blind. Beating time, he hummed a tune from the Beijing Opera "Borrowing the East Wind".

Finally, in a theatrical tone, he recited, "—This child is unteachable."

It happened to be the weekend. For once, Ding Hanbai didn't sleep until the sun was high in the sky. Ding Yanshou was going to give him and his fellow apprentices a lesson. By the time the other four had gathered, he had already driven to the entrance of the Antiques Market.

Ding Hanbai wore sunglasses, his trousers creaseless, and the Swiss watch on his wrist gleamed. This kind of style was most attractive to sellers; it was as if his whole body screamed—lots of money, amateur, easy to fool.

He appeared to be wandering aimlessly, but in reality, the two eyes behind his lenses were like scanners. The Celadon Vase was in his mind, and he was prepared to search high and low for it. He had pondered it for half the night; the vase had a strong sense of familiarity. Perhaps it was from the same batch of objects.

Marine-salvaged artifacts often come in batches, so it was very possible there was more than one.

There were too many people on the weekend, and soon the market was full. Ding Hanbai wandered around a few times and then left, not having seen any "suspicious characters." He turned into a small alley on the side. The alley was narrow, with people selling while sitting and people looking while squatting, leaving no room to walk.

At the end of the alley was a small patch of shade where an old man sat, also wearing sunglasses. In front of him was an old autumn shirt, and on the shirt rested a Celadon Vase. When Ding Hanbai saw it, he didn't go over directly. He pretended to linger at other stalls, dawdling long enough before finally making his way to the end.

He took off his sunglasses. "It's shady here, and you're still wearing them."

"My eyes aren't good, they don't like the light," the old man said. This old man was precisely Zhang Sinian.

Ding Hanbai straightened his trouser legs and squatted down. He picked up the vase and began to examine it. He already didn't have a kind face, and at this moment, it grew even more grim. However, while calm on the surface, a gale was raging inside him.

He didn't have a photographic memory, but he had just seen Zhang Yin's piece yesterday, so he couldn't have forgotten it.

Even if they were truly from the same batch, could the position of the tube worms be exactly the same?

Zhang Sinian took out a rolled cigarette and started smoking, waiting for Ding Hanbai to ask a question. Whether one knew their stuff was revealed in the asking. Ding Hanbai seemed to have gone mute, turning the vase over and over. He felt a bit dizzy. Zhang Yin's piece looked like the pile of shards at home, and the one in his hands looked like Zhang Yin's piece.

Someone else wandered over, also wanting a look. He didn't let go, directly asking, "How much?"

What seller doesn't love a big spender? Zhang Sinian held up three fingers. Thirty thousand.

Ding Hanbai didn't haggle. He asked again, "Did this drift over from Zhejiang?" The word "drift" proved he knew it was a water-salvaged item, but he asked about Zhejiang, not Fujian, to test its origin.

Zhang Sinian looked down at him over the top of his lenses, a proper, square look, and said, "Fujian."

Ding Hanbai hesitated no longer. "Wrap it up. I'll go get the money."

The bank was right nearby. After he withdrew the money, the transaction was completed. As he was leaving, he saw Zhang Sinian smile at him. It wasn't a happy smile from getting money, but a kind of... irrepressible smile.

He simply laughed back. "I'm from the City Museum."

Zhang Sinian wasn't intimidated. "I collect scrap."

"Then you won't have to work hard this month. Thirty thousand should be enough to spend," Ding Hanbai said. "Not me, though. I have to go work overtime now."

He got his car and left, really heading for the Museum. Cashing in the favor from the Han Dynasty Portrait Stone, he found the curator to help him get this Celadon Vase tested. Submitting it for testing wasn't difficult, but it would take two days to get the results. After he sent it for testing, he took the item home.

That's right, Ding Hanbai had shelled out thirty thousand, but he wasn't certain this thing was real.

Zhang Yin's trip to Fujian only yielded a basin of shards. Such a perfectly intact piece should have been kept for exhibition in Fujian province itself. Even if someone had found a way to buy one, how could it have traveled over a thousand kilometers in just two months?

He had to take it back and study it carefully.

Studying it wasn't enough, so he could only shamelessly go for a professional analysis.

Ding Hanbai arrived home. No one was there; they had all gone to the Jade Pavilion with Ding Yanshou. He entered the study, placed the Celadon Vase on the desk, and began to examine it bit by bit against the book "Like Mountains, Like Seas".

Time ticked by, his thoughts still a tangled mess.

The sound of voices came from afar, drawing closer. Ji Shenyu and Jiang Ting'en returned, each clutching a snuff bottle. The dense net in Ding Hanbai's mind dissipated completely. He decided to take a break and see what those two were so happy about.

The three of them gathered under the corridor. Jiang Ting'en chattered, "Big Brother, Uncle told us to carve snuff bottles. I chose Lightning-pattern stone and carved Two Doves Playing with a Dog."

Ding Hanbai glanced at it. "Your family's Old Huang?"

"It looks like him, right!" Jiang Ting'en was both happy and sad. "Old Huang has been dead for a year. I miss him so much. I started crying as I carved." His feelings were deep, and the carving was lifelike. Ding Yanshou had praised him for it.

Ding Hanbai looked at Ji Shenyu. "What about yours?"

Ji Shenyu reached out and presented it, a jadeite snuff bottle carved with an Oriole Embracing the Moon. He moved in front of Ding Hanbai. "Is it pretty?"

Ding Hanbai grunted an "Mm" and played with it for a long time without returning it. Later, when Jiang Ting'en chattered on about the second and third brothers, he didn't pay much attention. "Big Brother, Uncle said you can't be lazy." Jiang Ting'en remembered the main point. "The material has been brought back for you. You have to turn in your homework."

Hearing this, Ji Shenyu took a piece of white jade from his pocket. "Master asked me to choose for you. You can't go wrong with white jade, right?"

Later, Jiang Ting'en went to find Jiang Caiwei, leaving only Ding Hanbai and Ji Shenyu under the corridor. Ji Shenyu had been out all day and wanted to go back to his room to change. As he turned, he faced the open window of the study and came face to face with the Celadon Vase on the desk.

He froze, then rushed to the windowsill and stared.

This vase? Impossible! Ji Shenyu charged into the study, his momentum startling Ding Hanbai. He rushed to the desk and saw it clearly, confirming it completely. The texture of the grime, the yellow stains... This was the one he had made during his three-day, two-night seclusion!

Ding Hanbai said, bewildered, "What are you so excited about?"

Ji Shenyu asked in disbelief, "Where did this thing come from?"

"The Antiques Market, just bought it this morning." Ding Hanbai didn't mention the reason, nor his opinion on its authenticity. Besides, before he could, Ji Shenyu's expression changed, which made him even more bewildered.

"Senior Brother..." Ji Shenyu asked, "How much did you pay for it?"

Ding Hanbai said lightly, "Thirty thousand."

Ji Shenyu practically roared, "Thirty thousand?!"

He hadn't just crafted a vase, he had wrought a disaster.