Chapter 7

Qin Shaou lowered his head and looked curiously at the little squirrel, which tilted its head and looked at him with curiosity, their eyes meeting.

The little squirrel was only a few months old. The Da Qin Fishery was rarely visited, so it probably hadn't seen a human before and didn't know to be afraid. It even swept Qin Shaou's hand with its big tail.

The soft, fluffy tail felt very comfortable on the back of his hand, and Qin Shaou smiled. He reached out and picked up a blueberry coated in syrup, slowly offering it to the little squirrel.

The little squirrel tilted its head to look at the blue fruit. It extended its little paws to catch it, studied it for a moment, then held the blueberry with both paws and brought it to its mouth, taking a big bite. Its cheeks puffed up, and it started to chew with a 'smack smack' sound.

The blueberries Qin Shaou bought were very tasty, sweet and sour, with tender flesh and plenty of juice. After one bite, the little squirrel became happy and, without hesitation, stuffed the remaining half into its mouth, eating it quickly with a 'smack smack' sound.

While eating the blueberry, the little squirrel plopped down in front of Qin Shaou's cushion, leaning against it like he did, closing its eyes in contentment.

Qin Shaou laughed; this little squirrel reminded him of a golden-backed hamster he had kept as a child, both equally adorable.

After finishing the blueberry, the little squirrel looked up at him again. Qin Shaou offered it a North American black grape, but the little squirrel cleverly pushed it away with its paws, its dark eyes staring dryly at the blueberries in the fruit plate.

"These are better," Qin Shaou said with a smile, taking a bite of the black grape and chewing loudly.

The little squirrel stared at him blankly. Qin Shaou dipped the remaining black grape in syrup and offered it to the squirrel. This time, it hesitated, then extended its paws to catch the grape, taking a gentle bite. Finding it delicious, it started to chew with a 'smack smack' sound.

Qin Shaou rubbed the little squirrel's head with his fingertip, and the squirrel didn't mind, lowering its head to gnaw on the grape. For such a small creature, it was a big meal.

After finishing the grape, the little squirrel grew bolder and climbed onto Qin Shaou's shoulder along the cushion. It tiptoed for a while, found a comfortable spot, and lay down, staring at the fruit plate.

Worried it might overeat, Qin Shaou put away the fruit plate and started watching a movie. But the little squirrel started tiptoeing on his shoulder, looking at the fruit plate and sticking out its pink tongue.

Seeing it wasn't full, Qin Shaou gave it another blueberry. Holding the blueberry, the little squirrel didn't eat it right away but stared intently at Qin Shaou's profile.

Qin Shaou was engrossed in the movie, and the little squirrel took a couple of bites of the blueberry, then started watching TV, eyes wide and unblinking.

Every time Qin Shaou laughed at the plot and the four funny main characters, the little squirrel would tiptoe on his shoulder. When Qin Shaou turned his head, it would quiet down, staring at him with wide eyes.

Big eyes met small eyes, one person and one squirrel.

After the movie, Qin Shaou felt a bit unsatisfied, and the little squirrel seemed to share the sentiment, rubbing its paws and chirping a couple of times.

Qin Shaou carefully picked up the little squirrel, which wasn't afraid and scratched its ears and cheeks in his palm.

"I'll give you a name," Qin Shaou said, looking at the squirrel's reddish-brown fur, a mischievous idea coming to mind. "How about 'Little Red'?"

The little squirrel didn't understand but kept circling, which made it look like it was shaking its head and wagging its tail, seemingly disagreeing with the name.

Qin Shaou thought for a moment and said to himself, "Let me see if you're a boy or a girl. If you're a girl, you must be called 'Little Red.'"

He had kept hamsters in elementary school and knew how to identify their gender. After gently massaging between the squirrel's hind legs, a small penis popped out. Seeing this, Qin Shaou laughed and said, "Alright, I'll give you a different name. You're a boy, so I'll call you 'Little Ming'!"

He let the little squirrel go, intending to train it to respond to its name, but then a car horn sounded outside.

The sound was sharp, and the little squirrel was startled, quickly scurrying back to its maple tree nest through the window.

Qin Shaou knew it was Olbach, and sure enough, the old man's stern face soon appeared.

Olbach's hometown was Farewell Town. He had retired and returned to live in the town. However, if anyone in the area needed legal help, he would provide it for free, so everyone respected him.

In North America, lawyers' fees were very high, and ordinary families couldn't afford them. The Hollywood movie lines about not speaking until one's private lawyer arrived were nonsense.

Qin Shaou took out all the paintings, and Olbach was clearly prepared. He opened his laptop, which contained a series of Van Gogh paintings, including high-definition photos of the eleven existing "Sunflowers."

"Where did you find these paintings?" Olbach asked as he flipped through them.

Qin Shaou pointed to the ceiling and said, "In the attic. My family has a habit of hiding treasures there, so yesterday I thought, maybe my second uncle left something in the attic. Fortunately, I found these paintings."

Olbach looked at a few landscape sketches and nodded, saying, "Mr. Pinar's painting skills are excellent. Although I haven't heard much about him, I think he must be a great painter."

Qin Shaou wasn't in the mood to discuss Pinar's identity. He carefully opened the "Sunflowers" painting and handed it to Olbach, who pushed his laptop to him and said, "You look at it."

After saying that, Olbach continued to examine Pinar's paintings, looking at each one carefully.

Qin Shaou scrolled through the high-definition photos of the "Sunflowers." After a few glances, he was disheartened because one of the photos was identical to the painting in his hand. The caption said the painting was discovered in 1900 and was now stored in the British Museum.

"Damn, is this a fake?" Qin Shaou felt dejected.

His excitement from the night before melted away like snow in the sun.

He threw the painting at Olbach, who dodged and carefully held it, saying, "Be careful, boy. If you damage this painting, I bet you'll regret it so much you'll want to kill yourself!"

"These are all Pinar's paintings; how could they be valuable?" Qin Shaou said listlessly.

Olbach laughed and shook his head, saying, "No, young man, this one isn't!"

Qin Shaou was surprised. He had clearly seen all the paintings yesterday, and all thirty were by Pinar. But he knew Olbach was steady and wouldn't make claims without evidence, so he leaned over to take a closer look.

The painting in Olbach's hand was about a meter long and half a meter wide. Qin Shaou couldn't make out what it depicted, just a figure outlined in lines. At the top of the paper, a row of messy letters read: "Femme-au-Tambourin."

Seeing this painting, Qin Shaou remembered. There were four or five abstract paintings in the collection that he couldn't understand, finding them unappealing, so he had glanced at them and tossed them aside.

"Is this painting valuable?" Qin Shaou's eyes lit up.

Olbach smiled and pointed to a row of small letters in the bottom right corner, saying, "If this name is genuine, it should be very valuable."

Qin Shaou was skeptical. He looked at the bottom right corner of the painting, where there was a long string of letters, and exclaimed, "God, you're not telling me these letters are a person's name? Is he African? A fellow countryman of NBA star Dikembe Mutombo?"

Olbach shook his head and gently stroked the paper, saying, "This is in Spanish. The painting is called 'The Woman with the Tambourine,' and the name below is: Pablo Diego José Francisco de Paula Juan Nepomuceno María de los Remedios Cipriano de la Santísima Trinidad Ruiz y Picasso!"

Hearing the last word, Qin Shaou couldn't help but gasp. Picasso's name was known worldwide! And what did Picasso excel at? Abstract art, of course!

However, with the fake Van Gogh "Sunflowers" in mind, Qin Shaou was more cautious, asking doubtfully, "You don't think this painting is genuine, do you?"

Olbach nodded slowly and said solemnly, "If there are no surprises, this painting is indeed genuine. As for the reason, I'll have an old friend explain it to you. His expertise is more authoritative because that's his field!"