Hearing Yang Juehuan's words, Huang Lin visibly started. He did not understand why Yang Ce had called the vase fake, but he knew Yang Ce had gifts beyond the ordinary, and if he said so, there had to be a reason.

Rather than keep guessing back and forth, better to trust Yang Cenbin this once and take a gamble. He had no confidence in the matter anyway; the worst that could happen was a round of mockery from Zhang Kentao, and that was no great matter.

"Real or fake, which is it?" Zhang Kentao shot Yang Puqi a displeased look, thinking, Who is this fellow anyway, butting in?

"Heh. What Yang Yanzhou says is what I mean," Huang Lin said with a firm nod.

Zhang Kentao's expression shifted in an instant, though he recovered at once. Without close scrutiny, one would never have noticed. But what could hide from others' eyes could not hide from Yang Juehuan's.

"Hmph, hmph." Zhang Kentao had regained his earlier smugness. "Brother Huang, I'm afraid you've guessed wrong this time. How could this vase be fake? I bought it at an auction in England for three million pounds."

Huang Lin was taken aback, unsure how to answer. But out of his trust in Yang Juehuan, he still turned his gaze to Yang Ce—and sure enough, Yang Moyi did not disappoint him.

"Is that so?" Yang Ce regarded Zhang Kentao with a half-smile. "You're certain this vase is genuine?"

"Of course I'm certain. The vase is mine, and I've had experts authenticate it. It's definitely real." Zhang Kentao nodded with great assurance. Inwardly, though, he was thoroughly disgusted with the man before him. What business was this of his?

"And what if I insist it's fake?" Yang Ce looked at the vase, then back at Zhang Kentao, and asked in return.

To be continued.

884. Appraising Antiquities (Part Two)

"Just who are you, anyway?" Zhang Kentao was growing more and more irritated with Yang Ce. "You say it's fake, so it's fake? Fine, then—tell me, why is this vase fake? Since you say it's fake, produce your evidence."

In truth, the vase was indeed fake; it was simply too skillfully made. Zhang Kentao had taken this forged vase to very authoritative institutions for authentication, and every answer he got back had been ambiguous. Nor had the vase been bought at an auction in England—though it had indeed cost three million pounds. That money, however, had gone to hiring a master forger.

Before coming, Zhang Kentao had carefully analyzed Huang Lin's mindset, and his conclusion was that Huang Lin was more likely to pronounce the vase genuine.

Though the vase was made to look extremely real, it was fake in the end, and Zhang Kentao naturally had his own means of telling. When the time came, he could strip Huang Lin of all face.

Spending three million pounds to forge a vase solely to make Huang Lin look foolish was indeed a rather high price. But in the eyes of a rich young man like Zhang Kentao, such money was nothing. Compared with putting Huang Lin beneath him, the expense was well worth it.

But even if Huang Lin said the vase was fake, he could simply refuse to acknowledge it, insist the vase was real, and demand that Huang Lin produce evidence that it was fake. In that case, though, making someone else produce evidence was plainly not the same as producing it oneself; presenting his own evidence would be far more commanding than demanding it of another.

Still, if that situation did arise, there was nothing to be done—he would simply insist the vase was real. If you say it's fake, you have to give evidence, don't you? Zhang Kentao did not believe Huang Lin could find any compelling proof.

But even so, he himself could not produce evidence that the vase was real, and that would defeat the purpose of humiliating Huang Lin. So when Huang Lin declared the vase genuine, Zhang Kentao was extraordinarily pleased—only to have Yang Ce thrust in and spoil his earlier advantage.

"And what if I do produce evidence?" Yang Jiyan asked with an unhurried smile.

"And what if you can't?" Zhang Kentao countered.

"If I can't produce evidence, I'll eat this vase." Yang Ce pointed at the vase.

"Ha! Fine!" Zhang Kentao was thoroughly enjoying Yang Yongjin now; since the man was courting his own misfortune, he had only himself to blame. So he said, "If you do produce evidence, I'll eat this vase."

Yang Yuting nodded without a word, then suddenly reached out and swept the vase off the table.

With a "crack," the vase shattered into pieces, breaking into countless shards.

"What are you doing?" Zhang Kentao was startled, then glared at Yang Ce in fury. "Why did you smash my vase? You're beyond arrogant!"

Seeing their master enraged, the two lackeys behind Zhang Kentao immediately lunged at Yang Ce, meaning to seize him. They did not dare lay hands on Huang Lin, but they had far fewer qualms about Yang Jiyan—this was the man who had wrecked their master's plan, and they naturally meant to teach him a lesson.

The two had no sooner reached Yang Juehuan's side and stretched out their hands to grab Yang Ce than Yang Puqi dealt them each a great ringing slap that set stars bursting before their eyes. "Is this any place for the likes of you two to strut?" he said, then turned to Zhang Kentao. "These lackeys of yours have no manners at all. I took it upon myself to teach them a lesson for you."

Yang Cenbin had put no small amount of force into those two slaps; in an instant the men's faces swelled up like steamed buns, and they reeled so dizzily they nearly fell. Any notion of dealing with Yang Ce was plainly out of the question now.

Zhang Kentao saw his men struck. Angry as he was, he had nothing to say—Yang Juehuan was right, after all. He himself had never ordered his men to rough Yang Ce up, so he would have to swallow this bitter pill in silence.

But the matter of Yang Ce smashing his vase—that had to be addressed. "Hmph. Much obliged. But how do you propose to settle the matter of my vase being broken? It cost three million pounds."

Even Huang Lin was baffled, unable to guess what game Yang Ce was playing, or why he had suddenly lashed out and smashed the vase. While he was still wondering, he caught Yang Ce giving him a look that said 'hold your peace a moment'—and so Huang Lin swallowed the words he had been about to say and quietly watched how matters would unfold.

Yang Ce did not answer Zhang Kentao. Instead he bent down, picked one shard from the pile of broken porcelain, laid it on the table, and said with a smile to Zhang Kentao, "This is my evidence."

Zhang Kentao's face went deathly pale. He had never imagined that Yang Ce would actually discover the vase's secret. By any reckoning, it should have been impossible.

But whether he believed it or not, the facts lay before his eyes—Yang Ce had produced his evidence.

The instant Yang Ce laid the shard on the table, every gaze followed Yang Juehuan's hand and fixed upon that fragment of porcelain. There, clearly written on the shard in graphite, were several characters: 'Hidden Swordsman: reproduced in London, 2009.'

Naturally, no one from the Ming dynasty could have written such a thing—at the very least, the people of the Ming had no notion where London was, unless someone had traveled back through time, which was all but impossible.

And the final two words, 'reproduced,' proved beyond doubt that the vase was a counterfeit.

"I wonder—does this count as evidence?" Yang Ce pointed at the shard on the table and asked Zhang Kentao.

"This—" Zhang Kentao was instantly mired in embarrassment, unable to speak. He had just been swearing up and down that the vase was genuine; now he had truly lifted a rock only to drop it on his own foot.

The vase's greatest secret had originally been intended by Zhang Kentao as a weapon against Huang Lin: if Huang Lin declared the vase genuine, he would smash it on the spot and show Huang Lin the writing inside. But now he had never gotten to use it—and instead someone had turned it against him.