After my divorce, I started to have good luck
Chapter 120 - 98 The Young Painter

Chapter 120: Chapter 98 The Young Painter

Although it seemed that absorbing the intrinsic energy from calligraphies and paintings had no curative effect on terminal illnesses, the changes it made to his mind and body were genuinely substantial.

So, after weighing his options, Chen Feng decided to continue to seek out the calligraphies, paintings, or other art pieces that brought delightful changes to his mind and body.

These few days, he had actually not only visited several calligraphers but also several sculptors and carvers. They all fell under the category of visual arts, but sadly none had produced any work that brought Chen Feng unexpected joy.

There were quite a few artists living in Xiu Zhou City District, largely because they now all had ample money. Coupled with the many conveniences of living in a big city, it was natural for them to choose to live in the city.

The next day, Chen Feng, reinvigorated, continued to visit a few artists within the city district whose reputations were much lesser than those he had previously met.

The youngest among them was not even thirty yet and was relatively unknown, but the fact that Director Huang listed him and sent his details to Chen Feng naturally spoke volumes about his talent.

Chen Feng had also learned a thing or two about art collecting during the last few days and knew that many collectors liked to acquire works from young artists in the hope of betting on a massive appreciation of their work in the future.

If the bet paid off, it really would turn in huge profits.

As long as the initial purchase price wasn’t too high, there basically was no possibility of losing money.

After all, the art collection market had remained quite hot these days.

As the saying goes, "In times of chaos, gold is the refuge; in golden ages, it’s antiques."

This was a golden age. The craze for antiques had been hot for more than twenty years, and consequently, other art prices had soared as well.

Although speculative elements weren’t lacking, this was a trend.

As long as these artists already had some reputation, acquiring their work now at a relatively lower price would ensure good value retention, at least enough to combat the brand of losses brought by inflation.

Of course, the water runs deep in this field. Laypeople entering with investment intentions would definitely be skinned.

Although Chen Feng was an outsider, his purpose wasn’t to invest but for his body.

It’s just that finding art that met his criteria was scarce.

After visiting three more establishments without any finds, it was already noon.

Chen Feng casually found a restaurant on the street, ate his meal, and then spiritedly headed to the next location.

This time, according to the planned route, he was visiting the youngest artist, who was only twenty-eight this year, named Xi Jun, younger than Chen Feng, but already possessing a small reputation in domestic art circles for his realistic human paintings, as precise as photographs.

Because of this, some people highly praised him, claiming he had elevated painting techniques to an impossibly high level; others, however, did not consider his work actual art. In professional jargon, his work was just "commercial painting."

The so-called "commercial painting" is a highly derogatory term in the painting world meaning art produced at the lowest cost and minimum time that sells easily, mainly for quick financial gain.

Such a controversial young artist, with high self-esteem, didn’t sell his work cheaply, leading to quite a stockpile at home.

Chen Feng dialed Xi Jun nearly an hour in advance, mentioning he was introduced by Director Huang from the museum and was a collector wishing to see his paintings.

Director Huang’s influence was still strong, as he managed the exhibitions of artworks at the museum.

Besides, with a wealthy patron at the doorstep, who wouldn’t be willing? In the real world, artists who won’t bend for five measures of rice basically don’t exist, unless they have mines at home and don’t lack money.

It took Chen Feng about half an hour to drive there. The place was a yard close to the suburbs, fenced and with surveillance.

After a phone call, a woman in her fifties came out to open the gate.

Then in the main hall, he met the bespectacled Xi Jun with a medium-length, old-fashioned hairstyle, a look of melancholy yet focus in his eyes. It truly emitted an aura of an artist.

He was not uncommunicative. Instead, he appeared quite chatty, took the initiative to inquire about Chen Feng’s background, who only indicated that he was a private collector.

Xi Jun initially seemed disappointed upon hearing Chen Feng’s introduction, but later, when Chen Feng mentioned he had previously bought Wang Yi’s "Lanting Preface" for 5 million, Xi Jun perked up and forwent the pleasantries, leading Chen Feng straight to his works.

His collection was not small, filling an entire room of at least fifty square meters, with about a dozen shelves packed full.

The stacked works were the ones he cared less about; the individually placed ones were what he considered his showpieces.

"These are my proudest works from the past few years, about a dozen pieces in total. Take a look; the price is negotiable."

Xi Jun led Chen Feng right to the back near the wall to a row of shelves covered with a dust cloth, which he promptly pulled back to reveal the individually displayed paintings on the shelves.

Chen Feng glanced and noticed most of them were portraits, with a few other types of paintings.

Chen Feng didn’t say much but went up to examine each one closely. Suddenly, he fixated on a landscape painting and couldn’t take his eyes off it.

It was a beach scene, featuring a vast blue sky, ocean, and a sandy beach, with seven or eight people on it.

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