How could Zhang Kentao fail to catch it? Still, the two were used to locking horns, and it was Zhang Kentao who had thrown the first jab, so he said carelessly, "That's true enough. We brothers don't stand on such empty formalities. The moment I heard you were hosting a banquet here, Brother Huang, I hurried straight over to add some cheer."

"Is that so?" Huang Lin looked at Zhang Kentao. Since the man had come, he could hardly throw him out; at least on the surface they could keep up appearances. "Then please take a seat. The banquet is about to begin."

"Before the banquet starts, I happen to have brought a rare treasure and I'd like Brother Huang to appraise it for me." With that, Zhang Kentao waved a hand, and the lackey carrying the bundle stepped forward and handed over what he held.

"Oh? Then I shall have to admire it properly," Huang Lin said with a smile that did not reach his eyes. Both men moved in collecting circles and both had some reputation—only Huang Lin's fame was a shade greater—so Zhang Kentao often brought out some tricky, outlandish object for him to identify, all to make him look foolish, though he always called it "admiring."

Last time, for instance, Zhang Kentao had produced a Song dynasty bronze cup for Huang Lin to determine which reign it was made in. Fortunately, Huang Lin had a true expert at his side that day who hit the mark at once, and Zhang Kentao had slunk off in defeat.

This time, who knew what new trick Zhang Kentao had up his sleeve? One thing was certain: the fellow meant no good, and in front of such a crowd he would surely have devised some way to humiliate him again.

Of course, though he knew full well what was coming, Huang Lin played his part well. He feigned great surprise and strode quickly over to Zhang Kentao.

Most of those present knew of the grudge between Huang Lin and Zhang Kentao, but people are always eager for a spectacle. Knowing the two did not get along, they still crowded around in curiosity, wanting to see just what high-class item Zhang Kentao had brought this time.

"This time I bought a vase from England, said to be from the Ming dynasty, and I want Brother Huang to help me determine whether it's genuine," Zhang Kentao said, opening the bundle in his hands. From within he took out a box; he opened the box and carefully lifted out its contents.

It was a celadon vase of exquisite craftsmanship and most elegant proportions. Almost everyone present knew a thing or two about antiquities, and at the sight of so beautiful a vase they could not help murmuring in admiration.

Zhang Kentao set the vase down smugly on the table at the center of the villa and said to Huang Lin, "Brother Huang, I hear you're quite accomplished in the study of Ming porcelain. So today I'll ask you, an expert, to tell me whether this vase is genuine or fake."

Huang Lin gave Zhang Kentao a cold look. Authenticating antiquities is a profound discipline. Though Huang Lin had put in no small effort in this field, antiquities were, after all, antiquities—unlike other things, determining their authenticity took real work. Not to mention that now, with only a brief glance of the eye, even experts would have to rely on high-tech instruments to appraise such a piece.

Yet even so, if Huang Lin failed to produce a convincing verdict today, Zhang Kentao had surely prepared plenty of mockery for him—of that there could be no doubt.

"Well, Brother Huang? This vase is rather fine, isn't it?" Seeing the admiring look in Huang Lin's eyes, Zhang Kentao said smugly.

"Mm, it is indeed fine," Huang Lin said with a nod, and began to appraise the vase.

From whatever angle—whether the patterns on its surface or the spots of iron rust—everything attested that this was unquestionably a Ming dynasty vase. But the more conclusive it seemed, the more unsettled Huang Lin felt.

Zhang Kentao had brought a vase like this to him for appraisal, so there had to be a follow-up move in store. But just where he meant to make his play, Huang Lin could not guess, and so he did not dare open his mouth rashly.

He merely studied the vase closely, examining the details on it that were easy to overlook.

The confrontation between Yang Ce and the pink-haired fat man had been cut short the moment Zhang Kentao walked in. The fat man knew there would be no quarrel now for a while yet, and so he had no choice but to drop it and join everyone in looking at the vase on the table.

The pink-haired fat man could see nothing in it; to him it was just a vase. But Yang Jiyan had sensed something from the barbed exchange between Huang Lin and Zhang Kentao.

"Lele, just who is this Zhang Kentao?" Yang Ce stepped up beside Huang Yan and asked in a low voice.

"A friend of my second brother's, but he's always liked to needle him. It'll be the same this time, I expect. If my second brother can't say whether the vase is real or fake, he'll probably come out with something nasty again." Huang Yan detested this Zhang Kentao, but she understood the ties between the two families, and if even her second brother could do nothing about him, then naturally there was even less she could do.

Yang Xutang nodded afterward, roughly grasping the relationship between the two men. It seemed this Zhang Kentao had not come with good intentions.

Without understanding Zhang Kentao's purpose, Huang Lin naturally would not speak lightly. But Zhang Kentao was growing impatient: "Well, Brother Huang? You're the expert in this field. Is this vase real or fake?"

By every measure, the vase looked very much genuine. And it was precisely because it looked too genuine that Huang Lin dared not draw a conclusion lightly. Technology was so advanced these days, and forgery techniques so formidable, that producing something indistinguishable from the real thing was no rare feat.

Zhang Kentao had brought a vase this convincing to test him. Would he really be so kindhearted? If the vase truly were a forgery, then once he declared it genuine, Zhang Kentao would surely seize the chance to mock him.

But would Zhang Kentao fail to grasp such an obvious principle? All things reverse at their extreme. If he had brought something hard to appraise, of poor quality and ambiguous character, for Huang Lin to judge, then Huang Lin really would have trouble deciding. But to bring something this genuine for him to judge—how could he not grow suspicious?

Still, looked at another way, if this were merely a counterplot—Zhang Kentao deliberately bringing a genuine vase to muddle him, making him mistake it for a fake—that too was not impossible.

And so Huang Lin found himself truly stuck, as if riding a tiger he could not dismount.

As though he had read Huang Lin's mind, Zhang Kentao stood to one side, shaking his head and swaying, utterly unhurried: "I say, expert, aren't you being a bit slow? Even if you can't examine it closely, you should at least give a preliminary opinion."

Huang Lin was somewhat annoyed. If I give a preliminary opinion, he thought, you'll be sure to bombard me over it. But not to speak was no good either, with so many people watching him. Today Huang Lin really did have to produce a verdict.

Fine—even if he said the vase was fake, and Zhang Kentao insisted it was real, he would be utterly helpless. Better to say it was real and take his chances.

At the very least, if the vase was fake, you had to say why it was fake, didn't you? There had to be some flaw somewhere. And Huang Lin, for his part, had seen no flaw at all.

So Huang Lin nodded, drew a deep breath, and said, "On my preliminary judgment, this vase appears to be genuine."

Before Huang Lin could finish, Yang Ce cut him off. Yang Puqi patted Huang Lin on the shoulder and picked up the thread: "It appears this vase is made very much like the real thing. But it's still fake—that's what Brother Huang means, isn't it?"