Chapter 29: Wen Zhengming

“Ye Tian, didn’t I already tell you? You should do less fortune-telling for people in the future. This… ultimately isn’t a proper path…”

After hearing his son’s words, Ye Dongping sighed. This kid seemed obsessed recently, constantly talking about people’s faces. Almost all the old neighbors in Li Village had received his readings.

But the County Town was not like the countryside. People here generally had more education than in rural areas. If Ye Tian kept acting mysteriously like this, he might cause some trouble.

Also, in mainstream modern society, fortune-telling and physiognomy were always looked down upon. If Ye Tian got too deep into this, it would be bad for his future development.

So before coming to the County Town, Ye Dongping had made three rules with his son: he must not reveal his knowledge of Feng Shui and Physiognomy in front of others, and he must not use it to make money. Therefore, upon hearing that Ye Tian had once again read Feng Kuang’s face, Ye Dongping naturally felt unhappy.

Ye Tian always listened to his father’s lectures and promptly forgot them. He put on a very serious expression and said, “Dad, I understand. After I go to school, I won’t mention fortune-telling or face-reading anymore.”

“You little rascal, don’t just let my words go in one ear and out the other. Behave yourself at school too. If the teacher calls me in again, you’ll see how I deal with you…”

Ye Dongping talked on, then started laughing himself. He knew his son’s nature better than anyone. Basically, he avoided major trouble but was constantly involved in minor mischief. Ye Dongping himself had been a troublemaker as a child, so he wasn’t too concerned about it.

Seeing his son about to thump his chest and make promises, Ye Dongping waved his hand and said, “Alright, enough… from now on, this will be our home. Let’s tidy up all these things. Oh, and metal items can be placed in the yard, but waste paper and books should be kept inside the house to avoid getting wet from rain.”

Ye Dongping didn’t know how Feng Kuang had categorized these items. The room was filled with everything imaginable, from enamel mugs to plastic washbasins, and even a leaky water kettle. Miscellaneous objects cluttered the entire room, and by the doorway, several spittoons were piled up.

They believed in self-reliance. After placing their bedding rolls on the bed, father and son started busying themselves. The chaotic items were sorted one by one and placed in the outer room or the yard.

They worked for a good four to five hours before finally cleaning up both rooms. Then, father and son began wiping down the bed in the inner room, which was where they would sleep from now on.

“Huh? Dad, come look. What is this thing?”

While Ye Tian was using a basin of water to clean the large bed, he suddenly noticed many tattered books piled under the bed. Among them, a scroll caught his attention.

This scroll was about sixty centimeters wide. It had a wooden roller in the middle, and the ends of the rods were very smooth, as if often handled and touched. It somewhat resembled the patina the Old Taoist had described.

Hearing his son’s call, Ye Dongping walked over. He took the scroll from Ye Tian’s hands and examined it for a moment, then said uncertainly, “This… should be a piece of calligraphy or a painting, right?”

Although they had crammed some knowledge about antiques and calligraphy and painting from the Old Taoist for a few days, it was clear this father-son duo was still far from being experts.

To a connoisseur’s eye, one could tell at a glance that this was definitely a painting, not calligraphy. The reason was simple: calligraphy scrolls usually weren’t this large.

Ye Tian grabbed the scroll from his father’s hands and said, “Let’s just open it and see, right?”

“Hey, be careful. It might be an antique.”

Seeing his son’s careless manner, Ye Dongping took the scroll back. After a moment’s thought, he walked to the bed and placed the scroll on it.

Perhaps due to poor storage, there were signs of insect damage on the edges of the scroll. Ye Dongping untied the silk thread binding it and very carefully spread it flat on the bed.

When the scroll was half open, Ye Dongping froze. What appeared before him was a painting. Its colors were somewhat dark and dull. When he touched it, the surface didn’t feel like paper but rather had a silk-like texture.

“This… is a silk painting. It should be an ancient painting.”

Ye Dongping shared the knowledge he had gained from the Old Taoist, putting it to immediate use. Then, as he continued opening the ancient painting, his movements became even gentler.

The Old Taoist had once said that because paper calligraphy and paintings were difficult to preserve, ancient painters preferred to create their works on silk fabrics like silk or damask. Such works were also called “silk paintings.”

Preserving calligraphy and paintings was among the most challenging aspects of antique care. They needed protection from decay and insects, and with the added risks of natural disasters and human turmoil, very few paintings and calligraphic works from ancient times survived. So, any silk painting was extremely precious.

When the entire scroll was unfurled, the scene leaped before their eyes. It was a landscape painting with figures. The background showed a rugged, high mountain. At the foot of the mountain stood a green pine tree, with a stream flowing beside it. Two scholars wearing square hats were seated under the tree, playing chess.

The entire painting was executed with vigorous and fluid brushstrokes. Within its broad, simple style, there were layers and artistic charm. The majestic depiction of the mountain also carried an elegant, understated, warm, and refined beauty. Even Ye Dongping and Ye Tian, with their amateur appraisal skills, felt captivated and uplifted by the sight.

“It’s a painting of a chess game. Ye Tian, look, what do these writings say?”

In the upper right corner of the painting, there were several seals and a few lines of small characters, all written in seal script. Although Ye Dongping was a university graduate from earlier years, he knew nothing about seal script and had to turn to his son for help.

“Dad, these words say: ‘Painted by the west window on the day after the full moon in the second month of spring, in the Jia Jia-yin year.’ The seal above says it’s by someone named Wen Zhengming. The colophon below says: ‘Noted by the owner of Wei Garden, Wang Shizhen.’ The seal is carved with the characters ‘Yuan Mei’…”

These seal script characters naturally didn’t stump Ye Tian. After some examination, he quickly transcribed them into simplified characters on a notepad and handed it to Ye Dongping.

“A painting by Wen Zhengming? This is a real treasure. Who knows where Feng Kuang got it from, with no care for it at all…” After glancing at the notepad, Ye Dongping’s eyes lit up.

Wen Zhengming studied calligraphy under Li Yingzhen and painting under Shen Zhou. In poetry, he was known as one of the “Four Talents of Wu,” alongside Zhu Yunming, Tang Yin, and Xu Zhenqing. In painting history, he was grouped with Shen Zhou, Tang Yin, and Qiu Ying as the “Four Masters of Wu.” He was a truly famous figure in historical literary circles.

Back when Ye Dongping was a Red Guard in Beijing, he had personally burned a Wen Zhengming work collected by an old professor from Huaqing. He still vividly remembered the devastated expression on the old professor’s face as he watched the painting turn to ashes.

Recalling the foolishness of his youth, Ye Dongping felt a bit embarrassed. He explained Wen Zhengming’s background to Ye Tian and carefully rolled the painting back up.

“Hey, Feng Kuang, you came just in time. How did you get this painting?”

Just after putting the scroll away, the sound of a bicycle bell rang from outside the yard. Ye Dongping hurried out to meet him. This kid really hadn’t been boasting—it turned out the scrap collection station really could yield antiques!