“You’re saying this painting is a fake?” The shop owner laughed angrily. “William ScottMr. Scott—haven’t you heard of him? He’s an authority among the older generation of collectors! His certificate of authentication is right here, clear as day! How could it be fake? Fine! Even if Mr. Scott made a mistake, could our country’s advanced scientific instruments also be wrong? Are you trying to pull a fast one? If you don’t have the money, just say so! We’ll call the police!”

Outside, someone said, “Kid, there’s no way it’s fake. Both Ms. Cooper and Ms. Bennett have examined it.”

“That’s right. I think you’d better find the person who bumped into you earlier. There’s no way four experts could all be wrong.”

I understood what they were thinking. Indeed, in this era where authentication certificates can be bought with money, a piece of paper might not mean much. But the key point is, both Grace Cooper and William Scott have excellent reputations in the industry, and with Ms. Bennett as well, that makes three cultural relic experts and one authoritative institution. Since they’re willing to vouch for it, there’s simply no way this painting could be fake.

Grace Cooper blinked gently and handed me the damaged scroll, as if wanting me to point out what was wrong.

Ms. Bennett smiled and shook his head, not even glancing at me.

I reassembled the scattered pieces of the painting. This work, suspected to be by Mr. Baishi, was a small piece: a lively little bird perched on a branch, a simple style, and there was no signature by Qi Baishi. I gathered my thoughts and said, “Nowadays, forgery techniques are ever-evolving. Who says high-tech instruments are absolutely infallible? I know why you’re all so certain. Yes, the brushwork here truly has the style of Mr. Baishi, and it matches his middle period. So, we can rule out a completely fabricated piece. Plus, up to now, none of Qi Baishi’s known works feature this particular bird, so the possibility of it being a woodblock watermark copy is also extremely low.”

“You do know a thing or two.” The shop owner looked at me, a bit surprised. “Then why do you still say it’s not genuine?”

“That’s exactly the brilliance of the forger.” I turned to look at Grace Cooper and the others, continuing, “You’re all experts, so it’s not really my place to show off here. But look—although the bird’s form and spirit are both quite good, why does it give me such a vague feeling? Also, I’d like to ask, why is this painting so small? Just a bird and a few branches? Doesn’t it feel incomplete? And why didn’t Mr. Baishi sign it? This isn’t a draft.”

“I don’t see anything vague,” Ms. Bennett said, barely perceptibly curling his lip. “There are plenty of famous paintings without signatures.”

Grace Cooper’s gentle eyes carefully scanned the painting several times. “…Tell us your conclusion.”

“This isn’t a complete painting or calligraphy work, just a partial copy.” I said with certainty, “I deduce that the forger actually has the original painting. His cleverness lies in knowing that the more you say, the more likely you are to slip up. No matter how good the forgery, there will always be some flaws. So the less he paints, the fewer flaws there are. That’s also why he didn’t use high-tech cloning methods to copy the signature, the trunk, the river, the glow of sunset, and so on. Moreover, by keeping the original painting to himself, the forger makes the deception even harder to detect…”

“Deduction?” The shop owner interrupted impatiently, tapping his finger on the table. “I want real evidence!”

“Wait a minute.” Grace Cooper stared at me suspiciously. “You just mentioned the trunk? The river? The glow of sunset? Have you actually seen the original painting?”

“No, I haven’t.” I coughed, then changed the subject: “But I have seen a copy of it—a replica.”

“Where?” Grace Cooper asked curiously.

“That painting was in the hands of a Taiwanese collector a few months ago. Later, I heard it was sold to Samuel ReedMr. Reed.” I racked my brains, recalling as I spoke, “Mr. Reed is also a collector—you should know him. If you don’t believe me, you can call him and ask Mr. Reed to send over a photo of the original.”

“All right, I’ll check.” Grace Cooper seemed to have doubts about the painting as well. She pulled out a Nokia phone and held it to her ear: “…Hello, Mr. Reed, this is Grace Cooper… Yes, I wanted to ask, did you recently acquire a painting by Mr. Baishi… You did? What? It’s a replica? That’s fine, I just want a photo… Yes, there’s something I want to compare it with… Thank you… Okay, please hold on…”

Grace Cooper borrowed a laptop from the shop owner, and before long, a clear image appeared before everyone.

This painting was much larger. In addition to the bird and branches, it showed the full trunk, a winding stream, and a faint glow of sunset.

A quick comparison revealed that the bird I had torn was exactly a partial copy of this painting!

Not a single detail was different!

The crowd erupted in astonishment!

Grace Cooper turned and smiled at me, clapping first—clap, clap, clap.

Immediately, a wave of applause swept through the crowd.

“Well done, young man!”

“Even four experts couldn’t match you! Impressive!”