C17 Five Hundred Million(1)

Hsu Hongfei's heart was fiercely shaken, leaving him unsettled for quite some time.

From a young age, he had shown a remarkable talent for calligraphy and painting, fueling a relentless pursuit of the art form. He would go to great lengths to explore any renowned calligraphy and painting sale he heard of, no matter the location.

Throughout his life, he had perused an innumerable collection of such works, but none captivated him quite like the paintings of Tang Bohu.

Tang Bohu was a master of calligraphy and painting, known for his sophisticated and unbridled style, rich and agile strokes, and striking elegance. Esteemed above thousands, he took pride in his vast knowledge and was considered the foremost among the Four Great Talents of Jiangnan in his time.

The "Autumn Wind Silk Fan Picture" before him stood as Tang Bohu's quintessential ink painting, acknowledged by art connoisseurs as a transcendent piece of its era.

The painting's brushwork was dynamic and thoughtful, with masterful delineation of figures and expert rendering of lake stones, all executed with fluid grace.

Tang Bohu's brush danced freely across the canvas, capturing the essence of the figures. He broke from traditional delicate, elongated lines in favor of slightly angular yet smooth strokes to depict the cascading folds of the garments, which subtly billowed at the feet, conveying the subject's refined poise and contemplative mood.

Rendered in pure line drawing with faint ink to accentuate the sashes, the fabric seemed to catch the nascent autumn breeze.

The use of double-hook bamboo strokes was impeccable, creating a vivid ink rhythm and showcasing a depth of color.

The painting's vitality and aesthetic appeal were immediate, stirring emotions at first glance.

The longer one contemplated the painting, the more apparent the depth of Tang Bohu's skill became.

After a deep breath, Hsu Hongfei raised his eyes to meet Su Hao's, his gaze filled with a touch of remorse.

"Brother, I was mistaken. This painting is, without a doubt, an authentic Tang Bohu!"

"Wow!"

The crowd gasped in astonishment as the words settled in the air.

"What? It's actually a genuine Tang Bohu?"

"No way! Experts have claimed that the 'Autumn Wind Silk Fan Picture' has been lost to history for ages."

"You're not familiar with Hsu Hongfei? He's known for his honesty when it comes to calligraphy and paintings. And really, how reliable are those so-called experts?"

"I didn't expect Hsu Hongfei to miss the mark on this one. But that's beside the point. The real issue here is that just a year ago, the 'Spring Tree and Autumn Frost Painting' fetched 400 million at an auction in Jinling Province, courtesy of the Su family. This 'Autumn Wind Silk Fan Picture' is every bit its equal, so we're talking a minimum starting bid of 300 million."

"Good gracious, 300 million? I recall this kid bought the painting for a mere 50,000 yuan. Talk about striking it rich!"

...

Envious glances were cast towards Su Hao, their eyes alight with fervor.

Turning fifty thousand into three hundred million? That's the stuff of dreams, isn't it?

The shop owner's face contorted with regret, clearly green with envy.

Had he purchased the painting himself, he could've been sitting on a windfall of three hundred million, free to live a life of leisure.

Instead, he had dismissed it as a forgery and handed over the fortune to Su Hao on a silver platter.

In that moment, he was overwhelmed with a desire to vanish from the earth.

Beside him, Zeng Ziyuv watched Su Hao, his mind a tumultuous sea of disbelief.

It seemed inconceivable. The Su Hao he remembered showed no particular gift for identifying treasures. Rather, he seemed more like a frivolous playboy, aimlessly drifting through the nightlife.

Yet, this very man had managed to discern the true value where Hsu Hongfei had faltered, not only challenging Hsu's appraisal but also bringing the authentic 'Autumn Wind Silk Fan Picture' back into the spotlight.

Could this really be the same Su Hao he thought he knew?

Su Hao took in the varied expressions around him without much comment. He turned to Hsu Hongfei and casually asked, "Director Hsu, might you be interested in this painting?"

This painting was destined for sale, yet taking it to auction would not only incur fees but also require several days of promotion—a timeline far too lengthy for my liking.

Selling it directly to Hsu Hongfei, however, would sidestep these unnecessary complications. Plus, I was confident that Hsu, with his discerning eye for art, would offer a price that wouldn't fall short of what an auction could fetch.

"Yes, yes, yes!" Hsu Hongfei had been eager to discuss the painting's sales rights with Su Hao. Upon learning that Su Hao was considering him as a buyer, he could barely contain his excitement.

"How much are you thinking?" he inquired.

Su Hao didn't commit to a figure but responded with a sly smile, "Director Hsu, I'll leave the pricing to you. As a connoisseur, I trust you'll value the painting appropriately."

Zeng Ziyuv, standing nearby, silently agreed. Su Hao's request for Hsu to set the price was a clever way of signaling that he wouldn't settle for a lowball offer.

Hsu Hongfei caught the subtext and, after a brief contemplation, declared, "The 'Autumn Wind Silk Fan Picture' is a rare gem. It's fortunate to encounter such a piece, and an honor that you'd consider selling it to me. Without further ado, I'm prepared to offer five hundred million to secure it."

A collective gasp rippled through the onlookers. Five hundred million? The amount was astronomical!

Even Zeng Ziyuv was taken aback. He had anticipated a bid in the range of three to four hundred million, never imagining it would soar to five hundred million. Clearly, he had underestimated the significance Tang Bohu's original held for Hsu Hongfei.

Su Hao was equally stunned. He had thought anything above three hundred million would suffice, yet here was an offer of five hundred million.

"Brother, does this price meet your expectations?" Hsu Hongfei asked, a hint of trepidation in his voice as Su Hao remained silent.

He was concerned that Su Hao might find the price too low, so he quoted higher. If even five hundred million wasn't enough to sway Su Hao, he'd have to weigh the pros and cons.

Authentic pieces are rare treasures, but if the price goes beyond what a merchant can bear, it demands careful consideration.

"I'm quite pleased," Su Hao said with a slight smile. "There's a saying that a steed needs a Bole to recognize its worth, and the same holds true for art. This painting, in the hands of Director Hsu, has found someone who truly appreciates it. For the painting itself, it's the ideal match."

"Hahaha, you're too kind, brother," Hsu Hongfei responded with a hearty laugh, pulling out a check from his pocket.

"What's your name, brother?"

"Su Hao!"

"Su Hao? The fiancé of Bai Wenling, CEO of Butterfly Loving Flower Company?" Hsu Hongfei paused, giving Su Hao a peculiar look with a flicker of surprise in his eyes.

He had heard that Bai Wenling's fiancé, Su Hao, was the epitome of a rich playboy—always loafing around and living a life of luxury.

Yet, the Su Hao before him, in both demeanor and appearance, bore no resemblance to the rumors.

With calm confidence, Su Hao replied, "Indeed, I'm surprised and honored that Director Hsu is aware of me."

"Some of the tales I've heard about Mr. Su now seem quite unreliable," Hsu Hongfei said with a light chuckle.

There's truth to the adage that seeing is believing. He was a man of reason, not one to judge another based on hearsay.

Especially since Su Hao exhibited such exemplary character and manners—hardly the spoiled heir he was rumored to be.

Clearing his mind of any preconceptions, Hsu Hongfei filled in the amount and Su Hao's name on the check and handed it to him.

The bystanders watched with a mix of envy and regret. Had they recognized the opportunity sooner, they too might have been able to pocket a cool five hundred million like Su Hao.

The shopkeeper's face turned a ghastly shade, continuously slapping his own cheek in dismay.

Given another opportunity, he would spare no expense—even if it meant spending his last dime—to acquire that painting.