Chapter 221 The wealth of the world
Oh God
There are eight to nine thousand calligraphy and paintings of famous people for sale!
Fang Minghua felt his heart suddenly beating faster.
However, the surface remained calm and calm. He smiled and asked: "Comrade salesperson, can I meet your curator? I am very interested in this batch of calligraphy and paintings."
"You? How much do you want?" The salesperson looked at him suspiciously.
“Not many, maybe a hundred or so, right?”
A hundred or so paintings are also big customers.
The salesperson's attitude immediately changed. She ran to the next room and came out two minutes later. She told Fang Minghua that her colleagues had already gone to find the curator and asked them to wait.
Jia Pingwa, who had been silent just now, pulled him aside and whispered: "Minghua, I know you are rich, but you can't waste money like this."
"What's wrong?"
"I can see it too. You want to collect it, but these calligraphy and paintings are from painters such as Qi Baishi and Zhang Daqian during the Republic of China. Their paintings don't have much collection value! Otherwise, how could the museum do this? Selling cheaply?" Jia Pingwa said.
That makes sense.
It’s a pity that I know what will happen 30 years later.
Fang Minghua did not defend him and just said: "Let's talk to the curator first and see what the situation is."
But after waiting for half an hour, the curator didn't come out. He only saw a young girl hurried over and whispered a few words in the salesperson's ear.
"Comrade, I'm sorry, I made a mistake. Our curator said that this batch of calligraphy and paintings was reserved by a foreign guest, leaving only these 14 paintings on the counter. Do you want them?"
Damn it!
Reserved? !
Fang Minghua suddenly felt like a bucket of cold water was poured on his head.
Normally, it would be a pleasure to buy 14 authentic works by Qi Baishi and others, but these paintings are simply incomparable to the eight or nine thousand works just now.
However, Fang Minghua didn't say much. He just said it was a pity and swept away all the calligraphy and paintings on the counter, which were worth 660 yuan.
The final transaction price was 640 yuan.
After rolling up these famous calligraphy paintings, Fang Minghua and Jia Pingwa left the museum.
"Minghua, you are really willful when you have money." Jia Pingwa said with emotion.
More than 600 yuan, which is more than half a year's salary for ordinary employees.
But Fang Minghua is not in the mood to joke with him now, thinking about those eight or nine thousand paintings makes him feel distressed.
The wealth that pours into the sky.
Just gone?
"Brother Jia, I'm going to see Song Tangtang's grandfather now. How about you." Fang Minghua said.
"I'm going to see a friend, so let's say goodbye and see you back in Xijing."
"Okay, see you in Xijing."
I saw Jia Pingwa getting on a bus and going away Go, Fang Minghua did not rush to the General Political Courtyard, but turned around and walked towards the museum.
He decided to meet the curator.
The salesperson who was sitting behind the counter saw Fang Minghua leaving and returning, thinking that he regretted it, and hurriedly said: "Comrade, once the items we sell are sold, they will not be returned."
"No, I want to meet your curator." Fang Minghua stated his purpose.
"Why are you meeting our curator? Aren't those paintings reserved?" The salesperson was a little confused.
“It’s something else.”
Fang Minghua said, taking out the various documents he was carrying and handing them to the other party.
The salesperson took it and took a look.
Ouch
Deputy editor of the magazine!
Members of the Writers Association! A great writer.
If it were anyone else, the salesperson would think he was looking for trouble, but the writer is different.
So the salesperson went next door and asked her colleague to help her look at it for a while, and then took Fang Minghua to the third floor of the museum.
The first and second floors are exhibition halls, and the third floor is the office. The girl led Fang Minghua to open the office with the sign of the Director of the History Museum.
There was an old man in his sixties sitting behind the desk, looking at a painting with a magnifying glass.
"Director Wang, there is a writer named Minghua here looking for you." The girl said respectfully.
"Minghua? Are you the writer who wrote "Crossing the Guandong" and the deputy editor of "Yanhe" magazine?" The old man raised his head and said.
"I wrote it. Hello, Director Wang." Fang Minghua walked in and stretched out his right hand.
After shaking hands with him, the old man smiled and said: "Editor Fang, I recently listened to the novel you wrote on the radio. It was very good, because I am also from the Northeast."
" Oh? Director Wang, are we from the same hometown? "
"Ha, coincidentally, I am from Shenyang, what about you?" "I am from Beisipiao, not far from Shenyang."
"No wonder, your book describes your hometown, and it is so detailed."
"Actually, I have never been in the Northeast. I was born in Xijing, and my father is from the Northeast. Many customs and customs in my hometown are based on questions. His, some of them are from historical records.”
“That’s good, I’m a history student, and the worst thing to do when writing this kind of family history novel is to make things up without any information.”
The two of them. With that said, Director Wang invited Fang Minghua to sit on the sofa. The girl poured tea enthusiastically before leaving.
The two chatted for a while, Director Wang asked:
"Editor Fang, what do you want from me today?"
"I just bought some famous calligraphy and paintings from your collection downstairs." Fang Minghua said, carefully opening the rolled calligraphy and paintings.
“Oh, Xiao Zhang downstairs just now said that someone asked about this batch of calligraphy and paintings by painters from the Republic of China. It was you.”
“Yes, Director Wang, I am interested in this batch of calligraphy and paintings. I’m very interested. I heard that a foreigner has already made a reservation?”
“Yes, last month, an American, I should say a Chinese-American, came and said he wanted to buy this batch of calligraphy and paintings. We reached an agreement verbally, and he said he would go back to China to collect the money first, which is expected to come in the next few days. ”
"Have you paid the deposit?"
"That's not true."
There's a show!
Fang Minghua felt happy.
However, he did not continue to express his position but asked in confusion: "Director Wang, are these all authentic works? Although the calligraphy and paintings of the painters of the Republic of China are not as valuable as the collections of ancient famous artists, they will not be so valuable all of a sudden. Selling so many?”
After hearing what Fang Minghua said, Director Wang sighed and said.
“No money.”
It turns out that the country has just reformed and opened up not long ago, and the country’s economy is in dire straits. Units like history museums have relatively small national financial allocations, and a large number of cultural relics need to be maintained. That's a lot of money.
The museum is in dire straits and has no choice but to make a last resort. With the approval of the superior department, it sells some calligraphy and paintings with relatively low collection value, such as works by Qi Baishi, Zhang Daqian, Pan Tianshou, Li Kuchan and others, to maintain the museum. operations.
“I’m not afraid of making fun of you. There is no place to put these calligraphy and paintings. Do you know where these calligraphy and paintings are placed? I put them in several coffins! There is really no way. There are too many collections in the museum and there is no space. Small, selling part of it is also a relief. ”
Damn it!
Put it in the coffin?
Isn’t this too much?
However, he ignored this, leaned forward and asked: "Director Wang, can you tell us how many paintings there are? How much did you sell them for?"
"8952 pieces, about 320,000 yuan." Director Wang said.
"330,000, I want them all."
(End of this chapter)