"Professor Yajima! Professor Yajima!"

Hanks rushed out onto the street, but Uncle Sakai was already gone.

He took out his phone and began dialing Professor Yajima’s private assistant’s number. Before the call connected, Hanks waved down a taxi and instructed, "Take me to Narita Airport."

He couldn’t wait any longer.

Hanks wanted to fly over to meet Gu Weijing in person the moment he learned specific details about him.

...

Professor Yajima returned home and saw a message from his assistant on the social app LINE, revealing a smile as if he expected it.

He knew Hanks must be urgently trying to find him now.

Uncle Sakai only disclosed Gu Weijing’s age at the last possible moment, not to create some kind of dramatic effect for fun.

Uncle Sakai was already a veteran in the industry.

Whether it’s collectors buying art or agents signing artists, the more anxious the party trying to sign, the higher the cost they pay.

He deliberately made Hanks anxious, which highlighted Gu Weijing’s value even more.

It’s like when a real estate agent says after a certain time, if you don’t want it, I’ll sell it to someone else—the same principle.

Professor Yajima was willing to recommend Gu Weijing to Ma Shi Gallery, not just because Hanks happened to approach him today.

He had run through his thoughts and realized that Ma Shi Gallery’s situation really suited Gu Weijing well.

One’s poison,

another’s honey.

The Ma Shi Gallery, resembling a sinking ship to Professor Yajima, was perfect for that young man from Yangon to develop.

Even Gagosian couldn’t necessarily compare.

First,

Objectively, super galleries like Gagosian might not pay attention to Gu Weijing.

Geniuses are indeed rare, but super galleries already have many art stars; they don’t need you. Their scale doesn’t require gambling on the uncertainty of a genius’s success.

Uncle Sakai hesitated to sign with Gagosian,

because even if he joined Gagosian, it wouldn’t be junk but would still be small fry, sounding prestigious but not necessarily more comfortable than now.

Gu Weijing isn’t even considered a minor participant; compared to those big artists, his status is like a single hair, virtually nothing.

These grand galleries may have abundant resources, but used on you, it would be mere scraps left from art giants.

Uncle Sakai’s own OFA or Tokyo Gallery, which follows a boutique high-end route with only four or five agent artists, also shares the same logic; resources are all divided up.

He could leverage some connections to secure a fresh artist contract for Gu Weijing without difficulty.

But this might not be the best for Gu Weijing.

Ma Shi Gallery, in its desperation, signed nearly two hundred people, almost becoming an industry laughingstock, yet that’s precisely where monkeys can rule when there are no tigers in the mountains.

Without so much hierarchy, talented young people can stand out more easily.

Uncle Sakai regards Ma Shi Gallery as a little pond because he is Ichiro Sakai.

The weight difference between the names Ichiro Sakai and Gu Weijing in collectors’ minds is exponentially more significant than their weight difference.

Established grand galleries, no matter how fallible, can’t be compared to second-rate galleries.

Just the global art promotion and gallery fronts across five continents require decades of building a foundation.

What he sees as a small pond becomes a boundless ocean when Gu Weijing dives in, with vastness and endless opportunities.

"Winds rise and clouds surge, clouds surge and rise, stepping on white clouds."

Uncle Sakai softly recited the famous lines of Shodai Yamashita, Japan’s poet saint, and smiled, "Kid, the opportunity is there. Whether you can step on white clouds depends on your own luck."

He timed it to exactly thirty minutes before finally connecting to Hanks’ call routed from his assistant.