Chapter 33 Selling Paintings
Zhao Hu's love life is not smooth, and on the other hand, Mantou's path to selling paintings is also full of hardships.
Because the young master was unwilling to reveal the artist of the painting, Mantou went to several bookstores, but when they heard that the artist was nameless, they refused to even look at the painting.
"What kind of paintings by some country bumpkin are you to sell in our bookstore? Go away, don't disturb our business."
Despite Mantou's repeated suggestions to let the bookstore owner see the painting first, the owner finally lost his patience and ordered the waiter to throw him out.
"They're like beggars, don't they even know where they are?"
Two big men, carrying a steamed bun, dragged and pulled him out the door.
The steamed bun fell heavily to the ground, and the painting she was holding scattered and rolled far away.
"My painting." Mantou struggled to stand up, ignoring the pain in his bottom, and went to pick up the paintings scattered on the ground.
Fortunately, the Xuan paper that Fu Yunting gave was of the highest quality and very resilient. Although some pictures were stuck on it, the painting was not damaged at all.
"Thank goodness." Mantou quickly picked up the painting and carefully wiped the dust off with his sleeve.
This was painted with great care and effort by the young master; it cannot be destroyed like this.
After rerolling the drawing paper and tying it with a ribbon, Mantou stood up. The intense pain in his buttocks made him grit his teeth and spit at the bookstore.
"They'll take advantage of their shop's size to cheat customers; they'll go out of business sooner or later."
After venting his frustrations, Mantou, carrying the painting, headed to the next bookstore. But he hadn't gone two steps when a voice called out to him.
"Young man, may I take a look at the painting in your hand?"
Mantou turned around in response and saw that the person who called him was a middle-aged man, about thirty years old, wearing a wide-sleeved indigo robe, with an intricate pattern embroidered in gold and silver thread around his waist, clearly from a wealthy family.
When the man saw the steamed bun stop, a smile appeared on his face, and he was about to walk towards him.
Upon hearing his voice, the bookstore owner immediately stood up from his chair. "Oh, Mr. Wu, why did you come in person?"
With a smile plastered on his face, he came out eagerly, pushing aside the still somewhat dazed man, and bowed and scraped to him, "If you need anything, just let Butler Zhao know, and I'll have someone from the shop deliver it to your home. I'm sorry to trouble you to make the trip yourself."
The shop owner smiled obsequiously, showing no trace of his earlier impatience and arrogance towards the steamed buns.
The steamed bun was jostled by his presence and couldn't help but mutter a curse under its breath, "Snobbish scoundrel."
Upon hearing this, the shop owner's smile froze for a moment, then instantly returned, becoming even brighter.
So what if someone is snobbish? Every businessman is snobbish.
What's more, this man is none other than Master Wu, the renowned collector of calligraphy and paintings from the Wu family. More than half of the calligraphy and paintings sold by Zhenyuan Bookstore are sold to him; he's a money-making machine, so of course they have to fawn over him.
"Mr. Wu, this way please. Shunzi, bring the tea." The shop owner gestured for Mr. Wu to enter the bookstore, but Mr. Wu acted as if he didn't see him and walked straight towards the steamed buns.
He said in a humble and polite manner, "Young man, may I take a look at the painting in your hand?"
Mantou had thought the man looked familiar, and now that the shop owner had mentioned it, he instantly remembered who he was.
Back then, the young master's paintings were extremely popular, attracting a lot of people to compete for them. This Mr. Wu was one of them.
Back then, he was still the young master Wu, and his family was in business. Merchants had no social standing, and Yongzhou was full of gentry and powerful families, so there was no way this painting would end up in his hands.
Thus, he set his sights on the young master, sending him visiting cards multiple times, hoping to meet him.
However, the gates of this Marquis's residence were not easy to enter. Due to his status, his visiting card was returned multiple times.
This did not deter him from requesting the painting; invitations were sent one after another, eventually reaching the young master's ears. Moved by his sincerity, the young master decided to meet him.
Before he could even share this good news with the young master Wu, his wife intervened, returning all the visiting cards and forbidding him from painting anymore.
The young master then put down his pen, and the matter was left unresolved.
It's unbelievable that after so many years, from Young Master Wu to Master Wu, he still loves calligraphy and painting so much.
Wu Dao had just glanced at the scattered paintings from afar. Although it was just a fleeting glimpse, he felt that the style of the paintings was somewhat familiar, so he decided to take a closer look.
Knowing that he loved painting, Mantou thought it wouldn't hurt to show it to him. Just as she was about to hand the painting to Wu Dao, the shop owner interrupted.
"Mr. Wu, I've recently acquired some new paintings for my shop, all masterpieces by renowned artists. Would you like to come in and take a look?" Although he had just been met with a cold shoulder, the shop owner wasn't angry at all, and his face was still beaming with smiles.
But Wu Dao was only interested in looking at the painting in Mantou's hand and had no interest in what Mantou was talking about.
"No need."
Seeing the shop owner's discomfiture, Mantou was naturally pleased. After a cold laugh in his heart, he carefully handed the painting to Wu Dao, saying, "Master Wu, please enjoy it to the fullest."
Wu Dao took the painting with both hands. Just by touching the paper, he knew it was top-quality Xuan paper. His expression immediately became serious. He untied the ribbon and slowly opened the painting.
"Mr. Wu, it's hot outside. Why don't you come inside and sit down?" The shop owner, unwilling to be ignored, spoke up again.
But Wu Dao had no time to pay attention to him right now; he was completely absorbed by the painting.
The distant mountains are covered in white snow, and the pines and cypresses wither late in life. Although the brushstrokes are simple, they fully convey a sense of vastness and integrity.
It's so similar, so very similar.
Wu Dao looked somewhat excited and asked Mantou, "Young man, where did you get this painting from?"
“It was drawn by my young master,” Mantou said.
"Your young master?" Wu Dao frowned. "Drawn by his own hand?"
"Yes." Mantou nodded.
Wu Dao understood and sighed with some regret.
I initially thought it might be an authentic work by Young Master Fu, but now it seems that someone has imitated it.
After all, given Young Master Fu's status and position, a single painting he makes would be worth a fortune, with thousands vying for it. Why would he need to sell it cheaply in a place like this?
Wu Dao examined the painting again carefully. He had to admit that the painting was incredibly lifelike. If someone with poor eyesight were to see it, they might actually think it was a genuine work by Young Master Fu.
But at the same time, Wu Dao had some doubts. If it was really an imitation, how could it be so lifelike?
"Is your young master acquainted with Young Master Fu?" Wu Dao asked.
Hearing this, Mantou guessed that he must have realized that the painting was done by the young master, but thinking of the young master's instructions when they left, Mantou finally shook his head, "No, it's just that my young master admires Young Master Fu and often imitates him, so he has become more skilled through practice."
Upon hearing this, Wu Dao nodded.
Indeed, if someone puts their heart into it, they can certainly achieve a level of realism that is indistinguishable from the real thing after imitating someone for a long time.
Wu Dao's gaze fell on the painting, and he said, "The brushwork is similar to that of Young Master Fu back then, and the artistic conception is also somewhat like his. It's just a pity that it lacks some of the youthful spirit."
As Mantou listened to his evaluation, he suddenly felt a lump in his throat.
Previously, the young master had always said that this painting was missing something, but he could never find it. Could it really be as Wu Dao said, that what was missing was the young master's youthful ambition and aspirations?
Having experienced so many changes, how could the young master compare to the boy who was just beginning his studies eight years ago?
Wu Dao was so engrossed in examining the painting that he didn't notice anything amiss with the steamed bun. After admiring it more closely, his face lit up with even greater delight. "Young man, are you selling this painting?"
"Sell it." Mantou snapped out of his grief and, seeing how much Wu Dao loved the painting, was genuinely happy for his young master.
At least the fact that the painting ended up in the hands of someone who understands young masters means that it hasn't been a disgrace to the painting.
"Then name your price?" Wu Dao said.
“Master Wu, just give me whatever you think is fair!” Mantou said. The young master hadn’t set a price for the painting, only saying that he would be happy if it could be sold. Mantou knew nothing about paintings and didn’t dare to set a price arbitrarily lest he belittle the painting, so he simply let Wu Dao become a monk himself.
Wu Dao truly loved the painting, but it wasn't an authentic work by Young Master Fu, and the other party was an unknown person. After much deliberation, he said, "I wonder if one hundred taels would be enough?"
"What, one hundred taels?" The shop owner was stunned when he heard the price.
Is this Wu the Painting Maniac out of his mind? He's charging a hundred taels for a copy of a painting, while the famous paintings in his shop are only eighty or ninety taels.
Besides, he felt that the painters here weren't as good as the ones in his shop.
The shop owner eagerly stepped forward and tried to dissuade him, saying, "Master Wu, why don't you think about it again? This painting is not worth a hundred taels. I think ten taels is the most you can ask for."
However, Master Wu ignored him completely. Seeing that Mantou was silent, he thought that he had offered too little and asked cautiously, "What do you think, young brother?" But in fact, Mantou was frightened by his price. Although in his mind, the young master's painting was worth a thousand gold pieces, the young master himself did not have much hope and said that it would be a high price if the painting could be sold for ten taels of silver.
But now the other party is asking for one hundred taels.
One hundred taels is enough for Wutong Garden to live on for several years.
"Of course, of course!" Mantou nodded happily.
As if afraid he might change his mind, Wu Dao hurriedly summoned his servants, took out a hundred-tael silver note and handed it to Mantou, saying, "Here is a hundred taels, please take it."
He gave the servant a wink, and the servant understood, took out a handkerchief to wipe his hands, and then picked up one end of the scroll and carefully rolled it up.
Master Wu fastened the belt, and Mantou put the silver notes into his pocket.
Wu Dao looked at the steamed bun, thought it over and over, and decided to speak his mind. "Young brother, I actually have a favor to ask."
Seeing his troubled expression, Mantou was quite magnanimous, saying, "Please speak freely, Master Wu."
"Yes, I would like to meet your young master."
"Huh?" Mantou was slightly taken aback, not expecting him to make such a request.
Fearing he might misunderstand, Wu Dao hurriedly explained, "I didn't mean anything by it, I just wanted to ask your young master to paint a picture for me."
"Painting?"
“Yes, painting.” Wu Dao nodded. “Name your price.”
The following sentence is quite tempting to steamed buns.
After all, Wutongyuan is really short of money.
"I have to go back and ask my young master; I can't make that decision myself," Mantou said.
"It's alright, it's alright," Wu Dao said understandingly. "Then tomorrow at Chenshi (7-9 AM), I'll have someone wait here for your news."
"good."
After the two made their agreement, Wu Dao was in a great mood. Touching the painting in his arms, he didn't bother browsing the bookstore anymore and went straight home.
Mantou watched him leave, touching the hundred taels tucked in his chest, feeling quite pleased with himself.
Seeing the shop owner's disgusted expression, Mantou sneered and was about to leave when the other man grabbed him.
“Young man,” the shop owner said, his previous arrogance gone, replaced by a kind smile, “there’s something I’d like to discuss with you.”
"What's up?" Judging from his expression, Mantou knew he wasn't up to anything.
"Well..." the shop owner hesitated to speak, "...from now on, you can sell the paintings you have at my bookstore, and we'll split the profits 30/70, you get 70% and I get 30%. What do you think?"
Although the bookstore has always split the profits 50/50 between the paintings and the business, this time the situation is different.
This art fanatic seems to really like the painting in this wild boy's hands. He can easily raise the price and make a few persuasive remarks. Even though it's a 30/70 split, he can still make quite a bit of money.
Fearing that Mantou wouldn't agree, he continued, "If you're willing, I can quote a lower price later. As for the extra money..."
He raised an eyebrow, the meaning of which was self-evident.
Good heavens, it means he's making him take kickbacks behind the young master's back!
Mantou shook off his hand and gave a mocking smile. "Forget it. Our paintings, made by country bumpkins, are not worthy of your Zhenyuan Bookstore. You should find someone better."
After saying that, he ignored the shop owner's desperate attempts to persuade him to stay, and disappeared into the market with the silver notes in his pocket.
Zhenyuan Bookstore is located to the south and north of Wutongyuan. Mantou ran all the way and arrived home before noon.
After returning home, Mantou didn't even have time to catch her breath before going to see Fu Yunxiu.
"One hundred taels?" Fu Yunxiu looked at the silver notes on the table, and for a moment he could hardly believe it.
Eight years ago, his paintings would have been sought after for a thousand taels of silver, let alone a hundred. But times have changed, and the once-famous Young Master Fu is now virtually unknown.
He originally thought that selling his paintings for twenty taels of silver would be the highest he could ever get.
"Yes, young master, guess who bought your painting?" Mantou asked mysteriously.
Judging from his expression, Fu Yunxiu knew that this person must be an acquaintance, but he couldn't remember his name for a moment.
Seeing that he couldn't guess, Mantou called out the answer, "It's that young master Wu who sent you many invitations back then, wanting to meet you. Uh... no... now we should call him Master Wu."
"It was him." Fu Yunxiu still had a deep impression of this person.
He was so sincere back then, but he didn't get what he wanted, and he still feels a little guilty about it.
"Yes, what a coincidence! And he recognized it as your painting at a glance, but you instructed me not to reveal your identity, so I said it was an imitation by you, and he believed me." Mantou recounted the whole story.
“Young master,” Mantou’s voice lowered slightly, “that Mr. Wu said he wants to see you.”
"See me?"
"Yes," Mantou nodded. "He said he wants you to paint a picture for him, and the price is up to you."
To put it simply, it's customization; you draw whatever the other person specifies.
Most artists wouldn't agree to this style of painting. Not only are there many limitations, but if the painting doesn't meet the other party's expectations, it might even damage one's reputation.
If it were anyone else, Mantou might have refused outright, but it was Wu Dao.
He had followed the young master for many years and naturally knew his temperament. The young master had always held a grudge over the breach of trust he had made years ago.
As expected, Fu Yunxiu fell silent upon hearing this request.
Logically, he should have met with Wu Dao to bring the events of that year to a satisfactory conclusion. But given his current state…
Wu Dao said his paintings had lost their youthful spirit, but wasn't he also a person?
He was afraid of disappointing Wu Dao, and even more afraid of disappointing himself.
Let me think about it some more!
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