The owner lifted the box with great ceremony. “Thank you all for your patronage. Today, my humble shop is honored to present the manuscript of Minister Qin’s Treatise on Statecraft for all to see.”
The moment the words left his mouth, the crowd surged. Candidates pushed forward, desperate for a glimpse of the real thing.
Xie Shaoling was determined to have it, so he wasn’t in a hurry.
Someone, annoyed by the long wait and the owner’s dramatic flair, shouted, “Does your manuscript have Minister Qin’s personal seal?”
The owner patted the box with absolute confidence. “Minister Qin had no official rank when he wrote this. He was but a youth. Where would he have gotten a personal seal?”
“If there’s no seal, how do you know it’s his?”
“Exactly… without a seal, how can you prove its authenticity?”
“We can’t exactly take the book to Minister Qin to ask if it’s real or fake after we buy it, can we?”
The skepticism of the candidates rose like a tide, creating a deafening clamor.
The owner’s calm facade began to crumble. Beads of sweat broke out on his forehead as he looked around the room. Finally, his eyes landed on a savior. “Everyone, quiet!”
“You might not believe me, but surely you believe Xie Shaoling?!”
Xie Shaoling’s background, character, and reputation were beyond reproach. The candidates naturally trusted his word.
Every gaze shifted to Xie Shaoling. The young man stood tall and elegant, offering a slight smile as he held his fan.
The owner breathed a sigh of relief and carried the box over to him. “Young Master Xie, I have heard that you have imitated Minister Qin’s Yan Style since childhood and that your family possesses many rubbings of his work. You surely wouldn’t mistake his handwriting, would you?”
Xie Shaoling nodded calmly, tapping the wooden box with his fan. “I might mistake anyone else’s hand, but never his.”
The owner finally relaxed and carefully slid the box open. “Then I must trouble Young Master Xie to take a look and see if this is truly the Minister’s work.”
Xie Shaoling had already intended to do so when the crowd began their questioning. He tucked his fan into the back of his collar and solemnly wiped his hands with a handkerchief. Only then did he gently lift the stack of yellowed pages.
He turned past a blank cover page. The characters that met his eyes were slightly worn but remained vividly clear.
The handwriting was powerful yet lean, the strokes as sharp as a blade. The hooks and sweeps were forceful, and the ink sat thick and dark on the page. Even through the paper, one could feel the unbridled spirit of the person who wrote it—a sense that everything in the world was within his calculated grasp.
The crowd watched Xie Shaoling intently. The young man’s brow twitched slightly. Without a word, he flipped to the next page, continuing to scrutinize the script.
He read rapidly, his eyes scanning ten lines at a time. When he reached a page in the middle, his hand paused. This particular sheet looked as though it had once been soaked in water, causing the ink to blur slightly.
The owner wiped his forehead and hurriedly explained to the crowd, “That wasn’t my doing! The paper still carries a faint scent of wine. I believe Minister Qin must have accidentally knocked over a cup.”
“Would a man like Minister Qin really knock wine onto his own manuscript?”
“He is so refined and graceful; how could he be so clumsy?”
Xie Shaoling leaned in to sniff the paper. A faint, almost imperceptible scent of wine lingered. His fingertips brushed over the handwriting, which was even more wild and unconstrained than the previous pages. He whispered his verdict: “This page was written while intoxicated.”
Xu Hesheng’s expression turned subtle. It was hard to imagine the dignified and handsome Minister Qin getting dead drunk, writing while clutching a bottle.
Unable to wait any longer, the owner asked, “Young Master Xie, is this indeed the Minister’s handwriting?”
Xie Shaoling didn’t answer immediately. He continued flipping through the manuscript until the pages grew thin and he reached the very last one.
In the bottom right corner of the final page, there was no signature from Minister Qin. Instead, there was a tiny plum blossom seal.
Xie Shaoling stared at that plum blossom, his frown deepening. The handwriting on the paper was indeed very similar to Minister Qin’s, but it was more elegant and fluid than the rubbings he owned, possessing a certain ethereal grace that was nearly impossible to replicate.
Perhaps Minister Qin had been young and spirited back then, his style more uninhibited?
“Young Master Xie, is the manuscript real or fake?” someone asked impatiently.
“Yes, Young Master Xie, please say something!”
The persistent urging of the crowd brought Xie Shaoling back to his senses.
He looked up, his eyes dark and unfathomable. “It is indeed the manuscript of Minister Qin.”
The owner beamed, his smile wide enough to split his face. “Young Master Xie truly has a discerning eye! Who else could produce such Yan Style calligraphy besides the Minister himself?!”
Xie Shaoling’s thin lips moved as if to speak, but he remained silent. He placed the manuscript back into the wooden box and tapped the lid with his finger. “I’ll take it.”
A collective sigh of disappointment erupted from the crowd.
The owner was more than happy to do business with Xie Shaoling. He clapped his hands and said, “Does thirty thousand taels of silver sound fair to you, Young Master?”
Xie Shaoling nodded without a moment’s hesitation, cradling the box containing the priceless treasure against his chest. “Follow me back to my estate to collect the silver.”
Xu Hesheng couldn’t help but click his tongue. He truly regretted bringing his friend to the bookstore. He had always known Xie Shaoling was a loyal devotee of Minister Qin; why had he set himself up for this frustration?
