One thing is clear: Gu Jingzhou was able to definitively determine the authenticity of works, and he included this piece as an important work in his book, so he must have had his own reasons. Later, although Gu Jingzhou did not express this in writing, when he helped Liang Baiquan proofread the book *Yixing Zisha* in 1987, Gu Jingzhou clearly told his students that this work was indeed his own imitation from years past. Therefore, Liang Baiquan also marked the date of this piece in the book as modern era. Although Gu Jingzhou was young when he was making teapots in Shanghai, his craftsmanship was outstanding, and buyers came in an endless stream—his future prospects could be described as bright and promising. But just at this time, the War of Resistance broke out, and the unfortunate fate of the nation caused Gu Jingzhou to return to his long-absent hometown of Chuanfang Shangshu Village. Due to the chaos of war, the pottery industry declined, and the zisha industry fell into a historical low point. Who could have known that misfortunes never come singly—Gu Jingzhou, idle at home, suddenly contracted smallpox, which disfigured his face. One can imagine what this meant for a 25-year-old young man, and what kind of impact and changes it would have on his personality. After this, Gu Jingzhou was often melancholy and unhappy, disliking public appearances, preferring instead to be alone in quiet solitude, finding solace in objects. The zisha clay coils and various tools became his most intimate companions. In 1942, Gu Jingzhou took a position at the Shanghai Standard Ceramics Company, but in less than a year, due to internal changes in the company, he returned home once again. These setbacks brought unimaginable physical and psychological trauma to the naturally strong-willed Gu Jingzhou. During this period, Gu Jingzhou forcibly sealed off his young and abundant emotions, devoting all his energy to teapot-making and reading. Every day he devoted himself wholeheartedly to crafting vessels, striving for perfection. This persistent dedication increased his confidence in both his life and his works. As a result, his teapot blanks sold for higher prices than those of other masters from his hometown, and he only sold them to friends who knew how to appreciate them. The famous Gu Jingzhou's teapots commanded high prices—even the raw blanks were worth more than one *dan*[1] of rice—but still many people came seeking to commission works. The "Western Barrel Teapot" (*yangtonghú*) is a popular zisha variety, but it is very difficult to make well. Xu Hantang once remarked on the making of "Western Barrel Teapots": "Making a Western Barrel teapot leaves no room to hide flaws. The characteristic of plain-style vessels is that if the lines are off even slightly, it gets magnified—you have no way to conceal your flaws or your strengths." In the early 1940s, Gu Jingzhou's "Western Barrel Teapots" became famous in Dingshu. Examples that can still be seen today include the 1942 "Gift to Xu Zuchun," the 1943 "Commissioned by Cheng Shengyuan," the 1944 "Commissioned by Pan Jianyin," and the 1945 "Commissioned by Fan Shunqi." --- [1] *Dan* [dàn], a measure word. A Chinese market system unit of capacity; ten *dou* equal one *dan*. [2] Wuxi Radio and Television Station: *Zisha Master Gu Jingzhou* (CD), 2010.