The rain in Bianjing always carries a smell of powder that cannot be washed away. The male big goose was lying in front of the workbench of the "Shengshi Collection" auction house, his fingertips ran across the detailed picture of a jade pot and spring vase from the Song Dynasty on the computer screen, and he yawned. In the office at three o'clock in the morning, there was only the buzz of the air conditioner and the sound of her typing on the keyboard. As a clerk at the lowest level of the auction house, her job was to fill in notes for the auction information, check the dimensions, and occasionally help the photographer adjust the lighting, just like a screw pressed on the assembly line.
"Mr. Big Goose, check the balance of this jade pot again. The customer said there is doubt." The supervisor's voice came out from the intercom, with a hoarse tone after staying up late.
"Copy that." She responded and clicked on the high-definition picture of the bottom line in the database. The carvings of "The First Year of Daguan" were slender and powerful, with the reserve of the official kilns of the Song Dynasty hidden in the brushstrokes. After looking at it for three months, she could even draw lines with her eyes closed. But the customer doesn't think so. These days, real things have to be picked out for fake flaws, while fake things can be blown into real legends. She, the clerk, is just a punching bag caught in the middle.
