The Young Girl's Chronicles of Demon-Slaying

Chapter 9: Antiques

Lin Yuqin went on and on, saying a lot, but in Fang Heng’s view, the matter wasn’t really that complicated. It was simply that Song Wencheng had a hobby: he liked antiques. He didn’t have a specific preference—whether it was jade, porcelain, or calligraphy and paintings, he liked them all. The pieces he’d bought in the past weren’t particularly expensive—mostly a few thousand or ten to twenty thousand—and he didn’t buy them very often; three or four pieces a year was about it. First, he gripped the neck of the vase with one hand and cradled the base with the other, rotating it as he examined it closely. After examining it for a moment, he picked up the magnifying glass lying on the coffee table and began a more detailed inspection. Seeing Song Wencheng’s concentration, the middle-aged man didn’t interrupt but waited quietly for him to finish. A short while later, Song Wencheng put down the magnifying glass, and the middle-aged man spoke up: “Old Song, what do you think? It’s the real thing, right?” He said this with full confidence: “I never sell fakes!” Song Wencheng neither nodded nor shook his head; he merely gave a vague, soft “Hmm” before saying, “Name your price!” The middle-aged man beamed and said, “You’re in luck. This vase is a family heirloom of the Liu family, but they’re in urgent need of cash right now, so they’re willing to sell it at a discount—a flat price: 200,000!” “Well…!” Song Wencheng was momentarily at a loss for words—not because he couldn’t afford it, but because his wife had nagged him for ages after he spent 100,000 on a bowl last time. If he spent even more now on a vase, it would likely be more than just a little nagging. Fang Heng, who had overheard the price from the sidelines, was inwardly astonished. A single vase for 200,000? No wonder Lin Yuqin had gotten so upset. To those uninterested in antiques, no matter how historic a vase might be, it’s still just a vase. Aside from being displayed for viewing, it serves absolutely no practical purpose. Wouldn’t it be better to buy a few plates and bowls instead? At least those can hold food and rice, right? But for those who love antiques and study them, antiques are a true passion. An authentic antique—whether a vase, a painting, or a calligraphy scroll—not only allows one to appreciate the culture of centuries past but also lets one feel the historical atmosphere it embodies. For those who love collecting antiques, the greatest joy is holding a genuine piece and admiring it closely—it’s like reading a novel, a pleasure in itself. As for the price… money can’t buy what’s close to your heart. Just look at those shockingly expensive official plastic figurines—aren’t there still huge crowds of people scrimping and saving to buy them for their collections? Not to mention that antiques hold their value. However, if Song Wencheng were actually asked to shell out 200,000 to buy it, it wasn’t that he was unwilling to part with the money—he was just worried his wife would get angry, so naturally he hesitated. Judging by what he’d just said, this middle-aged man was clearly the real estate agent surnamed Wang whom Lin Yuqin hated with a passion. Seeing Song Wencheng’s hesitation, the agent named Wang didn’t rush him—he was well accustomed to clients like this—and began to persuade him from the sidelines. Fang Heng had originally planned to sit there and see if Song Wencheng was really willing to spend that much money on a vase, but just then, he suddenly heard Lin Yuqin calling his name from the stairs. “Hengheng! “Here I am!” Fang Heng replied and had no choice but to leave the living room and head toward the stairs. As he rounded a corner, he saw Lin Yuqin—who had just finished her shower, her whole body still fragrant with shower gel, a towel wrapped around her head, and a bathrobe still on—standing on the last few steps leading down to the ground floor. She had probably been planning to come downstairs, but when she was almost at the bottom and heard a sound coming from the living room, she stopped in her tracks. Thinking, “If I’m going to look anyway, might as well take it all in,” Fang Heng gave Lin Yuqin a thorough once-over from head to toe, silently marveling to himself: Although Lin Yuqin was in her forties, she had a great figure, fair skin, and was truly beautiful; Song Wencheng had really married a wonderful woman. Lin Yuqin, however, paid no mind to Fang Heng’s gaze and simply asked in a low voice, “Hengheng, did Uncle Song bring someone home?” “Two of them,” Fang Heng corrected her. “Whether it’s one or two, one of them is bound to be that matchmaker surnamed Wang.” Lin Yuqin sounded a bit annoyed, but she still instructed, “It’s getting late. Hengheng, go to the kitchen and help Auntie wash the vegetables… I’ll go change and come back down.” “Okay!” Fang Heng nodded, turned around, and headed for the kitchen, while Lin Yuqin went back upstairs to change. Shortly afterward, Lin Yuqin came downstairs wearing a different dress. Although she disliked the realtor surnamed Wang, out of courtesy to her guest, she went to the living room to greet him, brewed some tea, and brought it over before heading into the kitchen to prepare dinner with Fang Heng’s help. The two of them were busy in the kitchen, and with the loud sounds of stir-frying, they didn’t notice any commotion in the living room. Before long, as Fang Heng began carrying dishes to the table and setting out bowls and chopsticks, it had already grown dark outside. Song Wencheng warmly invited the real estate agent surnamed Wang and the young man to join them at the table. With men present, drinking was inevitable, but the three of them were quite restrained, sipping and chatting as they went. Although Lin Yuqin wasn’t entirely comfortable with the situation, she didn’t want to appear rude, so she treated the middle-aged man and the young man just as she would any other guests. It was only then that Fang Heng realized the middle-aged man was indeed the broker surnamed Wang—Wang Yiting—and the young man was “Little Liu,” the one Wang Yiting had mentioned earlier as being in urgent need of money. That vase was a family heirloom belonging to Xiao Liu’s family. The real estate agent Wang likely sensed that Lin Yuqin didn’t care much for him, so he didn’t dwell on the vase during the meal. Instead, he began boasting about all sorts of strange and unusual incidents he’d encountered over the years while appraising antiques. He spoke of jade pendants with a spirit of their own, vases that emitted smoke, porcelain bowls that absorbed Yue Guang, and so on. He made it all sound so mystical and incredible, as if it were all true. This made Fang Heng—who had already encountered similar strange occurrences himself—can’t help but wonder deep down: Was Wang Jiezhong just bragging, or had he truly experienced such things? In the past, he would have definitely thought Wang Zhongjie was exaggerating, but since he’d encountered a female ghost just the day before—one who wore a Buddhist prayer bead bracelet on her wrist that had turned him into a girl—and had experienced it firsthand, he naturally wouldn’t jump to conclusions too hastily. Ultimately, though, he still treated what Wang Zhongjie said as a story; as for whether it was true or not, he had no way of verifying it. By the time they finished their meal, it was already past seven in the evening. Fang Heng helped Lin Yuqin clear the table, while Song Wencheng, Wang Jiezhong, and the young man named Xiao Liu returned to the living room to continue discussing the vase. When Fang Heng finished his chores and came out, he happened to see Song Wencheng seeing Wang Jiezhong and the young man named Xiao Liu out the door. He glanced over and noticed that the wooden box containing the vase was sitting right on the coffee table. Had they reached an agreement? Fang Heng was a bit curious; he didn’t know exactly how many ten thousand Song Wencheng had paid for the vase, but he guessed it was probably just ten or twenty thousand short. Song Wencheng soon returned with his guests, walked over to the coffee table, picked up the wooden box, and headed toward the stairs—presumably to put it away. Just then, Lin Yuqin happened to come out of the kitchen after tidying up. She glanced in the direction Song Wencheng had gone and called out directly to Fang Heng in the living room: “Hengheng, Uncle and I have something to discuss. Be a good boy and watch TV!” Without waiting for Fang Heng’s reply, she followed Song Wencheng upstairs. Looks like it’s time to settle the score. Fang Heng thought to himself. (End of Chapter)