Rebirth 93: Break off the engagement at the beginning and marry Bai Fumei

Seeing Chen Yang's confident demeanor, Secretary Li suddenly realized that this seemingly casual young man had been toying with her from the very beginning. Thinking this, she couldn't help but stomp her foot slightly, biting her red lips, and thought to herself, "That despicable guy, he's been playing dumb all along!"

"Although I don't know much about oil paintings, authenticating an oil painting is actually quite similar to authenticating ancient Chinese paintings," Chen Yang said slowly, a hint of pride flashing in his eyes.

“It’s like solving a crime; every detail is a crucial clue.” Chen Yang smiled confidently as he slowly walked around the oil painting. “Whether it’s an oil painting or an ancient Chinese painting, we don’t need to worry about the content; we must first look at the material. Just like a coroner examining a corpse, no matter how perfect the exterior, the truth inside will always be revealed.”

Chen Yang's gaze swept across the painting like an X-ray. "To authenticate ancient Chinese paintings, you must first look at the silk, paper, brush and ink, and even the scroll. Every dynasty and every period has its unique craftsmanship." He paused, his finger lightly tapping on the glass display case. "And oil paintings... well, you must first look at the pigments. The pigments are like the DNA of the painting; they tell us everything."

“If the materials used in the painting itself don’t match the era, that’s the most obvious flaw.” Chen Yang’s tone suddenly became serious. “It’s as ridiculous as wearing a modern suit and claiming to be from the Ming Dynasty. Whether he’s painting gods or freehand brushwork, whether he’s painting mountains, rivers, or beauties, if the materials don’t match the era, it’s all a waste of effort!”

Upon hearing Chen Yang's words, Yoshida couldn't help but let out a harsh, cold laugh. "That's all nonsense. Everyone here already knows that."

His tone was full of contempt, "You think you can tell by the age of the pigments, kid? That would require testing. Do you think you can tell with the naked eye?"

“No, no, no, Mr. Yoshida,” Jason said with a mocking smile, “China has so many immortals, maybe he really can, hahaha!”

Chen Yang was not angered by their mockery. Instead, he looked up and glanced at the two of them indifferently, a mysterious smile playing on his lips. "You two are right. I really can tell the age of the paint."

His gaze returned to the oil painting, and he lightly tapped it with his finger. "The paint in this oil painting is from 1970 to 1975. That is to say, the paint used in this oil painting is from the 70s. Some chemical components in the paint will have subtle differences in different years, and these differences will present a unique luster under light."

Chen Yang's eyes gleamed with confidence. "Then I'd like to ask you," he said, tapping lightly on the glass display case, the sound clear and melodious, "how could someone who died in 1956 paint with oil paints from the 1970s?"

This question struck like a hammer blow, sending shockwaves through the exhibition hall.

"It's over!" Upon hearing Chen Yang's words, Dean Zeng felt a chill run from her feet to the top of her head. Her expression froze instantly, and a hint of panic flashed in her eyes. She and Secretary Li exchanged a glance, then shook their heads, fine beads of sweat forming on their foreheads.

This Chen Yang is such a braggart! He's incredibly audacious, spouting nonsense in front of everyone! Distinguishing the age of oil paint with the naked eye? How is that even possible? Even professional appraisers need various instruments and chemical reagents to barely make a determination. How dare this greenhorn say such a thing?

Dean Zeng secretly pondered to himself that Chen Yang was clearly talking nonsense, deliberately trying to attract attention by putting on airs. This ignorant fellow probably didn't even have a basic understanding of oil painting. Did he think oil painting was ancient Chinese painting? Did he really think he could fool everyone with that old theory of authenticating ancient paintings? Dean Zeng felt a mixture of disdain and worry, fearing that Chen Yang's words would completely ruin the reputation of the Chinese delegation.

Upon hearing Chen Yang's words, Anderson's pupils contracted sharply, and he froze on the spot as if struck by lightning, completely stunned. His usually composed face was now filled with shock and doubt, his lips trembling slightly. Distinguishing the age of oil paint with the naked eye? This… really?! As an authority in the Western art world, he had never heard of such a claim before, yet a sense of unease crept into his heart. Could this young man from the East truly possess such astonishing abilities?

He subconsciously moved closer to the oil painting, his eyes fixed on the paint marks, as if he wanted to re-examine this work that he had once appraised.

On the Chinese delegation's side, many shook their heads, their faces filled with embarrassment and helplessness. Some muttered under their breath, "This is a huge embarrassment," while others frowned, looking worried.

Professor Wang turned his head away, unable to bear witnessing the impending cultural diplomatic disaster. Several young scholars exchanged bewildered glances, their eyes filled with surprise and confusion. They simply couldn't comprehend where Chen Yang got the confidence to utter such astonishing words. One of them even let out a heavy sigh, the disappointment in his voice almost freezing the air in the entire exhibition hall.

Several elderly professors who had once held high hopes for Chen Yang now lowered their heads, worried about the situation facing the Huaxia Conference. Song Kaiyuan sensed the unusual reactions around him, his brow furrowing slightly. He glanced around at the expressions of the delegation members and found that almost everyone wore an expression of disbelief. He quickly leaned close to the ear of the senior ancient painting expert, Elder Geng, and cautiously lowered his voice to ask, "What's wrong? Can't oil paints be distinguished with the naked eye? Is there a problem?"

Upon hearing this question, Professor Geng was taken aback at first, then gently shook his head. His weathered face was filled with his insistence on academic rigor. "Professor Song," he said earnestly, his eyes revealing his disagreement with Chen Yang's remarks, "this is almost impossible to do."

Old Geng leaned forward slightly, as if to make sure that only Song Kaiyuan could hear his explanation, "Even the world's top appraisal experts need to use professional equipment to make a judgment."

He tapped his glasses frame lightly with his wrinkled fingers and continued meaningfully, "Oil paints are all industrially produced, with complex ingredients and numerous formulas."

At this point, he shook his gray head, his tone revealing a hint of helplessness, "Unlike our mineral pigments which have obvious characteristics, Western oil paints, after undergoing industrial standardization, have extremely subtle age characteristics."

Old Geng paused for a moment, then looked in Chen Yang's direction with a wry smile, "It's almost impossible to distinguish with the naked eye; it requires a series of scientific methods such as spectral analysis and chemical testing."

Finally, he sighed, a hint of worry flashing in his eyes, "I'm afraid Chen Yang has really blown his own horn this time! Not only is he embarrassed, but our Chinese delegation is also losing face."

"Hahaha!" Jason threw his head back and burst into exaggerated laughter after hearing Chen Yang's arrogant remarks. The laughter echoed throughout the exhibition hall, drawing everyone's attention. He deliberately raised his voice so that everyone could hear his sarcasm, his eyes narrowed into slits, and a disdainful smile appeared on his lips.

“Kid,” he pointed at Chen Yang, his finger almost poking the other’s chest, his tone full of contempt and sarcasm, “you have quite the nerve!”

Jason turned to the experts around him and made an exaggerated expression, as if to say, "Listen to what this madman is saying." He spread his arms wide, as if performing a farce, "You can tell the age of oil paint with the naked eye?"

Jason let out another ear-piercing laugh, his facial muscles contorted with excessive sarcasm. "Maybe you can even smell which factory produced the paint? Or even taste which plant the linseed oil was extracted from?"

He tapped his temple with his finger and shook his head dramatically. "This is the funniest joke I've ever heard! It's absolutely unbelievable!"

“What a pipe dream,” Yoshida said, arms crossed, a smug glint in his eyes and a barely concealed wicked grin on his lips as he stared intently at Chen Yang. His gaze swept over the young man, as if he were admiring a clown about to make a fool of himself; his sense of superiority was palpable.

“Kid,” he said in a condescending tone, his eyes full of contempt and disdain, “who do you think you are? A super microscope?”

Yoshida deliberately slowed down his speech so that every sarcastic word could fully convey his mockery: "Go back and study properly, don't embarrass yourself here."

He pointed to the oil painting with his finger, his voice clearly sarcastic, "This is oil paint, the culmination of hundreds of years of European industrial technology."

Yoshida turned to the Chinese delegation, his eyes full of provocation. "It's not like your simple Chinese ink, where you can tell the real from the fake just by grinding the ink." He let out a contemptuous snort, his eyebrows raised high. "You're talking utter nonsense! Every expert here knows that's impossible."

After hearing all this, Smith elegantly shrugged, a gesture that conveyed complete rejection and disdain for Chen Yang's words. He first scrutinized Chen Yang from head to toe, then slowly and deliberately adjusted the lapel of his expensive suit, deliberately displaying a professional and arrogant demeanor.

He then turned and looked around at the delegations from various countries in the exhibition hall, his gaze sweeping over each renowned expert and scholar, a meaningful smile on his face.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he began in a performer's tone, waving his right hand as if introducing some wonder, "you have all heard what this young man from the East said."

Smith deliberately dragged out his words, adding a touch of drama, his eyes narrowing slightly with a hint of provocation. "This kid says he can tell with the naked eye that this painting uses paint from the 70s."

He paused, looked around as if waiting for the audience's reaction, and then added in an almost mocking tone, "With the naked eye, folks, with the naked eye!"

Then, Smith suddenly chuckled, his voice full of disdain, "Something that even our lab's latest spectrometer requires precise analysis to determine, he can see with the naked eye?"

He looked meaningfully at each of the authorities present, and raised his chin dismissively. "Do you believe it? I think the answer is self-evident."