"Lao Lin, we have known each other for so many years, you can tell me the truth, how much do you want to buy this painting?" Wang Qingsheng asked.

"Well, we are not outsiders, and we don't have so many twists and turns, this number." Lao Lin stroked a slap.

"fifty thousand?"

"Yes, if you think it is suitable, you take this painting; if you think it is inappropriate, let's continue to drink tea and chat." Old Lin laughed.

Wang Qingsheng did not answer, got up and walked to the bookcase, took out the magnifying glass and continued to look at the painting.

Lao Lin didn't care either. He didn't really come to drink tea. The most important thing is to make money.

Han Bin had nothing to do, and while drinking tea, he asked Lao Lin about some antiques.

Lao Lin’s full name is Lin Zhongqi, and his hometown is in Xiaogang Village around Qindao. He arrived at Qindao in his early twenties. He has spent more than 20 years in the antique circle. He has a house and a car in Qindao City. Not bad.

After watching the painting for ten minutes, Wang Qingsheng put away the magnifying glass and walked over.

Han Bin poured out the herbal tea and gave Wang Qingsheng a new cup of tea.

Wang Qingsheng took a sip of tea and asked, "Lao Lin, can this painting be cheaper?"

"Brother Wang, you should be very clear that Han Xuankun is a famous ink painter in Qindao. His paintings are absolutely worth this price, and the potential for appreciation is great. If I don’t have spare money, I also want to keep this painting and hang it. Be a family heirloom in your own home."

"Lao Lin, you have many treasures, but this one is not bad." Wang Qingsheng smiled.

Lin Zhongqi pondered for a moment: "Well, since you have spoken, my brother, I can't help but give you face. I'm giving you two thousand cheaper. If you think it suits you, you can accept it. If it doesn't fit, let's continue drinking tea."

Wang Qingsheng touched his chin, thought for a while and said: "I will not be sure of my idea for a while, and I have to consider it again."

"No problem." Lin Zhongqi slid and drank another cup of tea.

The three chatted for a while. When it was noon, Wang Qingsheng invited Lin Zhongqi to dinner, but he politely declined.

After leaving the teahouse, Wang Qingsheng couldn't help asking: "Binzi, do you think there is a problem with this painting?"

Han Bin shook his head: "I didn't see it."

"Lao Lin, what do you think?"

"There are not many contacts, it's hard to say how people are, but during the time we met today, he showed no sign of lying." Han Bin said.

Wang Qingsheng smiled and secretly said that this kid is still interrogating others as criminals.

"Uncle, do you want to accept this painting?" Han Bin asked.

Wang Qingsheng frowned and said, "I'm not sure."

"There is a problem with the painting?"

"There is no problem with the ink, handwriting, paper, imprint, decoration, but I'm not sure about the inscription next to it." Wang Qingsheng frowned.

Han Bin recalled: "Suddenly I heard that the Nine Heavens Black Crane passed by, dare to ask where to find the fairy family"

"Yes, it is these two lines of poems written in lower case. This is not Han Xuankun's usual font. Although it is somewhat similar to Han Xuankun's handwriting, there are some differences." Wang Qingsheng explained.

There are many fakes in antiques, calligraphy and paintings, regardless of how similar other places are, if there is a flaw, I dare not take it easily.

If you win, you will lose money if you buy imitations.

"Uncle, you are right, I also think the inscription does not look like Han Xuankun's handwriting." Han Bin said.

Wang Qingsheng was a little surprised: "When did your kid also study calligraphy?"

"I didn't study calligraphy specifically, I just learned some knowledge of handwriting identification." Han Bin said.

"Tsk tusk, you guys can do it, use your criminal investigative set for calligraphy appraisal." Wang Qingsheng smiled, with a tone of test school:

"Then tell me, what is the difference between these two poems and Han Xuankun's handwriting?"

"As the so-called character is like the person, each person's writing style is different, and there are several common manifestations, such as the layout of the entire handwriting, the size and structure of the characters, the changes in writing speed and strength, etc." Han Bin recalled for a moment and continued:

"Compared with Han Xuankun's handwriting, those two lines of poems are obviously stronger, and the endings are more rounded, and the local connection of the words is more natural."

"According to your comment, this person's calligraphy is better than Han Xuankun?" Wang Qingsheng asked rhetorically.

"Uncle, I don't know if you have ever heard of'Yujiang Sanren." Han Bin answered the question.

"Yujiang Sanren, I seem to be a little impressed." Wang Qingsheng muttered, touching his double chin and thinking for a while: "There is a calligrapher Guo Ziyi in Lingnan, and his nickname is Yujiang Sanren."

"Yes, I personally feel that these two inscriptions are very similar to Guo Ziyi's handwriting." Han Bin said.

When Han Bin was learning handwriting appraisal skills, he also instilled a large number of celebrity calligraphy posts and characteristics in his mind. These calligraphy masters have their own characteristics and each form a family, and the learning is more systematic.

"Tsk tusk, Guo Ziyi is also a famous calligrapher. His characters are rarely sold to the outside world. If it were his inscription, the value of this painting could be raised to a higher level." Wang Qingsheng showed expectation, which was unexpected joy.

"Although I know handwriting identification, I am a layman after all. You have to estimate the value of this painting yourself." Han Bin said.

Wang Qingsheng subconsciously said: "It now appears that this painting is either a copy, and the inscription is also fake; or Lao Lin doesn't know the inscription, otherwise, this old boy can bid more than 50,000 yuan."

Before they knew it, the two had already left Antique Street, and Han Bin glanced around: "Uncle, what do we have for lunch?"

"What are you talking about?" Wang Qingsheng didn't seem to hear clearly.

"What do I say for lunch?"

Wang Qingsheng waved his hand: "Now I can't take care of this. You go home first, and I will study and study. If it is really Guo Ziyi's inscription, then it will be a lot of money. I have to hurry up and get the picture."

"Uncle, don't be impulsive, study it carefully, think about it, and it's not too late to collect it." This is the first time Han Bin's handwriting identification skills are used, and he can't guarantee 100% effectiveness.

"Don't worry, I've been playing literary games for half my life, and it's not that easy to be fooled." Wang Qingsheng patted Han Bin on the shoulder and turned back to Antique Street.

Han Bin shook his head and smiled bitterly: "Well, today's meal is so hot."

Han Bin was not in a hurry to go home. He found a restaurant and had some food. He went to the beach for a stroll. Although he was a coastal city, he was busy with work all day and didn't come to the beach often.

The last time I came to the beach, I seemed to be dating Tan Jingya. I thought about it very quickly.

Looking at the endless sea, I felt my insignificance, and the worries and work pressure in my heart dissipated a lot. Han Bin wore headphones and took a taxi home listening to the novel.

When I got home, I watched with my mom and went through the Guandong. Then I told my mom about the painting this morning. Unknowingly, it was dark outside.

In the evening, Han Bin personally cooks four dishes and one soup, which his parents like to eat, which is considered a filial piety.