"But what?" the country girl asked anxiously.
"It's fake," the plump owner sighed. "These two characters were clearly written with a later generation's brushwork. This isn't the chessboard Li Shimin and Zhang San played on. It's not very valuable; at most, it could sell for five hundred yuan."
"What?" The farm girl was stunned. "But this has been passed down in my family for generations! How could it be fake? Boss, are you sure you didn't make a mistake?"
"A mistake? How could I have made a mistake?" The plump owner laughed. "Why don't you go ask around and find out who I am? How could my eyes be wrong? Look, I can see it wasn't easy for you to come all this way. How about this: one thousand yuan. I'll take it. What do you think?"
