Just as they reached the intersection, a black Mercedes-Benz stopped in front of Zhuang Rui. Song Jun rolled down the window and greeted Zhuang Rui.
After opening the back door of the Mercedes and letting the little white lion get in, Zhuang Rui sat in the passenger seat and glanced back. There were two little guys sitting side-by-side in the back seat; it turned out Song Jun had also brought out the golden retriever puppy.
"Hey, do something about your dog, this is unreasonable."
Looking in the rearview mirror, Song Jun noticed that as soon as the little white lion got into the car, it pushed his little golden retriever aside and made threatening "woof woof" sounds, which immediately made him very unhappy.
"White Lion, sit still."
Zhuang Rui called out towards the back door, but the little guy jumped onto him from between the seats, leaving Zhuang Rui helpless. He had no choice but to hug it.
"By the way, Brother Zhuang, let me tell you about the old man we're going to meet later. His surname is Fang, and he's a representative figure among Yangzhou mounters. He's originally from Pengcheng, and now he's returned to his roots to retire. This old man has a rather eccentric temper. He might mount the paintings and calligraphy he values for free, but if he doesn't like them, no matter how much money you offer, he won't pay any attention to you. Maybe he'll do it for my sake, but be prepared to be ripped off. This old man is ruthless."
While driving, Song Jun gave instructions to Zhuang Rui. Although he hadn't seen the painting in Zhuang Rui's hand yet, he could tell from his tone that he wasn't optimistic about the painting that Zhuang Rui had bought at the black market on the grassland.
"It's alright, Brother Song. As long as we can replace the scroll rod, it doesn't matter whether we remount it or not. I brought 30,000 yuan with me, that should be enough, right?"
Zhuang Rui pretended to be very casual and replied casually that if this old man Fang was really a top figure in the mounting industry, he would naturally be able to see the trickery in this painting.
"You're quite generous, aren't you? You only spend a few thousand on a painting, but you're planning to spend thirty thousand on framing it. Are you planning to resell it to someone else for a higher price?"
As Song Jun spoke, the car had already headed towards the Guishan Han Tomb on the outskirts of the city. There were many building materials markets along this road, and Zhuang Rui saw that some market entrances were filled with people using electric saws to cut wood, making a loud roaring sound.
"Once it's framed, I'll sell it to someone else. Don't try to steal it, Brother Song."
Zhuang Rui looked at the chainsaw, and something seemed to come to mind. He casually chatted with Song Jun.
"By the way, I can look for one of those small, manual cutting machines."
Zhuang Rui cursed himself for being an idiot. Near his old house, there used to be a quarry that sold stone carvings. Back then, Zhuang Rui often saw stone carvers using small manual cutting machines to process the more delicate parts of the stone carvings. He figured that cutting a stone shouldn't be a problem.
"If it were an authentic work by Tang Bohu, I might be interested. But let me tell you, Zhuang Rui, that painting 'Li Duanduan' is safely in the Nanjing Museum. You can keep this one for yourself; if you hang it out, people will laugh at you."
As Song Jun spoke, he stopped the car. Only then did Zhuang Rui realize they had arrived at their destination. He opened the car door, picked up the little white lion, and got out.
"Zhuang Rui, leave the little white lion in the car. If Grandpa Fang agrees to frame it for you, he'll need some quiet time. These two little things are too noisy."
After hearing Song Jun's words, Zhuang Rui comforted the little guy, put him back in the car, and then, holding the scroll in his hand, walked with Song Jun towards a courtyard about 10 meters ahead.
Grandpa Fang's house is located in the urban-rural fringe of Pengcheng, nestled against the mountains and beside the water. A row of willow trees is planted in front of the courtyard, just as they are turning green. When Zhuang Rui entered the courtyard, he saw two vegetable plots planted in the yard, and an old man with gray hair was hoeing the ground.
"Grandpa Fang, you're still so healthy!"
Upon seeing the old man, Song Jun quickly walked a few steps forward and took the hoe from his hand.
"That brat, he never comes here unless he has something to do. He only thinks of me when he has something to do. When I see Brother Song, I'll definitely tell on you. Alright, alright, stop showing off."
The old man watched Song Jun pretending to hoe the ground and kicked him. Song Jun didn't dare to dodge and took the kick on his buttocks. Song Jun was over forty years old, but he didn't seem embarrassed at all and kept smiling.
Only then did Zhuang Rui get a clear look at the old man's face. He had snow-white hair, a rosy complexion, and very delicate skin. It was no exaggeration to describe him as having white hair and a youthful face. At first glance, he did not look like an old man in his eighties at all. However, there was a hint of vicissitude in his eyes from time to time.
"How is your grandfather's health?"
The old man nodded to Zhuang Rui and asked Song Jun.
"Thanks to you, Grandpa is in good health. He's incredibly quick when he's disciplining my dad. By the way, when I went back to Beijing recently, Grandpa said he wanted to invite you to stay at his house for a while."
"I'm not going. This place is fine. Why should one be buried in one's hometown? There are green hills everywhere in life. I've been away from my hometown for decades. I've finally returned home after completing my studies. It's lucky that these old bones can be buried here now."
The old man sighed, glanced at the leather case in Zhuang Rui's hand, and then asked, "Brother Song, have you found another treasure? Come on, let's go inside and take a look."
The old man walked steadily. When he reached the door, he washed his hands and led the two into the living room. A middle-aged woman in her forties, who looked like the old man's caregiver, came up and served Song Jun and Zhuang Rui a cup of tea before leaving.
"Give it to me, let me take a look first."
The old man wasn't as difficult as Song Jun had described. After entering the house, he dried his hands and readily took the leather case from Zhuang Rui, unzipped it, and took out the scroll inside.
"Come on, young man, help me open this painting."
The old man probably mistook Zhuang Rui for a follower of Song Jun, and tossed him a pair of white gloves, gesturing for Zhuang Rui to put them on.
On the rectangular table in the living room, Zhuang Rui and Grandpa Fang each held one side of the scroll rod and spread the painting out to both sides. However, before the scroll was even half open, the old man's face already showed displeasure.
"You little brat, how dare you ask me to frame something like this? Do you think you can kill me because I'm a lazy old man with nothing better to do?"
When the scroll was fully unrolled, Old Master Fang was furious. He had handled more genuine works of calligraphy and painting by famous artists in his life than any other collector in the world. His eyesight was naturally exceptional, and he could tell the painting was genuine at a glance.
Chapter 105 Picture within Picture (Part 2)
Seeing that the old man was angry, Song Jun quickly said, "Grandpa Fang, please don't be angry, please don't be angry. Why are you even angrier than my grandfather? Please let me explain."
“Explain? What’s there to explain? Your grandfather wouldn’t have let you bring this painting to me for framing. It must have been your own idea, right? I’m telling you, you’re not short of money, there’s no need to try to fool people with something I’ve framed.”
The old man's temper remained unabated. You see, mounting and calligraphy and painting have always complemented each other. It is often said that "three parts painting and seven parts mounting" means that a piece of calligraphy and painting, if mounted by a contemporary mounting master, can really fool many newcomers to collecting.
In his article "The Difficulty of Mounting Paintings," published in the People's Daily on January 3, 1957, the renowned modern painter Fu Baoshi stated, "As a work of art, besides the artistic level of the painting determining the painter, mounting is the most important step." This demonstrates the importance of mounting in the entire art of calligraphy and painting.
Before liberation, mounting masters had a relatively low social status. This led to a shortage of talent in the mounting industry, and the mounting techniques that had been passed down for more than 1,500 years were almost lost. It was only after liberation, when the status of craftsmen improved, that those old craftsmen were able to pass on their skills.
As for Mr. Fang, he is a towering figure in the entire Chinese calligraphy and painting mounting industry, with countless disciples and grand-disciples. Therefore, calligraphy and paintings that have been mounted by him are all genuine works with considerable value. Even if this painting of Tang Bohu's "Li Duanduan" is a fake, if it has been mounted by Mr. Fang, it might just be sold as a genuine work.
“Grandpa Fang, this painting belongs to my younger brother. He just wants it reframed and hung in his own home. He absolutely has no intention of reselling it under your name. You see, the scroll rod is made of very poor material and is no longer suitable for hanging in the hall. I just think this is a small matter, just a small favor for you. If you are not happy, we will not frame it.”
Song Jun was quite displeased after being reprimanded. He was already secretly regretting his decision; he should have just found any framer instead of provoking this old man.
"Is everything you're saying true?"
Old Master Fang's expression brightened slightly as he looked at Song Jun and asked.
"Grandpa Fang, how could I dare to lie to you? If you make one phone call, my old man will break my legs."
After hearing Song Jun's words, Old Master Fang finally looked Zhuang Rui up and down. Having lived to such an old age and seen countless people, he could naturally tell that Zhuang Rui was not the kind of person who would cheat or be cunning. His anger gradually subsided.
“Young man, the price I charge for framing paintings and calligraphy is very high. The painting you bought has poor brushwork and no artistic conception. You might as well buy a print from a bookstore and hang it at home. It's not worth it for me to frame it.”
The implication behind Old Master Fang's words was that he was already making an excuse. If such a obviously fake work were framed by him, it would become a laughing stock.
"Grandpa Fang, I know this painting is fake, but since I bought it, I can't just burn it as waste paper. I just want to replace these two pivots so it can be hung up."
Zhuang Rui pretended to be casual, pointing to the painting spread out on the table. In fact, he was already very anxious. According to his guess, since the old man agreed to frame it, he would naturally be able to discover the trickery of the painting within the painting during the process.
However, to Zhuang Rui's surprise, after glancing at the painting's authenticity, the old man refused to make a purchase, not even giving it a second look. Generally, people familiar with a particular field prioritize their area of expertise. If the painting hadn't been so obviously fake, the old man might have examined its mounting and framing. This shows how much effort the forger went to in order to avoid drawing attention to the painting.
"oh?"
Grandpa Fang gave a noncommittal reply, but his eyes followed Zhuang Rui's finger to the scroll rod of the painting, and he commented, "The top and bottom rods and the scroll head are indeed made of wood, but the materials are too poor. Judging from the age of this painting, it should be a copy from the Republican era. It's only been a few decades and it's already almost rotten. I really don't understand why anyone would bother to frame a painting like this. Hmm?"
As Grandpa Fang spoke, his eyes, which had been half-closed, suddenly widened, and he let out a surprised and uncertain cry. He took a step to the table, and his movements were so nimble that they did not resemble those of an eighty-year-old man.
"This...this is our Wu-style craftsmanship, and it's even an antique-style mounting. Who would use this technique to mount this tattered painting?"
As he spoke, Grandpa Fang put on a pair of reading glasses and began to carefully examine the framing of the painting, muttering to himself incessantly. Zhuang Rui, standing beside him, was somewhat puzzled.
Song Jun had some knowledge of mounting and framing, and after explaining it to Zhuang Rui, Zhuang Rui finally understood what Old Master Fang meant.
It turns out that the mounting trade in Suzhou and Yangzhou has a history of hundreds of years since the Ming and Qing dynasties, inheriting the past and paving the way for the future, and is famous throughout the country, collectively known as Wu mounting. Within this trade, there are several categories: those specializing in mounting red and white hanging scrolls and couplets, specifically for weddings, funerals, and other celebratory occasions, are called the "Red Gang"; those specializing in mounting ordinary calligraphy and paintings are called the "Horse Gang"; and before liberation, in Suzhou, Shanghai, and Yangzhou, those who could be considered mounting art, specializing in mounting precious calligraphy and paintings for famous artists and collectors, are called "Antique Mounting." The artisans who could do "Antique Mounting" were mostly highly skilled veterans, and even before liberation, such people were few and far between. Old Master Fang knew most of them, so it's no wonder he was stunned when he suddenly saw this fake "Antique Mounting."
Because the old man was already convinced that the mounting of the painting must have been done by a master mounter before the liberation. However, he couldn't understand why such a complicated and costly mounting technique was used to mount a fake painting.
Grandpa Fang took off his gloves, found a magnifying glass, and carefully examined the painting from beginning to end. He then touched the mounting material of the scroll with his hand. After more than ten minutes, he took off his glasses, sat back in his chair, and frowned without saying a word.
The old man was truly puzzled. No matter how he looked at it, the painting was undoubtedly a fake, yet its mounting technique was "antique-style mounting." There was another issue: the materials used in "antique-style mounting"—whether it was the top rod, bottom rod, wooden rod, paper tube, or scroll end—were all of the finest. Before the liberation, the scroll ends used in "antique-style mounting" were even made of precious sandalwood.
Two questions were troubling the old man. First, if the most complex mounting technique was used, why use such inferior materials? The reason the old man hadn't examined it closely earlier was because the materials were so poor; he hadn't even considered that the painting used the "antique-style mounting" technique. Second, naturally, was why go to such great lengths to mount such a fake.
No matter what profession you're in, the people who can reach the top are definitely people with extremely persistent personalities. The old man is no exception. Even though he is over eighty years old, he still frowns and ponders, trying to figure out what mindset the mounting master was in when he mounted this work.
"Young Song, where did you get this painting from?"
Grandpa Fang spoke up, asking Song Jun, who was standing to the side looking somewhat bewildered. Song Jun had just come to the table and looked at the painting; it was indeed a fake, as could be seen from the paper used—it couldn't have been older than the Republican era.
"Grandpa Fang, I've already told you, this painting isn't mine."
Song Jun replied, somewhat amused and exasperated.
"Oh, right, this is the young man. What's your name, young man? Can you tell me about the origin of this painting?"
Since entering the room, Grandpa Fang only now remembered to ask Zhuang Rui's name. However, Zhuang Rui was not angry. Anyone who has lived to be over eighty years old probably wouldn't be interested in asking the names of everyone they've ever met.
Zhuang Rui introduced himself and then told everyone about the black market auction. There was nothing to hide, but he deliberately emphasized that he was persuaded by someone and bought it on impulse. Although it only cost three thousand yuan, he wanted to keep it as a memento, which is why he found Song Jun and asked Old Master Fang for help.
Grandpa Fang sat back down in his chair, pondered for a moment, then stood up and said to Song Jun, "Go call Xiao Lü and tell him I don't have time today and to ask him to come another day."
Song Jun agreed and took out his phone to make a call. Zhuang Rui, who was listening nearby, heard it clearly. It turned out that the "Little Lü" the old man was talking about was actually Manager Lü, whom he had met before. Zhuang Rui couldn't help but find it amusing. He wondered what kind of expression Manager Lü, who was also quite old, would have when someone called him "Little Lü".
“Young man, hold onto this painting and come with me. Young Song, come along too.”
After seeing that Song Jun had finished his call, Grandpa Fang stood up and walked towards a room next to the living room. Zhuang Rui put away the scroll on the table and followed behind with Song Jun.
To use a popular phrase, this room should be the old man's studio. The room is very spacious, with three windows, all made of transparent glass, allowing for excellent light transmission and making it very bright.
In the center of the room, there was a wooden table about one meter high with a smooth and flat surface. Song Jun quietly explained to Zhuang Rui that, in the industry, this table was a mounting table. There were also many other items on it, which, although cluttered, gave people a sense of order.
Chapter 106 Picture within Picture (Part 2)
"This is a drying board, used to flatten the paper. It's used to dry the painting, the mounting, and various mounting materials. You don't know what a drying rod is? Of course, it's used to dry processed backing paper, colored paper, and various other materials."
While explaining the tools in the room to Zhuang Rui, Song Jun also lectured Zhuang Rui, as if he wanted to return the anger he had suffered to Zhuang Rui.
"This is a copying table, a brush, a bristle brush, a ruler, and a cutting board. And that stone? That's a burnishing stone, also called a polishing stone, used to burnish and smooth the back of the mounting."
Zhuang Rui was also intrigued when he entered. Since Song Jun was willing to be a teacher, he asked him questions one by one. However, Old Master Fang was impatient and gave a heavy "humph" to Zhuang Rui, saying, "Young man, come here and spread this painting out on the copy table. Song boy, do whatever you want, don't cause trouble here."
Song Jun scratched his head. He remained silent. He wasn't stupid; the old man's behavior earlier had made him sense something was amiss, so he naturally wanted to stay and see what mysteries lay within the painting.
The copy table is made of glass and has a built-in fluorescent light. There is another fluorescent light on top of the copy table. This is used when unmounting damaged old paintings. There must be very strong light to avoid damaging the old paintings if you are not careful.
Zhuang Rui unfurled the scroll and laid it flat on the copying table. Old Master Fang first turned on the fluorescent lamp on the table and observed for a while. Then he turned on the fluorescent lamp above his head, wanting to see what changes would occur under the strong light. However, after a while, Old Master Fang shook his head in disappointment and turned off both lamps.
"Go fetch a basin of water..."
The old man kept his eyes glued to the painting, and gave an order. Zhuang Rui quickly picked up a basin from the corner of the room, went outside, and brought in a bowl of water.
When Zhuang Rui entered, he discovered that the top and bottom rods, as well as the scroll's ends, had all been removed by Old Master Fang. Only the scroll remained. Seeing Zhuang Rui enter, the old man beckoned him over.
After Zhuang Rui brought the basin over, the old man dipped a small brush, about the size of a nail clipper, in the water and began brushing the lower left corner of the painting. The paper was very absorbent; the brush was immediately absorbed upon contact with the paper. The old man continued to dip the brush in water and brush, and after three or five times, the lower left corner, an area of about five or six centimeters square, was completely soaked.
After waving for Zhuang Rui to take the basin away, Old Master Fang extended two fingers and gently rubbed them at the corner. The originally one-piece scroll immediately split into two sheets of paper, instead of the three sheets Zhuang Rui had expected. If this trick were discovered so easily, then the person who mounted the painting would have wasted all that effort.
"Xiao Zhuang, right? I suspect there's more to this painting than meets the eye. I'd like to peel off a few more layers from the Xuan paper, but it's made of sized Xuan paper, which is quite brittle. I'm worried that peeling off the layers might damage it. What do you think?"